#werewolf!reuben

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

@ahopelessromanticwritersworld requested: "I would like to humbly request number 19 from the kids prompt with Mickey and Reuben in the Werwolf au!"

|| prompt list ||

prompt: one is forced to take of a child and handles it much better than expected. when their significant other finds them, they're absorbed in a game with the child

au: werewolf

word count: 1125

warnings: domestic fluff, pregnancy mention, mickey and reuben being so in love

✎……masterlist on pinned

✎……sorry this took me so long, my darling <3

There was a knock at the door and Mickey jumped up from the couch to answer it. Reuben just chuckled at his mate, knowing how excited he had been for the past several weeks for this day.

Flinging open the door, he revealed his Alpha and Luna standing on the other side. Jake holding their one-and-a-half-year-old son on his hip, and Ronnie sporting a large baby bump.

“Hey, Noah, my little buddy!” Mickey greeted as he held out his hands for the tot.

And Noah went easily, little grin on his face showing off his dimples when he was finally in Mickey’s grasp. Noah was a cuddly kid. He would let anyone hold him if his parents allowed it. But if it was a member of the pack it was a whole nother story. Sometimes Jake and Ronnie wondered if he preferred the pack over his own parents.

Mickey moved away from the doorway, tickling Noah’s side to make his shoulders bunch up.

“Hey, guys, come on in,” Reuben said as he got up from the couch. 

“Oh, we’re actually here,” Ronnie joked, stepping through the threshold with a hand rubbing soothingly into her belly. “For a second there I thought we were invisible.” 

Mickey looked away from the baby with a guilty smile. “Sorry. You’re just not as cute.” 

“Hilarious,” Jake scoffed lightly with a smile, knowing it was true and setting down the stuffed full diaper bag at his feet.

Reuben came to stand beside his mate, hands in his jean pockets. “How’re you feelin’, Luna?”

“Very pregnant,” Ronnie replied on a sigh, “Ready to relax for a minute before pup gets here.” 

“Pup!” Noah echoed with a grin, finger pointed at Ronnie. 

“Yeah? Is your little brother in there?” Mickey asked, stepping closer so Noah could put his little hand on his mama’s belly. “Got any big plans for the babymoon?”

Ronnie shook her head as Jake came to stand behind her. Strong arms wrapping around her middle, chin hooking over her shoulder as he kissed lightly at her neck. Reuben smiled as he watched them. Listening to his Luna explain that they were just going to stay home, let Jake do the nesting he’s been itching to do for weeks now but couldn’t because of Noah. They were made to be parents, it seemed. Took to it like ducks on water.

Then Reuben glanced at his mate, who was bouncing Noah on his hip. And behind the excitement and joy, he could see a bit of longing there too. A bit of sadness, maybe. He could feel it. Deep in his chest, where his connection to Mickey laid. 

After a bit more small talk and catching up, Jake decided it was time to go with a nod towards the door and a grunt that made Ronnie affectionately roll her eyes. 

“Everything you need is gonna be in here.” She kicked the diaper bag lightly. “Diapers, wipes, extra clothes. Make sure you put the breast milk in the fridge. I know you have toys here but I packed a few of his favorites just in case. And seriously, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay, okay — now get outta here you two! Enjoy your last weekend as parents of one!” Mickey shooed them towards the door.

But he let them both get one last kiss and hug from their son. Then they were gone. Mickey and Reuben followed them out onto the porch, let Noah watch as they climbed back into their Subaru and drive away. His little hand opening and closing in a wave as they went.

It was a beautiful May afternoon, the sun shining bright in the clear blue sky, so Mickey and Reuben decided to play with Noah outside for a bit before he went down for his nap. It was mostly a lot of running around. Noah shrieking happily at the top of  his little lungs and laughing whenever one of them would catch him. But he seemed to be having fun and wearing himself out. 

But eventually he lost interesting in that game. Opting instead to look through their flower garden, which he knew not to pick from. Reuben and Mickey sat down in the grass not too far off with a huff. Mickey’s shoulder leaned into his mate’s side.

“God, he’s so fucking cute,” Reuben sighed as he watched him reach up for a flower, then retract his hand with a look like he was scolding himself. 

“I know,” Mickey agreed with a grin. “Who would’ve thought our Alpha could make such cute pups.” 

“I think it’s mostly Ronnie,” Reuben joked, and Mickey barked out a laugh with his head thrown back. Reuben kissed his cheek. “Gonna go get the little guy some water. Want anything?” 

“No, I’m good. Thank you though.” Mickey looked up at him with a smile. 

And he really couldn’t help it, Reuben ducked down and pressed a sweet kiss to his grinning lips. Then he got up and headed inside. 

The unit controlled air inside was refreshing to Reuben’s burning skin as he came in through the backdoor of their cabin. After digging through the diaper bag, pulling out the three pairs of pajamas and what felt like ten outfits that Ronnie had packed, he finally found Noah’s water cup to fill at the sink. It was nearing three, and the little guy needed to go down for a nap before dinner. At the very least, a few hours to rest. Maybe they could throw on Bluey — the only thing Jake and Ronnie would allow him to watch when he was over at someone else’s house. Any other time, they were pretty strict about no screens. 

As Reuben filled the sippy-cup, he could hear Mickey talking through the open window above the sink. Looking out, he smiled at the sight before him. 

They were playing some game. Noah pointing and babbling at his mate before he would turn away and do a lap around one of their garden plots. Little arms swinging at his sides and head tilting this way and that. Reuben laughed at the sight, wondering where he got that from. 

When Noah made it back to Mickey still sitting with his legs stretched out in the grass, he started babbling complete nonsense and pointing at him again. 

“You son of a bitch,” Mickey said like he had just been convinced of something before hopping to his feet. “I’m in.” 

Then Noah wrapped one hand around Mickey’s finger and started leading him around the garden. Reuben turned off the water with a smile.

When the weekend is over, maybe it was time to start talking about starting their own family.

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[sodaquail]

writing a chip jrwi werewolf fic. the world cheers at least i hope

[writing-whump]

Bleeding silver

This is a Christmas present for my lovely friend and RP partner @clickerflight. Great writer and artist, your work lights up my day.💙 Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Flashback fic, when Isaiah was 17, an executioner in his family pack. Insight into his secrets about his father, brothers and the deal with Reuben. Angst, captivity, torture, mentions of war, mentions of death, mentions of abuse.

Father’s office was big, dark with lots of massive wood a fireplace and two smaller rooms for waiting and parallel meetings, but very few wolves knew about its greatest advantage - that it had a stairway leading to another office downstairs.

The basement office had no windows. It was that far in the ground and the walls were of thick cement. No sounds came out of there. 

Isaiah made sure no one was at the meeting room, before he went down, closing the secret door behind him. 

Reuben was in the same position as Isaiah saw him in the morning. Hands in silver chains leading back to the wall behind him. He could  sit upright, but he could not move up from there. Silver cuffs on his feet served no other purpose than to cause more burning pain. He was bleeding where silver touched him, the skin rough and blistered. 

“I brought you food,” Isaiah said, putting the plate next to his limp feet before stepping away to lean against the cluttered table behind him.

Reuben tilted his head slowly, eyes glassy and feverish as they focused on him. His brown curls were greasy from sweat and matted with old blood and he was shivering without his shadow. He still managed a sarcastic: “How very kind of you.” 

It was a bowl of soup. Isaiah figured Reuben’s last bouts of sickness could be traced back to the ongoing strain from the silver burns and that maybe something easier on the stomach could help. He could not simply give him whatever they had at dinner so he made the plainest chichen broth he could. 

“It’s such a shame,” Reuben rasped, leaning his head back, “you go through all that trouble to keep me alive, but I’ll have to say no.”

“I don’t care if you are alive,” Isaiah said on reflex. 

“Yes, you do. You know what will happen, when my dad finds out about this, right? Can you Wolfsons afford another war? I hear you are preparing for one right now.”

“You couldn’t have heard that,” Isaiah said, folding his hands on his chest. No way someone would reveal such sensitive information…

“Your daddy dearest sounded pretty sure,” Reuben said, a small smirk playing on his chapped lips at Isaiah’s discomfort. “He talks a lot like I won’t survive to tell the tale. I guess he’s right.”

