#surrender-fic verse? yeah let’s go with that

[ofmermaidstories]

U think bakugo ever gets so angry his mouth misses surrender reader’s when he’s trying to have a passionate heated make out session because I do

Katsuki’s home for once, sleeping off the last few days in the darkness of his room, cocooned.

It’s early evening before he remerges. You’re peeling the potatoes for dinner when you hear him shuffling from the room to the bath, keeping track of him by the running of the taps before he closes the door, the sound cutting off — leaving you alone in the quiet of his large apartment, trying to amuse yourself by carving the perfect spiral of a potato peel; petty, silly.

When he wakes up after a marathon sleep it always takes him a while to come back, to return to the here and now; his mind catching up with the rest of his body as it realises it can finally relax, can take these next few hours to pause and breathe. He can be reticent even on good days: after big missions, after a series of demanding patrols, he’s even more silent, staying that way until something annoys him enough that he comes back into himself — or makes him laugh in his startling way.

The city outside is falling into dusk: the windows opened wide to the pink-twilight city glimmer. You hum along to a song on the television, jiggling the rice you’re rinsing and hear the traceable movement of your Pro Hero as he shuffles back into the living room.

“Hi!” You call out behind you cheerily, rinsing your hands and darting between the sink and the fridge. The door rattles as you open it, looking for the cold water bottle you set aside for him, earlier — but then big arms are slipping around you, enveloping you, and there’s the touch of lips against your neck, the feel of Katsuki’s fine hair against your face. The soapy, minty freshness of him, clean from washing up.

You lean back into the weight of him, the warmth, and he pulls you in tighter; breathing in deeply, like he’s still half-asleep. He very well might be — for a moment you stand together in front of the open refrigerator as you trace the veins of his hands, his arms, nosing into the side of his head where its against you.

“Hi,” You say again: softer, against the fine down of hair by his ear. Everything within you is vibrating that he’s here, that you’re together — your very cells rioting, hyperaware of his closeness. The invasion of space that only belongs to him.

The fridge beeps. You try and tug away from his arms to get his drink, to close the door — he pulls you back and kicks the door shut with a grunt. “No,” He says, and it’s ridiculous enough that you laugh. It’s the jiggling of the rice you were rinsing, the weight against the sieve; your body moves against his and he buries his face in your neck, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

You breathe in and settle and eventually he lets you turn in his arms, your hands snaking up between you, his bare chest and going to his face, cupping his cheeks. The lines under his eyes are deeper, now, than they have been since you’ve known him — he looks at you, ruby eyes dark and tired, and your heart tightens.

You thumb the shadows of his face, gently. The feather-light touch of handling something so irredeemably precious. In answer he dips into you, a headbutt with no real force; you’re breathing one another in now, and you let your hands slip from the panes of his face to his shoulders, your fingertips mapping the familiar feel of him.

“You need more sleep,” You whisper to him; the tiny space between you gaining all the sanctity of a Library’s quiet.

Katsuki huffs. It’s light against you. “D’wanna.” He says, annoyed, childish. His hands - hands that have destroyed, that have saved, that are now on you - tighten. You wait, tracing the edges of the scar on his shoulder.

“Missed you ‘n shit.” He says at last, even more annoyed, now.

You droop into him, wilting like a flower; you’ve missed him too. He hasn’t been home in almost a week — it’s not the longest of his stints, not lately, and you knew what you were signing up for, when you fell for him — but it doesn’t make it any easier. When he is home the two of you sleep in shifts, almost: only able to be together, both awake and coherent, for a few stolen hours. It means the need to be near him has gotten so persuasive, lately, that sometimes when you’re here and he’s in bed, sleeping off a battle, you crawl in next to him; carefully and lightly, curling into his warmth and forcing yourself into a midday nap, just to be near him, to share his space. You always awake entangled and overheated, afterwards — Katsuki finding you in his sleep and dragging you close, missing you just as much as you do him, even in his dreams. It’s never comfortable — he runs hot, constantly, and it’s like sleeping with a heater but —

It doesn’t matter. It’s just more proof that he’s there. That he’s with you, alive and home safe.

There’s a light touch of lips at your neck once more; leading, ghost-like tracing, kisses, from the dip of your collarbone to just under your jaw bone as you tilt, giving him more access. Everything within you pulses, tightens — he nips at the soft skin just below your ear and you finally turn your face to his, enough to feel the sharp intake of his breath before his lips meet yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

His mouth is cool and tastes of mint and aniseed from his toothpaste and mouthwash, respectively — you let him spin you, pressing you into the counter. He pulls away, grunting something, leaving you momentarily bemused — before he presses in close again, mouth on yours, his hands hot even through the fabric of your shirt.

You want to claw your way into this man. He tilts you back — like he’s trying to claw into you, too and you break apart only long enough for the both of you to draw in what breath you need, gasping before you are kissing again, sloppily. Hungry for the need to be close.

Behind you, something begins to vibrate — and then Katsuki’s phone is bursting into life with that ridiculous old All Might cartoon theme, sharp and loud in the apartment. You pull away from your hero with a sharp breath, your disappointment tangible — Katsuki rips himself away from you with a hiss, grabbing for his phone angrily, as he answers, “What the fuck do you want?”

You can hear Kaminari clearly. “Yo! Kacchan! Love hearing from you too, dude. A few of us are meeting up tonight — ”

That’s all poor Kaminari gets a chance to say. Katsuki pulls away from his phone, looking at the screen incredulously — and then hangs up, letting it clatter against the counter.

Despite yourself, you laugh. “Did you have to be such an asshole?”

Katsuki grunts, one hand pushing back his hair, irritated. “They all fucking knew I don’t wanna hear shit unless it’s about the case.” His eyes cut to you — in the kitchen lights, they glimmer, and his mouth softens. “They know I don’t get much… free time, or whatever.” To spend with you, he means.

You’re close enough that you can reach out and touch him, easily, so you do; pressing your fingers into his chest before letting your palm slide against him. Underneath it, you can feel the steady comfort of his heartbeat. He’s here. He’s alive and he’s home safe.

Maybe Katsuki is thinking the same thing. In a lot of ways, he remains a constant mystery to you; he covers your hand with his, pressing it further against him. His hand is warm; he’s warm. You trace the outline of your fingers together and then follow the soft lines of him, his collar bone, his adam’s apple — the motion of his neck as he swallows. And then your eyes are meeting his.

This man, you think. It’s awe and it’s love and it’s disbelief that he’s here. That you’re here, with him.

You lean into him; he catches you in a hug, tight and warm, his arms thick around you. Nosing against him, you breathe in his scent, the salty sweetness, and then say, “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah,” He grunts. You feel his lips in your hair, and then against the shell of your ear, his breath. “Missed you, too.” He headbutts you again, the heavy thunk of his forehead against the top of yours. You snuffle against him, annoyed.

“I have to make dinner,” You say, like you weren’t the one to bury yourself against him.

“Don’t care,” He says, a large hand slipping to the back of your neck — forcing you to look up at him, to meet his gaze, heated and soft. “Don’t want it,” He adds, his thumb stroking the soft skin behind your ear. “M’ — just wanna crawl back into bed with you and get some fuckin’ rest for once.”

“What rest,” You tease, but his hands tighten against you and you know what he means. It’s the same thing that drives you to nap, just to be close to him. To wait while he sleeps off a hard day, just so you’re there to welcome him back to the living. It’s just — it’s just the need to be together, in whatever way you can.

“I love you,” You say out-loud.

Katsuki headbutts you again, harder this time and you make a small squawk of protest — but he’s keeping his forehead against yours, trying to rub his nose against you, affectionate in the fickle way of a cat.

“Love you, too.” He says. You try and bite his cheek in retaliation — he swears, and tries to bite back and you are laughing, shaking like your sieve of rice — Katsuki holding you close, like he’s trying to osmosis your laughter through your skin.

[your-denki-kun]

Third Wheel

Alpha!Katsuki X Beta!Denki X Omega!Reader

A/N: Requests are open. No smut. This fic sucks, but I guess it's fine. I'm sorry for not posting for a while, I was having an art fase. Anyway, I hope you guys like this fic, I had fun writing this I guess. Also, I was wondering if you guys are interested in me posting a serie, so like a book.

What: Omega verse, angst?, fluff,

Word count: 2300

~3rd person pov.~

Walking down the hall you feel people stare at you and hear them whispering about you. It doesn't surprise you, people often bully you even if you are dating Bakugou Katsuki and Kaminari Denki. Katsuki is an Alpha and together with Kirishima he's like the king of the school and Kaminari is always by his side.

You aren't in their class however so you aren't seen with them as much, leaving people to believe you are lying when you tell them you three are dating and that that is why you are staying in the 3-A dorms with them. So you keep your head down and ignore them as you walk out of the school.

As soon as you're outside you look around, trying to find your boyfriends. As you spot them a faint smile makes it's way onto your face as you start walking towards them. Katsuki smirks cockily as Denki smiles brightly and waves. As you all reach each other Katsuki is quick to scent you as Denki gives you a kiss.

''Hey, Princess.'' Katsuki smirks as he kisses your ear.

''Hey Suki, Pika.'' You mumble weakly as your eyes close.

''Hey Pichu.'' Denki smiles against your lips.

''Lets go to the fucking dorms.''

You nod and take his hand in yours as Denki takes his other hand. The three of you walk to the dorms as Denki tells you all about their day. You simply smile and nod along, tears burning at the back of your eyes. As you all reach the dorms you all head up to your room and start on homework while talking a bit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You walk out of the kitchen and start heading to the boys side of the dorms. All of a sudden you feel a hand grab at your arm and pulling you aside and out of view. Your eyes are wide, but as you see Midoriya you relax as a frown makes it's way onto your face, head tilting to the side. Midoriya sighs softly and looks into your eyes with a serious look.

''Have you been getting bullied?'' He asks softly, sympathy pooling in his eyes.

''What do you mean?''

''The way you act reminds me of how I acted when I got bullied and beaten and tried hiding it. If you are getting bullied you can tell me, I won't judge, I promise. On the contrary, I'll help. You can tell me.'' He whisper as he places his hands on your shoulders.

Slowly tears start to form in your eyes as your lower lip trembles along with your body. A suppressed sob escapes you as the first tear falls. Distress pheromones start leaving you and Midoriya pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back as he whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you just sob into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his torso tightly.

A combination of a sob and a yelp leave you as you feel someone pull you away from Midoriya and into their hold. Faint shouting registers in your mind as you weakly look up to meet worried, golden eyes. You glance back at Midoriya and see Katsuki shouting at him. Another sob escapes as you stumble over and hug Katsuki.

''Midoriya did no-othing.''

Katsuki curses softly and holds you close, resting his head on yours.

''What the fuck is wrong then?'' He mumbles into your ear as you feel Denki hugging you from behind.

''They're getting bullied and I assume beaten, by others.'' Midoriya clarifies as you stay silent and cuddle up closer to Katsuki.

''Fuck, I thought they fucking stopped.'' Katsuki growls lowly as his hold tightens.

''Pichu, you promised to tell us if it happened again.'' Denki whispers softly, a sad undertone to his voice.

''I di-idn't want to worry you gu-uys.''

''It's our job to fucking worry. Promise to tell us next time, fuck, please. Teddy bear promise me.'' Katsuki demands desperately as he cups your face and searches your eyes with his own.

''I.....I promise.'' You whisper as you slowly start to calm down.

''Good.'' He sighs as he pulls you back into his chest.

You can faintly hear Midoriya excusing himself as he walks off. Neither Denki nor Katsuki loosen their hold as they scent and comfort you. In all honesty it's making your head spin a bit. Katsuki's pheromones are strong and he's drowning you in them. Denki seems to catch onto your slight dizziness and looks at you worried.

''Pichu? What's wrong?'' He asks as he turns you around so you're facing him.

''Dizzy.'' You weakly mumble as you try to focus your eyes.

''Why? Did you not eat or drink enough?''

''Pheromones.'' You groan slightly as the dizziness starts to subside as Katsuki stops drowning you in his pheromones.

''Lets go up to our room.'' Katsuki mumbles as he lets go before grabbing your hand.

All you can do is nod as the ash blond drags you off, Denki following behind as he reaches for your other hand. Katsuki clicks the button of the elevator as the three of you wait, which doesn't take long. You all get in and ride it up to the fourth floor. Once the doors open Katsuki drags you to the room and opens the door, finally letting go of your hand.

''Me and Denki will get us something to eat and drink. Stay here.'' Katsuki commands as he gives you a kiss and walks down the hall again.

''We'll be back soon Pichu.'' Denki smiles as he gives you a kiss as well before running after Katsuki.

You watch them as they walk into the elevator before walking into the room and closing the door. Glancing at the bed an idea pops into your head, making a smile appear on your face. You walk over to the closet and grab all the blankets, sweaters, hoodies, shirts and pillows you can carry after throwing a good portion towards the bed.

You stumble over to the bed and dump all the things onto it and get onto the bed yourself. Grabbing a few pillows you arrange them together with some shirts, sweaters, hoodies and blankets. Just as you finish up your nest you hear the door to the room open, causing you to look at it with a smile.

''You made a nest.'' Katsuki states, surprise evident on his face.

''Mhm!'' You smile proudly as you nod your head.

''It looks beautiful Pichu. Can we join you?'' Denki asks as he slowly walks over.

You nod and pull him into your nest, your sitting in the center seeing you build your nest around yourself. Denki smiles and gives you a kiss as he places the snacks he was holding onto the nightstand beside him. Katsuki slowly walks over, a bit hesitant seeing you rarely build nests. All you do is grab his arm before pulling him into the nest as well.

''Wow!'' He exclaims softly as he lets go of the bottles of water he was holding.

''Why did you build a nest Pichu?'' Denki asks as you cuddle up to Katsuki.

You stare at him with big eyes. Slowly the gears start turning, seeing you had been so close to going into Omega space. It's a state in which an omega is completely content and can't be happier.

''Ah, I just fellt like it.'' You smile, but it slightly drops when you see Katsuki and Denki looking at you worried and a bit skeptical. ''....I...I can take it down if you guys don't like it.

''No, no. I like it. It's just...You usually don't make nests, not even in heat. It just made me wonder if there is a particular reason for you to build a nest.'' Denki is quick to shush you, explaining why he asked what he asked.

''Oh, there isn't really a reason, just....Just wanted to.'' You say as you owlishly blink at him.

''Okay, Teddy bear.'' Katsuki whispers, nuzzling into your neck.

You smile contently as you go limp against him and close your eyes. Denki joins the hug and you feel yourself enter Omega space once again, this time successfully. Once you do a soft, barely audible purr leaves you as you get even more comfortable and shift. As your purring gets louder and audible Denki and Katsuki stare at you wide-eyed.

''They.....They're purring.'' Denki whispers in shock as he looks at Katsuki.

''Yeah, just. Don't disturb them, it's rare to get an Omega like this.'' Katsuki whispers back, eyes not leaving your content and completely relaxed figure.

Denki simply nods and gets comfortable as a smile appears on his face. A smile also appears on Katsuki's face as he gets comfortable and holds the both of you closer. His inner Alpha feels proud and content with his Omega purring in his arms as his Beta is cuddled up to both of them. Denki feels similar, the feeling just a bit more gentle seeing Beta's don't feel emotions as strong as Alpha's and Omega's.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

''Alpha, can you make dinner?'' You ask softly as you look up at Katsuki.

You got out of Omega space a while ago, but you still feel completely calm and relaxed.

''Sure, stay here with Sparky. I'll be back in a bit.'' Katsuki mumbles as he kisses your forehead and gets out of the nest.

''He'll be back soon.'' Denki whispers into your ear once he hears you faintly whimper after Katsuki leaves the nest.

You look at him with big innocent eyes for a few seconds before nodding and cuddling up to him closely. Denki smiles and buries his face in your neck, nose right by your scent glands as he closes his eyes and enjoys the moment. He notices how your scent is purer than usual seeing that most of the time there is something of fear or sadness clouding your scent. The both of you jolt when the door gets thrown open.

''Bakubro! Guess wh-...Oh. He's not here.'' Kirishima's familiar voice exclaims at first, but he ends with with a mumble.

''Grr.'' Denki growls as Kirishima walks into the room more.

''Calm down man, it's me. Where is Bakubro?'' Kirishima asks as he puts his arms up in surrender and walks closer.

Bad move on his part. You start hissing and growling at him as you get up, your small Omega fangs growing. Both Kirishima and Denki look at you in shock at your sudden action. Kirishima is a close friend of all of you and you trust him completely, so why are you acting like this?

