!!!-CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS-!!! UNDERAGE Prompting Post // May 1st - May 15th
This is a post for any and all UNDERAGE PROMPTS. That means all prompts with pairings where one or both is under the age of 18.
A few reminders:
1. Use your subject lines! Please start with either REQUEST or FILLED also please list the pairing and kinks.
2. Please come up with a title for your fic.
3. NO SPOILERS FOR UNAIRED EPISODES! Use space, ( Read more... )
A few reminders:
1. Use your subject lines! Please start with either REQUEST or FILLED also please list the pairing and kinks.
2. Please come up with a title for your fic.
3. NO SPOILERS FOR UNAIRED EPISODES! Use space, ( Read more... )
Jared falls back against the closed door with a sigh and the feel of a bitch of a headache about to start as he clenches his eyes shut. The dogs give a faint whine like they know something’s wrong, but he can’t make his voice work to comfort them, thoughts full of self-recrimination; whether at letting it actually come to this, or at doing the awful and sensible thing in calling Jensen‘s parents, he isn't sure.
He knows he has to do this. It’s the only way him and Jensen will have even the slightest chance at what he knows would be something incredible; something permanent.
That doesn’t make the sick feeling go away, though; image of Jensen - his mate - looking so lost and alone as he’d stuttered through his attempt to talk to him.
Jared had wanted so badly to just wrap his arms around him, tuck his head under his chin and feel the tenseness go out of his body, but he can’t.
He made a promise, and, thoughts of police reports and potential jail time aside, he can’t lose Jensen.
That’s gonna be his new mantra, he thinks.
***
It goes on for weeks, which then turn into a month, which becomes two months, and is almost three before Jensen can manage to catch his breath.
Jared still won’t talk to him.
Jensen stopped trying a while ago.
He gets it now; that he pretty much date-raped Jared with heat pheromones and needy whining; and if he wasn’t throwing up almost every morning anyway; that thought’d probably get him going again. He still has these stupid, unrequited feelings for the alpha, which aren’t helped by the fevered dreams he keeps having of Jared spreading him out on cool sheets and sliding into him; missing piece that slots into place, completes him.
Those dreams are probably what’s making him sick, he thinks.
His parents are talking to him, at least, but it’s still strained and a little awkward whenever the conversation dies down; like they aren’t sure how to deal with him anymore.
He hasn’t felt like himself in months; ever since that last heat ended. His appetite is all over the place; starving one minute and queasy at the mere mention of food the next. He’s been woken up with heartburn twice in the last week, and he’s got all this nervous energy he can’t seem to get rid of.
He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of Chris’ bedroom, watching his friend tune his guitar as he jiggles his foot against the carpet and tries to ignore the familiar hint of nausea in his belly.
“Dude, what’s with you lately? You’re all…” He makes a vague waving motion at Jensen‘s jittery leg. “Every time I see you it’s like you’re either gonna hurl or shake apart.” He actually looks a little worried, and Jensen feels like an ass for not really talking to Chris much, lately.
“I’ve been. Christ I dunno, man. I’ve felt like crap ever since the whole mess with Jared. Throwing up and not sleeping. S’probably just stress or somethin’.” Sighing as he runs a hand over his face, frown line getting deeper between Chris’ eyes.
“Jen, I. I don’t wanna pry here, but. When you and Jared.” Crude hand gesture that would’ve made Jensen laugh if his guts weren’t doing summersaults somewhere near his feet. “Were you, y’know. Safe?” Takes Jensen a minute to figure out what that non-wordy question was supposed to mean, and then he can feel the blood leave his face as his eyes widen and he goes cold all over.
“Aw hell, Jen.” All Chris says at whatever is showing in Jensen’s expression, face twisting in sympathy, and Jensen can’t speak, can’t think.
He’s such a fucking idiot.
Taking a goddamn pregnancy test in his best friends bathroom, while said friend leans against the door outside, is probably the most surreal thing he's ever done.
That feeling only gets worse when the test comes up positive.
