#just need some food and a doctor's appointment and a good night's rest and I'll feel better

[somelazyassartist]

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[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Expecting: Life with their Pregnant Partner

Featuring Aizawa, Fatgum and Hawks

Aizawa x pregnant GN! Reader; Fatgum x pregnant GN! Reader; Hawks x Pregnant GN! Reader

Warnings: fluff, reader being a little reckless

AN: I was reading through my google docs and found these 😄 absolutely zero clue when I wrote these. Honestly love that for me.

Aizawa

"YN what the hell are you doing?" Shota shouts as he walks in, seeing his heavily pregnant partner perched along the baseboards of class 1-A's dorm floors.

"Shota! Just in time, I need you to change my water bucket. Look how dirty these baseboards are! Can you believe that?" you say, smiling at your husband as you go back to dipping the cloth in the bucket and wiping the soaking cloth along the now sparking boards.

"YN, seriously? I can't leave you alone can I?” He says going to help you up from the ground, fussing over you as you stand.

"You know the doctor said to rest right? I mean you and I were both at the last appointment. I'm pretty sure I heard him say that about 15 times,” he says, looking at you with a scowl as you roll your eyes in response.

"I'll have you know I did rest sweetheart. But then Miydoria came in and asked if I wanted a snack. So I said 'yes let me help you' so then I got up. I walked to the kitchen and noticed some dirt on the floor. So I got the broom out. Then I swept the dirt and noticed a scuff on the baseboards and well we can't have a scuff so I went and got a bucket. Then one scuff turned into two and then three and then five,” you say gesturing to the floor boards.

“YN seriously,” your husband said, crossing his arms over his large chest.

"You really want our baby to be born with filthy floor boards Shota?" You say, crossing your arms and waiting for your husband's reply.

"YN the baby isn't going to be studying the floor boards when they arrive. Plus I think you should be worried about more important things like, and maybe I'm just being dramatic here, but oh I don't know labor perhaps?" Shota says escorting you to the nearest coach the rest. You scoff at your husband once more as Midoriya, Bakugo, Kirishima and Todoroki walk in.

"I'm going to need you all to watch YN for me,” Shota says standing up and walking towards his students

"Excuse me? I'm very capable!” you shout, shocked at your husband's words to his students.

"YN I have a patrol tonight. There is no way I'm leaving you to your own devices. You'll probably end up repainting the whole common area,”he says looking at you.

"Didn't you already by paint YN?” Todoroki says before you quickly interject

"Well would you look at the time! Come on boys, let's go start dinner,” you say waddling towards the teens

"YN you have got to be kidding me right now?!?” Shota says rubbing his temples

"Have a great night love!” you say pushing the boys towards the doors.

Fatgum

"YN I'm home my love",” Taishiro shouts. The apartment smells amazing and he is starving. After a long night fighting crimes and arresting villains, Taishiro only wants two things.

To have a good meal and to see his beautiful partner.

"In here my love! I'm just finishing supper,” you shout as you wipe your hands on your apron.

Taishiro stoped and looked at you. His beautiful partner, pregnant with his baby and making him his favorite meal.

"Honestly I could get use to seeing you pregnant for the rest of my life YN,” Taishiro says pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead lightly.

You giggle and pat his stomach as you head back towards the stove to stir your vegetables.

"Lets get this one out first and then we will talk,” you say rubbing your belly as your stir the food and grab plates.

"Busy day my love?" He asks, washing his hands and sitting at the table.

"I went by the new fish market today and grabbed a huge variety! Then I went to the farmers market and got these and some fresh produce,” you say pointing to the freshly cut bouquet of sunflowers sitting on the table.

"YN I thought the doctor told you to stay away from fish,” he says worryingly.

"Love I can eat some cooked fish but I mostly got it for you! I've been watching this cooking show I wrote down some awesome recipes to try!” you say plating Taishiro's food and setting it in front of him

"Baby you should be resting during the day,” Taishiro says scolding you

You look at him, deadpan. "Babe I literally sit on the coach and write down recipes. I'm not running a marathon," you say rolling your eyes.

"I just worry about you YN. You do so much for me and I want you and the baby to be healthy,” Taishiro says, grabbing your hands and pulling you close.

You smile at your husband and give him a soft kiss. "Taishiro, you have Kirishima and Tamaki check on me at least twice a day when you are at work. Plus you text me every hour. Aizawa even came by last week to make sure I didn't need a snack. I'm well taken care of love!” you say smiling at your husband as he smiles back.

"Ok YN,” Taishiro says smiling as he grabs his fork and begins to eat.

"I did lug the groceries up the 5 flights of stairs today tho,” you say resting your hips against the back of the counter and smiling at your husband as he chokes on his food, quickly reaching for his water.

"YN seriously?!" Taishiro says clearing his throat as his eyes widen on you

"I'm joking babe," you say smiling. Taishiro breathes out a sigh of relief as he goes to take another bite.

"It was only four flights," you say laughing as you walk out of the room, leaving your husband hanging, fork halfway to his mouth.

Hawks

Hawks walks into his apartment to hear music coming from down the hallway. He smiles as he sets his keys down, removing his goggles, headset, boots and coat before heading to see you.

He knows you’re in the baby's room. That's where you've been for the past few days. Your nesting has kicked into full gear as you prepare for the arrival of your baby any day now.

What Hawks doesn't expect is to see you singing 5 feet above the ground, as you balance atop a ladder pounding a nail into the wall.

"Holy crap YN!" He yells as he goes to steady you and you smile down at him.

"Hey baby! So glad your home safe! How was your night?" You say smiling down at your husband

"YN what in the hell are you doing? Get down from there!" Hawks growls as your roll your eyes, setting the hammer on top of the ladder and climbing down.

"Ok I'm down here now what?" you say looking percuriously at your husband.

"Well for one, no more ladder,” Hawks says grabbing the ladder and folding it up, hauling it out of the babies room.

You sigh and follow your husband as he puts the ladder away.

"Keigo I have things to do!” you say your hands now on your hips as your husband glares at you.

"Do I need to put a lock on this door YN? Because I absolutely will!” he says narrowing his eyes at you.

"Keigo the baby is coming and their room isn't finished!" You say pouting and stomping your feet.

You husband sighs and rolls his eyes, walking up to you and pulling you into a hug. He knows how stressed you've been about your babies arrival.

"YN the baby isn't even going to be sleeping in their room remember? You have time love," Hawks says nuzzling your nose.

"Keigo first impressions are everything! And I want to give the baby a tour when we bring them home. And that includes their FINISHED room!" you say with emphasis, throwing your hands in the air.

Keigo looks at your, trying not to laugh at your pure ridiculousness.

"I'll tell you what YN. How about this weekend we do the finishing touches together?" He says as he notices your mood perk up at the suggestion.

"Babe that would be so awesome!" You answer gleefully.

"I mean I have to put the crib, swing and rocker together anyways. Might as well do it all,” he says as he notices your eyes widen and you look away from him.

"YN-"

“Ok so I may have accidently out the swing together,” you say, grinning at your husband.

Hawks sighs, his hand doing to his head, "what in the world am I going to do with you?"

[scientia-rex]

Hi Dr. Kristophine, do you have any advice on what kind of information doctors need for medical issues that are more nebulous than "my knees hurt"? I've been feeling Weird and Bad in a way that has me concerned, but I'm afraid to make an appointment because I don't know what to say that will get the Weird and Bad feeling across in an actionable way. Going to the doctor takes SO much energy that I don't have to waste and I don't want them to just take a blood test and say everything's fine go home (again).

The best thing you can do with medical information you're trying to prepare for your medical provider, as a lay person, is be as specific as possible.

-Location: Is it one place in particular, or everywhere? Does it stay in one place, or move around?