''Wow, easy. What got you like this?'' Kirishima asks as his eyes are wide.

''Back off.'' You growl as you start activating your quirk.

''Wow, wow. Pichu, hey. Calm down. It's just Kirishima.'' The blond tries as he places his hand on your shoulder. ''Hey, look at me.''

''Back off, my Beta, my nest.''

''Ooooooh.'' The both of them whisper as Kirishima backs up.

Your fangs disappear and you stop growling at the action. Turning back to Denki you cuddle up to him with a content smile and nuzzle your nose into his scent glances. Both males just look at you wide eyed. Never have they seen you so defensive and territorial. Right at that moment Katsuki walks inside only to see both males staring at you wide eyed as Kirishima has his hands raised.

''The fuck is going on here?'' He asks with a quirked brow.

Your eyes light up when you hear his voice and you sit up straight, eyes wide with excitement as you stretch out your arms in his direction and make grabby hands.

''Alpha!'' You cheer with a radiant smile.

The ash blond male slightly frowns, but starts walking over to you nontheless. He walks close by Kirishima however, causing you to growl as you glare at the redhead, fangs growing once again. Katsuki looks at you shocked and speed walks over. As soon as he reaches the nest you stop growling and your fangs disappear as you smile at him.

''Alpha.'' You say in a breathy way.

''What the fuck is going on with you? You never growl at people.'' Katsuki mumbles as he climbs into the nest.

''I don't know why they're like this. When Kiri approached earlier they were the same.'' Denki explains when you stay silent as you cuddle up to Katsuki and scent him.

''Maybe because they got out of Omega space not too long ago, but I don't fucking know.'' Katsuki mumbles as he looks at you. ''Leave Shitty hair.''

''Kay man. Bye.'' Kirishima says as he walks over to the door and walks out, closing the door behind him.

''That was weird.'' Denki sighs softly.

''Teddy bear, oi, look at me.''

''Yes Alpha?'' You ask as you look at him with big doe eyes.

''Why were you growling at Shitty hair?''

''He came to close to what's mine. First my Beta and my nest and then my Alpha.'' You simply states as you get comfortable again, seeing you sat up.

''Well shit. Seems you get really territorial after being in Omega space.'' Katsuki mumbles as he lets you cuddle up to him.

''Seems so. Anyway, what did you make?'' Denki asks as he looks at the other blond.

''Pork cutlet bowls.''

''Nice.''

Katsuki hands Denki a bowl and places your bowl on the nightstand, deciding not to disturb you. The two of them eat in relative silence, only saying a few words. When they finish you are fast asleep in between them, causing both males to smile as Denki takes Katsuki's bowl and places it on your nightstand.

''We should probably sleep as well.'' Denki whispers as he moves closer to Katsuki and cuddles up to him.

''Yeah. Night Pikachu.''

''Night Blasty.''

[foulserpent]

mini fic. ned helps masumeht get thru a thunderstorm

“Okay, here’s a trick. You can guess how far away it all is by counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder.” Ned explained.

Two of his daughters were sat before him, having evidently slithered into his bed in the midst of a midnight thunderstorm. He had awoken to an ear splitting clap of thunder, followed by squeaks of terror and little clawed hands grasping at his face.

Bokwo now yawned widely, and curled up on his lap. It was evident that she mostly unbothered by the storm, and was only concerned with finding a suitably warm place to sleep. Masumeht, however, was rapt, wide eyes scanning the darkness beyond the hut.

Then, the marsh was lit white. The shaking leaves frozen in the lightnings illumination, before resuming their dance as the darkness settled back in. Masumeht turned to stare at her father expectantly, scenting the air with an anxious rapidity.

“Alright- One, two, three, four-“ Ned began.

He got no further before a crack of thunder shook the air.

Masumeht let out a small squeak, burying her face against Ned’s chest. He put a comforting hand around her back.

“Hey, it’s okay kiddo, listen. So that was like, four seconds. And there’s some other math to it that I’m not gonna bother with, but that lightning hit four miles away. Super far away, even though it’s really loud and stuff.”

Masumeht pushed away from his chest, mouth agape at this revelation.

“Why is that?” She asked.

Ned blinked. He was not even slightly versed to answer that question.

“Um.” He said.

The storm came to his rescue. Another flash of light illuminated the hut, and Ned began to count.

“One, two...”

“One. two...” Masumeht repeated slowly. Ned nodded in encouragement.

“Two...” Bokwo muttered sleepily

They counted, somewhat haltingly, to eight before a low rumble of thunder shook the earth. It was a softer strike, and the little argonian merely puffed up her chest in defiance of the sound. The rain resumed its weighty tap on the palm fronds outside.

“So that’s... eight miles away?” Masumeht asked.

“Yeah, pretty much! It’s a little farther away than it was before. The storm might be on its way out”

“Is eight miles far away?” She asked.

“Yeah, pretty far. Remember when we went to Lilmoth? That was about eight miles away. So like, even though it sounds loud, all that is coming from- from all the way over there. None of it’s actually close by, you know? All over there.” Ned said, gesticulating and desperately hoping he’d said anything that made a lick of sense to the child.

Masumeht stared intently, the words evidently going in one ear hole and out the other.

“Yeah, and the thunder’s all just noise. My Ma used to tell me it was just a bigas- um. Very large. Cat. Roaring in the clouds or something. Like Little Man when he wants to be pet.” Ned gestured to the housecat asleep on the windowsill.

Masumeht’s jaw dropped.

“Really?!” She asked.

Bokwo made an irritated chirp at the noise.

“I think your sister’s trying to go to sleep.” Ned said, and smiled. “I think you should be getting some rest too. How about I tell all of you that story in the morning?”

Masumeht surrendered to being tucked into bed, curled up next to her father and sister. She still flinched when the thunder came down loudly, but each time she would be reassured by her father’s hand stroking the back of her head.

She hadn’t quite mastered counting within her head yet. For a while, Ned heard her mumbling the seconds between the lightning and the thunder, until her little voice grew heavy with sleep and she began to doze off, With the sounds of the chicks’ steady breathing at his side and the rain on the leaves, Ned finally allowed himself to drift as well.

[theseourbodiesrp]

Bring on Many Changes (end!verse fic ft Claire Novak)

@pantslessoptimism HATES HAPPINESS

end!verse, tw: drug use, tw: death, tw: violence, tw: suicide attempt

Claire was frozen to the cabin steps, eyes wide as she watched Dean holster his gun, watched Sophie’s body fall to the road. He didn’t look up at her, didn’t acknowledge her or glance down at Sophie’s body. He just strode on, turning to speak to his second in command and gesturing at Chuck to take care of it.

The former prophet glanced up at her, taking a breath and licking his lip. She didn’t move; her hands trembled and her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. He moved to do as he was bidden; Dean’s word was law at Chitaqua. If he said someone was infected, then that person was infected. Infection was a death sentence, of course. No one wanted a croat in camp, no one wanted to become one. Sophie had once asked Claire to kill her if she ever got infected, kill her before she turned so she could die being herself and not a monster. Dean had done no more than what Sophie would have wanted, but that didn’t alleviate the grief and anger building in Claire.

He didn’t care, was the thing. Infection was a threat, so he’d eliminated it. Sophie didn’t even factor in, not for Dean.

“Claire, don’t. She wouldn’t want this, you know that,” Chuck’s voice was in her ear, easy and soothing. It took her a moment to register the sound of someone sobbing, and then another moment to recognize it was her. She hadn’t realized she’d moved until Chuck spoke, but she was kneeling on the dirt road, Sophie in her arms, sobbing like a broken child. His hands were on her shoulders, trying to ease her away from her friend: they still weren’t sure if the infection could be transmitted postmortem. “Come on. Shh. Just shh. It’s all right.”

She shook her head but tried to get her sobs under control. Tried to pull herself together. She took a couple of hitching breaths, raising her hands, stained with Sophie’s blood, in surrender. Chuck’s men moved the body, murmuring condolences she didn’t hear. He pulled her to her feet, hugging her tight to him. She pressed her face to his chest, not crying anymore. Her heart ached, her whole body hurt from the loss, but she refused to cry. Chuck stroked her hair and she let him tell her it was going to be okay. She didn’t believe him, but he had a nice voice.

xxx

He didn’t let her out of his sight for days. He didn’t let her go back to the cabin she’d shared with Sophie, either. After Sophie’s funeral pyre, he’d made a pallet on the floor for himself and tucked her into his bed. he told her to rest. She didn’t sleep much, but every time she opened her eyes, he was there, bringing water or food or just talking. She would have been comforted if her loss hadn’t been so monumental.

“I want to die,” she told him one night in the dark.

“She wouldn’t want that,” he countered, voice gentle.

“I don’t care.”

“She loved you.”

“She wouldn’t want me to be alone. She wouldn’t want-”

“You’re not.” He came and sat on the bed, touching her shoulder briefly. “Can you see that? You’re important to someone else.” She shook her head: it wasn’t the same. She did appreciate everything he was doing for her, wished she could find the will to live. But without Sophie she couldn’t. Sophie was the only person who remembered her from before the world ended. Half of herself had died with her friend, so why not let the rest of herself go, too?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She murmured.

“I know.” She’s grateful that he’s not asking her to make promises she’s not going to keep. They’ve both seen enough death to know what it look like when it approaches. Sometimes it looks like cold green eyes narrowed behind a gun; sometimes it’s a blond head on a greying pillow, eyes blinking against tears in a familiar darkness.

xxx

She left Chuck’s cabin days or weeks ago. Maybe only hours, who knows. Who cares. There is a world of difference between drifting on the nothingness of loss, and drifting on the nothingness of Cas’s drugs.

The drugs are better.

“Claire?” His voice is far away, but she thinks he’s supposed to be near. She turns her head and blinks slowly. He is close, lying only a little ways from her. They are on the floor of his cabin, on a bed of blankets or pillows or something.

“Yes.”

“Just checking.” she contemplates that, Cas just checking on her. He never cared before, not when he took Jimmy and not when he came back and ripped their lives apart, and not when he let Dean Winchester ruin the world and not when Sophie-

“Do you know that you’re talking, or is that just a stream of semi-consciousness?” He asks. She blinks again; she’d been saying all that out loud? weird. She thinks for a moment, but then she feels warm and soft and she starts to drift again.

“Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, Claire Bear. I know that.” He’s not mad. She thought he would be, but then that’s not the first time she’s told him that. His bitter laughter fills the room and she reaches out, finger tips brushing his wrist. He turns to look at her. “Do you want to die? I mean really die, not just existentially. We’re already all dead, existentially.”

“What’s, uh. Existentially?” She asks. The word tastes funny in her mouth, the vowels a little too round. he laughs again.

“You are. My own personal existential crisis.” The words are rueful, and he sits up. She tries to as well, but her limbs are heavy. Instead she just lays there and licks her lips. Breathes in and out and imagines Sophie’s laughter.

“Yeah.” She closes her eyes “would you wanna? Die, I mean. Without Dean.” There is no answer for a long time. She drifts.

“Yes,” he says finally. She doesn’t answer.

xxx

Chuck comes to check on her one night. She is laying on the floor, her nest of pillows and blankets around her. She’s half-sober, debating getting up or going back to sleep. She dreams about Sophie, is the thing. and when she’s high it’s easier to believe the dreams are real. It’s easier to believe when she wakes up, Sophie will be right there. It’s never true, but she’s not that interested in truth anymore.

“-can’t stay here, Cas. She’s just a kid.” Chuck says, his voice grim. “This is no place for her.”

“If you’re worried about my poor virgin eyes, he doesn’t have orgies anymore. Kinda awkward when your vessel’s kid is right here. right, Cas?” she says. Cas chuckles. They are starting to understand each other, in a way. He accepts all her comments about how he ruined her life and how much she hates him. He never mentions Sophie, or Jimmy and Amelia. It works for them.

“Listen. you can do whatever you want to yourself. And with or to any consenting adult in this camp. I’m not judging, you know that.” Chuck says, and there is a note of anger there that’s surprising. “But not her. She’s just a kid. Do you get that?” Cas nods, and Claire huffs, closing her eyes.

“Hey, Chuck? you’re not my real dad. Get it? Because my real dad... well. you know.” She grins, but judging from the stony silence, neither of them finds it as funny as she does. After a moment, Chuck speaks again, and his voice is lower, more raw.

“She’s what we’re fighting for, here. You get that, right?”

xxx

The grief of losing Sophie sits right next to her heart, and somehow swallows her whole. She doesn’t want to eat, but Chuck sits with her and gives her small pieces of bread and vegetables and whatever there is of fruit. Presses juice and tea on her, and she doesn’t have the heart to refuse.

Cas no longer lets her have any drugs, and she doesn’t trust any one else’s supply. He does still let her lay on his floor and tell him she hates him, though.

She’s laying on the floor and telling him a story about how one time Sophie decided pants were bullshit, so took hers off and went running around campus yelling about pantsless awesomeness. and how she, Claire, had to talk the campus cop out of arresting her. Cas chuckles at the right times, and it eases something in her just a little to share that much of Sophie. to say her name.

But then Dean walks in, and she stops talking. He glances at her, then turns to Cas.

“Resa’s making a supply run. you’re on the team,” he says. Glances at her again. “And her. Everyone’s gotta pull their weight, she can’t just mope about some dead croat for the rest of her life.” He’s gone before she can get to her feet and scream that Sophie wasn’t some dead croat, she was a person and a better person than Dean Winchester ever tried to be.

Cas catches her before she can go running after their fearless leader. He pulls her to him, trying to soothe her. But no, no. It feels like when Jimmy would comfort her for her little-girl tragedies, scraped knees and lost dolls and hurt feelings. She didn’t want to know if Cas’s heart beat in the same rhythm as Jimmy’s, so she pushed him away and ran out of the cabin.

“I hate him, Chuck,” she says, throwing herself at him. He manages to catch her and keep them both upright, no small feat when you have a small, angry blond hurling her entire bodyweight at you out of nowhere. “I’d kill him if I could.”

“Cas?” He asks, smoothing her hair back and rubbing her shoulder.

“Dean.” She buries her head on his shoulder, and he hugs her until she doesn’t feel like crying anymore. but the abyss around her heart, the absence of Sophie, burns through her until she thinks she’ll die from the lonliness.

xxx

She goes on the supply run, because you do not refuse a direct order from Dean Winchester. Cas insists that Claire stays with him. She goes where i go, Resa. Deal with it, and so that’s how they end up on croat patrol together.

It’d be easy, she thinks. She could drop her gun and walk up to the nearest croat. She’d probably get torn to shreds in minutes. And if not, at least she’d be infected, a death sentece of it’s own. She’d be able to find out of there’s an afterlife, and if Sophie’s waiting for her.

“You’re not the first,” Cas says, tone matter of fact. She glances at him; his eyes, too, are fixed on the road.

“First what?”

“To consider death by croat.” He tells her. “It’s a bad way to go. Painful and bloody. Only upside’s it’s a quicker death than waiting for Lucifer to make his final move.” She shrugs, heart squeezing tight.

“Not as quick as death by Dean Winhester,” she counters. Cas huffs, and she can’t tell if he’s amused or not.

xxx

A day or so later, she stops by Cas’s cabin to tell him she hates him. But he’s not there. Odd. She’s turning to leave when she thinks it’d be easy. He has so many drugs laying around, he’d never miss a handful of them. She’s moving before she can stop herself, taking a handful of the likliest looking pills. She goes to her and Sophie’s cabin, sprawls on the floor.

By the time all the pills are taken, she’s feeling heavy and the world is fuzzy around the edges. She smiles.

“Ice cream,” she murmurs. This is a game she and Sophie used to play, what they’d have or do if it was available. “Iced coffee. Anything with ice, really.  A slushie.” She takes a breath, mouth popping open as another idea occurs to her. “Oh my god.  slushie with ice cream.” Those’re called screamers where she’s from, and they are delicious. She tries to reach out for Sophie’s hand, another thing they used to do: hold hands in the dark together, because the world was fucked up and scary and all they had was each other.

Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes, and everything was soft and dark and she was so tired. “Or maybe... you. Just you, Soph.” and then there was nothing but soft, warm dark. She let it take her.

xxx

The light is too bright and her body feels like broken glass and her tongue is parched and if this is the after life, it sucks. She tries to move, but it’s a feeble attempt. It brought him to her side, however.

“Hey,” he, the  says, smoothing hair back from her face. “don’t try to move. Here,” pressing a wet cloth to her lips. “We don’t have ice, so this’ll have  to do.” she parts her lips, and a small trickle of water touches her tongue. It feels like heaven.