Isaiah’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. His shadow rose angrily though, slashing down on the ground. He didn’t like to be left out of decisions of that magnitude. Neither did he agree with Reuben getting killed. The guy was 17, the same as Isaiah and the oldest son of the Jäger pack’s leader. It made no sense to kill him. Isaiah knew he could have easily been the one on the floor in his father’s office. 

“You should really decide already,” Reuben rasped. “You are in conflict, that’s clear as day. You bring me food, you come watch me when you father all but forgets, you worry about my survival although you shouldn’t. You want to release me, but you also want to do what daddy says. You don’t understand the logic behind his plan to torture me. If he killed me, it would be a quicker way to start a war. And your father obviously wants to start one.”

“That’s not true,” Isaiah said sharply. “Father only does what’s best for the pack.”

“So why did he kidnap me? Why this whole ordeal?” Reuben lifted himself up, hands automatically tugging before he winced at the movement and sagged back again.

“There is surely an explanation I’m still not worthy or smart enough to understand.”

“Ha! You still believe that? There is no way your father does things for the greater good of anyone but his bloodthirsty shadow. I told you. This is not how a leader acts.” Reuben coughed then, his whole torse shaking with the cough until it blew into a whole coughing fit, wracking his frame.

“I’m going to escape from here,” Reuben continued, voice breathy and ragged. “One way or another.” He looked at the bowl of soup in disgust, head lolling to the other side.

Isaiah snorted. “How? By starving yourself? That’s the big plan?”

“Why not? I can’t keep doing this forever.” He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat running down the side of his face although he was shivering. “I want out.”  

Isaiah was silent for a long time, shaken by the sheer despair in Reuben’s otherwise talkative arrogant voice. It’s been two weeks. He was running thin, constantly in pain from the silver, the beatings and rolled down shadow that came in irregular intervals not helping.

“It’s just because you are not used to the silver,” he said quietly. 

Reuben’s eyes closed in exhaustion. “No one is supposed to be used to silver. It freaking hurts. It’s poison to us.”

“See? That’s why father training me with silver is such a good move. Silver with shadow, without the shadow, seeing how quickly you recover. Look at this.” Isaiah crouched down and rolled down the right sleeve on his coat to show the ugly red welts on his arm. 

Reuben opened his eyes to slits to look, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Silver knife with a rolled down shadow. But my shadow is already back up. I have grown stronger since he did it to me last time. Every time I get used to the pain more. I know what to expect. And I can call my shadow to come back to me sooner instead of being paralyzed by the pain.”

“Why do you sound so bloody happy?!” Reuben said, face contorting into an angry grimace. “That’s not normal, Isaiah! That’s not something a father does to his son, or a wolf does to his pup. That’s not something a parent’s shadow is supposed to be capable of doing to its child!” 

Isaiah recoiled, covering the slashes with his good hand. “You don’t understand. He doesn’t like to do it. It’s a necessary sacrifice for him, but he does it for my sake.”

“For your sake!” Reuben exclaimed, lifting himself up in the chains again only to break into another coughing fit. Isaiah felt the unexplainable impulse to steady him, to touch him. 

“That’s such nonsense, Isaiah. This is not part of the training of a successor. Or an executioner. It’s just plain sadistic torture.”

Isaiah bowed his head, staring at the carpet. It was dusty, covered with patches of dried blood.  

“And you know it. Deep down you know it. Why else would you prevent your father from training your younger brother?” 

Isaiah flinched at that, looking back at Reuben. “One executioner is enough. This kind of training is for me. I’m the strongest in the pack. It’s a burden and a blessing. And mainly, it’s my duty.” For the greater good. For the good of the pack. They need someone like me, who can bear the pain, inflict the pain, understand it and protect them from it. 

“If you truly believed this was a strength, you would have trained your brother yourself. Instead, you made a deal. Your father told me. Gloated to me, really. That you think you can do everything on your own, so much your brother won’t be needed for the job at all. That you made a deal that you would not protest any mission if Hector were excluded from the training. And that Hector himself hates you for it. Stupid bastard, not knowing what he is missing.”

Isaiah’s eyes widened. He had no idea father told Reuben such intimate family affairs. 

“You won’t protect him forever. He complied to motivate you, but he is sure your qualms will disappear. The more you do it, the more your shadow tastes the blood, the more it will crave it. Until you become like him. And then he will train Hector too. Make him into another you. And you will enjoy it, just like your father enjoys it right now.” 

Isaiah stood up abruptly. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his shadow swelling beside him, reacting to his fear, to his pain. It wanted to claw into Reuben for saying that, it wanted to tear him to shreds, taste his blood, bite deep into him just like father would into Isaiah, to calm down, to feel in control…

Reuben smiled, blood in the corner of his lips, eyes glittering with fever and irony. “See? You are on your best way to get there. To the shadow madness.”

Isaiah stepped closer to Reuben, towering over him. He was so weak and pitiful. Isaiah could break his ribs with one kick, smash his teeth together to make him shut up, he could strangle him with his shadow…

Reuben said nothing else, staring invitingly in the way of a wolf making a challenge. Isaiah realized then Reuben was truly serious.

He wanted to die. And he wanted to provoke Isaiah into doing it. 

Isaiah walked away. 

After he closed and locked the basement office door, he all but ran up the stairs, into the office, through the side exit into the courtyard.

Isaiah braced his hands against his thighs, gulping in the taste of fresh, cold air. He needed to clear his head. He needed his shadow back under control. 

**

Isaiah sat in the smaller of the adjoined offices, doing paperwork, when Marek walked in. 

Although Isaiah was younger, Marek waited patiently until Isaiah acknowledged his presence. That’s how it was these days. Marek was a Wolkenstein, he had a powerful shadow and great skill. But no wolf could measure up to Isaiah’s shadow or his control or his skill with it. None of the older wolves, not even those leading their own fractions, their own little allied groups. Not even Isaiah’s uncle. No one but father could do it.

Isaiah lifted his gaze. His shadow was up, covering the ground around the table and climbing the walls. He liked to keep it in the open when he didn’t want to be disturbed. He felt safer with it.

Marek bowed his head, eyes glued to the ground, head tipping to the side to show his throat. It was more of a symbolic gesture, but an important one, showing his submission and acceptance of Isaiah’s power over him. 

Isaiah’s shadow wiggled in satisfaction, sizzling like water dripping on burning coals. 

“You may speak,” Isaiah said, voice carefully neutral and devoid of emotion. 

“The leader said you are in charge of picking wolves for the battle,” Marek said, lifting his gaze tentatively, though looking somewhere over Isaiah’s shoulder. “With the Specter pack. They send us their challenge already, right? You have the date?”

“The date and place have been decided,” Isaiah allowed. He didn’t like where this was going. He had been put in charge of picking the pack members for the battle and he decided not to pick anyone. He would go there alone or with father at most and handle it.

“Then…who is coming?”

Isaiah gave him a measured stare. It usually scared wolves enough not to ask questions and leave him alone. Especially with his shadow up like that. 

Marek gulped a little under the pressure, but continued: “You mean…no one? Do you seriously want to go alone?”

“That is my decision to make,” Isaiah said coldly. His shadow hissed like a snake, not liking the disagreement in Marek’s voice. 

“Of course, it’s your decision,” Marek said quickly, shoulders hunching. “But Isaiah, come on. Wars are about numbers. Specters are coming after us with at least 10 of their strongest members. We should do the same. We have manpower to choose from, wolves eager for battle and we are strong, Isaiah. If you said a word…”

Isaiah said nothing, just glaring.

Marek looked up before quickly bowing his gaze again. “Isaiah, please. If you don’t want to pick, I’ll ask. Only volunteers, what do you think?”

They both knew there would be plenty of those. Isaiah disliked it. This was a great opportunity to let go of some anger and accumulated aggression, but wolves would always be eager to fight. It wasn’t civilized and it brought nothing good to fight between packs. Isaiah wanted to do it alone, so no one else would bear the risk. 

“There is no point in having a pack, if you don’t let it fight for you when it counts,” Marek said, voice low and soothing. 