-Timing: When did it start? Did it come on suddenly or slowly? Does it happen continuously? Does it come and go? Is it always there to some extent, but it gets better and worse? On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being fine and 10 being the worst you can imagine, how bad is it at its best, and how bad is it at its worst? How much time does it spend really bad vs only kind of bad?

-Quality: If it's pain, is it aching, burning, stabbing, dull, electrical zap, etc.? If it's not pain, what is it? Is it discomfort? Is it weakness--i.e., you can't do that thing? Is it fatigue--like maybe you can still push through doing the thing but it feels like you're trying to wade through mud to do it? Is it a racing heart, sweating, pressure?

-Triggers: Does something in particular set it off? A time of day, a food, an action, a medication, a thought? A surprisingly common trigger for migraines is sitting still with your neck in one position. (New research suggests that necks are critical to migraine formation, to which I yelled out loud at the paper, no duh!) There may be triggers you haven't noticed; try keeping a symptom diary, where you note down when you have episodes and what you were doing beforehand, what you ate that day, menstrual phase, etc. Any detail that you can remember, whether or not it seems relevant at the time.

I cannot tell you how many times I've dug deeper into a chronic issue only to discover that the patient can, in fact, tell me what the trigger is, but because it's something important to them, they simply haven't noticed. May subconsciously even avoided noticing. Do you get migraines every time you DM? Do you need to work a stretch break into your D&D session?

There can also absolutely be multiple triggers--I know I'll get migraines if I don't sleep, if I'm sick, if I sit still for too long, if I have dental work, etc.

So bring in all the info you can. Write it down if you're afraid you'll forget. Don't hand it to the MA, too many doctors will go "oh my GOD they brought a LIST how high-maintenance" and tune out. Hang on to it but tell them about everything.

I don't expect patients to be able to tell me "I believe I've had a left radial styloid fracture" but I do expect them to tell me "I fell and tried to catch myself with my left hand and now my wrist hurts," and that's good enough. The rest of it is my job. When it's something more vague, like "I started feeling different and bad about six months ago," any other information helps. Did you start a new med around then? Are you going through menopause? Do you struggle with anxiety? Do you have first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, or child) with genetic disorders, autoimmune disorders, etc.? Do you have a history of anemia? Are you vegan? Have you started having night sweats and unexplained weight loss? Did you recently travel internationally? This can go a lot more different directions than a hurty wrist, so bring in all the info you can.

And keep in mind that modern medicine is very limited--much more so than most people think. There is an excellent chance that medicine will not be able to diagnose your condition. It may still be able to offer treatment. It may fall on your shoulders to manage it as best you can, knowing that doctors don't have answers. Nobody can tell me why I have chronic pain, and I don't mean as in "I've asked doctors and they don't know," I mean "I've personally scoured the literature and had the relevant and appropriate tests and no one can know at this phase of medical knowledge." So I deal with it, I've stopped trying to push myself past my reserves because people who can't admit to ignorance tell me to, I keep my painful body moving because that helps, I do PT, I take a multivitamin occasionally because I know my diet sucks. I manage.

There are not always right or wrong answers--I don't take gabapentin, because I don't want the sedation and kidney exposure, but patients with my exact symptoms might find it helpful and may find the risks and costs worth the benefits. My mother, who has whatever it is that I have, right down to the tricky stomach, from whom I presumably inherited it, has taken medication at different points in her life, depending on how much pain she was in and what other responsibilities she has, and that is perfectly reasonable. Autonomy matters. People have to be able to make these choices for themselves, with assistance but not paternalism from their medical professionals, because the math is different for everyone.

[bonny-kookoo]

Hi bonny ninny, ruu here

I like your 'Why not' & 'How so' series.

I feel like oc is tone sensitive. Would you write a drabble where Jungkook uses a tone which hurts & upsets oc. Like they are not even arguing but something about tobe hurts her. How would Jungkook consoles her? They would be so cute in this DDLG theme. 🥺

"At this rate I'm gonna have to sleep back at my place again." Jungkook laughs, as he watches you make your bed, adjusting all the different stuffed animals.

You're not sure what exactly he means by that. Or more so, how serious he is.

You don't want him to sleep back at his place and leave you alone- you've become too attached and fond of his late night cuddling and the way he warms up the bed beneath the blankets, but you also love your stuffed animals too much to give them away, or let them simply sit on a shelf. Is he making you choose?

Do you want to choose?

The entire rest of the early day, you can't stop overanalyzing his words, no matter what. You're suddenly hyper-sensitive to the way he says stuff, the tone of his voice, the words he uses, or his body language accompanying every sentence. Is he really that annoyed by you and your habits? But you thought he liked you the way you really are?

"Let me do that for you." He says as you stir in the pot preparing some warm food for the two of you, hand taking the spoon from you. "Can't have you making a mess again like last time." He chuckles, but something in the way he shakes his head just.. makes you feel oddly guilty.

You're not that good at keeping up attention to one thing only for long. You're not sure why- it's not even that you can't cook, you just start doing ten things at once, and just like last time, a few days prior, things boil over and spill, or stuff almost burns in the pan or the oven almost stays on for too long. You can't help it.

Maybe he's starting to have second thoughts. Just like you feared.

"M' sorry." You mumble when he places the filled up bowl in front of you, hand stuttering a bit as he frowns.

"What're you sorry for?" He wonders, sitting down across from you, watching how you only reluctantly pick up your spoon to swirl it around in your bowl, watching the ingredients dance around in the broth. "Eyes up here, baby." He requests, and you do so- though only for a second.

"I'll.. try and put the plushies away." You explain, looking down again. "And I'll concentrate better when cooking too. And I'll start making sure I'll keep track of my own stuff and-" You rant, but he reaches out to hold your hand, stopping you.

"What's brought that up?" He wonders, confused. "You don't have to get rid of stuff, and neither do you need to do better at anything." He offers.

"But I'm annoying you." You say, meekly. "You said you won't sleep here anymore with all the stuffies in my bed-"

"Oh fuck, baby, no-" He sighs, laughing a bit to himself. "How long has that been bubbling up inside you?" He asks, and you shrug. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like I was upset at you. I was just picking on you a little- I didn't mean to make you feel like you did something wrong." He reassures.

"But you're right?" You answer, and he shakes his head again.

"Am I?" He chuckles. "You love your stuffed animals. I know you've got a name for each and every one of them, and that's cute. And they don't bother me at all, since you put them on the carpet every night anyways- it just looks funny with how much space they take up during the day." Jungkook explains. "And I also know that you've got a bit of trouble staying focused, so I'm not mad when you get a bit sidetracked while cooking. If anything, I only worry sometimes, which is why I tend to take over sometimes, to make sure you don't get hurt." He moves on. "I really don't mind keeping your doctors appointments or other stuff in mind. I don't mind doing stuff for you, or taking care of you. I really don't." He presses on. "I love you the way you are. I'd be stupid to try and change you."

"I don't know why I thought you meant something bad." You mumble, and he yet again just smiles.

"It was most likely my tone. Let's make an agreement, alright?" He says, and you nod. "I'll be more clear to tell you when I'm only making fun- and you'll tell me if you think I'm being too mean."

You nod at that, glad that it was only a huge misunderstanding-

happy that you were wrong after all.