“you gave us a scare, Claire Bear.” Cas says. He takes the cloth away, dips it in more water. Presses it to her lips again. “We thought... i thought...” But she’s drifting again.

This goes on for a while, she doesn’t know how long. Sometimes it’s Chuck and sometimes it’s Cas when she wakes up.  always the cloth to her lips, and then small sips from a cup. She drifts back out before she can ask any questions.

and then, finally, she’s lucid. It’s Cas by her bed; his eyes are closed, his hands pressed together in front of him. It looks like-

“Don’t tell me you’re praying,” she whispers. His eyes open, and she’s shocked by something in them she’s never seen before. Relief? The kind that settles in your soul, the kind you were certain would never come.

No. Humanity. He looks entirely human and vulnerable and almost broken, She closes her eyes.

“To whom would i pray?” He asks, but there’s no sarcasm or mocking there. “No, i was just thinking.”

“About?”

“Are you hungry?” He evades her question neatly,. She’s too tired to press the point. She turns her head away from him, but reaches out with one hand. He takes it; his hand is warm and callused. bigger than she’s used to anymore, too; Sophie’s hand was the same size as her own. and for a moment, she wished desperately that it was Sophie’s hand and not his.

But if his was what she had, she’d take it.

xxx

As soon as she was strong enough, she left Cas’s cabin and went back to Chuck’s. She didn’t talk to him much, but he didn’t mind. He got her her own cot, put up a privacy curtain for her.  Gave her as much space as she needed, but still forced her to eat and drink enough to regain her strength. He started taking to her about the camp logistics, and as she recovered, she started helping him more and more.

It was so unfair. There was an absence of Sophie that ached through her almost constantly. and yet her heart kept beating and her lungs kept breathing and her body kept going. Every day without her best friend was a day she didn’t want to live in. And yet.

Yet. The logistical work was interesting. figuring out rations and distribution kept her occupied. And she was learning to enjoy Chuck’s quiet humor. To appreciate his silences and his rambling outbursts of story teling. They soon talked a lot, mostly about the camp. Or the stories Chuck wanted to write if he ever had the time. 

She still went to Cas’s, to lay on the floor and tell him things. She hardly ever said she hated him, now. She mostly talked about Sophie. Amelia. Jimmy. And Cas listened. Sometimes he’d talk about his own family, his Heavenly family. All those siblings, from whom he was cut off for ever. She even taught him the game she and Sophie used to play, even though his answers were often weird and  not the point of the game. Paradise, he said. The garrison. Aramaic, which he insisted was a beautiful language but couldn’t actually prove because he no longer had his divine memory.

“Dean,” he said one day. His voice was quiet, serious. He always tried to be sober in the early afternoon when she visited; she didn’t like him when he was high. “From before. You never met him-”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, Claire. You met him when he was in the midst of a battle. He was a different person when we weren’t fighting for our lives. He was a good man. One might even say, a righteous man.” There’s a hint of sarcasm there, and she grins bitterly because she knows what it means. She remembers from being Castiel’s vessel.

But she reaches her hand out. He takes it. She rests her fingers on his wrist. “You don’t know this, but he was funny. He and Sam.... they were good men. That’s what i would have, if I could. Dean, and Sam.” She doesn’t answer, just lets her hand rest in his. After a long silence, he asks, “What about you, Claire Bear? What would you have?”

She gives a sad, bleak laugh.

“Sophie. Just Sophie.” He squuezes her hand for a moment, but that’s all. She’s surprised that she can live with the absence of Sophie. It is not the same, and not ideal, and not even what she wants. It just is. She has not chosen survival, but if that’s what she has, she’ll take it.

[etcorsolus]

Bready’s Spotlight Challenge Part Three!

Back again with part three, numbers eleven through fifteen!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

#11. The rarest pair you’ve ever written: The Other Wolf and Cat (Gaetan/Gweld, Rated: M) Summary: In which, Gaetan stalks a wolf and Gweld catches a cat. This was the first piece I wrote for Gaetan/Gweld. I am still the sole owner of that tag, to the best of my knowledge. I actually started it because I wanted to write something with Gweld for a reader of A Settled Debt that really loved him. I’m a romantic at heart so I tend towards paired fics over gen and I was trying to come up with someone to pair with Gweld, but the fic is also set in verse so I couldn’t use Geralt or Eskel or Lambert, they were already paired off in that verse and then Gaetan popped in my head. I figured we already ship one cat with a wolf, might as well ship another! And Gweld/Gaetan was born. I fell in love with these two together. I write Gweld as a very laid back guy, he’s easy going and generally happy and adaptable, and it’s a fun dynamic to write him with Gaetan, who I always picture as very mercurial, diving from one mood to the next in a blink. 

#12. A fic that has special meaning for you: The Question of Trust (Lambert/Jaskier, Rated: M) Summary: In which, Jaskier learns what trust looks like from his witcher. This is my personal favorite. I loved everything about this fic, from writing it to editing and how it came together. It’s one I’m very proud of. It’s also special to me because I was able to explore the building of trust between these characters and trust has always been something I struggled to give. Lambert is absolutely one of my favorite characters. I love his bite and prickly attitude and I love the heart he hides beneath it all. At first, I didn’t really like Lambert at all. I thought he was an asshole and he seemed like a very shallow character because of it but the more I learned about him and the things he’s been through the more I understood him. Lambert strikes me as a man that’s been hurt, over and over again, he’s had life and destiny and people who were supposed to care for him turn their backs and screw him over. And yeah, it’s made him bitter and rough around the edges but I can’t blame the man. He was dealt a pretty shitty hand, over and over again, but he survives. And he still looks for his happiness, in his own way, refuses to let that be stolen from him when he can keep it for a while. I love Lambert for his tenacity, his unwillingness to surrender even though it would be far less painful for him to do so, and for his devotion to those he cares about. 

#13. A fic that got unexpectedly popular: A Settled Debt (Lambert/Aiden, Rated: M) Summary: Aiden has just taken to the Path as a Witcher when he meets a surly young boy who offers him a contract. This fic started as a one shot and it grew into a chaptered fic and then a series. I explored the idea of Lambert and Aiden meeting much earlier in Lambert’s life. It’s been a lot of fun to reimagine canon events and really explore the characters as I interpret them. This was also the first time I really tried to keep up with multiple characters, outside the main pairing. Writing an ensemble of characters has been a really fun challenge throughout the entire Lead Me Home series.

#14. A fic that you wish had gotten more love: A Dance (Lambert/Aiden, Rated: M) Summary: In which, Aiden is very convincing and Lambert can’t deny him. This fic sparked from a video that a mutual sent me (@ainawgsd, I’m lookin’ at you) that they said gave them Lambden vibes. And look, this fucking video is the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen, it’s absolutely precious and I watch it ten times a day. And I had this prompt, right, for a mob AU and I love reading mob AUs but I’m sort of shit at writing them (believe me, I’ve tried) so I knew I was gonna go kinda vague on the mob content. Then I got this mental image of prickly, will absolutely kill you and dump your body in a river for looking at him funny, Lambert dancing with Aiden just to make him smile and then my hand slipped! I swear it was the craziest thing, a whole fic just popped up, practically on it’s own. And then my hand slipped again and I posted it. You’re welcome.

#15. A fic you’d re-write if you had the time: This Once and Always (Geralt/Eskel, Rated: M) Summary: In which, Eskel meets Geralt and they have almost certainly met before. “You are my fate, this once and always.” - Atticus. I love soulmate AUs and this was the first one I tried to write. It’s sort of awkward to read though, I can’t quite place my finger on exactly why. I keep coming back to the pacing, I think if I rewrote this it would be longer and a little less rushed. I loved this idea but it was also one of the first few fics I wrote and I’ve come a long way in the last few months as far as taking the time on a story. I’d almost definitely take more time on the dreaming aspect, probably do quite a bit more world building and I’d probably change their second meeting as well as Eskel’s job. I just feel like I should have thought this one out a little more before I wrote it.

As always if you have questions or a prompt request, send me an ask!

[fallen-angel-92]

If I Surrender

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Depression, Attempted Suicide

A/N: Hello all. I am writing this one-shot (?). Lately I have been feeling really down and wrote this story based upon a song I heard of the same name. Please. Please head the warnings I have posted above, this story is a way for me to help myself with my own mentality. I may do this as a continuing fic, but please let me know what you think. Also please if you are feeling down and feel like you can’t go on. Please seek help as all life is precious as is yours.

Summary: The voices were so loud now. She couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted it all to end. One night she decided that it was the night that it would all end, however, fate had different plans for her.

Lately I’ve been feeling so ashamed

By these thoughts I’m hiding in my brain

Cause I’ve been holding them down 

But they twist me violently

She sat upon the ledge, the wind dancing around her, slicing through her body like cold blades. Her eyes stared up at the full moon as she began to wonder why she still existed. Her hands gripped the edge of the building as her gaze turned downwards. She watched as all the people walked underneath her feet, not caring about anyone else, but themselves. She could remember her friends calling her earlier to ask her to go to the bar with them. She declined as she always done, not in the mood to be left alone and forgotten about.

I’m hanging by a thread tonight

But this time I don’t wanna be saved

So, let me fall

Let me break 

Under everything unsaid

She clenched her arms to the side of her body feeling the icy cold winds, once again picking up. The voices that she tried so hard to silence began to return full force,

*Stupid woman. You won’t jump. You are a coward.*

*Come one coward, take a leap of faith. Bet you’ll look lovely at the bottom.*

*No one will miss you. You are nothing but a failure*

*Yeah all you do is sit on your fat ass as you write. You can’t even finish a chapter*

She bit her bottom lip, as the voice grew louder and louder. They all spoke in the different voices of the people she knew. Her eyes welled up with tears as her hands let go of the edge and covered her face as she tried to wipe away the tears that streamed down her chubby cheeks. 

Just let me die

Because I can’t take living

With what’s in my head

If I surrender; surrender

To the monsters in me

If I surrender; surrender

To the monsters in me

Will it set me free?

She could feel droplets beginning to fall onto her. Her hands traveled into her hair, nails were digging into her head as the voices got even louder. Her eyes clenched themselves as the voice continued to belittle her.

*Just die! You know they won’t care.*

*They have prettier women. They don’t need you. Just like you mother and father didn’t want you.*

She began to cry harder as she thought about the two men she fell in love with, but chose to remain silent. After all she was just a lowly secretary, she was nothing special, at least to her that is what she felt. Never truly, accepting that she was pretty, at least that is what people told her. She thought they were doing it out of pity for her. The rain became heavier soaking her clothes causing her to become extremely cold.

What’s the point of holding on like this?

When no one seems to care if I exist

There is no agony like being strong when no one

Knows you’re sick

So sick of hearing I should stay when I know I would never be

Missed

She didn’t want to hear the voices anymore and slowly stood up. Once she was upon her feet she slowly got closer. She ignored the rain as she looked down at streets once more, the heavy droplets caused many people to scamper into the nearest building to avoid getting wet. Lightning flashed above her, causing her to look up at the sky, hair sticking to her face, allowing the rain to run down her face, mixing with the tears of her own sorrow.

So let me fall, let me break

Under everything unsaid

Just let me die because I can’t take

Living with what’s in my head

If I surrender; surrender

To the monsters in me

If I surrender; surrender

To the monsters in me

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself forward to allow herself to begin to fall forward and allow herself to plummet toward the ground. As she fell her body turned so her back was facing the ground, the wind whipped around her. She watched as the roof seemed further and further away. Closing her eyes she waited for her body to hit the concrete.

If you could see under my skin

You’d realize why I hold it in

Why it’s a fight I don’t wanna win

Why it’s a fight I don’t wanna win

If you could see all my abuse

And spend a day in my shoes

You’d realize why I just wanna lose

You’d realized why I just wanna lose

Will anyone believe the hell of being me

Before I decide to be the dying proof?

However, her wish didn’t come to pass as two strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. Her eyes snapped opened, meeting a pair of bright blue eyes that seemed to stare down at her with fear and worry, plain as day. Instantly, she looked down not wanting to look into the eyes of Superman. A man she had hoped she was far from, after all she didn’t want to be saved. She wanted everything to stop, she could see out of the corner of her eye that they were returning to the rooftop that she tried to jump from. To her surprise, noticed the familiar figure of a tall, blonde, blue eyed Steve Rogers was standing there as if waiting for them.

She could hear Superman land upon the roof, allowing Steve to run up to her as Superman set her down. As soon as her feet touched the roof she allowed herself to just fall to the ground, unwilling to get up even as Steve crouched next to her. She could hear them saying stuff to her, but the voices tuned them out as they began their venomous verses:

*Useless!*

*Can’t even succeed in killing yourself.*

*Failure! Failure!*

Once more, she covered her ears, clenching her eyes shut as she pulled her knees up and allowed her forehead to touch her knees as she began to cry again. She could feel herself being pulled into a warm chest as she sobbed loudly. Unaware of Steve looking up at the brunette, who looked at her with worry before quickly kneeling next to them and hugging her as well. 

So let me fall, let me break

Under everything unsaid

Just let me die because I can’t take

Living with what’s inside my head

If I surrender; surrender

To the monsters in me?

If I surrender; surrender

To the monsters in me

Will it set me free?

Both men could hear her sobs lessen as they noticed she had slowly fallen asleep. Steve to her into his arms and stood up with her before looking over to Superman and spoke softly,

“I’ll see you when you get home, Clark. Thank you for listening to me.”

“I am glad I did, Steve. We’ll have to try and see if we can help her or if someone can.” Clark responded softly as his blue eyes landed upon the sleeping woman.

Nodding to Clark. Steve watched as Clark flew away allowing him to look down at the woman for a moment before heading toward the door that led to the stairwell. He knew that it would be a long road, but he planned on being there for the woman that had captured both his and Clark’s heart. It would be a long hard road, filled with tears, and doubt and a lot of patience for one another. However, Steve knew that they would all pull through in the end and maybe come out of this stronger than ever.

[bagels-and-seagulls]

can you write a fic where matteo got into a fight and he doesn't defend himself, and david is angry for that

hello, anon! i didn’t know what verse you wanted this for, so i took a little liberty and wrote it for the double bad boy verse

bad boy matteo

They’re in the bathroom screaming at each other, have been for a while by the point that Hans peeks in and stands in the doorway as their voices get louder and louder, repeating and interrupting the same sentences to the point of hysterics on both sides. 

“Just tell me who did this!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Just stop-”

“Stop saying that. Tell me-”

“I’m not going to fucking tell you, David, so drop it!”

“Are you guys sure you-” 

“They can’t get away with this, Matteo! Tell me who did this!” 

“No! I said drop it!”

“Boys, why don’t we all just calm down-” 

“Hans!” Matteo screams to stop wherever his sentence was going in its tracks, pushing David away from him with a hand on his chest and an angry glare setting his jaw a little too tight as David’s mouth tenses up like he’s got a few words to say about the action. His own fists were clenching and unclenching by his sides. “Just get out of here.” 

“Whoa,” Hans says with wide eyes and his hands held out in front of him like he was ready to surrender, which he was, not trying to stand in between a firecracker and a stick of dynamite just waiting to see which one was going to alight first. “I’m just trying to help.” 

Matteo throws a glance towards his direction, and the blood pooling under his eye makes Hans suck a breath in and pull his robe around him a little bit tighter. He never really could stand seeing his butterfly coming back bruised up, never really agreed with his odd hours and the way that he made his money, what he did with it once he got any. Matteo stumbling in through the door too late in the night with something dark red staining the front of his shirt happened far too often for Han’s own personal comfort, kept him up later than Hans would ever admit to Matteo at the least. “Sorry, just- I’m fine,” Matteo says. 

“No-” David goes to fight him, crowding him into again with something hot keeping his spine up straight and his palms reaching out to the edge of counter. 

“Stop it,” Matteo hisses at him and shoves him back at the sternum trying to write into the lines besides his eyes that he’s not leaving any room for discussion right now. “We’re good,” Matteo says back towards Hans with a cringed smile and his fist curling around the collar of David’s shirt to keep him a few paces back. “We’ll keep it down.” 

“If you’re sure,” Hans mutters out, not believing anything coming out of Matteo’s mouth. 

“I’m sure,” Matteo says with a small nod, and Hans copies the action, toying with the bathroom door before pulling it shut behind him as he walks back to the living room to keep a careful ear on the argument he knew was about to blow up again now that he wasn’t there to remind them they weren’t alone in the apartment. 