Isaiah didn’t answer, but he let his eyes go to the side, conceding the point.

Marek straightened up at that, voice relieved. “Thank you. Nothing bad will happen, Isaiah. Don’t worry.”

Isaiah narrowed his eyes. Suggesting he was worried was not acceptable, even if Marek had been his friend and had seen him train long before he became the executioner. 

Marek winced, backing away. “I’ll be going then.”

But executioners didn’t have friends. Marek understood that, yet still felt like he needed to look out for him. Isaiah didn’t manage to scare him away as well as he intended. 

Maybe it was the Wolkenstein ability to tell lies and truth. And Marek was well-tuned to Isaiah’s masks, somehow able to read between the neutral expressions, threatening looks and cold tones. 

Isaiah didn’t like it. It was as if Marek could see through his defenses, all the way to the little boy he used to be, when they first became friends with each other. 

Marek went to the door, only turning at the last second, eyes briefly meeting his. “It’s okay, Zaya.”

I know you are in there somewhere. You won’t fool me. I know this is a kindness from you. It’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone. 

Isaiah said nothing as Marek disappeared out the door, staring at the spot for a long time. 

***

Isaiah walked briskly through the halls, shadow slashing behind him. Wolves and humans and witches quickly cleared the way at his approach.

He walked as quickly as he could without outright running.

“It was a necessary loss,” his father said. Isaiah could still see his ruthlessly calm green eyes staring holes into his head. “People die in wars, it is to be expected. It was an acceptable sacrifice. We only lost two people, Isaiah. This is a victory to be celebrated.”

Isaiah fumed. He said nothing, only getting out the door, shadow lashing. He needed to get home, he needed to get out of the public eye. Away from celebrating wolves, from victory yells and champagne. 

The victory wasn’t worth Marek’s life. 

Isaiah was coming to think no victory could have been worthy of it. 

It was an unnecessary war. For territory, for not forgiving a slight offense. It was entirely father’s fault. And it was Isaiah’s, because he let Marek talk him into taking more wolves.

Isaiah let Marek come. To die.

Isaiah burst into the apartment he shared with his brothers, shadow trailing behind him, long and angry.

Hector and Arnie were both in the living room, eating. They had the meet and mashed potatoes Isaiah cooked in the morning. He always cooked for them, finding it the most and if not only enjoyable time of his day. Doing something with his hands that created instead of destroyed, something enjoyable that could be shared.

Hector stood up from the table. “Ah, there he is. Father didn’t even want me at the celebration, because I wasn’t part of the war in any way. You all happy about that, huh? Keeping him and all the good techniques to yourself, you selfish prick.”

Isaiah ignored him, getting out of his coat and removing his shoes. 

“You can’t keep me out of every interesting fight! I know this is your fault, that you keep me away from father on purpose - but I’ll get strong anyway. Stronger than you and then you’ll regret-”

Isaiah turned. There was blood on his suit, Marek’s blood, as he kneeled beside him as he bled out from a silver bullet. His shadow rose around him, spilling over the living room, swelling with anger.

Hector stopped abruptly, taking an involuntary step back. 

Arnie hunched into himself at the table. He was just 11 years old, used to his brothers, their shadows and their fighting. To the good kind of fighting, the playful one. When they weren’t trying to hurt each other.

Nowadays Hector tried to hurt Isaiah whenever he saw him. Lashing out in anger, not understanding what was wrong, why he was being left out. He was 15 years old, a very sensitive age for a shadow wolf. They needed guidance and direction, a clear example and goals to follow, so they could discipline their shadows into submission. Shadows that reacted to every hormonal emotion with a vengeance and aggression. 

This was a sensitive age. And Isaiah nor father could be there for him. Isaiah made sure of that. 

“Shut up,” Isaiah said, fighting the urge to just roll his little brother's shadow down and take the peace and quiet he craved. “Shut up for once. No one is interested in your whining.” 

Hector went pale, bowing his head in submission and fear.

Isaiah’s shadow wiggled in excitement at the gesture. Isaiah felt sick.

Arnie stood up then, a little hesitant before stepping closer to Isaiah. His green eyes were wide in his childish face, blond hair messy and shining under the kitchen lamp.

“Was it bad? Are you hurt?” Arnie said quietly, reaching for his arm. He knew he had to be careful with wolves, although he was never afraid of the two of them. At least that was ingrained into Isaiah and Hector both by their mother, when she was still alive. Isaiah never worried about Hector doing anything to Arnie and until now the trust turned justified.

Isaiah fought every instinct in his body not to recoil or shove him off, when Arnie gently touched his forearm. All his muscles clenched inside him. Arnie was all softness, round and vulnerable and kind, looking at him with those trusting big eyes…

Isaiah tolerated the touch for a few seconds, revulsion and disgust swirling inside him. His shadow steadied though, pulling back and down.

The oldest wolf stepped away from the human boy and then hurried into the bathroom at the end of the hall. Fortunately, they had two bathrooms and this one Isaiah liked to reserve for himself. 

He locked the door behind him, then opened the faucet to full blast and let the shower run. His hands were shaking so badly that he barely managed to unbutton his shirt and strip down from his bloody clothes. 

That was all he managed before the tears came.

The grief and pain flooded him like a tsunami, crashing the air out of his lungs. He slid down the door, curling into himself, hoping the running water would disguise the sounds.

He held onto his composure during the battle. He held onto it when Marek got shot, and when his mother bled out next to him, trying to save her oldest son. There were still two kids she left behind. Marek’s little brother and sister. 

Isaiah’s insides shook and twisted. He buried his face into his knees, wailing quietly, while his shadow clawed at the bathroom tiles. But he wasn’t worried it would do anything anymore. This was a way to let out a strong emotions, and he would rather let it out through tears than through someone’s blood. 

At least this time around.

***

Isaiah went down the stairs. It was deep into the night, the sounds of celebration still loud. 

He went down the steps with newfound determination. The conflict in him was gone, his shadow calm at his side as he opened the door. He didn’t switch the light on.

Reuben was sleeping fitfully in the chains, but was quick to wake at the sound of his approach. The bowl of soup was untouched. 

Isaiah had no time to be hesitant. He went down to one knee beside him, taking out the keys and unlocking his cuffs.

Reuben’s eyes widened, but he pulled his bleeding hands away, pressing them against his chest. “What's going on?”

“We’ll wait till your shadow comes back and heals you. I’ll replace the chain with a steel one, so the silver doesn’t burn you. And when the time is right, I’ll help you escape,” Isaiah said, voice hard and clipped.

Reuben’s face lightened up. “Isaiah, this is the right choice. You won’t regret-”

“In exchange,” Isaiah interrupted harshly, “you won’t tell your father what happened to you or that the Wolfsons had anything to do with it. Tell him you were on a trip or spent the time passed out drunk. I don’t care. But there will be no other war, you understand?”

Reuben frowned, lowering his voice. “That bad today?”

Isaiah stood up, leaning back against the table like he did before. Reuben slid away from his usual place by the wall, as if wanting to exercise some of his new freedom, though he was weak and didn’t get further than a step.

“I won’t let another war happen. No one else has to get hurt in this. You know what my father is. You know the only ones suffering are you and me. And you said it yourself, it’s not my fault. We don’t have to make it a pack business.” 

“Am I just supposed to forgive you? Just like that? What about my suffering, huh?” 

Isaiah rubbed at his face tiredly. “Can’t you just be happy you won’t end up dead?” 

“What about the consequences? What about the silver scars, what about the pain to my shadow, Isaiah? What am I supposed to do if there turns out to be damage I can’t manage on my own? It wants revenge and-” 

“If we go to war, I’ll go and kill your father.”

Reuben froze, mouth open.

“I don’t want another war. But if you won’t help me, there will be one and more Wolfson wolves are going to die. Jäger wolves are going to die. But I’ll make sure to kill your father, so your pack is hit the most, losing its leader. So no other pack ever tries to fight us again. You want to go that road?” 

Reuben snarled at him. If he went to his father and started the war, he would not be strong enough to fight in it. And he couldn’t defeat Isaiah the first time anyway, though they were very closely matched. 