Reply
Reply
Next part is up! <3
Reply
this is getting better and better by the part.
the roller coaster ride, i cant wait for the other parts to know what will happen to J2.
♥
Reply
I'm really glad you're enjoying it, next part is posted below =]
Reply
Reply
Honestly, I've always found mpreg to be hit-and-miss as a reader; it either has to be done seriously (relatively, when it comes to slash about pregnant men lol) to match the rest of the story, or the fic has to be equally cracky as a whole so you don't notice as much.
I'm really glad you're enjoying it! The next part is posted below =D
Reply
He somehow gets up the stairs and into his room, lets his chin drop to his chest as he stands among all the memories and knick knacks of his childhood.
The childhood he isn’t even finished with yet.
He’s a fucking kid, for Christ’s sake. How’s he gonna have a baby? Raise a baby, another person?
It just doesn’t seem real. It can’t be. He isn’t ready for this.
What can he do?
Well, he knows what he could do, but there’s no way in hell he can make himself do it. He does biology at school; he’s read every scrap of reliable information online, he knows male abortion is a lot more risky; and even if it weren’t there’s some deep-seated impulse in the back of his mind telling him that he can’t.
The thought of his parents finding out makes him wanna tear his hair out. He can’t hide this. He’s at least eleven weeks along; he’s already showing enough signs that Chris put it together in all of five minutes, his parents are bound to notice.
They’ll make him give it up.
A small sound gets ripped from him with that thought; wet and broken and loud in the otherwise silent room.
They’re gonna take his baby away from him.
He shouldn’t be thinking like this; like it’s already a person that he knows and is gonna keep and raise and lo-
He shouldn’t be thinking like this.
He can’t help it.
He’s pacing now, hands gripping at his hair but not tugging it out yet, trying to sort out any of the million terrifying possibilities in his head that all end the same way.
He can’t let them take his baby.
His feet stall mid-stride across the carpet. The thought just rose up and bobbed to the surface; buoy in water and now he can’t shake free of it.
He can’t let them take his baby.
Not letting himself really consider the consequences of what he’s about to do; he pulls the old gym bag from under his bed, starts haphazardly throwing clothes into it; random stuff from his drawers and the back of his closet; doesn't know what he's gonna need. He forces the zipper shut, looks around the room, feeling like it'll be the last time, and heads for the stupid window again.
His parents were gonna put a lock on it, but something about the way his whole body'd crumpled when they'd said it must've sparked some small amount of pity, since it grudgingly slides open when he shoves it upwards into the frame.
He climbs halfway down the tree, lets his bag fall to the ground with a muffled thump on the grass, and drops down next to it.
He’s not sure where he’s going this time, but he at least has to try and talk to Jared first.
It’s his baby too, after all.
He drops the bag at the bottom of the steps, walks up them to Jared’s front door; memories of last time running like a home movie in his head. He finally forces his arm up and knocks on the wood, then again when there’s no response other than the sound of barking dogs.
He knows Jared’s home; the lights are on, sounds of television from inside somewhere.
“Jared?” Voice so pathetic he winces. “Jared I. I need to talk to you, okay? Please?” Last word broken as he tries not to start crying again. No answer. “Please Jared, it’s important.” Forehead dropping to the door, tingle-itch of a tear down one cheek, backs of his eyes stinging.
No answer. The dogs are quiet, now.
He lets out a sigh that makes him feel so much older than sixteen, then heads down the steps and hefts his bag; stupid random-ass thought about how pregnant people aren’t supposed to do heavy lifting causing an almost-hysterical sob to burst free. He looks between his house and Jared’s; practically different worlds; and he doesn’t belong in either of them, anymore.
Just shoving one foot in front of other, he moves down the street; whole life in a ragged duffle, no destination and not a whole lotta hope.
Reply
Reply
Next part is up! <3
Reply
Reply
Reply
I'm also impressed that this is this good AND this fast :D. You're pretty awesome ♥
Reply
Reply
Reply
Thanks very much! The feedback from you guys is encouraging me to keep going! ♥
Part 12 is up!
Reply
Leave a comment