David brushes Matteo’s hand away from him as he screws his entire face up somewhere in between his anger and worry and disappointment. “Take your shirt off,” he says with his teeth clamped together. 

“Fuck off,” Matteo says and goes to turn around only to have David step in close with his hands tight on his hips to stop him. 

“Take your shirt off,” David repeats not too kindly, glaring into the whites of Matteo’s eyes like he was daring him to try and fight him right now because if he did, if Matteo even tried, he knew he would win, win with flying colors. He’s always thought himself a little rougher around the edges than Matteo thought himself. “You could have a cracked rib.” 

“Oh, and you’re a doctor all of a sudden?” Matteo says back because he’s feeling a little bit mean at the rough treatment, like he wants to dish out everything David is trying to serve him ten fold, like his adrenaline was still spiked in his veins and not let him come down easily.

“I’ve cracked enough to be able to tell,” David says with a tilt of his head like he wanted to hear Matteo argue with him. “Take it off,” he says again.

“Or what?” Matteo asks though he’s already reaching over the back of his head with some flinch in his movements in order to pull his shirt over his head, and David tries not to feel any satisfaction at the way that Matteo was running hot but listening to him anyways. He helps him halfway through when he starts to see colors across Matteo’s stomach and ribs. 

“Fuck, Matteo,” David whispers mostly to himself as he pushes Matteo back carefully until he’s propped up on the counter. “Jesus, fuck.” 

David digs under the sink for the first aid kit. “I don’t see why you’re being so fucking stubborn about this,” he says under his breath as he wipes at the blood seeping down Matteo’s temple from somewhere in his hair. And fuck, David doesn’t even know where he’s bleeding from but he knows that it’s not keeping the edges of his vision from turning coppery around the sides thinking about it. 

“I told you to drop it,” Matteo says again jumbled as David has his bottom lip between his fingers to check to make sure he has all of his teeth, which he does. He doesn’t need David fucking checking for him. He can tell just fine himself, though there’s a sticky taste in his mouth as he presses his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. 

It’s a little cold in the bathroom, Matteo thinks, as the chill starts to seep into his joints, sitting there without his shirt and on display. 

“And I told you I wasn’t going to,” David responds with his voice creeping up louder and louder. “Not until I put whoever did this to you into the fucking ground.” 

“It’s none of your fucking business, and keep it down. Christ,” Matteo says and bats David’s hands away from his face, feeling like they were playing doctor, and Matteo never really did like going to the doctor. 

“Stop that,” David hisses, going back to wiping alcohol wipes across Matteo’s eyebrows. “And it is my fucking business. You’re my fucking boyfriend, last I checked.” 

“Oh sorry I didn’t realize that you being my boyfriend meant getting involved in every single thing I do,” Matteo bites back and wraps his arms around himself to try and feel the heat of his own skin. 

“It does when you come back fucked up like you are!” David yells right in his face. 

“Keep it down!” Matteo matches. 

“Just tell me who did it. It isn’t that hard.” 

“And it still isn’t your fucking business!” Matteo pushes him away again with both hands and feels a sick satisfaction when David stumbles back. He clenches his teeth shut when he feels how they want to chatter. “It has nothing to do with you, so keep your fucking nose out of it.” 

“It has plenty to do with me when I’m wondering if I have to take you to the hospital from a punctured lung or some shit!” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re not fine-”

“I am-” 

“You’re shaking-”

“Yeah, because I just got fucking jumped, and my boyfriend keeps fucking screaming in my face, and everything just fucking hurts, and I’m so tired-” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” David interrupts, crawling back in close to gather Matteo to his chest and running his finger through his hair as he tries to hush him calm again. “You’re okay now, baby. I got you. I got you, Teo.” 

Matteo shutters in his arms as he grips onto the back of David’s shirt, and David kisses the side of his head as he hears Matteo take in a shaky breath and the side of his neck get a little wet, knowing Matteo must finally be coming down, knowing he must finally be realizing what just happened to him, what it means, feeling the hurt of his skin and bones and everything in between. 

“I got you now, baby,” David repeats quietly. “I promise I got you. Nothing’s getting to you with me around.”

[anamelessdragon]

I’m so excited to read your Voiceless fic! I’m currently reading your In Cold Blood verse and I’m so in love with your writing, love how protective Bucky is of Loki. So glad I came across your ao3

Oh man, anon, Voiceless is not on the front burner right now but I really can’t wait for it to be. There’s going to be a lot of self-indulgent Sakaar glitz and glamor with post-Avengers Loki really on the back foot and a lot more of an obvious plaything/amusing pet when it comes to the Grandmaster than things I’ve previously written - although he’s going to be trying his damnedest to work his way up in the ranks despite that. (Which is going to be especially difficult considering the accessories that he arrives wearing!)

I am glad you are enjoying In Cold Blood! And yeah, Bucky and Loki are kind of like...feral abused animals with one way more ready to be “domesticated” than the other one, and both have very different ideas of what the best protection is from their respective hurts. Bucky’s got a big stake in making sure Loki doesn’t end up back under the knife, especially now that Loki has essentially all but surrendered to the wills of the Avengers. He almost completely knows Steve won’t do it, and he’s pretty fairly sure Thor won’t do it. He’s...still a lot less certain about whether or not the others will let it happen, either intentionally or on accident or simply because Loki’s being Loki. And being telepathically influenced by Loki’s visceral trauma reactions and biases really doesn’t help that, so he’s transitioned into almost full on Winter Soldier protection mode about 95% of the time right now.

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: As British as Apple Pie (Grahamavoy)

Thanksgiving prompt #4 (or 5?)

@ghostgirlalicia “How about something soft and domestic like making coffee or baking holiday pies.”

Graham’s THIRSTY though so ‘soft’ turned into ‘smut.’  Takes place about 9 months after the latest thing in this verse, about a year and a half after Joseph’s transplant.  It’s shockingly low angst.

________________________________

Graham wasn’t worth anything before his first cup of coffee in the morning.  That was his only excuse, and the only reason he was in the kitchen a full five minutes before it occurred to him that Joseph was using a knife.  

“Last I checked ‘no knives for Joseph’ was the number one house rule, love.”  Joseph’s cooking skills in general were questionable and he wasn’t usually responsible for more than making sandwiches.  As for his knife skills, well there was a reason they kept a large box of plasters in the kitchen.

“The apples have to be sliced before they’re baked.”  He used the knife to gesture at the recipe in front of him.  Graham sighed.  Baking was even worse than cooking.

“They should be peeled first.”  He took the knife from Joseph, putting it down a safe distance from his love’s reach.  With a pairing knife in one hand he picked up an apple and peeled it in one long coil.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Picked it up somewhere.”  His grandfather had taught him when he was a kid, the same grandfather that had hung up on him when he was seventeen and reaching out.  Instead of answering too truthfully and ruining the mood in the kitchen he took a bite of apple peel, making a show of drawing it slowly into his mouth.  It was almost too easy to make Joseph blush.

“Now we cut it in half and scoop out the core.”  He used a melon baller, a trick he’d learned in a restaurant kitchen once, to remove the core.  

“Show me again?” Joseph asked once the apple was sliced.

“You show me.”  He handed Joseph the knife, wrapping his hand over his lover’s and resting his chin on Joseph’s shoulder.  Together they moved slowly, their combined fingers getting sticky from the apple juice.  They got even sticker when Joseph mixed together the sugar, spices, and flour with the apple slices by hand.

“Don’t move a muscle.”  Graham pinched together the crust around the rim of the pie.  It wasn’t the fancy lattice his sister would probably do but it was good enough to get the pie in the oven.  The timer was set, giving them almost an hour before they needed to check on it.  He caught Joselg turning on the faucet.  “What did I say about not moving?”

“I was just going to wash my hands.”  He held them up, palms facing out.  It looked like he was surrendering.

“Just what I didn’t want you to do.”  He could see that Joseph was about to ask why; it amazed him sometimes how unaware of things his boyfriend was.  He still didn’t understand how attractive he was, how much his actions could be a seduction, the inherent eroticism of sticky sweet fingers.  Graham drew one into his mouth.  “I wanted to do it for you.”

“Oh.”  It was almost comical, how quickly Joseph went from being confused to understanding.  

“Pie’s gonna take an hour, love.  Do you have anything to do before it’s done?”  Nat was at work and he didn’t have to be anywhere for hours yet.  He kept hold of Joseph’s wrist and switched his attention to the thumb, drawing it into his mouth slowly, teasing the tip before using suction.

“I should clean up.”  There was flour and apple on the counter and dishes in the sink.

“Later.”  He used the hand holding onto Joseph to pull him from the kitchen towards their bedroom, pausing long enough to grab the bowl the apples had been in.  Joseph looked at it quizzically, but didn’t ask.  “Works out nicely that I haven’t made the bed yet.”

“I want to taste your fingers too.”  Joseph’s face flushed; nine months since they've resumed their sexual relationship and he was still bashful about expressing his desire.  His cheeks were almost the same color as the pink jersey he wore; no longer confined to the black garments of a priest Joseph had learned to wear colors.  Nat had been more than willing to influence his wardrobe. Graham tossed the empty bowl on the bed.

“You only ever have to ask.”  He held out his hand, and wished he’d taken a moment to back up against the wall because when Joseph licked his palm he felt weak in the knees.  It was the sight of Joseph’s pleasure as much as the warm mouth that had him swearing.  “Fuck.”

“You taste good, but you always do.”  The flat of Joseph’s tong rested against his pulse.  

“Want to taste you everywhere.  Bed,” he pleaded, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing down his flannel pajama bottoms.  He hadn’t bothered to put on any pants..  Unlike Joseph who dressed first thing in the morning in trousers and shirts even if he wasn’t leaving the flat, Graham pulled on just enough clothing that he wasn’t wandering naked.  Unless, of course, it was to his advantage to wander naked; sometimes Joseph needed very blatant signs.  “Jersey off first.”  

“We’ll get the sheets sticky,”  Joseph paused for just a moment, looking at his hands.

“Washing sticky sheets is my favorite chore.  It means we had a lot of fun first.”  Graham laughed and gently pushed his lover onto the bed.  He knelt next to him, resting one hand on the now naked belly just above the snap of his trousers.  He reached for the bowl, tilting it sideways, allowing the scant spoonfuls of apple syrup and spices to splash onto Joseph’s stomach.  From the corner of his eye he could see his love flinch slightly.  “Cold?”

Joseph shook his head.  “I just realized what you were planning.”

“You mean this?”  He lowered his head, lapping at a pool of apple juices, catching a drop as it rolled down on side.  Joseph’s belly was soft and rounded, what some men might bemoan as a middle age spread but Graham celebrated as a sign of health.  No longer could he count his lover’s ribs; every time Joseph had to loosen his belt it felt like a victory.

“Or this?”  His licks moved higher up, chasing the taste of cinnamon and sweetness to Joseph’s clavicle.  He waited until he was sucking on Joseph’s earlobe before undoing his love’s trouser button.  “Still worried about things getting sticky?”

“Please, Graham.”  Joseph’s hips jutted up when Graham stroked him through his pants.  Graham chuckled and kissed his love.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”  There was nothing Graham had ever found that was as erotic as his love finding the words to ask for what he wanted.

“I want to feel you.”  he wiggled his hips, trying to shift his pants down and free himself from the trousers.

“I’m right here.”  There wasn’t much juice left in the bowl but Graham wiped the inside with two fingers and painted Joseph’s lower lip, not allowing it to remain long before licking it away.

“Inside me.  Please, I want to feel you inside.”  Hands so much stronger and more steady than they’d been a year ago pulled at his hips, close enough that his tip rubbed against Joseph’s trousers.

“Let’s get these off you.”  He crawled to the end of the bed to tug off the last bits of clothing and rolled over to the side of the bed to reach for his bedside drawer.  The box of condoms he kept there wasn’t small, and it was well used.  The lube was getting low; they’d need to pick up some more soon.  Perhaps it was time to introduce his love to a sex shop.  When he looked back at Joseph he’d rolled to his side, a blatant invitation he was glad to accept.

“You smell like apples.”  He buried his nose in the crook between neck and shoulder when he tucked himself behind Joseph, teasing his love with lube to make sure he was ready.

“I’d rather smell like you.  I do, sometimes, after making love to you.  I can smell you on my skin.”  Joseph rolled his head as far as he could to see the man behind him.  Graham growled low in his throat.  Fuck, but the man was erotically honest.  He didn’t need to see the look in Joseph’s eyes to know that he spoke with sincerity.  He couldn’t wait longer and pressed into his lover.  If joseph wanted to smell like him he’d do his damndest to make it happen.

“Sticky,” was the first thing he said after, teasing about the state of their sheets.  They would definitely need to do laundry.

“Might need another shower,”  Joseph murmured, tugging Graham’s hand so his arm wrapped around his waist.

“I thought you wanted to smell like me,” he mock pouted.

“Company for dinner.”  Joseph sounded sleepy; Graham glanced at the clock and figured they had fifteen minutes or so before needing to check on the pie.  They could take a short nap.

“Company?”  He didn’t remember anything about people coming over.

“Nat’s bringing her bloke for dinner.  That’s why I attempted a pie.”  Joseph twined their fingers together.  “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.  It’s just dinner.”

“It’s a meet the family dinner.  She’s bringing him home and we’re having dinner and I was tricked into helping.”  He tried to sit up, but Joseph leaned back into him, pinning him into place.  It wasn’t fair, Nat wasn’t even home and his sister and boyfriend were ganging up on him.  Family dinner meant she was serious about the guy.  “I’m not ready for this, Joe.”

“He makes her happy, and you want her to be happy, don’t you?”  Joseph rolled over so they were facing each other.  “I can vouch firsthand how much  it can change your life for the better to be loved by a member of the Hughes family.”

“You aren’t fighting fair,” Graham pouted.  Damn it, Joseph would choose to get sentimental on him.  “Loving you changed my life too.”

“For the better?”  There was just a hint of uncertainty in Joseph’s voice.

“How can you possibly doubt that?”  He did his best to kiss any doubts away.

“Nat deserves the same chance, love.”  Their foreheads were pressed together.  Graham could smell their scents mingled together.  He sighed.

“Yeah, she does.”  That didn’t mean he was going to make things easy for this Adam bloke.  Starting with his plan to try and lure Joseph into a second round.  Maybe if he was lucky they’d ‘accidentally’ burn the pie.

[binary5tar1117]

Cresendo

AO3

Summary: You'd think having two boyfriends would make getting some action when you wanted it a given thing, but when both boyfriends were as busy as you recording an album, it made free time together a hard thing to come by.

It was starting to get to Yoongi.

Tags: Jimin/Yoongi/Hoseok, non-au, unspecified era, over stimulation, blindfolds, handcuffs, mut

A/N: I haven't written in a while and I especially haven't written this much smut in a while so... I hope it turned out okay. I feel like it did. Also... while there is no direct connection and I haven't written Hobi's chapter yet, this could be considered to take place in the furture from my other fic Surrender Love

You'd think having two boyfriends would make getting some action when you wanted it a given thing, but when both boyfriends were as busy as you recording an album, it made free time together a hard thing to come by.

It was starting to get to Yoongi.

Yoongi held the headphones to his ear as the beat pounded in them. His heart followed along picking up speed, and a touch of a adrenaline surged through him. He swayed his head back and forth feeling the rhythm. His energy kicked up when his part came. He was on.

The microphone was barely a centimeter from his lips, the air between them as charged as a first kiss. His lips and tongue moved through the syllables faster than even he could really register, moving with hours of practiced speed till it was coming from a place inside that was both other and his truest self. As he pounded out his verse, the feelings only increased. When he rapped, it was a high better than drugs, better than sex. He was invincible.

His hands moved of their own accord emphasizing the dis thrown to an invisible opponent. He got through the fastest part and barely gasped for breath to finish the verse, hitting each note in time with the beat. His words, his notes, his beats, all coming together. He laughed, cocky and proud at the end, panting a little. And then he was done.

Except he didn't feel it.

“Good job, Suga. I don’t think we need another take.” The producers voice came through the headphones. “J-Hope’s up next.”

It took a second to come back down, his heart still racing. He could leave.

He blinked. “Oh, yeah.” He bobbed his head and mumbled, “thanks.”

He pulled the headphones off and went for the door of the sound booth. Hoseok opened it first, grinning ear to ear.