[alienaiver]

"that's it. i'm removing you from the roster until you've stopped by the doctor."

you look at midoriya in disbelief. unable to keep yourself poised at his final decision, your shoulders slump and the exhaustion washes over you like a wave. he's seen through you.

it's been a year since your near-death experience with an all-too-powerful villain and while shinsou took great care of you during your recovery, something's been off ever since - you haven't been able to put a finger on it, though, so you decided to do what every self-sacrificing hero does: you powered through. until there was no power left to muscle your way out of it. and now it's become visible to others too. you have a feeling shinsou might've ratted you out, but you don't blame him. you'd done the same if it were him.

you get home in a daze and fall face first onto the bed. you don't wake up until you feel the weight shift and the warmth of shinsou's lips touches your cheek. but you don't have the energy to react with more than a hum. your eyelids are so heavy. there's a ringing in your ears but it's so constant that it just feels like a persistent buzz. shinsou says something as he settles behind you, arms wrapping themselves around you. for a while, you think there's silence but he says your name sternly in a voice he only uses when he knows you're not entirely listening to him. huh. you're mostly used to hearing it on the battlefield.

"i'm worried about you."

you sigh and hum, pushing yourself weakly back onto him, "'ve got a doc's appointment..... tomorrow."

he kisses the crown of your head, "okay... okay, good."

he's drawing soft circles into your arm and you drift away again. he wakes you when there's dinner and you perk up again slightly, but not enough to make him stop worrying his lip between his teeth. you fall asleep fifteen minutes into a movie later that night.

you put on your shoes and lock the door behind you, putting the keys in your pocket as you turn for the stairs at the end of the hall. you really wish there'd been an elevator in your building right now. as you walk down the steps, your feet feels heavier but you chalk it up to be your shoes. it's the sneakers you don't wear that often, but it's too cold for sandals today. you shrug it off and just concentrate more on walking.

the doctor goes through your symptoms with you but there's hardly any, you reassure her. you're just so exhausted no matter how many hours you sleep. she warns you that you may be sleeping too much. you agree with a laugh - you don't remember ever sleeping so many hours, having been an insomniac your entire youth. she does some blood tests and sends you home, saying you'll be called in when the answers are back.

the days that pass are all a blur. without your shifts at the agency, time becomes fuzzy around the edges. you don't have to get up, so you just stay in bed, since you've been told you need to rest anyways. on the third day you wake up to several notes on the bedside table, the bathroom mirror and the kitchen counter and fridge from shinsou with various reminders about eating and drinking properly and where he's stocked some snacks and prepped some food for you to reheat easily. you chuckle and shake your head at his antics. you're just tired, is all. the headaches comes with the job, you remind yourself as you try to gently massage out the tension in your neck to relieve your pounding head. he might be right about the water intake - you grab the cold bottle he's put in the fridge for you and brings it with you to the bed.

"i think you should call and ask if they've gotten the answers yet." shinsou says matter-of-factly and you nod, "yeah, it has been a few days. but it's the weekend, right? i'll call on monday." and that ends the conversation.

monday comes but you forget to call, even if you've been determined to do so. by the time you remember, the office is closed for the day. you sigh heavily and fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. you prepare the apology for shinsou on your tongue before you drift off.

tuesday morning your phone rings - several times. you finally reach out and pick up, thinking it's shinsou.

"i do apologize for the wait. the doctor unfortunately had to take some time off last week, but we have your results. will you be able to come in today?"

you agree, dragging yourself up. there's more energy in you today, but it should've been way more given the intense rest you've been having. you put on one of shinsou's hoodies and a pair of sweats before you drag yourself to the kitchen to grab a bite.

turns out, you suffer from anemia. an intense, prolonged form and need medication as soon as possible. shinsou's livid when he comes home and gets the news, angry that it has been missed when the agency periodically keeps an eye on their heroes' health. you sit on the chair with your hands folded like a child being scolded and try to laugh it off, "come on now, hito. i just need to take some medication and i'll be fine. the usual blood tests the past year haven't covered that - even if they should, i know," you hurry to add, "but i'll be fine, i promise."

shinsou sighs and his whole body slumps, leaning against the table you're sitting by. you take his hand, "i'm okay."

he visibly relaxes but there's something he's holding back. you've been together since high school, so you can read him like a book. you squeeze his hand, "open up."

he clicks his tongue with furrowed brows before he opens his mouth, "you've had these symptoms for months. why didn't you tell me?"

you look at the ground, guilt written on your face. mostly, because you don't have a proper answer to give him. you don't know why you didn't - the symptoms had all been sneaking up on you, snaking their way into your body quietly and suddenly it'd just become so chronic that you'd normalized it. you let out an apology and he squeeze your hand back, "it's okay to not have an answer. but please, can we be mindful of things like this in the future?"

you smile at him, "only if you continue to make the little post-it notes. they're adorable - especially your small doodles of dogs."

shinsou hides his face in his hands with a groan, "they were cats."

[thefallennightmare]

Headcanon for dad-to-be Jesse cash🫣🫣🫣. I feel like he’d be the most wholesome guy ever, would be brining you all the food, attending all the appointments and being sososososo fluffy in general

Jesse would get you anything you craved or needed.

2 AM and you want chocolate ice cream? He'd run to the twenty four hour mart across town to get it for you.

You want pickles and cream cheese? With a smile, he'd bring you a plate full even though to him, it sounded gross.

In the first trimester, he's there holding your hair up and rubbing your back as you spend most days over the toilet, puking.

He's there in bed with you when you're so exhausted in the first trimester and all you want to do is sleep.

In the second trimester, you're absolutely glowing; especially when the two of you are in a sunflower field for your maternity shoot. Bryan said he would take your pictures.

"You're literal sunshine, sweetheart," Jesse mused as you stood a few feet in front of him, with the sunset as your background.

He made every single appointment, watching intently with each ultrasound and listening with a smile to the heartbeat.

You wanted to wait to find out the gender until the baby was born. But you had names picked out. You surprisingly agreed with his suggestions.

During the third trimester was really rough. You gained a lot of weight and felt terrible about how you looked. But Jesse made sure to worship you any chance he got.

When you were 36 weeks, you were ordered to strict bed rest because of some complications.

Jesse was beside himself because he was on tour with Erra and he couldn't be there with you so he had Noah check in on you whenever he could.

Every morning and night, Jesse would Facetime you to talk with the baby and keep up his traditions of singing to you guys.

38 weeks and your water broke when you got up to use the bathroom.

Jesse was on his way back home from tour, on the plane and six hours away. But you were unable to reach him so you called Noah to drive you to the hospital.

Noah finally got a hold of Jesse as he walked through the doors of the airport.

"How is she? Did she have the baby?" Jesse was breathless as he and JT ran to the waiting Uber for them.

"She's okay, she just got the epidural so she's not in pain. She's only at four centimeters but the doctor said that can change fast so get here as soon as you can," Noah said as he watched you sleep for the first time in a few hours since arriving at the hospital.

Less than an hour later, you were ten centimeters and doctors were ordering you to push.

"No!" You screamed while crushing Noah's hand. "Jesse's not here yet!"

Noah rubbed your back. "It's okay, Y/N. He'll be here."

Suddenly the door to the room busted open and a flustered Jesse pushed his way through the group of doctors and nurses.

"Sweetheart, I'm here!"

"You're late," you said through gritted teeth.

"I'll make it up to you," he kissed the sweat away from your forehead, relieving Noah.

With a crushed hand held tight to his chest, Noah wished you two good luck before leaving the room to wait in the waiting room.

Three hours later, you and Jesse were snuggled up in the hospital bed, staring down at your son bundled up in blankets.

"He has your nose," Jesse whispered while bopping it.

You brushed away the hat from the baby's head, showing the headful of dark curls. "He has your hair."

[angelamajiki]

[ a father’s love ]

PARING: StepFather! Aizawa x StepDaughter! Reader

SYNOPSIS: Your stepfather took you in with open arms after the death of your mother. Depression gets the better of you and Shouta promises to take care of you. But just how far is he willing to go to see it through?