“Fine. I won’t tell anyone what happened was your and the Wolfson pack leader’s doing. But I can’t let your shadow mad father run free, Isaiah, you have to under-”

“Give me a year,” Isaiah said. “Give me one year and I’ll deal with him myself. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Reuben would always have the knowledge that could destroy his pack. Once he was free, the bargaining advantage would be in his hands. 

Reuben raised an eyebrow at him, features hard. “Fine. In exchange?”

Isaiah sighed. “Anything you want.” 

@bellysoupset

[fangirlofallthings22]

Quick edit based off The Echo ( Or the Answer) by @anniesocsandgeneralstore

If you haven’t read it all ready, definitely check it out, it’s a werewolf AU with my favourite OC of all time Ronnie <3

[kitxkatrp]

Tag Dump 47

[goosefries]

my designs for the color gang! (+ heroic pig/reuben)

(if you like my art, im on artfight!! my user is goosefries - im on team werewolf but i do friendly fire sometimes!!!!!!!!! ATTACK ME!!!!!!!!!!!)

[triskhellion]

The first part of Customer Service.

Rated: Explicit (10.8K)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale, Alan Deaton

Tags: Omega Derek, Human Stiles, Getting Together, Coffee Shop AU, Surly Barista Derek, Sleepy College Student Stiles, Vulgar Latte Art, Heat Sex, Virgin Stiles, Versatile Derek/Stiles, Dominant Bottom Derek, Service Top Stiles, Embarrassment, Praise Kink, Various Explicit Sex Acts, Knotting, Biting, Derek call Stiles kitten, Cat Ears, Collars & Leashes, Werewolves Are Known.

Derek:

Derek had been told on multiple occasions that his customer service left much to be desired — the earlier it was, the grumpier he was — but apparently some people were into that. Considered it an authentic surly barista coffee shop experience or something. The rest of the patrons overlooked it because he made an espresso even meaner than he was, poured beautiful latte art (if he didn’t hate you) and could make the perfect Reuben. 

Also because it was the only coffee shop in this neighborhood that opened at a miserable 5:30am, which Laura mandated during the week and meant having to come in at 5:00 to get things ready. So the early bird caffeine fiends and danish devotees either had to deal with him at least some of the time or wait until a much more reasonable 7:00am to go to Hot Shots or Francine’s instead. That or learn to make their own pumpkin bread, cappuccinos, and seven syrup oat milk monstrosities at home. 

Then there were those who didn’t mind because they thought he was hotter than the panini grill that he managed to burn himself on at least once almost every day. (Fortunately, he had werewolf healing.) Derek didn’t much care what anyone thought as long as they got off the phone to order and kept it moving, especially when there was a line.  

When some obviously new kid — almost certainly a student at the college up the street — stumbled in at almost a quarter after 6:00 Monday morning, somehow giving the impression of wide-eyed gawking while squinty from lack of sleep, he wondered which kind of customer he’d be. Derek went back to doing the soup prep for lunch knowing that it’d probably be a while before Squinty read the menu and then actually made up his mind. 

Stiles:

Stiles was not a morning person, but when he decided to transfer from BCCC to BSU after one year instead of two the only available time left for one of the classes he needed was 7:00am on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Why would a professor even do such a thing? (The answer was apparently so that the nursing students, athletes, and others who needed to finish earlier in the afternoons could attend, but pssh, whatever Professor Stanton.) 

Thankfully, there was a coffee shop that opened at stupid o’clock about halfway between his new place and the 20 minute walk to school (or 3 minute drive when he’d inevitably run late, but he’d try to get a little exercise this way when possible and it also gave him an excuse to explore the neighborhood on his walks back home.) TrisKettle Café it was called and it had a triple spiral thingy for a logo. Cool.

He nearly moaned when he opened the door and the scent of sweet sweet coffee (well, bitter coffee, but you know) wafted over to him. He hadn’t bothered to check out the menu online just being glad that the cafe existed at all. Stiles had slept in over the weekend and when he got up today and realized that he’d lost track of where he’d packed even his emergency instant coffee he almost cried. He figured he’d have a look around and pick whatever was available and sounded good. 

After checking out the baked goods selection he made his decision and planned to order for here. He had 25 minutes or so to kill before he had to leave. Stiles saw that the barista was in the middle of doing something with a large pot so took a couple minutes to read the framed article clippings on the nearest wall. 

They had opened just two years ago and the owner was a young woman named Laura Hale. There was a picture of her and her family smiling on the sidewalk out front; a middle aged couple who he assumed were her parents, a young man and a teenage girl who were probably siblings, and a man in his mid-20s with one arm around her shoulder and the other holding a toddler.

Well, most of them were smiling. The younger guy, who was admittedly quite handsome, had what was at best a pretty neutral expression. Underneath it listed their names: Talia Hale, Nathan Hale, Cora Hale, Aaron Hale, Emily Hale. One of the names in the middle was partially crossed out until it only said D Hale. Huh.

Stiles glanced at the time on his phone and then approached the counter. The barista turned around before he could say anything sporting whatever the male version of Resting Bitch Face was. Bastard Face? Jerk Face? At any rate, it was the dude from the picture and his name tag indeed just said D. 

“Hi, can I have one of the almond pear pastries and a large latte for here?”

“Yeah, it’ll be $8.25.”

Stiles handed over a $10 bill and then dropped the change in tip jar marveling at D’s ability to instantly do even the most rudimentary math this early in the morning. 

There was no one behind him so he stayed at the counter reading the lunch menu and daily specials and the funny stickers on the register and tip jar. He idly turned sideways to lean against it to look at the art on the other side, but miscalculated and lost his balance, catching himself with an arm smacking the wooden surface after a moment of flailing. When he looked up D was watching him and raising an impressive, judgmental eyebrow. 

“Should I put this in a to-go cup…” he more stated than asked, walking back over to towards him as the espresso machine whirred.

“Nah, th-that’s okay, I got it,” Stiles stammered, flushing with embarrassment. “It’s my first day having to get up this early for classes and I’m not used to it yet. Hopefully once I get some caffeine in my system my motor skills will improve at least slightly and my brain will stop questioning reality.”

“As long as you don’t break this mug you can hallucinate as much as you want.”

“More like Hale-ucinate, amirite?”

D stared at him silently for several seconds and Stiles fidgeted awkwardly. Just before he was about to slink away to wait for his latte over by the wall the barista shook his head and sighed.

“I hate that I thought that was funny,” he replied in a monotone, expression not noticeably changing in any way as he went to finish preparing the drink.

“Well, you could’ve fooled me, but if you say so,” Stiles mumbled under his breath after the barista was out of earshot.

Or so he’d thought. The retreating man froze and then turned around, glaring.

Oh shit, how did he actually hear th—Oh fuck, he must be a werewolf! I’m going to get ripped to shreds. Hopefully only metaphorically.

Stiles had just moved to what he referred to as his “shanty studio” last Thursday from his Dad’s place on the other side of the county and hadn’t heard much, if any, of the local gossip yet. Including that the Hales were apparently werewolves. 

It had been a few years since the Big Reveal and aside from the usual bigots and rabble rousers and the occasional terrorist plot (which had already been a thing, so not much had changed except the growing list of targets for fanatics) things had calmed down considerably. There were still tensions of course, but most folks ended up more or less shrugging their shoulders in the end since the Weres had clearly been here the whole time and a significant amount of folks either knew a werewolf or knew someone that did. 

Stiles still wasn’t in the habit of considering that someone he ran into randomly could be a wolf though. There had only been the one elderly couple back home — at least that were open about it anyway — and they’d lived there for ages.  

When his latte arrived the foam was artfully formed in the shape of an exceptionally detailed dick. Instead of getting huffy about it like the werewolf probably expected, Stiles merely snorted and grinned. He took a sip, licking the froth from his top lip after.

“Thanks for the D, D!” he called cheerfully, saluting before going to find a seat in the back corner.

Derek:

Derek cracked a smile as the new kid walked away. So he was the easy going sort. That was good. He told himself it was just because the last thing he needed was another uptight and irate early morning customer and not because he was very cute and smelled nice and caught the attention of his wolf. No, definitely not. 