“Good job, hyung! You're always so impressive!” Hoseok squeezed him on the shoulder as he passed. Yoongi tensed at the contact automatically, his eyes snapping to meet Hoseok's, a snarl curling is lips. The other rappers smile dropped, something darker burning in his eyes. Yoongi tried to relax and Hoseok recovered quickly. “I’ll try to be fast so we can head back,” he said low enough that only Yoongi could hear him.

Yoongi chewed his lip and nodded.

When he entered the room, the producer and everyone wanted to congratulate him. There was always more people around that he thought was necessary, low level producers, friends and girlfriends who wanted to see them record. It was annoying at the best of times, at the moment he had no patience.

“You did that in one take! Amazing,” some guy said. He was older than him but had the wide eyed innocence of someone not in the music business.

“Wow, you rap so fast.” Some girl with too much makeup put her hand on his arm and batted her eyelashes. A too loud part of him crowed with victory and wanted to lead her to the nearest bathroom. Instead he pulled away roughly and walked off.

He squeezed himself between Namjoon and the arm of the couch so he wouldn't have to sit next to someone he didn't know. Namjoon turned to him with a bright dimpled smile and opened his mouth to say something, his face faded to a soft knowing look. He looked away and focused on Hoseok in the booth.

Yoongi bounced his foot and nawed his thumb nail restlessly. His lips tingled and his tongue felt foreign in his mouth, too smooth and agile, flicking against his teeth. His heart still pounded, his body still tensed and ready for…  something that wasn't coming.

He got this way during a performance. It's what let him turn on his other persona, and rap and sing and dance in a way that shy, awkward, introverted Min Yoongi could never do. He worried sometimes it made him come of as insincere on stage, but he didn't know of any other way to get through it.

When he performed, the roar of the crowd fed the unnamed need. It gave him more energy to fuel through to Suga or Agust D or whoever he was on stage. It was a feedback loop that ran until he was stated, the screams echoing to nothing and he all but collapsed into a chair backstage.

But in the recording studio it wasn't enough. He had to flip that switch to record at his best but he couldn't turn it back off without a struggle. They’d been weeks recording and the more often he had to try to pull back, the harder it was.

The world continued around him. The producers wanted his input on some parts of the song. They thought Hoseok’s lyrics would sound better with a slightly different overlay of beats. Yoongi could barely focus. He gnawed on his thumbnail to keep his mouth occupied and couldn’t stop bouncing his foot. Namjoon covered for him, proposing some ideas that didn’t require as much of Yoongi’s input.

Finally the day was over. Yoongi hid in the back corner of the van on the ride home. Hoseok sat in the seat in front which Yoongi was grateful for. He usually liked Hoseok's bright energy or quiet reassurance, but with the way Yoongi felt right now, they would either end up fighting or fucking. With Namjoon and the driver in the car, neither was a good idea.

When they got home, Hoseok let Namjoon go ahead of them and grabbed Yoongi’s shirt to hold him back. It irritated him, he just wanted to go to his room and he turned to snap at Hoseok.

“Wh-” the word didn't even finish forming on his lips when he caught Hoseok’s expression and cut himself off.

Hoseok had pushed his hair back off his forehead and twisted his hat around. He raised an eyebrow, eyes flashing dangerously. The look alone shot a bolt of arousal low through Yoongi’s belly, causing his cock to jump.

“Something bothering you hyung?” Hoseok asked stepping close and leaving just enough space to charge the air. He tilted his head at an angle, more aggressive than flirtatious.

Yoongi’s pent up energy suddenly had a place to go. He shoved Hoseok against the nearest wall, following close behind, planting his hands on either side of Hoseok’s head. He brought their mouths together in a brutal kiss, the force nearly drawing blood.

Hoseok shoved Yoongi away and pushed himself off the wall. He grabbed the front of Yoongi’s shirt and used it to pull them together again, teeth clashing and tongues tangling.

Hoseok maneuvered them so that Yoongi’s back hit the wall again. One of Hoseok’s hands found his and pinned it against the wall, the other gripped his hip hard as they kissed

Yoongi didn't even realize how hard he was till he felt Hoseok cup him through his jeans. He let out a groan, panting against Hoseok’s mouth.

“So hard already, hyung. We haven’t been taking very good care of you recently.” Hoseok stroked him through his jeans and Yoongi groaned again bucking up against him.

Hoseok pulled away after a moment and Yoongi bit his lip on a whimper. “Come on,” Hoseok said pulling him down the hall. "I’ve got a surprise.”

They were probably louder than they should have been in the hall but surprisingly no one was around. Hoseok led them to the room he shared with Jimin. He opened the door and Yoongi was surprised to see it was dimly lit, only a lamp draped in some red fabric on the desk.

He stepped inside and let out a gasp that quickly turned into a groan. Jimin was laid out on the bed naked, a familiar black silk cloth covering his eyes. His hands were over his head in black padded handcuffs that were tied to the head board. His skin glowed golden in the dim light. He didn't say anything when they entered but Yoongi saw him lick his lips in anticipation.

“Surprise,” Hoseok whispered against Yoongi’s ear.

He’d been so caught up in taking in the sight of Jimin that he hadn't realized Hoseok had stepped up right behind him. He gripped Yoongi’s hips, holding him back. “It’s been a long time since we teased Jiminie like this. I think last time we had him in tears begging to come before we let him. He was so desperate for it, begging us to fuck him. And then it was three times, right? Once on your tongue and then once on each of our cocks.” His words burned sweeter than alcohol through Yoongi’s veins. Hoseok brushed a tender kiss against Yoongi neck before adding, “I hope you aren't too tired to try for four.” The challenge was plain in his voice.

Yoongi scoffed. He was more than up for this. “Fuck that, let's try for five.”

On the bed, Jimin whimpered.

Hoseok laughed and pulled his shirt over his head. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Yoongi stripped down and climbed onto the bed. He hovered over Jimin, trying not to touch him.

For a moment he just stared, contemplating Jimin’s plump lips, the line of his collarbone, his dusky nipples.

“Hyung,” Jimin whispered, shifting his arms and twisting his hips. “Kiss me. Please.”

Yoongi smirked. “Begging already baby?” He leaned down and pepper soft kisses along Jimin’s neck, flicking his tongue out to taste Jimin’s skin. “I like it when you beg.” He pressed his hips down against Jimin's thigh so he could feel how hard he was. “It's not a good way to get want you want.” He nibbled along Jimin’s collar bone. “But keep trying.”

Jimin whined.

Hoseok sat down at the head of the bed, stretching his legs out next to Jimin. He was naked, his cock half hard against his belly. “So needy already.” He brushed the hair off Jimin’s forehead. “Good boy.” He leaned down and kissed Jimin’s cheek.

Jimin tried to turn to catch Hoseok’s mouth but he had already pulled away.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Hoseok chided.

Jimin pouted, his already full lower lip jutting out further. Yoongi couldn't resist leaning down and catching it between his teeth for a moment.

Jimin gasped, but Yoongi pulled away before Jimin could to more. He grunted in frustration, his hands pulling at the cuffs and making fists over his head. “Hyung!”

Yoongi laughed. “This is just the beginning.”

With that, Yoongi lower his mouth to Jimin’s neck and kissed his way up to behind his ear. He nibbled on the lobe and bit down just hard enough to draw a gasp from Jimin.

Yoongi grinned, making his way down again. This time he went lower, dragging his lips and tongue over Jimin’s chest, criss-crossing till he got low enough to capture one of Jimin’s nipples in his mouth.

Jimin moaned and arched his back. Yoongi didn't let go, sucking and flicking his tongue against the hardening nub. He could feel Jimin’s abs contracting beneath him as Jimin’s moans got louder. He pulled back and Jimin let out a shaky cry of dismay.

Hoseok slid down so he was lying alongside Jimin. Yoongi smirked at him. “Better view from there?”

Hoseok leaned forward to capture Yoongi’s lips in a kiss. It was more skillful this time, a smooth meeting of tongue and lips. Hoseok's fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, holding him close. Yoongi's tongue didn't feel foreign now.

Jimin made a small noise beneath them.

Yoongi dropped his mouth to Jimin’s other nipple, putting it through the same treatment.

Hoseok leaned over Jimin this time.

“We didn't forget about you,” he murmured, lips hovering over Jimin’s. Jimin tilted his head up in response, huffing a little in annoyance and desperation.

Hoseok brushed his lips against Jimin’s, before giving him what he wanted. Jimin sighed into the kiss.

Yoongi bit down on Jimin’s nipple, making him jump and moan into Hoseok's mouth. Yoongi lapped at the abused skin to sooth it.

Hoseok slid his hand down between Yoongi and Jimin to palm Jimin’s cock. Jimin cried out.

“He’s really enjoying that hyung. Think we can make him come just from that?” Hoseok asked, licking the pre from his hand.

“Maybe someday,” Yoongi murmured. “Right now I want a taste of something else.”

He slid further down, leaving a trail of kisses over Jimin’s abs and hips till he settled between Jimin’s thighs. Jimin’s cock was hard and dark against his belly, leaving a puddle of pre in his barely there happy trail.

Yoongi breathed over the shaft, just barely brushing his lips against it. Jimin shivered and gasped. He dipped his tongue in the pool of pre, his tongue flicking lightly against the head of Jimin’s cock. Jimin’s hips twitched up, looking for more. Yoongi crawled back over Jimin and kissed him for the first time that night, sharing the salty sweet taste. Their tongues met sloppy and unhurried. Jimin moaned when the taste hit his mouth.

“Fruits good for more than your skin and weight loss,” Yoongi said when he pulled away, grinning. He could see Jimin’s eyes roll despite the blind fold.

He ignored it and shimmied back down for more, this time sharing with Hoseok.

“Mmm why don't you put that tongue to good use,” Hoseok said when they finished their kiss. He tapped Jimin on the side. “Roll over.”

Yoongi crawled out of the way so Jimin could flip onto his stomach and pull himself up on to his knees and elbows.

Yoongi got behind him and could help the groan he let out at the sight of Jimin’s ass on display, the perfect curve of it with his hole just waiting to be licked and fucked.

Hoseok slapped Jimin on the ass making him moan and bite his lip, a faint pink hand print left behind. Hoseok soothed it with a soft stroke,  looking at Yoongi.

“This is what you needed, right? All that pent up energy?” His expression dared Yoongi to deny it. He didn't. Hoseok leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the swell of Jimin’s ass. “Take it out on Jiminie. I know you can make him come from just your tongue. I wanna see it.”

Jimin whimpered and Yoongi groaned. Hoseok’s words weren't that dirty, certainly nothing they hadn’t done before, but the command in them made Yoongi’s knees weak.

He didn't need to be told twice. He licked a long striped over Jimin’s hole with the flat of his tongue. Jimin cried out in surprise and pleasure. Yoongi didn't give Jimin time to adjust. He spread Jimin’s cheeks and swirled his tongue around the furled muscle, prodding with the tip.

Jimin buried and head in his arms to stifle the moans and arched his back to give Yoongi a better angle.

Hoseok sat back to watch as Yoongi worked Jimin open, stroking himself occasionally. The pillow didn’t do enough to smother Jimin’s moans as he got louder. Hoseok untied the cuffs from the bed and slid himself in front of Jimin, legs spread.

“Making too much noise, Jiminah,” Hoseok whispered, running his fingers through Jimin’s hair.

“I can't help it. Feels so good,” Jimin gasped.

Yoongi smirked at Hoseok over Jimin’s back.

“I know, but it's late and the others might be sleeping.” Hoseok cupped Jimin’s cheek, stroking his thumb across Jimin’s bottom lip. Jimin latched onto it immediately.

Hoseok let him for a moment then pulled his hand away. “I’ve got something else for you.”

Jimin nodded wordlessly as Hoseok guided his mouth onto his cock. Jimin sucked and bobbed his head but was too distracted by Yoongi to focus.

Yoongi had worked Jimin open enough to press one spit slicked finger inside. He slid it in and out slowly, licking and nibbling at the swollen pink skin as he did. Jimin moaned around Hoseok’s cock. Yoongi angled his finger down and Jimin’s cock twitched, dripping more pre onto the wet spot between his legs.

“You gonna come for me baby?” Yoongi asked making sure Jimin could feel his breath against his ass. “You’re so hard, I know you’re close.”

Jimin whined. “You gonna come for hyung already Jimin-ah?” Hoseok taunted, stroking his fingers through Jimin’s hair.

Yoongi pulled his finger out and replaced it with his tongue, spreading Jimin’s cheeks to get as deep as he could. He could feel Jimin’s thighs tense as the garbled noises he was making got higher and louder.

“Be good and come for hyung,” Hoseok commanded from the head of the bed and even Yoongi wanted to comply.

Yoongi worked his tongue and he felt Jimin clench as spurts of come painted across the bed in time with the movements. Jimin moaned loudly, the noise only slightly muffled by Hoseok’s cock.

Yoongi didn't pull away till Jimin's groans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation.

“Hyung, let me fuck his hole first. He's been too distracted to do much for me this way.” Hoseok gestured at where Jimin lay panting against his thigh.

Yoongi nodded as he wiped spit from his chin and side stepped out of the way on his knees. He watched Hoseok easily slide two fingers into Jimin's spit sloppy hole. Jimin made a pathetic noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

“The lube is in the night stand.” Hoseok nodded toward a drawer and Yoongi reached over to fish it out. Hoseok squeezed some over his cock and Jimin's hole and tossed the bottle to the side. Hoseok slicked himself and Yoongi watched as he used three fingers this time to push the lube passed Jimin's rim. As much as Yoongi loved using his mouth, it didn't have the same visual effect, and he groaned along with Jimin to see his pink rim engulf Hoseok’s fingers.

“Ready, baby?” Hoseok asked when he'd moved his fingers and lined his cock up.

“Mmm fuck, yes. Please.” Jimin's voice was wrecked.

Hoseok slammed in and Jimin cried out. He only gave him a moment to adjust before he was pounding into him. Jimin grabbed the sheets to avoid being pushed up the bed, huffing out a high moan with every thrust.

Yoongi palmed his cock, smearing the pre over the slit with his thumb. Hoseok noticed.

“If your tongue still isn't tired...” He reached around to grab Jimin's bicep and hauled him back. It pulled at the handcuffs so he slid one hand across to support his chest. He couldn't thrust as hard in this angle so instead he ground his hips slowly making Jimin whine. The position left Jimin's cock more easily accessible.

“How long do you think he can last getting it from both of us?” Hoseok sucked and licked at the back of Jimin's neck. “Ready to come again for us Jiminie?” He whispered with sweet menace. Jimin whimpered and Yoongi smirked laying on the bed to better position himself.

He grabbed Jimin's cock giving it a few lazy pumps. Jimin moaned and squirmed back against Hoseok, only to moan louder. Yoongi brought his cock to his mouth, flicking his tongue around the tip in slow circles and lapping up the leftover drops of come and pre. He worked his way down, taking Jimin deeper into his mouth with slow licks and flicks of his tongue. He massaged the vein along the underside when he got too deep for anything more.

Yoongi switched angle so he could take Jimin down his throat. When Hoseok noticed, he started thrusting harder, pushing Jimin's cock past his gag reflex and fucking Yoongi's throat.

Above him, Jimin keened and whined. His thighs shook as he built toward a second orgasm.

“Hyung’s mouth feels good, doesn’t it?” Hoseok whispered noticing the same signs Yoongi had. “Gonna come and let him taste it?”

Yoongi swallowed around Jimin's cock trying to relax his throat. He snuck quick gasping breaths through his nose between thrusts. He could feel drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and tears welling in his eyes.

Hoseok looked down at the mess and groaned. “Look how bad he wants it. Fuck Jiminah, he's taking your cock so good. Gonna come for him right?”

His legs shook and this time Jimin went silent as he came, head falling back against Hoseok’s shoulder.

Yoongi gagged and gulped, swallowing down Jimin's come when filled the back of his mouth.

“Fuck you feel so good on my cock when you come,” Hoseok grated into Jimin's ear. He resumed his harsh pace, chasing his own release. Yoongi lapped at Jimin's softening cock, and the combination drew a pathetic mewl from Jimin.

Yoongi relented and sat up to watch. With the space vacated Jimin collapsed onto his front, ass still barely in the air on wide spread hips. He stretched his arms over his head, clenching his still bound hands into fist. Hoseok followed panting and groaning as he came.

They lay there a moment before Hoseok sat up. He slapped each of Jimin's ass cheeks hard enough for the sound and Jimin's yelps to echo around the room and leave faint pink hand prints on his skin.

“Roll over.” Hoseok was obviously tired but there was still command in his voice.

Jimin complied. Yoongi crawled between his legs.