CW: yandere, pseudo-incest, mentions of stalkers, mentions of death, depression, mental health issues, pregnancy, noncon, somnophilia, bondage, daddy kink, praise kink, afab reader

AN: my first collab with the bnharem server!! the theme was roommates (i ran with the term loosely) read the other member’s takes here! mind the tags as usual and enjoy!! :)

The death of your mother shattered you. A freak accident with a villain attack had her crushed under rubble from a collapsed building. Your stepfather, Shouta, suggested that you move back home with him after her funeral. As tempting as the offer was, you were determined to make it through University and handle yourself like a big girl, an adult ready to take on the world. You had only moved out a few months before her death, independence calling to you after you received your college acceptance letter.

A few months and an eviction notice later, you crawled back to him, the only remnants of your family. Open arms enveloped you, bringing you solace and comfort in your dire time of need. You felt like a child, bundled up in his arms as you sobbed, screaming at the cruelty of the world. Depression hit you hard and deep, flunking you out of your classes and preventing the bills from being paid. You had no other alternative but to accept his offer.

“You time and space to grieve properly, kitty. The most logical thing to do is take a breather.”

Ah, kitty. He always knew that was your favorite nickname, calling you that ever since you were a little girl. He also always knew just what to say. Patting your thigh, he stood up and extended his hand to help you up as well.

“Let’s go step up your room. I'm sure you need a nap after that cry.”

He gave a wrinkly smile before disappearing down the hall.

Skeptical at first, you were unsure if it was the right move to return home. You needed time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed. A break from life would give you a chance to sort things out, right? And Shouta was more than prepared to use this opportunity to show you he would be all that you needed and more.

The man was nothing short of doting and generous. A shoulder to cry on, a good laugh, a friend, a father. He helped you piece your broken soul back together. Whenever he wasn’t patrolling, he was at home with you. When your depression seemed to drown you, Shouta was there to pull you out of the water. He made sure you ate, helped brush your hair when it was matted, and got you into clean clothes daily. It was the small things that he did for you that helped your demeanor change.

—

“Up and at ‘em, kitty. Breakfast is on the table.”

You grunted, burrowing deeper into your bedding. A chuckle reverberated in his throat as he rubbed your lower back soothingly.

“C’mon, I know you haven't been eating lately. Let's get some food in you. I made your favorite.”

—

But as time passed, his help could only do so much. Your mental health continued to dwindle, plummeting into the ground when her first anniversary passed.

—

Gentle strokes of a brush smoothed through your tangled hair. Shouta was kind enough to help you when your head got matted into a rat’s nest, being incredibly tender and gentle with you. Tears streamed down your face, broken hiccups and sobs bubbling from your chest. You were trying to hold it in, he could tell. A sweet kiss was placed on the back of your head as he enveloped you in a comforting embrace, letting his hands sip down to your hips to rub circles in.

“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”

He was the only one that was.

—

The domestic dynamic the two of you fell into hardly felt like one of parent and child, but more as two lovers sharing a home they built together. The pair of you even adopted a new cat together in hopes of cheering you up. You can't say that you disliked it. It felt...nice to have your presence matter when it was a struggle even to be alive. Shouta always checked in on you; whether he sent you an update from work or shared a cat video. He really was the best father anyone could hope for, even when your depression got the worst of you.

Your depression started to manifest itself in many forms. Lately, you’d been having vicious nightmares, only to wake up with an unknown stickiness on your thighs. Recalling the night terrors was something that evaded you, but you knew you were being violated. Perhaps your body wet itself from the fear of the dream? It was the only logical answer you and Shouta could come up with. Depression sure had funny ways of physically manifesting itself. You thought that would be the end of it, putting the situation behind you.

It was until it started happening nightly. The nightmares only seemed to prolong themselves, worsening to the point where you could vividly dream of being assaulted. Your underwear was now soiled too, and it definitely wasn’t your doing. Fearing you had a stalker, Shouta installed brand new locks on your windows and doors, hoping to soothe you. He was a Pro-Hero, so he certainly had the means and know-how to protect you. It put you at some ease, but it continued to the point where your stepfather decided sleeping in the same room would help you feel safer.

It didn't.

The nightmares themselves only seemed to get worse, but Shouta was right there to comfort you as soon as you woke up shouting in a panic. He would take you into his arms and hold you until you fell back asleep. You felt like a child. But he didn't judge you.

After a month of strange behavior, the stress caused you to gain some weight. Visiting a doctor was your best bet to get an answer. He took you to your appointment, letting you hold onto his arm for comfort as his hand rested comfortably on your thigh. The two of you were mistaken for a couple by a nurse. What a strange, intimate relationship the pair of your tangled yourselves in.

The doctor ran some tests and had your blood drawn. The results were to be emailed to you in a few days. Shouta calmed your nerves with a tender kiss to the forehead, reassuring you that everything would work itself out.

The notification for the email came in a few days later while Shouta was at work and you were lounging in the living room. Patience was never your strong suit, so you took his laptop from the coffee table, only to open up to a camera feed. Coming from your room.

The blood in your veins ran cold as you looked into the memory drive of the feed. Maybe he set up a camera to see what was happening during your nightmares? That had to be it; how could you assume the worst of your sweet dad? The only saved footage to be found was him fucking himself deep inside of your sleeping body.

“I see the results are in.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He always had a habit of sneaking up on you.

“What-” You couldn’t find the words to describe your anger. “What the fuck is this!”

Disgust. Rage. Dispair.

Your only family left had turned against you.

“You were upset at the loss of your family, kitty. So I decided to give you a new one.”

He couldn't possibly mean…

“You’re pregnant.”

Bile rose to your throat as you gagged at the mere thought of his words. Pregnant? With your father’s child? His betrayal cut you more profoundly than your mother’s death ever could have. But it couldn't have made more sense—his touches, his comfort, sleeping in your room, the nightmares that plagued you.

“You’re sick!”

You shouted, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pummel insults and nasty spats at him. You lost your voice by the end of your rant, panting and heaving while sweat beaded your brow. He just stood there, taking everything in with a grain of salt.

“I understand, kitty. I really do. I should have been straightforward with my intentions.” He confessed.

The capture weapon around his neck snagged you the second you moved on the couch.

“Let daddy make it up to you. I'll make everything better for my pretty little kitty.”

It secured you to the sofa, keeping your legs spread and your hands behind your torso. On his knees in front of you, Shouta was ready to serve his apology with his tongue. Panties and sweatpants were ripped at the seams before being tossed aside.

He caressed your thigh with a delicate touch, pressing his lips to the other side. A kiss was pressed to your clit before long slow strokes of a hot tongue lavished it in attention. He kneaded your thighs gently all the while, humming as he began to alternate between licking and suckling on your sensitive nub.

Your head thrashed about in your binds as you shouted in protest.

“S-Stop it right now! Get off of me, dad!”

In a desperate plea, you hoped that hearing you call him dad would force him back into reality. Instead, he groaned and took a breath.

“Call me that again, kitty.”

A hot mouth sealed over your wet cunt as he dove his tongue between your folds while sucking with his lips. The pleasure was undeniable; his tongue was too experienced to ignore how his ministrations made you feel. Toes flexing and curling, you cried out of a mix of frustration, disgust, and humiliation as he continued to work at your dripping hole. This pig was getting off on the fact that he was fucking his daughter. It made your soul shatter all over again, the one he worked so hard to rebuild.

You continued to sob, moans now added to the mix, as he worked a finger inside of you. He made a curling motion after plunging in knuckle deep. A pleasured shout broke between your cries.

“I'll take it that’s your sweet spot, pretty girl? Good to know.”

He continued to abuse that spot, slowing down just a touch with his tongue to drag out the ride to the peak. Can't have you coming too fast, now can we? Your moans and whimpers spurred him on even more as he wiggled another finger inside you.