Said new customer quickly became a regular at the shop, coming in on his early class days and sometimes an additional day or two a week, though either in the late mornings or afternoons then. Derek refused to do more than 3 opening shifts a week, so he sometimes saw him on those days too. He learned that Squinty aka New Kid’s name was Stiles and when he asked “What kind of a name is that?” the impish bastard replied with “One with more than a single letter.” Touché.

Derek had poured him a foam ass vaguely reminiscent of goatse that time, but also gave him a bag of leftover brownies and pastries from the previous day. Surprised, Stiles thanked him and the smile he gave in return lit up his whole face. When Derek realized he’d been staring he grunted out a sarcastic “You’re welcome” and went to wipe down the already clean prep table behind him. 

He’d noticed that Stiles only bought food with his beverage once or twice a week and sometimes just got regular drip coffee to drink as well and figured he’d help the likely rather broke student out. They often put leftovers out in a way so that folks who needed food could safely take it, but their favorite regulars got some too.

Their baked goods were delicious if he said so himself, but after two years there was only so much of them even a family of werewolves cared to put away. They only made the brownies, cookies, and pumpkin, banana, and rotating specialty breads in house since pastry dough was beyond all of the Hale siblings. Cora, who worked a few hours after school some days and usually one longer weekend shift, once made a batch of “kwa-sahns” so hard that they were only fit to be used as doorstops.

As the weeks went by it became a goal of his to make Stiles smile or laugh with different outrageous and occasionally cute or actually pretty designs each time he ordered his usual. The last time he’d made him a silly little fox. Derek couldn’t help sometimes imagining the mischievous, all too appealing human lapping at him like he shamelessly did with the foam on his lattes or the whipped cream on the hot cocoas he got from time to time instead.

Stiles:

Going to TrisKettle was often the highlight of his day, which was somewhat unfortunate seeing as that was usually at the very start of it and so it was all at least relatively downhill from there. So it went. Stiles had been doing fine in his classes, but was not particularly enthused this term of yet more pre-recs. He’d made some pals to hang around with in between classes and to study or do projects with in the meeting rooms at the library, but that was pretty much the extent of things so far. 

But the coffee shop, that was the place he got both his caffeine and banter fixes. He’d gotten to know Laura herself, who opened most of the mornings that D didn’t (her husband, Aaron usually did so once a week.) She was sunny and talked with her hands and was pretty much the opposite of her brother, except for the sarcasm that they had in common. A trait which was also shared with Baby Hale Demon, aka Cora, who flipped him off whenever they crossed paths, but clearly enjoyed their own verbal sparring. There were a few other folks that worked there as well, mostly fellow students at the college, but none from his classes.

And of course D, who was in a category all on his own. Between the hilarious foam art and the much appreciated bags of day olds once or twice a week and the rare and therefore immensely more valuable smiles bestowed upon him when he managed to truly amuse the werewolf, making him even more unfairly gorgeous, Stiles was having all sorts of thoughts and feelings. Sigh. 

But now was not for brooding; it was a Friday and he could worry about all that later when he was home or between classes. Now was for drinking coffee — he’d mix things up with a mocha to-go today since he’d arrived later than usual — and trying to make his favorite grumpy barista smile. 

D grunted a greeting and dropped a still slightly warm napkin wrapped chocolate peanut butter cookie on the counter in front of him, which he demolished in seconds after paying for his drink with his debit card and dropping a dollar in the tip jar. While his drink was being made Stiles called out to the werewolf.

“Hey D, what do you drink when you’re feeling depressed?”

“Whisky with wolfsbane,” he deadpanned. Stiles inhaled sharply.  

“Oh, um, I was trying to tell a joke, but that’s, uh, good to know, I, uh—“

“I know,” the werewolf said, turning around with a smirk.  Then he rolled his eyes. “It's fine, go on.”

“It’s a coffee based beverage if you want to guess…” he said, trailing off and trying not to grin too much. D merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. 

“A desolatte!” 

The barista snorted and actually let out a little chuckle before pouring his drink and Stiles felt all accomplished and warm inside. When he got his mocha it had a sad to-go cup drawn on the cardboard sleeve. How delightfully meta, he thought, now practically glowing. Yeah, he was going to keep that. Then he glanced at the clock and realized he had to leave right now if he wanted to make it to class on time, if not a few minutes late. 

“Ack, gotta run. Thanks for the cookie and stuff!” he cried, dashing out of the café with a smile on his face.

Derek:

A few minutes after Stiles left another customer handed Derek his debit card, which had fallen onto the ground at some point. After preparing that order he pulled it out from where he’d temporarily stashed it under the register and looked at it curiously.

Mieczysław Stilinski. He tried to sound it out and probably butchered it horribly. Well that explained both the nickname itself and its usage. He’d put it somewhere safe and give it to Stiles the next time he came in. Tell the others too in case it was when he wasn’t there. 

Just before he was getting ready to clock out around 12:30 the younger man came barreling back in.

“Hey, I have to run again soon to get back for my third class, but did you happen to—“

Derek pulled out the card with a smirk and Stiles made an exaggerate gesture of relief before reaching over to take it from him. Their fingers brushed and he heard Stiles' heart pick up a bit.

“Th-thanks dude—“ 

“Don’t call me dude.” 

Stiles took a breath and rolled his eyes. 

“Thanks, D. I was trying to grab something to eat for lunch and realized my card was gone.”

“You want a Reuben?” he asked, heading over to the back counter.

“Sure! You know I don’t think I’ve ever actually had one before…” 

Derek whipped around scandalized and narrowed his eyes. 

“You’re not someone who only eats crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and mac n’ cheese and pizza rolls are you?” he asked accusingly.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck and avoided his gaze.

“I mean, I do like all of those things and eat them pretty regularly, but I like trying other stuff too.”

“Good,” Derek replied firmly. Whew, crisis averted. He quickly assembled the sandwich — thinly sliced corned beef and Swiss cheese with sauerkraut and Russian dressing (not that imposter Thousand Island!) on rye — and placed it on the panini grill, pressing it down. While it was getting all nice and melty- toasty he turned back to the antsy human with a smirk.

“I see why you go by Stiles, but your weird ass name is cool.” 

The younger man blushed and grinned. God, he was pretty.

“Well, you can call me 'M' then, D,” Stiles said, winking.

“Derek,” he whispered confidentially. Fair was fair after all and he liked the idea of him knowing. Dark amber eyes widened and Stiles repeated it under his breath smelling of happiness and other pleasant emotions. Yum.

The timer went off and interrupted the lascivious direction of his thoughts. He put the Reuben straight onto some parchment lined foil, burning himself slightly in the process of course, and rolled it up.

“Here you go, now shoo,” he said, handing Stiles the sandwich. 

“But I have to pay for—“

“Nope. Get out of here. You have 5 seconds. 5…4…3…”

The human laughed and started running. 

“Thanks, Sauerwolf!”

Derek hmphed. “Sauerwolf,” huh? Well, it was better — or at least more creative — than “dude,” but Stiles was definitely getting a frowning poop with flies or a middle finger on his latte next time. 

Stiles:

He was standing in line the following Tuesday and checking his email on his phone when he heard the woman 2 spots ahead of him ask for an almond pear pastry. 

“Sorry, we’re all out,” D replied, not sounding very sorry at all.

He groaned internally. Those were his favorite and he even came in earlier than usual for an off day in hopes of grabbing one while getting his much needed dose of D caffeine. Stiles greeted Derek (he was still giddy about that) and was about to ask what he’d recommend instead when the werewolf set down a latte with a foam face-hugger from Aliens in front of him along with an absolutely scrumptious looking almond pear pastry in typical rough fashion.

A huge grin spread across his face and there was a ghost of a smile on Derek’s lips as well as he rung Stiles up.

“Thanks, dude! You’re the best.”

The Eyebrows™ scrunched together as the werewolf glared at him and extended a singe claw — whoa, he’d never seen any shifting in person before! — making as if to snag back the pastry.

“Derek! You’re the best, Derek!”

The barista huffed and let the nail on his right pointer finger go back to normal. 