Hoseok brushed the hair off of Jimin's sweaty forehead. “Can you take more?”

Yoongi kissed the inside of Jimin's knee and he shudder from the contact. “You okay for more?” Yoongi asked as grabbed the discarded lube and  slicked himself up.

Jimin nodded spreading his legs wider in wordless invitation. Yoongi wasted no time lining up and pushing in.

“I'll go slow baby, alright?” Yoongi whispered. Jimin nodded.

Yoongi did, rolling his hips and watching his cock get swallowed up by Jimin's hole, over and over. “God you feel amazing all wet with Hoseokie's come in you,” Yoongi murmured.

“And so beautiful, all sweaty and fucked out,” Hoseok added. “I love seeing you like this.” He leaned forward and kissed Jimin, slow and deep.

Jimin moaned, his cock stirring to life again.

“You're doing so good for us Jiminah.” Hoseok continued to whisper praises and compliments between kisses.

Yoongi increased his pace, pushing Jimin's legs higher to get a better angle.

“You feel so good. Fuck I'm gonna come soon. Will you come for us one more time?” Yoongi's voice was more desperate than he would ever admit to.

Hoseok reached between them with a spit slicked hand to stroke Jimin, only half hard. He whimpered, body shaking.

Yoongi tried to ignore the gathering pressure of his own orgasm and thrust harder. Jimin keened and writhed in Hoseok’s grasp looking impossibly desperate, caught between pleasure and the pain of over stimulation. Yoongi could barely hang on but luckily Jimin cried out as his cock gave a few pathetic spurt. Yoongi was right behind him stilling and releasing inside Jimin.

When he was done he collapsed to the side, panting. He rolled to his side and looked down at Jimin. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, there were damp spots at the edge of the blindfold and his lips were swollen, pink and plump. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Yoongi murmured pulling off the blindfold as Hoseok unlocked the cuffs. Jimin wound his arms around Yoongi’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. “That was amazing. You were amazing.” Yoongi said stroking his cheek with one hand.

Jimin nodded, sighing happily

Hoseok appeared with a towel and a package of wipes. He tossed the wipes to Yoongi and started to clean Jimin up. He shivered from the over stimulation.

“You okay? You need anything?” Hoseok asked, and Jimin shook his head.

“Just you.” He smiled tiredly and looked at Yoongi. “Both of you.”

They finished cleaning up and arranged themselves in Jimin's bed, ignoring the damp spots of come and who know what else. Jimin tucked his face against Hoseok's chest while Yoongi curled around Jimin’s back. Hoseok had shut the lamp off and the room was dark now.

Yoongi kissed Jimin's bare shoulder feeling calm and sated for the first time in weeks.

“Feel better hyung?” Hoseok asked over Jimin.

“Yeah, I needed that.” He sighed, at ease.

“I know. Sorry it got so bad.” Hoseok apologized.

“Hyung, if you need something, let us know alright? We want to help.” Jimin reminded him.

“We were all so busy,” Yoongi muttered as an excuse.

“So, we'll find the time of we need to. You'd do it for us, right?” Jimin rolled to his back to peer at Yoongi in the dark.

“Of course!”

“So we want to do the same for you. Just ask, that way we can plan better and Hoseok-hyung doesn't have to send out last minute texts warning everyone we were gonna be loud tonight.”

“That’s why is was so quiet when we got home.” Yoongi realized.

Jimin nodded.

“We want to take care of you the same as you'd take care of us. We love you.” Hoseok leaned forward to peck Yoongi on the lips pulling back to make room for Jimin to do the same.

“I love you too.” Yoongi said with quietly. “I'll try to do better.”

The other two nodded.

“Can we go to sleep now?” Yoongi asked after a minute suppressing a yawn.

They snuggled back into bed, but Jimin wasn't done yet.

“You know, I'm a little disappointed,” he mumbled, but Yoongi recognized a teasing tone. “The record still stands at three.”

“Are you saying you want more?” Yoongi asked, incredulous.

“No! Not now anyway. But you'll have to try again sometime.” Yoongi couldn't see him but he could hear the grin.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, making a noise half way between a laugh and scoff.

“We will sometime.” Hoseok kissed the top of Jimin's head. “For now, go to bed.”

Jimin sighed sleepily and it wasn't long before they were all sound asleep.

Tagging: @kimlinebiased @wonhojiminie 

[scottishhellhound]

30 Day OTP Challenge

Challenge list can be found here.

This is only my second time writing for this fandom, and my first time writing this pairing. It's the main pairing in my current fic "Growing Up Nightwing", though they haven't had much interaction in the fic itself. I'm gonna use these prompts to explore their relationship in my fics verse, so hopefully when they actually interact I'll be more comfortable writing them.

Wally and Dick are 16 in this and have only been dating for a few months. Takes place 3 years before GU-N starts.

Day 1 - Nose Kisses

Fandom - Batman/DCU/Teen Titans

Pairing: Birdflash - Dick Grayson/Wally West

Words: 512

Wally dropped onto the threadbare couch that took up the middle of the communal floor of Titans Tower, sighing as he sunk into the well worn cushions. Letting his head flop back against the back, he closed green eyes against the harsh, bright lights. Groaning he grabbed a pillow to cover his eyes. "Lights down to 15%."

The lights immediately dimmed and he sighed, letting the pillow fall from his grasp. Cracking an eye open to test brightness had him jumping in surprise, as the grinning face of one Dick Grayson filled his vision.

Squawking indignantly, Wally flailed and slipped down onto the couch. One wildly waving arm, just missing Dick's nose.

Dick's sharp laugh echoed in the empty room, and crossing his arms along the back of the couch, he dropped his chin onto them. Blue eyes danced with ever present mischief.

"Whadaya want, Grayson? Can't you see I'm trying to wallow in my misery?" He draped an arm over his eyes, stretching himself into an overly dramatic pose of woe-is-me, before relaxing again, a disgruntled frown tugging at a face that was normally all smiles.

"Aww, why so glum, chum?"

Wally moved his arm enough that he could glare up at the shorter teen. "Really, Dick?"

Dick chuckled softly, "Sorry, couldn't resist. But seriously, Wal, what's up?" He let the teasing drop from his voice and gave the redhead a sympathetic smile.

"Nothing," he raised his hands in surrender when Dick sent him a disbelieving frown. "Honestly. It's just been one of those days where a bunch of little things pile up, and slowly suck the joy out of the day. Nothing super terrible actually happened."

Dick tilted his head as he listened to Wally vent about his day, watching as his hands waved around, motions growing sharper and more agitated the longer he talked. Sensing Wally was about to work himself right back into a funk, Dick straightened. Placing one hand on the back of the couch, he easily vaulted over the back, landing with his knees on either side of Wally's waist.

Wally stopped his tirade short as Dick's weight joined him on the couch, hands immediately going to his waist, supporting the smaller teen. He let his eyes move up from where his hands rested on Dick's hips, and up to the easy smile on his face. "Hi there, handsome."

"Hi yourself." Dick's grin widened as he leaned forward, arms resting on either side of Wally's face, Dick's face inches from his own.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Gonna turn your frown upside down."

Before Wally could voice exactly how much of a cornball he was being, Dick began raining kisses all over his face. His forehead, both eyes, his cheeks, and ending with a soft kiss to Wally's nose. He nuzzled their noses together before pulling back, grinning in triumph at the soft smile that now graced Wally's face.

"See, told you."

"Yeah, wonder-boy, you did." His smile only grew when Dick slid down a little further, twining his legs with Wally's, and tucking his head under his chin, sighing in content when Wally began running his fingers through his hair.

"Thanks Dick."

"Anytime."

[unsuccesscr]

pro hero verse angst fic born from plotting with @austempered

warnings for child abuse and character death, as well as some slight eye related body horror beneath the cut.

Not everyone is born as equals. This is the harsh reality that you learned at the age of three.

Your name is Ryo Aranami and you are what’s known as an undesirable. A child without parents. Whose parent’s abandoned you, or maybe they really did just die. You’re not sure which is better, you’re not sure if it matters. The fact remains that no one alive wants you.

What parent wants a child that they can’t hold, that they can’t even touch?

They bothered to lie, at first. Assured you that someday you would find the right home. Your birth parents faded from memory, and soon were replaced in your heart by a fantasy. The home you were promised.

Someone with kind eyes and a genuine smile, who would hold you close without fear and whisper ‘it’s alright’.

You managed to leave that group home, a few times. But each time you were sent back. Each time you were just too much to handle, a problem child. You didn’t try to be, you really tried your hardest to be a good boy; the perfect son.

By the time you were six they were sick of you, the caretakers, they knew they would be stuck with you and didn’t bother to hide their resentment. You were told to stay away from the other children. Punished harshly when you didn’t obey.

Funny, how no one seems afraid to touch you when they want to hurt you.

Running away had seemed like a good idea at the time. It meant getting away from that hell hole. It meant no more bruises and burns were no one could see them. It meant no more getting locked in your room for days at a time. It meant freedom, it meant fresh air.

The outside was both worse and better. You were met with just as much scorn out on the streets, only this time you had no shelter, no food, no protection. You had your freedom though, and in some ways that was enough.

For all the other things? Well, you made do.

There weren’t exactly a lot of career options for a fourteen year old with no work experience or formal education. You did chores a lot, made some cash that way. But people who would even come near you with those dangerous looking quills poking out of your skin were few and far between, and they didn’t pay near enough for you to live on.

It didn’t take long for you to find less... upstanding methods.

The job was supposed to be easy, or that’s what the shady looking man with the fire breath quirk had said. Just hold the patrons of a high end jewelry store hostage, offer a distraction, while they swiped the contents of the register and all the pricey trinkets.

Now here you are, alone, your accomplices long fled, surrounded by the police. You should give up, let the people tied up go, but you’re terrified of what will happen if you do.

And? May as well admit it. You’re angry, too. You hate these people. All of them, for having a life so different from yours; so much better. What did they do that makes them better? More deserving?

Somehow, you’re the bad guy. Despite everything you’ve endured and how little these so called innocents care. Fine, if you’re going down, you’re taking them with you.

The quiet chime of the door opening sounds, and it’s deafening in the silence; interrupting your train of thought. Even with his mask off, mouth guard around his neck and goggles pushed onto his head, you recognize the man who steps inside the store, calmly, as if he is simply there to shop.

Deku. A pro hero. You don’t spend a lot of time watching the news, preoccupied with trying to survive. But it’s hard not to know who he is. Everyone seems to be talking about the ‘quirkless wonder’, nowadays, name spoken with either venomous hatred or whispered reverence.

You’re envious. Better to be born without a quirk at all than this quirk you’ve been cursed with. This man claims to speak for the oppressed but he has no idea what it’s really like, for people like you. Undesirables.

The resentment is enough to make you bristle. Quills shaking in warning, poking further out; ready to shoot off.

Deku raises his arms, palms forward, a universal gesture for surrender. For the first time since he’s entered you notice he’s completely unarmed. That doesn’t make you feel more at ease.

“I thought you’d be taller.” You blurt out, breaking the silence, and immediately cursing yourself for not managing anything more intimidating.

The pro hero seems stunned for a moment, and you take a step backwards; recoiling from a strike that never comes. Instead he laughs, and the noise startles you enough that a few quills shoot out involuntarily, but Deku dodges them easily enough all the while still looking at you with soft eyes and a smile that makes your chest pang in longing.

“I get that a lot,” he responds good-naturedly “What’s your name kid?”

“Ryo,” you answer, mouth dry, not quite understanding what compels you to obey so easily. Perhaps it’s the years of ‘training’ you had to endure. Perhaps it’s the presence of a bonafide hero. Not just a police officer, but a real life, experienced in combat, pro hero.

“Nice to meet you, Ryo” Deku keeps his palms raised where you can see them, as if sensing your apprehension. You snort in derision as a response, but refuse to meet his gaze.

“You seem like a nice kid, just got mixed up in some bad stuff is all; right?” he’s right but you don’t like it. The way he pretends to know what you’ve been through. Pretends he cares.

Maybe he’s not pretending. That tiny, hopeful, voice chimes in, unhelpfully. You ignore it.

“Why don’t you step away from the hostages and we can talk,” Deku continues, unperturbed. So that’s what he wants. To get you a safe distance away before fighting you.

“Yeah, right, like i’m some kinda idiot!” you snap back “Step away so, what? You can throw me in jail? No way!”

Deku has the audacity to shake his head, expression shifting into a mask of concern (maybe it’s not a mask at all) and you bite your lip, fists curled so hard that your nails press into your skin.

“I’m here to help you, Ryo,” He lies (maybe it’s not a lie)

“No one’s ever helped me before! Why would you want to help me now? No one cared before! No hero has done anything for me! You only care about them!” You get angrier with each assertion, gesturing wildly to the hostages who cower away from you.

Deku takes a step forward and you take another one back, new quills replacing the ones that were fired earlier. One of the hostages, an older woman, lets out a small squeak of fear and you look at her at see everyone who has ever treated you like you were some disgusting sub human. Your rage hits a crescendo and suddenly you’re aiming for her, ready to fire off when the pro hero commands your attention once more.

“I know,” He says, voice hardly above a whisper. “We failed you, I failed you. You shouldn't have been so alone and that's our fault, and you have every right to be angry. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through”

There’s an earnest nature to his tone that makes you listen, that makes you turn away from the hostage and the tension start to give from your limbs.

“But these people didn't do anything, they don't deserve to be hurt anymore than you did. And I promise if you come with me you won't be hurt anymore, I will help you. You won’t be alone anymore"

And, perhaps it’s foolish to do so, but you believe him. You look into his eyes and see exactly what you always imagined a parent’s eyes would look like. There’s warmth there, there’s love there.

You’re tired, you’re so tired. If you’re going to be carted away, if this is a trick, so be it. At least you can pretend for the meantime.

Slowly, you step forward, step towards him. One foot in front of the other until you’re only a few inches from him and you have to tilt your head to look at him. Without hesitation, without fear, Deku places gloved hands on your shoulders. “That’s good, Ryo, thank you”

He pulls you closer, into a hug, you realize. It’s been so long since you’ve felt something like it. Soft, safe. Shakily, you wrap your arms around his torso in turn and fingers pat your head, tousling your hair. Tears are already welling in the corners of your eyes and you can’t hold them when he whispers “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

Suddenly you’re bawling like you’re three years old again, clinging to this practical stranger as if he’s your lifeline. And he just may be. The hopeful voice whispers that you may have finally found your home.

Then a shot rings out, shatters the glass of the display to your right. Deku stiffens in your hold, turns towards to the source of the bullet and you startle, unintentionally, fear coursing through your veins hot and heavy and instinctual. Your quills fire without your permission.

This time he’s far too close to dodge.

They pierce everywhere, but the one you notice first, searing its image into your brain, is one that’s pierced itself through one of the only two kind eyes you’ve ever known. You cry out, but it’s too late, Deku, the former pro hero crumples to the ground; lifeless.

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to” You sob, as suddenly the shop is rushed and you’re pinned harshly to the ground, quills not yet regrown. “I’m sorry, i’m sorry,”

You should have known better. You will never have a home. This is your punishment for even trying. For daring to hope. You can only watch, cuffs on your wrists, and the pool of blood around the hero grows larger. Medics are on the scene, of course, but you can just barely see one shake their head as you’re being ushered into a police car.

“I’m sorry.”

[asoftervirge]

A Royal Bond: Gifts for a Queen (2/??)

RATING: PG, will increase as the story goes on PAIRINGS: R. Sanders/V. Sanders (main); L. Sanders/P. Sanders (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

FIC WARNINGS/KINKS: None in this chapter! Just a bunch of cute fluff and courting. :3 FIC SUMMARY: Roman sends courting gifts to Virgil before the wedding.

TAGLIST: @hellomusicalnerdhere, @bunny222, @hexdream18243, @ss-mafia-au, @calvindientesblancos, @backatthebein (if anybody else wishes to be tagged, please let me know!)

<< Chapter 1: Roman’s Betrothed >> Chapter 3: coming soon!

CLICK HERE IF YOU READ IT ON AO3 INSTEAD!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ...I deeply apologize for making this chapter so long...

"Logan?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"It won't be long! Promise!"

"That's a phrase all Kings have uttered."

"Please~?"

"No."

"And why not?!"

"Why do you think? You're an Alpha, he's an Omega. The rest is easy to figure out."

"I won't do anything like that!"

"Again, you are not the first to tell an adviser that."

Roman groaned. "Why was I stuck with you?"