Removing his mouth, he focused on stretching and loosening up your tense body. You were lax when sleeping, so sliding in was a pinch with his size. But now he has to deal with you thrashing and struggling against his bonds. Disgust and pleasure churned together in your gut, feeling the incoming orgasm approaching hard and fast. Shouta felt you clench around his fingers and added a third, using his thumb to swipe your clit back and forth. With a final cry, you came on his fingers with a shout as your body convulsed in the capture weapon. You found what little peace you could in your short-lived post-nut clarity, taking a moment to breathe and center yourself.

Your father gave you no such chance to do so, immediately springing his cock free and rubbing the tip against your clit to gather your wetness. A chuckle sounded in his throat as he watched you twitch even more from the stimulation that was starting to border on being painful.

“Relax, kitty. Being tense won't do you any good.”

He slowly nudged his cock into your hole, groaning as he took his time bottoming out inside you. Praise spilled from his lips as he let you adjust, feeling your pussy clench tight around him. Good girl, good kitty. He shushed your sobs, smoothing the tears off of your face with the pads of his thumb. Murmurs of good girl and taking me so well slipped your senses. The pace he set was slow and deep, letting you feel every agonizing inch of his rather impressive dick.

Your flowing tears were kissed away as he proceeded to thrust faster and deeper. The sound of skin slapping against one another filled the room, even above your now weakened crying and whimpers. Sweat beaded on your brow plastered your hair to your forehead. His breath was warm against your cheek, his moans of pleasure so close to your ear forced you to stay in the moment.

Shouta swallowed your cute noises with a kiss, cupping and stroking your cheek with his right hand while his left pinned your hips down into the cushions. He did his best to stop your tears, pushing the hair off of your sweaty face. A few minutes passed filled with kisses, cries, and deep thrusts before he maneuvered you to be seated in his lap. Back pressed into the cushions, he lazily thrust up into you, hands grabbing your now bouncing ass. His thumb made its way back to your clit as he rubbed it in small circles, grinning at your cries of pleasure that you couldn't hold back. Dark brown eyes fluttered shut as he groaned and moaned proudly, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he felt himself getting closer and closer.

He usually lasted longer while you were sleeping; he does have quite a bit of stamina from his hero work. But something about seeing your flushed, torn face, hearing your whimpers and cries, he can't help but cum rather quickly for his own record. The pleasure was manifesting itself within you again, a second orgasm hitting you like a speeding truck as you gasped and choked for air at its intensity. Shouta was soon to follow, grunting and moaning loudly as he filled your cunt with his spend. He rode out both your orgasms, relishing in the silence between the two of you. It was better than hearing your broken, choked up wails.

It was wrong; he knew that. Breaking your trust, violating you, sabotaging your personal life, he couldn't help but be selfish with you. But he always knew what was best for you, always knew how to take care of you when you couldn't.

Foreheads pressed together, he caught your sagging body against him in a warm hug, stroking your hair when you started to sob uncontrollably.

“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”

[brideofcthulhu10]

The Lost Boys Find Out Their Fem!S/O is Pregnant [4/4]

SUBJECT WARNING: PHYSICAL AGRESSION, SEXUAL THEMES AND A WHOLE LOT OF SWEARING. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Alrighty then, my lovely fang babes! Here we are, we have the last of the first edition of the pregnancy saga! Worry not, dearest readers, for there is hope! I plan on doing a separate series about going through the pregnancy, and maybe even going through the childbirth with how the boys are as new dads. Let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more, and by tomorrow night we'll have a whole new set to love!

It was such a blast writing Paul's, I'm not gonna lie I got lost in the magic! We have a cute little character cameo for all you 80s movie nerds, lemme know if you can figure out what it is! So, without any more delays; here he is. The gorgeous, the goofy, the one, the only:

PAUL

Today had been an unexpected challenge. You barely got through your shift at the record store, every time you were in light it made you dizzy. Hangovers had nothing on this! Did you drink too much the night before? No, now that you thought about it any attempts to drink had you hugging a toilet. Not to mention your period was late as hell! Well, not the cramps, go figure. Just no blood. None at all. 

You never let on to your beau, Paul, though. The party boy vampire would become overly worried if you told him you were sick, and you weren't about to spoil a good time with a bit of nausea. So here you were, stumbling about the day into the late afternoon absolutely miserable. Your manager Iona offered you some crackers and ginger ale during your lunch break. No dice, within an hour you were running to the bathroom again. 

"Gosh hon, I dunno what ta tell ya. Maybe you ate something nasty, I told you that boardwalk food was fishy," Iona sighed, poking at her own lunch with a fork. Currently your coworker Andie was watching the front until you were feeling better.

"Kill me now, Iona," you groaned, chin resting on the table with your arms laid over your head. Then there was a smell. The greatest, most flavorful, mouthwatering scent you've ever experienced. Like a honey baked ham and a New York sirloin had a glorious new baby drizzled in ecstasy. Glancing over, your stomach growled at whatever it could be. If this were a cartoon you'd be flying to what it was.

Oddly enough, it was coming from Iona. Well, whatever black stuff was in her little plastic tupperware dish. Who cares what it was, it smelled incredible.

"Hey uh..," you asked, leaning over towards the sticky, mysterious delicacy calling your name. "You wouldn't mind if I had a bite, would ya?"

"You sure, hon? This isn't exactly your average dish, it's kinda weird," she tried to explain. God you couldn't take your eyes off it! Finally, your merciful manager pushed it your way, and you couldn't resist any longer. 

"I don't even care, this is the first thing in the past two days that hasn't made me nauseous," you muffled between cosmic bites.

Oh shit, this was heaven! It had to be some sort of meat, it reminded her of a nice spicy kielbasa, a slow roasted brisket, every second it changed to some new world of food you had never tried. What it was didn't matter by this point.

"Wooow. I've never met someone who liked black pudding that much."

Pudding? "I thought it was meat or something? It doesn't taste anything like pudding," you insisted, polishing off the very last specs of it. "Got any more?"

"No, no, not like chocolate pudding or stuff like that, kiddo. black pudding. It's this dish from the UK my new boyfriend made me. It's congealed pig's and cow blood mixed with spices."

You made a face. Blood? Like, blood blood? The cow equivalent of what Paul drank on a daily basis? Yet this was the first time you didn't puke, in fact, you kinda wanted more. Even knowing what is was made of.. for some reason you craved more. Meanwhile Iona continued to talk on and on, until one phrase caught your ears. "Yea, ya know my mom was so into for the longest time. Said she craved it her whole pregnancy, I never got a taste for it honestly."

A single thought popped into your head. A dangerous, foreboding thought that your intuition said was very much a possibility. In a flash you jumped up, nearly slamming your hands on the table. "I gotta go. Oh shit, I gotta go! I'll be right back, I swear, I'm so sorry, I swear to god I'll be right back," you shouted as you bolted out of the store.

"Wait what-?!"

You'd make it up to her once you got back. You had to know! You had to be sure..! Please just let it be paranoia! Please let it be anything, anything at all besides what you thought it was!

Once you reached the nearest CVS you made a B-line to the women's health section. Your hair clung to your face, your lungs stung like crazy but all you could think about was getting answers. And cue the disapproving glare of some old bat picking out a box of pads. Alright being 17 in front of the pregnancy tests looked bad. You weren't just a high schooler, you looked it too. "What're you looking at, " you snarl. Immediately she clutched her pearls, startled by this abrasive youngin' in no mood for dirty looks. God why'd there have to be so many options? Pink boxes, purple ones, bright yellow insisting it worked the fastest. The heavy fluorescent lights were no help at all, it made your head spin. You had no time for this crap. In a sweeping motion you grabbed three different brands and threw them into your basket, all you needed was….where was your wallet? Shit... Glancing around you checked for any nearby cameras or staff. Karma be damned, it was an emergency! Five finger discount it was. 