“I know. But just call me D when there’s people around. I don’t want all these other yahoos thinking they can use it.”

“Ok, sure. Thanks again, D!”

“You’re welcome, M.”

He headed for his usual table, which luckily became available again while he was in line, feeling fluttery and aglow again. Derek not only knew his favorites in the standard barista-regular way, but bothered to save him food on the chance that he might come in on a given non-early day. Meaning he thought about him when he wasn’t around. Stiles was allowed to use name in private, perhaps implying that there might be less public occasions. 

Or maybe he just meant when the store was slow. Don’t get ahead of yourself, his voice of reason and hope-avoidance warned. Whatever, the werewolf at least clearly liked him even if he wasn’t sure in what way or to what extent. 

When the customer that was before him earlier saw what was on his plate and gave him the stink eye he only smiled back at her and shrugged in a “What-can-you-do?” way. Sorry lady. I happen to be favored of one Derek Hale: Prince of Pastry, Danish Don, Lord of Lattes. She actually went up to complain then and Derek looked her right in the face and said that he had already ordered it before coming in. Stiles had a feeling that the next time the woman came into the shop while he was working that they would have “pre-sold” all of the almond pear pastries then too.

Later when he’d finished the essay he was working on he wandered back to the counter during a post-lunch rush lull before heading out.

“I thought werewolves didn’t lie?”

“Who the hell said that?” Derek asked incredulously. “Lying to werewolves is generally pointless, but we can lie to you guys all we want. I mean, she wasn’t a werewolf nor was anyone else currently in, but if she had been I would’ve simply said that you had a standing order, which is true as far as I’m concerned.”

And with that Derek turned around to ostensibly wash his hands. Were his ears a bit red?

“Bye D,” Stiles called, his stupid heart doing its stupid flips again as the barista did a sharp salute/wave gesture over his shoulder. 

Derek:

When Derek woke up Friday morning more than an hour before his already ridiculous 4:15am alarm he growled in frustration. He’d gotten what, four, maybe five hours of sleep? It was unusually hot in the room and he kicked off the blanket and sheet before groaning and getting out of bed to get some water. Derek had serious words for whoever invented mornings this early. He also pushed down his pajama pants and stepped out of them and then poured himself a glass from the bathroom faucet.

Derek felt slightly better after the cool drink and wet a hand towel to press to his face. He idly scratched at his belly and tried to reach the middle of his back, but couldn’t quite reach .He leaned against the bathroom wall rubbing his back on the cool tile. That helped, but then he felt another one on his upper back and he just pulled off his tank top. He was walking back to the bed to at least rest some more if not sleep before having to actually get up for work when the light bulb in his brain belatedly flickered on.

Oh shit. Feeling hot, thirsty, itchy skin, irritable…well, even more so than usual. And now that he was alert and paying attention, the sense of his body needing something and vague horniness…Goddamnit, he was going into heat! A couple weeks earlier than expected for some reason. Fuck. 

He waited until 4:00 to call Laura and she picked up on the 7th ring.

“Der?” she muttered groggily.

“Hey Laur, sorry but I’m going to need you or Aaron to cover my shift today if you want the store open before 7:30.”

His sister sighed heavily in annoyance, but then must’ve honed in on something in his voice.

“Hey, what’s going on, bro?”

“Heat.”

“Oh shit, isn’t that kinda early?” she asked surprised. He was scheduled for the most likely week off as he’d been pretty regular, but they also had an expectation of flexibility in case it happened the week before or after instead. But this was the week before that.

“Yeah,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay, Der,” she soothed, now sounding more awake. “Is there anything you need before, you know, everything gets started?”

He took a deep breath. God, she and Aaron were going to tease him about it. Then Cora would inevitably find out and be an absolute menace. 

“Der?” 

“Let me know if Stiles comes in,” he mumbled.

There was a pause and then words started tumbling out.

“Oh my god, for real?! Holy crap, Der. Good for you, I didn’t know that—“

Derek shook his head and hung up on her. Moments later he sent her a message:

 Shut up. Love you. Thanksss!

He sighed. Now to wait. Derek couldn’t narrow it down further since he’d been asleep when the symptoms first started, but he now probably had somewhere between 11 hours at most and 6 hours at least before it really kicked in and he became an insatiable mess. 

If Stiles was coming in as usual he’d have to wait another 2-3 hours before he’d know one way or the other. He also needed to make up his mind about whether to spend this heat alone or put a hold on a Service Alpha should the younger man fail to stop by or be either unwilling or unable to do the deed. The many many deeds. 

Derek recoiled at the thought. Neither his human nor wolf side wanted anyone else.  Being without a partner was something of a miserable experience though and would mean an extra day out of commission, 4 or so days instead of 3-ish. It also required having someone, Laura or his mother or perhaps a hired assistant, check on him once or twice a day to make sure that he was okay. Eating and, more importantly, drinking enough fluids among other things. 

But he really didn’t want some no doubt perfectly decent, but not right rando fucking him even if his body would eventually get with the program. No, Derek knew exactly what he wanted and if it came down to it he would rough it out this time. He prayed to the omega gods that it wouldn’t come to that.

Come on, Stiles. 

Click here for the smutty rest!

[muchallure]

i've edited my muse page and i've started drafting and replying to threads. what i'd love to do is test out my test muses, to see which ones might stick around. like this for a starter from one (or two) of my test muses. all displayed under the cut.

chanel alistair (ryan destiny).

percy anderson - werewolf (andrew garfield).

october baxter - witch (mike faist and scott speedman).

forest bexley (felix mallard).

franz dietrich (jannik schumann).

mimi flores (giovana cordeiro).

marnie gallagher (niamh mccormack).

malachi gallagher (callum turner.)

oakley granger (milo manheim and lee pace).

elton hazelton (josh macqueen).

shema kabera (ncuti gatwa).

mabel lane - witch (lily james).

briar munoz (ruby cruz).

victoria newton (ella purnell and phoebe tonkin).

comet palmer (rohan campbell).

cherry phillips (annasophia robb and reese witherspoon).

reuben phillips (asa germann and tom hiddleston).

roxanne phillips (alison oliver and kate hudson).

scout phillips (renee rapp and emily blunt).

buster phillipson (john krasinski).

dove sawyer - werewolf (emma mackey).

fox sawyer - werewolf (robert sheehan)

jasper sawyer - werewolf (aaroun taylor johnson and colin firth).

cassius scott - (roman) vampire (kedar williams-stirling).

atticus scott - (roman) vampire (jonathan daviss).

trizie souza - witch (camila mendes).

dexter teagan (archie madekwe).

xavier teagan (alfred enoch).

clifford vasilis - time traveller (nicholas galitzine and andrew scott).

clint walker (lewis pullman).

delilah young (rachel sennott).

[desert-fern]

So! I am adding the links to all of the boards I have made so far here, in case you wanted a sneak peek! I have many more in the works, so if you want one, send one into my asks from now until Friday June 16 @10 pm Pacific!

Soft, dreamy Bob for @roosterforme

Dad!Jake for anon

Werewolf Jake for @startrekfangirl2233

Pride Iceman for @dakotakazansky

Jake and Doc from On The Ice for anon

Hamilton Star Bradley for @cherrycola27

Joker!Jake for @thedroneranger

Summer Fun Jake for @footprintsinthesxnd

Wolfman in blue for @aviatorobsessed

Fireball at home for @sarahsmi13s

Assorted Danny Ramirez for @fanboyswhore9

Beach Hangster for @beccaanne814

Demon hunter!Jake for @lovinglyeternal

Soft Royal Jake for Anon

Dad!Brad for @bradshawsbaby

F1 Bradley for @wkndwlff

Soft Boyfriend Bradley for @fanboyswhore9

Atomic Blonde Phoenix for @cruelmissdior

Beach Phoenix for @sylviebell

Red and Black Jake for @mayhemmanaged

Chemist!Fanboy for @startrekfangirl2233

Honeymooning Jake for @mayhemmanaged

Gunpowder and Lead - Bruiser Board for @cassiemitchell

Gunpowder and Lead - Siren & Javy board for @cherrycola27

Bradley and Music for @roosterforme

Gatsby!Jake for @cherrycola27

Merman!Jake and gf for @ohgodnotagainn

Biker!Phoenix for @startrekfangirl2233

Les Miserables!Bob for @footprintsinthesxnd

Dragonrider!Bradley for @startrekfangirl2233

Thomas Jefferson!Jake (Hamilton) also for @cassiemitchell

MLB!Bradshaw and Photographer!GF for @dakotakazansky

Soft Top Gun 1986 vibes for @aviatorobsessed

Winter Soldier!Jake for @sarahsmi13s

Captain America!Bradley for @cherrycola27

Gentleman Spy!Bob for @startrekfangirl2233

Lake Vacation with Coyote for @startrekfangirl2233

Gunpowder & Lead - Loki and Bradley board for @dakotakazansky

Gunpowder & Lead - Ranger and Reuben for @thedroneranger

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

the echo universe: | a werewolf au | (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC)

Summary: After they drop Noah off with Mickey and Reuben, the Red Sky Alpha comes home to nest for his mate.