"Because Patton immediately volunteered to be with Virgil." Logan responds, not even looking up from his book. "That, and someone has to control your inflated ego. We both know Patton would only encourage it."

Yet another groan. "Incorrigible. Simply incorrigible." Roman threw himself down onto his bed, face planted in his pillows. He only wanted to visit Virgil, he has the right to see his future bride! What's so bad about that?!

"If Patton and I allowed you to visit Virgil...well, we would not be surprised to know your libido talked instead of your heart."

Roman let out a surprised squawk. He didn't mean to say his thoughts aloud. "Wha--Excuse me! I will have you know I am a very romantic Alpha!"

Finally, Logan looked up. "While I'm not disagreeing with that," he tells him. "Keep in mind you scented him immediately upon meeting him. Once you catch another whiff, you won't hesitate to throw any romance out the window."

Sighing, Roman surrendered. He knows deep down that Logan had a point. He just didn't like the tradition of him not seeing his future consort until the wedding. He wanted to get to know Virgil, but if he couldn't spend time with him, how would he do that?

An idea immediately popped in his head as he started to bolt out of him room.

"Roman, I thought I said--"

"I'm visiting my Father!" Roman calls out as he runs down the hall to King Thomas' office.

Thomas sighed, doing paperwork was his least favorite thing about being King. He needed to get it done though or his dignitaries would be very unhappy. Though he was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard rapid knocking on his door.

"Come in?" he called. Roman came in and bowed before him.

"My apologies, Father." he tells him sheepishly. "I didn't realize you were doing work."

Thomas smiled. He loved it when he got to spend time with his son. "Oh it's alright, Roman, I could use a break." He waited until Roman sat down before asking, "Was there anything you needed?"

"Yes I..." Roman gulped nervously. "I wanted to ask you about Papa."

Thomas grew tense at the mention of his mate. He took a deep breath, held it for a little while before breathing out. He looked at his son with gentle eyes. "Oh?"

Roman nodded. "How...how did Papa court you?"

A chuckle bubbled out of the King. "Since I was born a Beta, the Kingdom didn't have to worry about me going to heats or anything like that. So your Papa was free to visit me before the wedding."

Lucky you, Roman thought bitterly.

"But," Thomas continued smiling. "He used to take me to see plays at the local theater. He also used to write love songs for me since he knew I loved to sing." He laughed. "I even remember him performing some outside our bedroom when he returned home from quests."

"Did he really?" Roman laughed.

"He did." Thomas sighed wistfully. "Papa was a very romantic person. That's where you get it from, Roman."

Roman smiled. "Really?"

Thomas nodded, a sad smile appearing on his face. "All your creativity, your imagination, your kindness? That's all me. But your passion, your romance, your swordsmanship? That comes from Papa."

"He sounded wonderful."

"He was." Thomas says quietly. "The most wonderful man I ever knew."

That made Roman feel a little guilty. He doesn't mean to make his Father remember things that upset him. Fortunately, Thomas seemed to perk up a little, though it seemed forced.

"What was the reason for asking me that, Ro?"

The Prince sighed. "I'm not supposed to see Virgil before the wedding. I understand why, but I still want him to know that I do care about him." Thomas smiled at his son.

"I get it now. Well Roman, if you want my advice, I would suggest you try and come up with something yourself."

"The only thing I can think of is defeating a dragon-witch." He shook his head. 

"I don’t think that’s an appropriate courting gift, Roman!” Thomas laughed. “Try something a little simpler and less...deadly."

Roman sat there and pondered on ideas before one finally struck him. "Aha! That's it! I know what to do!" He ran to his Father's side and kissed his cheek in appreciation. "Thank you so much, Father!"

"You're welcome!" Thomas yelled, laughing as his son left to work on his plans.

Sunlight shone on Virgil's eyes as he slowly started waking up. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" a voice called to him making him jump.

Virgil looked around and saw Patton sitting in a chair right beside his bed. "M-Morning, Patton." Patton giggled when the omega tried to stifle a yawn.

"You really like to sleep, don't you? It's almost 2 in the afternoon!" Virgil blushed and mumbled an apology. "No, don't apologize! I would imagine it being hard to sleep on the streets."

The omega nodded, fingers playing with the sheets. "R-Real hard...b-barely slept..." The beta cooed sadly.

"You poor thing. Hey, I know what might make you feel better!" Patton held up what he was holding. It was Virgil's patchwork shirt that used to wear. "I figured you would want to have this still. So, I decided to turn it into a cloak for you!"

An overwhelming happiness flooded Virgil. Tears filled his eyes and he signed 'Thank you!' over and over again. Patton moved from his chair and, after getting approval, hugged him tightly.

"It's no trouble at all, Virgil." he reassured, releasing pheromones to calm him down. "I knew how much you love it, so I figured I would make some adjustments. You're gonna be the Queen after all."

Virgil blushed more. The Royal Wedding was coming soon and shortly after that would be the coronation. Looking up at Patton through his bangs he signed, “Can I ask something?”

"Of course you can, kiddo." Patton smiled kindly.

“Does Roman really like me?” the omega signed nervously. Patton giggled.

"He wouldn't have scented you if he didn't. He's not afraid to be a flirt, but he's never had a connection to anyone until you." The beta smiled brightly. "Trust me. He really loves you."

Just then a red envelope was slipped underneath the door. Patton got up to retrieve it, on the front was 'Queen of My Heart' beautifully written in cursive. "Virgil, this is for you!"

Virgil took the letter and smiled when he saw who it was from. Quickly opening it, he noticed there was a small piece of parchment inside. On that was a poem that read:

I'll be the warrior to fight for our love; We'll fly together, fly higher than a dove. I'll be your wall and shield you from danger; I'll take all the pains, for to me they are no stranger

You'll be the Queen in the kingdom of my heart; And then I'll be the King, so we'll never be apart. You'll be my Majesty-- I will serve you forever. And for all times, I will leave you never.

Patton, who was standing behind Virgil, squealed in delight. "He always loved wooing people with poetry!" Virgil looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Logan not help him write this?” he signed. Patton's smile grew as he shook his head.

"Nope! I know Romance when I see it, and that is him in a nutshell!" Virgil looked at him in confusion.  "Get it? Because his name is Roman and he's a romantic?"

Nodding, Virgil reread the poem and smiled. Roman was not only a dashing prince, he was somebody who had a heart of gold too. The omega wanted to repay his alpha back. "Patton?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you...help me?" Patton nodded.

"Sure! What do you need help with?"

What Virgil whispered made him squeal even louder.

"Do you think Virgil liked my poem? Was I too romantic? Would he find me creepy? Should I have--" He was cut off by a deadly glare from Logan.

"Roman, I really don't think you have anything to worry about." he reassured. "I'm sure Virgil loved it, and you're a romantic person, not creepy. Anybody would have loved to receive a poem of that nature."

The Prince stared blankly at his adviser. For as long as he's known Logan, he's never really said a nice thing to him. Yet he just did and he finds it weird. "T-Thank you, Logan."

"You're welcome." Logan gave him a small smile.

"I suppose you really do care about me." Roman teased playfully.

Logan glared lightly. "Let's not push it, shall we?"

A white envelope was slipped underneath the door, a little giggle accompanying it. Logan rolled his eyes and smiled, knowing the giggle came from Patton.

Roman went and picked up the envelope, noticing the words 'My Prince' was written on the front. He quickly opened it to see a poem inside:

If I had the words to describe my feelings for you; I would be the happiest man in the universe. But words seem to fail me time and time again, So I have to settle for the words in this verse:

Your touch, your smile, your presence, and soul; Mesmerize and entangle me completely. If I had but one ambition, one utter goal; It would be to stay by your side for eternity.

The alpha reread the poem over and over again. A bright, excited smile appearing on his face as he did so.

"Now was I right, or was I right?" Logan smiled, leaning over Roman to read it. The prince rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Judging by the scent, it seems as though Patton helped him."

"Still, it's very lovely," Roman tells him. "I'm glad he found my poem romantic."

"Now will you stop worrying about him not loving you?" Logan asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Of course not!" Roman looked at him like he was insane. "I still want to court him with gifts!"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "And what could you possibly court him with now?"

"Do you mind sending a personal message to the royal gardener."

The next day, Virgil and Patton were still sitting in Virgil's room. Virgil was resting on the balcony while Patton continued sewing.  Despite them not talking to each other, they enjoyed each other's company.

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a timid knock on the door. Patton went up to get it, but Virgil volunteered instead. When he opened it, he saw a giant bouquet of flowers. Red, pink, purple, and white were beautifully presented in front of him. Holding the bouquet was a young boy, who was covered head-to-toe in dirt.

"Are...are you Virgil?" he asked. When the omega nodded, the boy grinned happily. Bowing in respect he said, "My name's Oscar, I'm the royal gardener. I was asked to deliver these to you by Prince Roman."

Virgil blushed and took the bouquet, silently thanking him. When the boy left, he took a closer look at the bouquet. There was a note from Roman that read:

"O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in june" -- Robert Burns, A Red, Red Rose

Aside from the quote, there was also a card. The handwriting was very clean and formal, indicating it was from Logan. It read:

"The flowers that Roman have selected for you are translated: Pink camellia = longing for you. Red carnations = his heart aches for you. White chrysanthemums = loyal love. Gloxinias = love at first sight. Red roses = love/respect. And red tulips = a declaration of love. - Logan"

"Aww, isn't that precious?" Patton squealed.

Virgil couldn't say anything, for he just stared at the card in awe. He sat down on the bed and looked at Patton, tears falling down his face. The beta made a little noise and wiped his tears away.

"I told you he cares, kiddo." he says gently, taking the flowers away from Virgil.

"He that much of a romantic?" he shakily signed. "All those things...he means them?"

Patton nods. "Roman cares so much about the people he loves and wants to do anything for them."

"It's too much..."

"Whether they be big or little, he wants to show people that he cares about them."

"He shouldn't have too..."

"But he wants too, kiddo." Patton squeezes his knee gently. "And he's going to keep doing that until the day he dies."

Virgil looked back at the flowers, then at Patton.

"What is it, Virgil?"

A small smile came to the omega's face as he whispered, "...I can't wait to be his Queen..."

The beta smiled back. "I don't think he can wait either."

Logan was busy working on important documents in the library when he felt two hands cover his eyes.

“Guess who?” the voice said cheerfully. Logan smiled, it didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was. But he decided to play along anyway.

“Hmm…” he ponders for a moment. “It wouldn’t be Thomas, would it?”

A giggle. “No~! Two more guesses!”

“Well you’re obviously not Roman.”

“I’m not Roman, Lo-Lo! One more guess!”

Logan chuckled, finally caving in. “I know it’s you, Patton.” He felt the hands being removed from his face and looked to see he was right. “You really aren’t able to fool me.”

“I know!” Patton smiled. “I still wanted to have fun with you!”

“And I’m glad you did.” Logan smiled gently. Even though he’s someone who seems cold and aloof, he really enjoyed Patton’s company. “I would trust Virgil got his flowers?”

Patton smiled wider and nodded. “He did! Roman’s not fooling around he is?”

“No he isn’t.” Logan sighed, moving to put away some books. Patton quickly followed him. “While I find it a bit too extreme, I’m glad His Highness is still himself.”

“Yeah…I’m surprised you actually left him alone.”

Logan looked at him. “Did you seriously believe I left him without supervision? He’s currently with His Majesty right now.”

“Oh, okay!” Patton cheerful face turned to fond admiration. “Do you remember when I tried to court you?”

The other beta snorted. “How could I forget? You wrote me a badly written letter.”

“At least I wrote something from the heart!” Patton laughed loudly, stopping when he realized he was in the library.

“You did.” Logan smiled. “And while I commend you for that, you stuttered the whole way through. At least my method was much more to the point.”

Patton chuckled. “Yeah, you just blurting out how you wanted to bond with me was very brutal, Logan.” He giggled when he saw the logical adviser blush.

“I, uhm…I suppose I was a little too cut and dry.”

“A little?” Patton giggled more.

Logan coughed. “Well at least it worked, didn’t it? We started courting not long after and I have not seen you complain so far.”

“Why would I? I love having you as my mate.” Patton rubbed their noses together. “What about you? Do you have any regrets?”

“Being mated to you?” Logan pretended to think, but seeing Patton’s pouty face made him smirk. He lifted Patton’s hands to his lips. “Highly improbable. You are somebody nobody should regret.”

Patton bit his lip to hide his squeal. “Lo! Someone could see you!”

“I should be able to expressing how I feel about you whenever I please, Patton.” Logan said simply. “But I’m afraid I have to leave now. Roman is probably wondering where I am currently.”

“I understand.” Patton sighed sadly. “Will you tell him I say hi?”

“Of course I will.” Logan starts to leave the library, but he remembered something. “Oh, do note that another gift will be dropped off at Virgil’s room later today.”

“You got it!” Patton smiled. With that, Logan left him alone in the library.

Sure enough, a plain, white box of assorted chocolates was placed in front of Virgil’s door.

“Chocolate and love go hand-in-hand.” Patton grinned happily.

Virgil took a piece and took a bite out of it. He smiled at the taste of it, he wasn’t all that used to having chocolate while in slavery. “Tasty.”

“If you want me to, I can make you a molten chocolate cake.” Patton smiled. “While I’m an adviser, I also happen to know the pastry chef. I’d be more than happy to if you want.”

Virgil nodded happily. During their time together, Patton would tell him stories and one of them being that he loved to bake. If Patton was a sweet person, his desserts must represent the same.

“Will he give me more gifts?” Virgil asks.

Patton laughed. “Probably. Knowing him, he probably has more gifts he’s can’t wait to give to you.” Virgil smiled at the thought of being given more gifts from Roman.

“Like jewelry and dresses?” he teased.

“Hey, he might! Like I said, he loves showering people with gifts.” Patton winked making the omega giggle. “You are going to be the most spoiled Queen in the world.”

Virgil smiled at the thought of that. He wouldn’t mind if Roman did that even after they become married. It didn’t have to be anything grand, simple things like this would make him happy.

“Spoiled Queen…not something a feral Omega is used too…”

Patton frowned at that. “You know that’s not what we view you as, right? To the world, you were feral. To us, you’re just a regular Omega. Promise.”

Virgil knows they don’t know the extent of his past, and it’s better that they don’t for now.

Right now, he’s just going to enjoy this entire box of chocolates until dinner.

“Alright, you’ve given him poetry, flowers, and chocolates. Now will you stop courting him?”

“No.”

“Oh for goodness— what do you want to give him this time?”

“Nothing.”

Logan looked confused. “Then what do you—”

“I need you to teach me something.” Roman says as he sat down next to Logan.

“…teach you?” Logan asked incredulously. “You never want me to teach you. Ever since you were a child, you never wanted to learn from me.”

Roman sat up straighter. “Yes well…things are a little different this time around.”

Logan looked pensive before nodding in agreement. “Very well. What do you want me to teach you?” Roman whispered something in his ear, and Logan had a pleased smile. “That, is something I would be happy to do.”

[lymricks]

If you're into it and have the time, I'd love to see the scene in which the kids give Billy his winter coat in a little more detail. Also maybe a Billy/Hopper interaction? Or a Billy/Joyce conversation? I have such a thing for watching Billy interact with the people who love and care about Steve. Your head canons about these relationships work too, if you've got any you want to share!

Hi Anon!!! It’s a gift giving holiday for some people, so here’s a Chicago-verse gift giving fic where the termites give Billy his jacket.

I’m hopping on a plane in a few hours to go on an Exciting Adventure with my best friend. My queue is all loaded up and I’m sure I’ll be around a bit, but feel free to drop prompts in my ask box for me to do when I get back/on planes. I hate flying and I’ll be very bored. See you in the new year, everyone!!!!

the one with the winter coat (now also on ao3, but I cannot for the life of me figure out how to link it on this stupid app), ~1500 words, T

Harrington has been gone for one hour and twenty four minutes. Billy has given up on trying to act like he’s Totally Fine hanging around the Harrington house with Harrington’s ex-girlfriend and six teenagers. He’s bored as shit and they’re all fucking weird as shit and Hawkins makes his skin crawl.

He’s here for Thanksgiving and the turkey better be fucking incredible.