Once again you made a mad dash back to the record store as the sun finally set. All three boxes were crumpled in your hand, your boots running so fast it you hit a rock that'd be it.

But getting back to the record store was your best bet. You weren't about to pee in some dirty, old, nasty pharmacy bathroo- oh fuck. There was something that finally slowed your steps, nearly making you trip in the process. Four bikes parked right outside. Three of which were occupied by by Dwayne, David and Marko all talking amongst themselves.

Shiiiit, shit, shit! All you could do was swear repeatedly. Before they could spot you, you practically dove into the alleyway behind the store, rapidly disabling the alarm. If that went off it'd be a dead giveaway. Quickly you looked left and right before you slammed the door shut behind you still trying to catch air.

But there, right past the door to the employees lounge, over by the counter you could see a mass of blonde hair chatting away with Iona about Led Zeppelin's best album to date. Paul, gorgeous as every, laughing. It made your heart flutter, but then it sank. What if it was a-... He was never the type to run away from a challenge. But then again, a kid wasn't a challenge, it was a massive ordeal. It would take a huge chunk of his life- well, afterlife! Boozing and cruising would be switched out with drowsy days and busy nights. You weren't sure if you wanted him to know if you were, it would take all that from him. Unfortunately, he must've smelled you or sonething, because immediately he turned around like a puppy being called.

"Babe," he cheered with delight, rushing over to hug you. Rather squeeze you by your hips and lift you four feet off the ground. Quickly you stuffed the skinny boxes into your back pocket, now smushed up against his chest. "Where were you? Ion's said you just bolted mid-shift, we were worried sick! Well, I mean, I was more worried though, cuz I can't stand you bein' gone, kitten."

"Well, yeah uh, I forgot something I had to get at the store, and I forgot what time I got off," you hesitated, still antsy to escape to the bathroom. Truthfully you didn't actually want to, you had to! If you could, you'd just kiss him and ride off into the night to raise some hell like you always did. But this was too big to ignore.

Paul raised a brow. You weren't known for being this jumpy. You wouldn't look him in the eyes, they just kept darting towards the bathroom. Boy, you really did look sick, though. Pale, almost greenish with dark circles under your eyes. You even felt colder than usual. "Am I uh, interrupting something, babe?"

You managed to work out if his arms, giggling nervously. "Actually I-I had some of Iona's lunch earlier, and I just, gotta- be right back!"

With that, you bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. Again, weird. Paul just shrugged, maybe you had some bad Mexican.

 Iona wasn't convinced. Little miss jumpy-pants skipping out on her, you owed her an explanation. While Paul perused the albums she sunk over to the bathroom, rapidly tapping on the door. "Y/N! Psst! You good in there, hon?"

You were most certainly NOT good! Your hand shook, the third test finally finished. Not like it mattered! They all said the same thing. Every fucking one of them.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

No, no, no!

"Shit," you hissed. "Shit! Oh shit, oh fuck! Fuck-fuckity shit fuck fuck! Dammit." That's all you could do! You swore over, and over, and over, rapidly kicking the wall in front of you. Stupid pink plus! Why? Why did it have to be a plus?? Immediately you threw it in the trash and scooped up the other two. Maybe they were all flukes? Maybe only a doctor could tell you! You had to get home. Like now. Right now, you just had to rush home, make an appointment at the doctors, maybe hide in shame for a few days just until you could figure out what the hell to do with all this! Once again you wedged the tests in your back pocket and nearly tripped, cracking open the door to face your boss. "Iona, I gotta get home."

"Seriously, Y/N?? Why? What is with you?"

"Please, I swear I will make it up to you, I'll take a double shift, I'll wash your damn car-"

"Oh no, nuh-uh. Not until you tell me why you're being such a spaz," she practically shouted in a hissing whisper, absolutely exasperated. You teens and your drama, when she always said she wanted to fell young again this is NOT what she meant!  

"Listen i-... iyay amyay egnantpray," you whispered. Pig latin. It was a little code you two usually reserved for secrets. Well, that and talking smack about snotty customers. But wow was this a big ol' secret. 

Iona covered her mouth. Oh, you little idiot! You poor little idiot. Looking over at the unsuspecting boyfriend she sighed, looking you in the eyes. She wanted to just tell you to come clean to your man. The boy hung around you constantly, you two were the ultimate it-couple, there wasn't even sparks it was like watching supernovas. Something this big.. it shouldn't be left in the dark!

But that pitiful expression on your face just begged her to keep quiet, and frankly it wasn't her place to tell you what to do- well, at least in this regard. "Alright, alright. This saturday you're taking my night time shift, there's a big concert I wanna go to. And you gotta wax my car, it's gettin' nasty. And you better write the best damn apology note in the history of apology notes, sweetie. This is huge, you better come clean to him eventually, or I'll kick your little butt you hear me?"

"Yes. Absolutely, fine, deal. Just please, please keep him busy, I'm not ready to tell him," you whined, clutching the door. Frankly it sounded like a piss poor plan, but it couldn't be helped, not right now at least. You didn't have the strength to confront the situation head on, you were barely keeping it together. You wanted to cry all over, jump into his arms and come clean now, but this was neither the time or place.

As soon as Iona went to go over to Paul you stuffed the tests into your purse and bolted out the back door, only this time stealth was not on your side. Right at the mouth of the alleyway, just as you were about to be home free- you ran smack dab into a particularly lithe blonde that felt like a brick wall. You went flying onto the ground, your purse crashing onto concrete with a hundred pieces of your privacy going every direction. In a panic you began to rapidly stuff it all back, barely able to hide the first two tests as you threw some half baked apology Marko's way. Honestly he deserved a better one than that, but you were too frazzled to be fair at the moment.

"Oh shit, Y/N," Marko exclaimed, immediately kneeling down to help you gather the scattered remains of your purse. "Sorry, I didn't even see you, I was coming back for a smoke. Big Ed is such a douche, can you believe theres no smoking on the-..." His words trailed off, and you shortly saw why. Grasped between his pointer finger and thumb was the little pink strip, and a look of complete disbelief. All you could do was snatch it from him, a heavy moment of silence magically muffling the wild noise and shouts of the busy boardwalk. 

"Do...D-Don't worry about it. Look, I gotta get home, I'll see you arou-," you started, trying to jump up, maybe catch him off guard and make a run for it. Not this time. 

You hadn't even noticed he grabbed your wrist, it was such a blur. He stayed silent, standing up and looking right into your eyes with hidden malcontent. You swore if you answered wrong this mischievous cat would tear your throat out. After all, you were his best friend's girl. If you did anything, ANYTHING, to hurt him... Well, let's just say a pregnancy would be the least of your worries. "Why are you running, Y/N? What the hell is this thing," he asked quietly, eyes flickering between red and blue. "Did you…?"

"Oh don't fuckin' even," You snapped, smacking his arm, yanking your hand out of his grasp. "Of course not! You butt! God, are you serious? What do you take me for- No! I- fuck I just- no!" You kick the tin trash can beside you, watching a plethora of trash fly into the air. "I am freaking out! Of course it's Paul's. Oh fucking god, it's Paul's and I don't know what to do!"

Marko's expression softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I didn't mean to make it sound like that, Y/N. Paul's my friend, I just had to be sure you weren't sneaking around, you know?"

You sighed, pushing back your mess of a hair with misty eyes. This was perfect, a real big screw up from start to finish. All you could do was look over at Marko with pleading eyes. "You can't tell him yet. Please, just please please PLEASE, Marko, don't tell Paul yet!"

"Tell me what, babe?"