Pairing: Werewolf!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Human!OC (Ronnie Bradshaw)

Word Count: 916

Warnings: pregnancy stuff, made-up werewolf lore, nesting and snuggling and FLUFF

✎……likes are great but comments/reblogs are even better!

✎……masterlist on pinned

✎……this is like a direct side-quel to this because i couldn't stop thinking about this concept

As soon as they were back inside the cabin, Jake led Ronnie over to the couch and propped her feet up on the ottoman. Setting her up with a snack and a drink and the remote in case she wanted to watch anything. She laughed as she watched him fuss, rubbing patterns into her rounded belly to try and sooth the pup within. 

Once he handed her the chips and salsa that she didn’t really ask for, he looked at her expectantly — practically bouncing in place. 

“Go nest, my Alpha,” she told him with a chuckle. 

Jake quickly bent down to press a kiss to her forehead before bolting back to their bedroom.

She remembered him getting like this when she entered her last few weeks of pregnancy with Noah. The beast within him filling him with this desire to make her as comfortable as possible as she prepared to give birth. He couldn’t even help it. One morning she just woke up to him surrounding her in pillows and blankets and he looked at her like he had been caught. 

I don’t know why, he had said, still knelt by the bed with a pillow in hand. But this just feels right.

She explained what was happening with a gentle hand, watching him continue to search for more blankets and arranging things this way and that. How when the time of the pup’s arrival approached, the parent wolves would nest to prepare for whelping. To keep mother and pup warm and safe from any dangers. Some instinct from a bygone era when werewolves were living in the wild places of the world. 

As a human, Ronnie didn’t feel the urge. No matter how much she wanted to help, she knew she would just get in the way. So there she sat, half watching some documentary about ancient Egypt and mindlessly eating chips. While out of the corner of her eye she saw her mate digging through the closets for more blankets and picking the pillows off the couch one by one.

The pup inside her shifted, and she pushed a hand beneath her shirt to touch her skin directly. Instantly calming him down. 

“Daddy’s almost done, little pup, just you wait. Then you and me are gonna be real comfortable,” she spoke to her belly softly. 

An hour after they came home, Jake finally came back out to the living room with an anxious look on his face. Ronnie found the expression endearing as she turned off the TV to give him her full attention.

“I think it’s done,” he said, pushing a hand through his golden hair. 

She held her arms out to him with a smile. “Take me there, my Alpha.” 

Jake lifted her into his arms with ease. Her arms dangling around his neck as she rested her cheek against his chest, felt his heart beat right against her ear. Once back in their bedroom, he set her down gently to sit at the end of the bed.

The bed that was now covered in a thick layer of blankets and pillows. All of it piled up towards the edges to make a nice concave shape. Ronnie admired for a moment, taking in his hard work and dedication to her comfort. Then she looked back up at Jake with a smile. 

“It’s perfect, Jay,” she said honestly. 

The corner of his mouth ticked up in a grin, all anxiousness gone at her approval. Then, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear he said, “Let’s get you into something more comfortable, yeah, little one?”

“I’m pretty comfortable right now,” she replied, looking down at her sweater and maternity leggings. 

“I know that’s not what you really wanna be wearing.” 

She groaned at the thought, instantly reaching for him to help her up from the bed. “Yeah — that sounds nice.” 

Jake chuckled as he took hold of her forearm and acted as an anchor as she lifted herself up. He already had the clothes laying out on their dresser. An old pair of his boxers and a comfortable bralet. After helping her out of her day clothes, he pulled the boxers up her legs while she tugged on the bra. Stopping once they were snug around her hips to kiss the side of her belly. 

“God, that’s the stuff,” she sighed, head tilted back towards the ceiling as she scratched at her bare skin. 

“Come on, little one,” Jake laughed, nodding back towards the bed and the nest he had worked so hard on.

Ronnie crawled in and laid on her side in the center of the large nest. A pillow already waiting for her head and to support her bump. She sunk into it instantly, feeling completely held and completely comfortable. A noise like a purr echoed in her throat as her eyes slipped shut, legs rubbing together happily. 

“Comfortable? Warm?” he questioned, still stationed at the foot of the bed. 

She peeled her eyes open to squint at him with a smile. “Not quite.” 

“What do you need?” 

He looked ready to run halfway across the world for her. 

“Just you,” she answered.

Jake huffed, hands on his hips. But he was quick to relent as he stripped off his shirt and pants and joined her in the nest. He curled up right behind her, his chest flush with her back — legs tangled together as he cradled her swollen belly in his hand. The pup pressing into his palm happily.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[sodaquail]

Recent doodles of Chip JRWI (and Reuben price too)

[writing-whump]

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Wip: University stories🏫

Wip: Werewolf stories🐺

accepting requests for OCs!

Wip info • OC info • Hairstyles • OC Meta •

Fic masterlist:

1. Sick and hurt Matthew, Isaiah and reluctant Seline help

2. Matthew defends Seline and gets sick

3. Matthew helping sick Isaiah

4. Matthew helping sick Isaiah p.2 (Isaiah's pov)

5. Matthew with stomach flu + caretaker Seline

6. Seline sick with Isaiah on the road

7. Seline sick p.2 + Isaiah and Matthew

8. Food poisoning Matthew + caretaker Isaiah

9. Isaiah poisoned at an event p.1 + Sonny and Matthew

10. Isaiah poisoned p.2 + Seline and Matthew as caretakers

11. Recovering Isaiah, panicked Matthew, moving in together idea

12. Sick Seline with a headache + Isaiah

13. Matthew mixing milk with bubbly drinks + Seline as caretaker

14. Matthew sick from roller coaster ride + Isaiah as caretaker

15. Isaiah stress sick during a movie night + Seline as caretaker

16. Hector with a broken leg + Isaiah reluctantly helps

17. Late night visit with bleeding hand Reuben + Isaiah angsting

18. Caleb sick from fear + Seline + Matthew

19. Seline crying + upset sick Matthew + Isaiah as caretaker

20. Hector sick from Seline's protective wards

21. Isaiah sick from a nightmare + Seline

22. Matthew sick from hiding an infected injury + Seline + worried Isaiah

23. Matthew with a stomach bug calls Isaiah to pick him up + awkward comfort Seline

24. Isaiah catches Matthew's bug + Seline + bellyrubs

25. Seline with a cold + Isaiah + fluff

26. Flashback: upset 18 years old Isaiah can't stop throwing up + crying + reluctant caretaker Sonny

27. Feverish Matthew + backstory reveal + Isaiah and Seline for comfort

28. Arnie with ear infection + Isaiah as caretaker + brotherly reunion

29. Isaiah + heart episode + sick at night + Matthew for help

30. Flashback fic: 17 years old Isaiah, abusive father, Reuben as prisoner

31. Drunk sick emotional Arnie + angry worried Hector

32. Emberassed in denial Isaiah sick from a gory movie + worried angry Matthew

33. Hector with food poisoning + guilty anxious Arnie + calling Isaiah for help

34. Hector recovering from food poisoning + emotional talk with Isaiah

35. Hurt Matt + Hector helps + brings him to Isaiah

36. Seline crying and stressing over trains + Matthew with a concussion for comfort

37. Isaiah comes home to find Seline and Matt huddled together in bed

38. Isaiah with a high fever and a nosebleed + calls Seline to come home to help

39. Hector with bruised ribs + Arnie sick with the flu hiding from he so he doesn't catch it

40. Part 2: Isaiah helping sick Arnie and hurt Hector

41. Seline with upset tummy + Isaiah gives her bellyrubs + fluff

42. Matt sick with heatstroke + Isaiah for comfort

43. Isaiah with heart episode at an event + meeting Matt's sister + Hector trying to help

44. Part 2: Isaiah with heart episode + Hector + Matthew argue

45. Burpy with little indigestion Isaiah + Seline fluff

46. Hector claustrophobic and motion sick on the subway + meeting Olive

47. Flashback: Seline and Isaiah first meeting + magic emeto

48. Hector and Arnie find out the truth about Isaiah + stress sick Hector + Arnie for comfort + angst

49. Feverish Seline cuddling with the boys

50. Stress sick Hector talks with Isaiah about the revelation

51. Arnie with a migraine at night from the revelation + Hector caretaker

52. Isaiah breaks down after the reveal + Matt and Seline for comfort

53. Hector invites Isaiah for breakfast with Arnie + emotional whump + crying + comfort

54. Seline argues with witches + gets attacked by their wolves + Isaiah for rescue

55. Cinema motion sick Matt + Seline + Isaiah

56. Hector gets sick + appendicitis + Arnie for comfort

57. Hector after appendicitis in pain + Isaiah + Arnie

58. Isaiah overeats while visiting Seline's parents + Seline for comfort

[chaifootsteps]

Okay, like I said, it's silly, but hear me out.... Werewolves and Vampires.

Lackadaisy is a pack werewolves who are working to keep a speakeasy, as well as claim territory to hunt.

Atlas came from a long line of werewolves, and created the pack, mainly out of those who were either separated from/lost their packs in the great war, or were turned into werewolves when they joined the gang.

Mitzi was turned into a werewolf after she joined Atlas' gang, as were Zib, the band, Mordecai, Horatio, etc.

Viktor is a born werewolf who came to join Atlas' pack.

Ivys dad, Reuben, was turned before Ivy was born, meaning she's part werewolf by blood, but only really has some werewolf abilities.

Rocky dad was also a born werewolf who turned his mother, making Rocky a full blooded werewolf.

Freckle is not a werewolf but is still considered part of the Lackadaisy pack.

Wick is also not a werewolf, much like most of the patrons. However, unlike alot of them, Wick is more of less marked as 'safe' by the pack, meaning he's not at risk of being prey. This is mainly a decision made by Mitzi.

Marigold is a coven of Vampires who are competing against the Lackadaisy pack, not only because of their business, but also for hunting territory.

Asa Sweet, a born vampire, and Atlas May originally had a sort of peace treaty amongst their pack and coven, however, after Atlas' death and most of his pack dispersing, Asa's coven started closing in on the Lackadaisy's territory and routes.

Mordecai is one of the only werewolves in the coven, unable to be turned into a vampire. However, he's become very skilled at pushing back his werewolf nature, to the point that most can't even tell he isn't a vampire.

The Savoys are born Vampires who were abandoned by their parents after they were turned and were later adopted by Voodooiennes. After they joined the Marigold Coven, they started their own smaller coven heavily based on the Voodoo religion.

Wes Clyde is also a born Vampire, brought into the coven.

Fish is a turned vampire, which also plays into why Wes doesn't like him, as he feels like turned Vampires are inferior to born Vampires.

There's no fandom that can't benefit from a good old fashioned vampire and werewolf AU.

(You never specified what kind of werewolves or what they look like when they're not werewolves, so I'm picturing big hulking werecat things.)

[readingrobin]

(May 20th - May 26th)

Y'all I'm heading straight into a four day weekend and I'm pretty sure most of it is going to be spent in my bed. I start my second job in maybe another week, so I really want to go into it with as much energy as possible. It's also been pretty lovely here the past couple of days. Sunny and cool, perfect for the slight bit of gardening I've been helping with around the house. I'm always sad to see the spring flowers go, daffodils being my favorite and all, but it's nice to start putting in the work for summer.

Books Read:

Nayra and the Djinn by Iasmin Omar Ata (3/5)

Strange Grace by Tessa Gratton (3.5/5)

The Owls Have Come to Take Us Away by Roland L. Smith (1.5/5)

Books Currently Reading:

The Coyote Road: Trickster Tales edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling (16% done)

The Dreamway by Lisa Papademetriou (41% done)

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter (9% done)

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo (41% done)

Books to Read Next:

Burning Down the Haus: Punk Rock, Revolution, and the Fall of the Berlin Wall by Tim Mohr

Spindle's End by Robin McKinley

DNFs:

The Wolf Gift by Anne Rice - Honestly, I don't think I could take the book seriously after Anne Rice compared a man turning into a werewolf to getting a boner. I was too busy snickering to even process what I was reading. I think I want to stop mainly because I think that's one of the only things I want to remember about this book. That the main character, Reuben the Wolf Man, is the most basic, has-all-the-charisma-of-a-paper-bag lead and Anne Rice made a metaphor I don't think I'll ever forget.

[blue-aconite]

Hello dearest!💕

📓:)

Hi baby 🌸

There was blood everywhere. Mickey and Reuben had left the house with Milly and Tommy the moment they realised that things were going south. Javy was on the phone, trying desperately to reach Bradley or Jake, neither picking up their phones. He prayed that they were shifting and on their way, their bond telling them something was wrong. A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the house and Bob left to couch in favour of barging up the stairs, frantically asking what he could help with.

Tiny snippet from the crossover au werewolf, based on @anniesocsandgeneralstore and mines wolf fics!

[carewyncromwell]

Once the Future King: An Original Potterverse Tale 

~Concept developed by @carewyncromwell​ and @magical-retales~

At the turn of the 17th century, in the midst of the reign of the Virgin Queen Elizabeth I, a reclusive freelance Magizoologist with a mysterious, tragic past named Bairn MacDuran was tasked with “dealing with” a werewolf spotted around the Forbidden Forest just outside his old alma mater, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While tracking that werewolf, Bairn stumbled across a wizened old tree, where a strange voice called out to him -- 

Help me. Let me out. Help me. 

Where anyone else might have been afraid or distrustful, recalling the rumors of a ghost who haunted this area of the Forest, Bairn without any hesitation or questions took out his wand and methodically broke the curse on the tree, releasing a very pale, frail wizard in very fine, old-fashioned robes from within. The wizard almost immediately collapsed from exhaustion, hunger, and thirst, and Bairn hoisted the man up over his shoulder, carrying him as he rode his dragon familiar Morag back to his small cottage up in the Scottish Highlands.

Eventually the truth came out about this mysterious man Bairn had rescued -- he was in truth the great wizard Merlin, court magician of the legendary Muggle King Arthur, trapped in that tree by the witch Nimue over a thousand years prior. And over time, Merlin adds onto his legacy as the most powerful magician of all time while he, Bairn, and a circle of new associates fight against the rise of witchcraft hysteria and for the protection of creatures and Beings “left behind” by wizards and hunted by Muggles. Opposing the group are the Wizards’ Council -- a group of solely British-born and Pureblood wizards that claims authority over the affairs of witches and wizards in the British Isles and works toward keeping the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds as separate as possible -- and the self-appointed Witch-Finder General, Reuben Marwood -- a ruthless religious zealot with an odd proficiency for violence who is determined to stamp out all magics that aren’t of his God. 

And as Merlin connects with this new fellowship he has joined and truly blooms into the wizard the Wizarding World knows him as -- the most powerful Slytherin-aligned wizard in history, if not the greatest wizard of all time -- he finds the heart that had only ever beat for Arthur Pendragon softening toward his new counterpart -- this man with the attitude of a loner, the moral compass of a rogue, the heart of a father, and the spirit of a king.

Interested in joining the new Fellowship of the wizard Merlin? Contact or tag @carewyncromwell​ or @magical-retales​!