Tired of Being Lonesome
There is no way I am pregnant, Pete thought as he went through the motions, I have always been on birth control. The time taken for the test result to show was the most excruciating wait of his life. Once five minutes was up, Pete quickly picked the stick back up to check the result. Two small lines stared up at Pete, as if mocking him. He was pregnant. Or, Pete was sent to the Minor Pack as a 'Gift' to clear a debt between the two families. Pete didn't think he would end up as Vegas's personal 'bodyguard', pet, emotional punching bag, body pillow and the mother of his child. In that order.The bathroom tile bit into Pete’s knees as he stared at the plastic stick resting on the sink. Five minutes. That’s all he’d allowed himself to wait. His heart hammered like it wanted out, each beat echoing in his throat. He picked it up slowly, afraid the motion might change the result. Two lines. Clear. Undeniable.
He wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant. The implant in his neck had seen to that—for three years. Unless it failed. Or was deactivated.
A floorboard creaked outside. Heavy footsteps. Instinct made him shove the test into his pocket just as the door swung open. Vegas filled the frame, golden-eyed and unshaven, his scent rolling in like stormfront—dominance, heat, something almost like concern.
“You’ve been in here too long,” he rumbled. “Are you sick?”
Pete swallowed. “No. Just… tired.”
Vegas stepped closer, nostrils flaring. He could smell the truth on the air—the shift in hormones, the new life nesting deep inside. And when he looked at Pete, really looked, the question hung between them, unspoken but inevitable: What now?
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works: 662
Beyond the Blood Wards
This is a gamble with life as the stake, and Harry Potter's only chip is a sliver of forbidden yearning for the most unlikely person. Trapped under the horrifying confinement of the Dursleys, Harry faces an extreme crisis. With blood and trembling fingers, he scrawls three words onto a stolen photo: “Please help me.” This is more than a plea; it is a silent acknowledgment of the complex feelings stirring within him. He shoves the bloodied message into Hedwig’s talons and, amidst Vernon’s furious bellows, rasps with his last breath: "Take it to Professor Snape!" He entrusts all his hope for survival and emotional solace to the man who haunts his dreams and yet is utterly irresistible. When Snape receives this blood-soaked appeal, he faces more than just duty; he must confront his deepest response to the soul of Harry Potter—the boy he claims to despise, yet has never truly let go of. This letter is the turning point in their fated entanglement. How will the cold Slytherin Potions Master respond to this desperate, intimate cry from the Gryffindor hero? And how will this single plea pull them from the shadows of enmity and propel them toward a dangerous romance fraught with peril and redemption?
The Spellmaker
Latin; a dead language with no practical applications except perhaps the deciphering of old texts and as a particularly quaint party trick. Thankfully, as Harry finds out when he decided to learn the language, Latin is not as dead as he was first taught. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, of course; he loved Latin, and would have been proud to know it even had it been as useless as it was pretty. But in the world of Wizards, the world of Magic, Harry realizes his rare talent with words is particularly valuable. This talent allows him to use magic that no one's ever heard of, that no one's ever seen. But as time goes on, and he becomes more and more entangled in the webs spun by those around him, he starts to realize just how deep the magical rabbit hole goes and how dangerous power like his can be. All Harry had ever wanted was for the world to make sense. Yet, the ancient power he wields draws him into the most unexpected connection—with Voldemort. When the forbidden tongue awakens dormant, ancient magic, how will Harry's power reshape the balance of the magical world? And how will this unique and dangerous talent intertwine him with the Dark Lord in a fated bond, defying all known rules?
In the (Second) Beginning
As their lunch stretches on Aziraphale slowly comes to realize that Crowley is—enjoying him. Enjoying Aziraphale’s conversation, and company, far more openly than he has in most of Aziraphale’s memory. And Aziraphale knows that he himself is just chattering on, letting conversational tangents carry him along, and—it’s definitely relief, for him, knowing for the first time in a long time that they aren’t being watched, that no one is keeping score for now. - Aziraphale realizes that Crowley's been saying something rather loudly for a week.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.