Shit. Shit on a stick. You looked behind to see Paul halfway out the back door with a look of concern, one that he rarely carried. You and your dumb mouth, go figure.

The blonde pushed through and let the door close behind him, looking over at his best bud standing alone with his girlfriend who was begging him to keep something secret, from him no less.

 "Marko?"

"Nah, nah, don't look at me man, this is all on you guys," he sighed, hands up in a shielding motion. "Good luck buddy. Gotta go, Y/N." with that the young vampire excused himself from this melting pot of drama, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

You just stood there, keeping the little strip tightly grasped behind your back. Paul was silent, but glancing at his hands you saw they were balled so tight his knuckles were white. "P-paul…," you hesitated, biting down on your bottom lip. "I should really… get home.."

Paul only raised a brow, glancing at your arms still tucked behind you. This wasn't like you to hide from him, and that alone frightened him. Nothing had ever frightened him before. And he didn't like the taste of it one bit. "What's behind your back, babe?"

"What?"

Again his spoke, this time his voice lowered into a low growl. "What... do you have... behind your back, babe?" The way he said it was so firm, it made you shake a little. You didn't like stern Paul. They way he hissed the word "babe", practically spoken through clenched teeth

Your throat ached, eyes darting across the ground struggling to think up a good excuse. Anything. A book, your purse, a surprise for him! Anything!

"N-nothing." Apparently, you failed to find any excuses. Great.

Paul's knuckles began to crack, jumping forward to try and snatch it from behind you. When you dodged him, he grew even more furious. You both began to struggle, pushing him away, insisting he just stop and let you leave. But every attempt to reject him only upset him further. Why were you hiding things from him?! How could you just ditch him at the record store when he was worried sick about you??

The struggle built up until finally he had enough. His eyes turned white with rings of fire, brow looming heavily over his eyes and fangs jutting out where his incisors once were. In a flash he grabbed you by you wrists, pinning you so hard to the wall it shook. You still tried to struggle. Thrash, kick, squirm! Steel wished it could be so strong, your muscles ached. This probably wasn't even his full strength, but it dwarfed you in comparison. This terrifying side of Paul you had certainly seen before, but never had you been on the receiving end. It was in all sense of the word, predatorial. He'd never try to kill you, but you still felt that horror build up inside. Rapid, sharp breaths made your chest heave, too afraid to look up at those red eyes still fixated on whatever you kept hidden from him. He continued to pry your stubborn fingers open, ignoring your shaking whimpers. He squoze your wrist, the tendons aching and contracting until your fingertips began to lift up. Any resistance was pretty much useless at this point, but dammit you still tried everything to worm out of his grip. But he had finally had it, you weren't gonna be keeping secrets from him. Now your last finger was pushed off, and he could see what was so damn important that you physically fought him to keep it secret. It was almost slow motion the way the strip spun to the ground, clattering down and landing beside his mud caked boots. He froze, slowly looking down at it. That's it? That's all you-...

You could barely read his face, so many different emotions flashing across it all at once. Occasionally he'd look back up at you, then back down at it. To the point you almost got annoyed that you were still being stuck to a wall while the reality set in. After all, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know what that was, just put you down already!

Paul looked at you still pinned beneath him, horrified at how he lost his temper and immediately released you. Still rubbing away the pain across your wrists, you watched him pick it up. A wave of guilt swarmed your body, you didn't know whether to hug him or punt him in the chest.

Hell, a massive tidal wave of guilt overflowed him too. It'd been such a long time since he got that angry.. but worst of all he'd never been like that with you. Never grabbed you so forcefully and ignored your pleas, it was a dark side of him he never wanted to display in front of you. Glancing at the little pink plus at the end of the stick, his mind swirled with a plethora of questions. But slowly he stood up, looking down at you still really trying to process everything that had happened in the past few minutes. "I don't… I don't understand.."

"You- You are such an ass," you shouted out of nowhere, enough that it made him jump. There you were. That's the fiery girl he knew, not the one he exactly wanted to be on the opposing side of at the moment, though.

Paul wasn't surprised you were pissed, but he definitely didn't expect you to start punching his arm. Again. Then again, and again you just kept hiting his arms, his chest, pushing and crying, you were so mad you wanted to chuck him in the ocean! It didn't really hurt that much, but he felt awful he drove you to that point.

Tears blurred your vision as you lashed out on him. All you could do was yell names between sobs, even whack him with your purse. "Paul, you absolute jerk! Butt! Jackass! You smarmy, half wit, blood-sucking tool! You said you were packing blanks, you absolute liar! I was gonna tell yo-! I mean, I know I shouldn't have run-! But you just couldn't wait- and then Marko- and you! You ! Jerk ! Butthead !"

"Hey, ow! Ow! Ow, dammit! I know, I know I went to far-ow not the hair dammit," he demanded, grabbing your arms before you could lay another mighty blow. "Babe! Babe, stop! I thought I was! I swear I didn't know- I-..I never thought that I could get you...." His hands slowly released your shoulders, moving to your hips. "I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I didn't know.. I'm so sorry."

The way his voice softened only made you want to cry more. This whole day was a mess. You didn't mean to try and run.. You never should've tried to in the first place. God, you were so tired. All this running around, all this secrecy, the fighting, it was exhausting. Paul was the last person you wanted to fight. Sure you had spats and a few heated arguments. Every couple did, even vampires. But this, it was just so.m draining. With a firm thud you plopped your forehead on his sternum, your fingers tightly clinging to the upper sleeves of his jacket. "Wh-what am I supposed to do-… what are we supposed to do now..?"

Paul pondered his options with a solemn face, but there was only one that made him happy. Only one that sat right in his heart. What else could he possibly do, there was only ever going to be one answer even if you told him right away. Most of all, he couldn't stand the sorrow in your eyes. A frown never suited such a beautiful face. He never expected there to be anything to come from your heavy sexcapades, it never seemed like there was any risks in it. He'd never seen a vampire munchkin, least of all he'd never even heard of a vamp conceiving with a human. All he knew now is you, crying in his arms, terrified of what you were carrying. What it could mean. In that moment, he steeled his resolve and came to a final decision.

Silently he tilted your chin up, using his thumb to brush away all those tears staining your cheeks. Those blue eyes, you could get lost in them. Swallowed up by the sea. It wasn't hard to read his mind when he held onto your hip with one hand, while the other that pushed away salty droplets now cupped your cheek. Within moments you crashed your mouth into his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

Warm. A surge of heat filled your body. It was the first time you felt truly alive all day. You could feel your chest heave against his, you didn't want any space between the two of you and only pressed tighter until there wasn't anything left. Each kiss gave momentary breath before you dove in for more. Neither of you could stop. You didn't want to pull away, not even for a split second. The way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way he touched you, the way he felt beneath your fingers; it made your head spin. His hands began to wander, you clutched at anything you could get a hold of. Your body burned, so sweet and long. In those moments the world stopped, it just melted away in streams of light. No one was there but you two. 

It was over too soon, both of you rapidly panting for breath still intertwined. Oh, how you could stare into his eyes forever.

That frown was long gone, replaced by a tender smile. The one he had come to cherish. Paul chuckled softly, breathlessly nuzzling against your collar bone. Slowly he leaned in close to your ear, his disheveled blonde hair brushing up against your cheeks. Lips trailed up flesh, reavhing just beneath your ear. And then you heard those three forbidden words. Such sweet, tender words, you hadn't expected him to say. Although he whispered them so softly they might have gotten lost in the wind, to you they were as clear as the moon on a cloudless night.

"Y/N.... I love you."

It made your heart throb, you thought you might even faint. A lifetime of struggles led up to this beautiful moment. You never expected it to be a half-undressed heavy make out session with your vampire lover, the father of your unborn spawn, in the back alley of a record store on the Santa Carla Boardwalk. But here you were, nestled between him and an old brick wall. Paul loved you, he had said it, he finally said those words that could destroy any doubt you had. And more than anything in the whole wide world, you knew once and for all, you loved Paul.

[sambergscott]

i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

[meetmeatthecoda]

"Get up one more time and I swear I'll strap you to the bed"

Sick Prompts

Hey girl! :D Thank you for the prompt, as always! Sorry it took forever again! LOL This one was fun too, of course. I hope you enjoy! :)

Liz’s key rattles in the lock of her apartment door asDembe struggles to open it one-handed, his other arm slung around Liz’s hip,helping to keep her upright. Red supports her on her other side, arm similarly wrappedsnugly around Lizzie’s waist, his other hand holding her left arm across hisshoulders.

Liz gives an annoyed sigh. “Look, I’m sorry aboutthis.” She mutters, easing her weight a little more into Red and off hersprained right ankle.

“Lizzie, what on earth are you apologizing for? You sprained your anklewhile chasing down a dangerous criminal. That’s hardly a felony.”

Dembe finally manages to turn the lock and, with afrustrated sigh, kicks the door open. They start their awkward procession forthe final leg of their journey, Liz hobbling along in between Dembe and Red,the three of them barely squeezing through the apartment doorway.

Liz rolls her eyes. “Still. You guys didn’t have tohelp me upstairs.”

“Lizzie, don’t be ridiculous. You can’t walk.”

“I could have if I – “

“Lizzie, the doctor said no.”

Lizzie huffs, even though Red is right. He had satnext to her in the waiting room and then helped her back to the doctor’s officeand, to her surprise, just stayed. He had listened intently to everything thedoctor said and then asked more questions than Liz did. The experience was bothsurreal and oddly endearing. And, surprising, not entirely unpleasant.

Perhaps she hit her head when she tripped and fell.

The doctor had wrapped her ankle and prescribed oneweek of bedrest before a follow-up appointment. She has a feeling that Red willbe around a lot in the next week. And perhaps even sitting in on her follow-up.She’s not sure how she feels about that.

At all.

She sighs, pulling herself back to the task at handthrough the thin haze of low-strength pain meds the doctor had given her.They’re in the living room of her apartment now so she turns as best she can onone ankle and tries to steer her helpers toward the couch, dying to finally sitdown, watch some stupid TV and –

“Lizzie, just where do you think you’re going?” Redasks sharply.

“Uh, my couch?” she says, turning to glancequestioningly at him.

“Absolutely not. You need real rest, you should beupstairs in bed.”

“Red, please, I don’t think I can make it up thestairs…”

“Well, luckily, that won’t be a problem.”

“What – “

But that’s all Liz gets out because, in one smooth andcoordinated motion, Dembe eases out from under her right side and Red turns to effortlesslyknock her legs out from under her and scoop her up into his arms.

“Red!” she squeals, throwing her arms around his neckhelplessly.

Oh, he is strong. She can feel his biceps tight underher knees and behind her back. He starts toward the stairs, carrying her withan ease she couldn’t have imagined.

“Red, put me down, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“Oh, please, Lizzie,” he scoffs. “Give me a littlecredit. I’m fifty, not eighty.”

Liz rolls her eyes at his stubbornness. But he’s madeit to the second landing already so she figures she should just commit to beinghere for a while.

Besides, she thinks idly, there are worse places shecould be than in Red’s arms.

“Fifty?” she decides to tease him as he starts downthe upstairs hallway, careful not to jostle her. “Isn’t that a littlegenerous?”

He gasps melodramatically, stopping in his tracks inthe hallway, turning to look at her, mouth agape. “Lizzie, I’m wounded!” hecries.

She smirks at him, tapping her fingers against hisshoulder.

He is very broad.  

“Eh, it’s only your pride. Whereas my ankle…” shereminds him, holding up her foot and wiggling her toes stiffly.

“Ah, yes,” he mutters. “Well, you’re lucky I’m agentleman.”

He starts walking again and strides right into herbedroom without asking which room it is. Which bothers Liz a little less thanit probably should, considering the currentnot-romantic-but-possibly-on-the-edge-of-something-more state of theirrelationship.

He carefully lowers her onto her bed, his face comingvery close to hers as he leans down with her. She stretches her legs out on thebed with a relieved sigh, finally relaxing her aching ankle. Red glances downat her feet, checking to make sure she’s settled, leaving his arms around herfor a long moment. She clears her throat softly and he turns back to her and ohthey are very close. Her eyes flicker from his jade eyes to his pink lips.

She thinks they would be very soft.

He gently pulls his arms out from under her and stepsback.

Several steps.

“See?” he murmurs. “Disaster avoided.”

“Mmm…” she hums, looking at him, standing there, a bitmesmerized by him.

She definitely hit her head. Hard.

“Well,” he says suddenly, loudly. “I’m going to rundownstairs and bring some things up for you, since you’ll be staying on thisfloor for the time being. Some snack food, bottled water, medicine. Anythingelse?”

“No, thank you, that should be fine.” Liz can’t helpbut smile at him. Regardless of the severity of her suspected head wound, he isbeing very sweet.

He nods jerkily and turns quickly to leave.

Perhaps Red is trying to escape that odd warmthhovering in the room, blanketing them.

The room.

Her bedroom.

Liz whips around, throwing a panicked glance aroundher. There are clothes scattered everywhere, books and DVDs haphazardly strewn,lipsticks and eyeliners littering her bureau and dear god, is that a pair ofunderwear on that chair over there?

Oh, no. That won’t do.

Liz glances around, looking for something to help herup. She settles for her nightstand, grasping the edge to help her heave herselfup and onto one foot. She then starts grabbing everything within reach,stacking items semi-neatly on the nightstand and balling up clothes to hurlthem across the room and into the empty hamper in the corner.

She gets all the clothes she can reach and decides shecan’t help all the odds and ends everywhere – she didn’t plan on doing afaceplant into a cement sidewalk today, after all – and bites her lip. It’sjust that one pair of panties, bright red and lacy, abandoned last week after adismal night out in exchange for her comfy cotton ones, that are mocking herfrom across the room. Red can’t see those. He just can’t.

She’s standing there, trying to figure out how to get tothe rogue pair of panties, when Red wanders back into the room.

“Lizzie? What are you doing up?”

“Uh,” she starts eloquently. She winces. She can’texactly tell Red the truth –  that shewas panic-cleaning her room for him because they’re not at a place in their relationshipwhere she’s comfortable letting him see her for the unorganized slob that she reallyis – and struggles to come up with an excuse.

“I was, uh – “

“Well, it doesn’t matter, get back into bed.” He busieshimself setting everything he brought upstairs onto her already crowdednightstand, a feat in itself.

She scowls to herself and plops back down onto thebed, the damn underwear burning a hole in the back of her head. She doesn’tturn around to look, afraid of drawing his attention to them.

She has to get rid of them.

“Uh, Red?” she asks quickly. “Could I have something elsefrom downstairs please?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

Good question.

“Uh…my iPod? It’s on the dining room table, I think.”

Red nods and leaves again.

The minute she hears his gait on the stairs, she turnsand heaves herself out of bed again, using her desk and then her dresser to hopalong towards the chair, slowly making progress, glaring at the offendinggarment, wishing it would spontaneously burst into flames. She’s only abouthalfway when she hears Red climbing back up the stairs. Damn it, she shouldhave sent him for something further away. She stretches out her hand and finallymanages to snatch the damn panties off the chair and throw them with gusto intothe hamper.

Red enters the room a second later.

“Lizzie! Get up one more time and I swear I will strapyou down to the bed!”

Liz turns to smirk at him, much more at ease now thather panties are safely out of his view.

“Promise?”

For now.