Harrington had pressed a kiss to his temple one hour and twenty–five, now–minutes ago before running out to the store with Jonathan. A few quick things, he said. A few quick things Billy’s ass. He should have just gone with them. Except–

“I ran into your dad at the grocery store that one time,” Harrington had murmured. Billy had been sitting on the Harrington’s kitchen island and Harrington was standing between the v of his thighs. The sentence made Billy flinch away and cut his gaze, but Steve’s hands on his thighs had kept him from jumping off. “I’m just saying I don’t think you should come with me for this,” Steve had continued, and he’d run his hands up Billy’s thighs and kissed at Billy’s lower lip. Sometimes when Harrington did that Billy felt like he was drowning and it was maybe the best thing he’d felt probably ever. It made him want to say yes to whatever Harrington was asking of him. “I don’t want your dad to surprise you.” It’s a fair point, Billy has to concede that. He doesn’t want to see his dad, doesn’t want him to appear beside the eggo waffles, doesn’t want to hear the low undertone of his voice, or see his stupid fucking mustache. That’s why–when they’re in Hawkins–he almost never goes anywhere without Harrington as an escort. That’s why–right now–he is wandering aimlessly around Harrington’s house while Nancy pointedly does not stare and all six teenagers track his movements like some sort of birds of prey.

He’s going to have to come back and do this all over again for Christmas, although probably at the Byers’s house. They’re only here because Harrington’s parents are out of town for the holiday and the kids like all the different rooms in the house and Harrington’s bigger tv.

Back for Christmas. Billy doesn’t want to come back here ever. Twice in less than a month is–a lot for him to know is coming.

“I need a smoke,” he mumbles to the room at large, grabbing his brown leather jacket–the same one from high school, he loves it and they’re expensive to replace–and wanders out into the backyard. “Fuck,” he says to the empty air outside, tipping his head back to exhale smoke in a stream at the starless sky. He’d never come here in high school, but he’d been four houses over once. He can still hear the echoes of the sirens he’d run from after climbing out that girl’s window, laughing, with his pants half off.

Billy breathes in cold air and smoke. He should have gone to the store, but in the eight months they’ve been together, Billy’s been back to Hawkins, been staying at the Harrington’s house, been chauffeured around in the passenger seat of a borrowed car that Harrington’s driving a lot of times. He thinks people have probably put two and two together about Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much, but he wonders–all the fucking time–what people in this shitty little town think about the Harrington boy being in some sort of arrangement with that no good Hargrove kid. He doesn’t mind being the no good kid so much as he minds the things it must make people think about Harrington–about–about Steve.

He pats his pocket, but there’s no more cigarettes there and already Billy feels jittery with the knowledge, like he’s drowning and not in the good way. He hopes someone else has a pack, but who’s he going to ask? Dustin? He’s still half-grinning to himself at the thought of asking Dustin for a cigarette when he slides the door open and steps back inside. It’s too cold to stand outside, especially without a cigarette. Even while he’d been smoking, Billy was fighting the biting Indiana chill.

The kids are huddled together just inside the door. Dustin has both hands on his head. Lucas is looking back and forth between Mike and Dustin in disbelief.

“He’s already got a jacket,” Mike is saying, waving his hands around.

“It’s not a winter coat,” Will answers. He’s standing more in the middle of the circle and he cuts his gaze to El, who nods. “It’s not very warm,” he adds.

“We also already bought it!” Lucas rolls his eyes then turns the full force of his glare on Mike. Billy’s impressed by how intense it is. Kid’s been practicing in the mirror, maybe. “So this whole conversation is stupid.”

“We have to do it for Steve,” Dustin explains.

“For him, too. He’s cold,” the weird girl–Hopper’s daughter, El, adds.

“I already said we should do this,” Max says, and she huffs on a big sigh. “He doesn’t–it’s right to.”

“And we already bought it,” Lucas says again.

“I just think it should be the right gift,” Mike snaps and when Billy steps closer Mike’s holding both hands up, looking a lot like surrender even if his mouth is pulled down at the corners. “It’s his first official gift. We got Steve something way better.”

“Shut up,” Max hisses then, and her bright eyes meet Billy’s across the room. shoving Mike’s shoulder. As though they all have one brain, six pairs of teenage eyes turn in unison to look at Billy.

“Right,” Billy says slowly. “I can just–”

“We have something for you,” Dustin shouts it, bursts up from where he’s hunched over at Lucas’s shoulder clutching a lumpy, paper-wrapped square. The paper is just plain and brown, but when it’s thrust into Billy’s hands–the rest of the kids behind Dustin poking their heads over his shoulder like some sort of cartoon–he can see that there’s drawings on it.

“Will did them,” Mike says helpfully when Billy runs a finger over one.

There’s a series of crayon and pencil images. His Camaro, long gone now, and Billy crouched in a leather jacket, staring–moodily, he would definitely call the expression Will Byers drew on his face moody–out a window. There’s the Byers’s house, and a rough sketch of the necklace Billy never takes off, and one of Max that Billy recognizes as a real moment from a few months ago–her with both hands around his wrist, trying to drag him to the ground. She’d been trying to win a particularly aggressive game of basketball. Billy hadn’t called her foul.

It’s the drawing in the top left corner next to Dustin’s messy handwriting–which reads To Billy from Termites–that Billy’s gaze stops on. He sucks in a sharp breath.

The drawing is a scene from their old apartment in Chicago. He knows it by the tiny kitchen window Will’s drawn behind the couch, the one Harrington always left Christmas lights up around. The drawing itself is of Billy and Harrington. They’re sitting on the couch next to each other. Will’s drawn them with their knees bumping, with Harrington’s cheek flopped lazily against Billy’s shoulder, with Billy’s arm stretched out behind him, his fingers just curling over Harrington’s shoulder.

Billy has never felt vulnerable in front of teenagers before, not really. He wonders, looking down at this package, if he’s going to fucking cry.

“There’s actually something else inside it,” Dustin says. When Billy looks up he’s rolling his eyes, but Will’s cheeks are tinged red and Billy lets his mouth curl into something that, under a microscope, under extreme duress, he might admit is a smile.

“Open it,” Dustin says.

Billy does. Slowly and with–with reverence, really–he peels back the corners. Underneath the wrapping, which is in itself the best present he’s ever gotten–is a warm, dark winter coat. There’s no fur lining the hood, like Harrington’s has and which Billy makes fun of endlessly. It’s just simple. It just looks warm. He sets the paper down carefully on the table and sheds his leather jacket, pulling it on.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Holy shit,” Max breathes. “You know how to say thank you?”

It breaks the moment, and Billy’s so grateful to her for it, because he doesn’t know what to do with his face. He chucks his old jacket at her face and then Mike is grabbing El and dragging her back toward the tv because a show he likes is on it, he can hear the music, come on hurry and Lucas tries to help Max fix her hair.

It’s just Dustin and Will, then, looking at Billy in his new winter coat. Billy pushes hair out of his face, doesn’t really know how to say thank you for something like all this.

“Told you it was a good present,” Dustin says, sounding smug and looking at Will.

“I was on your side!” Will exclaims.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “It’s. It’s really good.”

Then the door swings open. Jonathan shouts for the kids to come help carry groceries in, and Billy is left standing alone in the Harrington’s house for a silent two minutes. He can just sort of hear them outside, the rustle of plastic bags, the slamming of car doors.

Harrington is the first through the door. Billy can hear him drop plastic bags in the kitchen, listens to the sound of his footsteps as he comes closer. Harrington appears, suddenly, in front of him. His cheeks are pink from the Hawkins cold and his grin is warm and immediate the second he sees Billy.

Billy feels like he’s drowning. He reaches for Harrington like he’s a life vest. “Nice coat,” Harrington says, sounding a little surprised when Billy tugs him closer and slides his hands into Harrington’s back pockets, but leaning into Billy’s chest all the same. “They’ve been nervous about that for three weeks.”

Billy looks up at Harrington’s big stupid eyes and feels warm in a lot of different ways, all at once.

[builder051]

I'd love to see a fic where bucky thinks he can take care of himself even though he's sick, but eventually he has to give up and call steve to come home and help (he's too dizzy and disorientated to get up off the bathroom floor or get himself water, etc, etc). Only if you're taking prompts though!! if not just disregard this :)

I’m absolutely taking prompts.  Especially this one.

I’ve written the ‘Bucky home sick while Steve is somewhere else’ trope quite a bit.  It’s one I love, but it’s getting a little harder to fill these prompts because I have to come up with ways of making the situation unique.  Thanks, anon, for putting in some specifics.  I really like your idea.

I’m making this one Powers/No Powers.  But as a general note, you’re always free to choose a ‘verse for your story if you have a preference. The AU ‘verse from Ignite your bones is open, as are Powers/No Powers and Heroverse.

_____

It starts with a ringing in his ears.

Bucky sits at the kitchen table, absently flipping the pages of a magazine, wondering why he doesn’t want breakfast.  The frying pan he’d used to cook Steve’s eggs is still on the stove, and probably still hot.  But he’s not hungry this morning.  And the sound of Steve’s bike pulling out of the driveway roars around his head minutes after it should be gone.

He rests his forehead in his palm.  It’s feasible that he’s still sleepy.  He was up and down a few times overnight.  Not from nightmares.  Just from a lack of ability to get comfortable and shut his eyes.

Bucky takes a deep breath.  A throb erupts around his temples, and he screws his eyes shut against the onslaught.  He waits for the pain to pass, but it doesn’t.  It just settles into nausea in his sinuses.

He can deal with this, Bucky tells himself.  It’s not so hard to drop the frying pan in the sink and get himself a glass of water.  Turn the TV on to something dull and lie down on the sofa.  But the air in the kitchen is suddenly so bitingly cold he can barely fathom rising from his huddled position.

The shadows of things past starts to rise on Bucky’s mental horizon.  Cold.  Cold is bad.  Cold is terrible…  But nothing’s going to happen to him.  He’s safe.  Has been for years now.  So what if he doesn’t feel well?  He can take care of himself.

Bucky clenches his teeth against a shiver and forces himself out of his chair.  If Steve were here, he’d tell him to go to bed.  The prospects of warmth and relaxation are enticing.  He half expects Steve’s comforting body heat as well, but by the time he ascends the stairs and enters the bedroom, he remembers he’s alone.

Bucky slips between the sheets and curls onto his side.  He still can’t get comfortable.  But he holds onto hope that when he next opens his eyes, maybe he’ll feel better.  Or at least more human.

Bucky twitches awake, overly warm and disoriented.  He struggles toward consciousness for a moment, but nausea interrupts.  He tries to swallow, and his throat immediately squeezes shut.  He’s going to drown in acidic saliva.

He shoves himself up on his stump arm, struggling to get a grip on where he is and what’s happening.  A band of vice-like pressure squeezes his head.  Blood pounds in his ears.  Bucky gags involuntarily, spilling spit and bile down the front of his t-shirt.  He focuses all effort on getting to his feet and staggering to the bathroom.  Vertigo makes his blurry vision shake, and he clips his shoulder on the door frame.

Bucky falls to his knees in front of the toilet and gives in to the pain rushing up from his chest.  He heaves hard, then struggles to find his breath.  He’s too hot.  The air feels like wet cement settling on his skin.  It coats the inside of his mouth, mixing the taste of dust with lingering acid, and seeps along to block his airway.

He coughs and lists sideways until his ear and shoulder make contact with the vanity.  Bucky grunts in pain.  He scrambles to right himself as nausea surges again, but the room’s swirling steals both motivation and strength, and he throws up all over the floor.  His limbs slacken as his stomach contracts, and it’s all Bucky can do to drag himself into a fetal position out of the way of pool of sick spreading toward his face.

He needs to do something.  Clean up.  Maybe medicate.  But the back of his neck prickles with something more sinister than just cold sweat. If he moves he’ll be seen.  If he’s seen, he’ll be punished…

But…that can’t be right.  He’s home in Falls Church.  Blazing with fever on the floor of his bathroom.  Steve’s bathroom.

The tone of the white noise assaulting his eardrums changes.  Bucky winces.  Dry heaves.  Wipes his shaky wrist across his eyelids.  He pulls his knees an inch closer to his chest, and the room pitches into a new set of spirals.

The diminishing coherent portion of his brain lights up in panic.  This is bad.  This is beyond him.  He needs help.

But he should be able to handle this.

He needs someone.

He can’t cry out.  If the handlers hear him…

If he lifts his head, he’s going to vomit again.

He needs Steve.

Bucky fumbles his pocket for his phone, trying not trigger an earthquake in the tile under his cheek.  The glow of the device’s screen cuts painfully into his eyes.  He’s glad A Steve is his first contact.  His vision’s too blurred to read anything.

The line rings twice, sending corkscrews of agony through Bucky’s ear and into his brain.  Then Steve answers.  "Hello?”

Bucky opens his mouth, strings of mucous vibrating audibly with his breath.  He’s not sure what he wants to say.  He’s not sure he can speak.

“Buck?  You ok?”

“I…” Bucky starts.  Goosebumps shoot up his spine and down his arms.  Why is it cold?  When did it the room turn from a volcano to a freezer?  Cold is bad…  He swallows the lump of ice in his throat.  “I need…”

“What happened?”  There’s a shuffle on Steve’s end.  Bucky imagines him getting to his feet, pushing in his chair.  Then dizziness wallops him in the forehead.

“Help,” Bucky whispers.

Steve doesn’t press Bucky for details.  “Ok.  I’m on my way, alright?” He says.  “I’ll be right there.”

The line goes dead, and Bucky releases his phone to the floor behind his head, out of the way of another painful retch.  He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.  Then presses between his eyes to keep his face from falling off.

Consciousness ebbs and flows with the floor’s relentless rocking.  The vertigo ramps up when he tries to make sense of it, so Bucky surrenders.  Waits for pain.  Or death.  Or Steve.  Unless that was a dream.

Eventually the door creaks on its hinges, and footsteps echo against the tile.

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky feels the shift in the air pressure as Steve kneels an inch from his back.  He lays his hand on Bucky’s arm, then brings the back of his knuckles under his jaw.  “You’re burning up.”

“Hm.”  Bucky reaches up shakily.

“Yeah, alright.”  Steve wraps Bucky’s fingers in his.  “Let’s get you cleaned up.  Think you can sit up?”

“Ugh.  Dizzy,” Bucky breathes.

“How ‘bout I help you?  Toilet’s right here if you’re still feeling sick.”  Steve’s arm clamps protectively around Bucky’s chest.  “There you go.”

Before he can say anything, Steve swings Bucky off the floor.  His stomach snaps into his throat, and he strains against Steve’s grip.  He doesn’t have anything left to expel, but he gags anyway.

“It’s ok.”  Steve drapes Bucky over the toilet again and rubs his back as he coughs.

After a moment, Bucky lifts his head.  The bathroom lurches around him, and he’s suddenly leaning against Steve’s solid chest.  He can’t pinpoint the genesis of the movement, and he’s not alert enough to try.  “Sorry,” is the best he can manage.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve murmurs.  “Do you think you’d feel better lying down?”

“Mm.”  Bucky means it to be an affirmative.

“Alright.”  Steve peels Bucky’s stained shirt off him first, then gently hauls him to his feet and back to bed.

Bucky settles against the pillows.  He closes his eyes.  Then squints when he feels Steve pushing hair off his face.

“Why didn’t you say something this morning?” Steve asks.

“Wasn’t so bad…”

“Well, I’m glad you called.”

Bucky smiles.  He hopes his numb face shows it.  “…glad you came.”

[shift-shaping]

“ one day… we’ll be able to kiss like everyone else ” (This might make a good prompt, use however you like)

Glimpses: Everyone Else

Rating: M

Genre: Romance

Verse: Confessions of a Teacher’s Pet

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warnings: Teacher x student, age gap

-direct follow-up to I Do Not Deserve You-

The bed was too small for two people to lay comfortably, a sharp contrast to the king-sized monster in his apartment. She slept nearly on top of him that night, or, if he was on his side, pressed so tightly to his body that he could barely move if he wanted to. He was asleep before she could get him his twinkie, and she couldn’t rouse him no matter how hard she tried. 

Throughout the night she woke up periodically to check on him, worried he was worse off than he seemed. The most he did was roll over, barely giving her space to breathe and forcing her to lay on top of him, head on his chest and arm lying around his waist.

She was careful not to disturb him as she got ready for class. Thankfully she had a gap of several hours to figure out how to get him home later, but left a note and a text on his phone so he’d know not to freak out when he finally awoke anyway.

It didn’t matter. He was still asleep when she returned, though he groaned in pain whenever there was a loud noise. Smirking, she took off her shoes and returned to him in bed, climbing over him on all fours until her face was level with his.

She kissed him, soft and slow, then gave him a gentle wake-up call: “good morning, dreamer.” He shifted slightly and slowly opened his eyes, confusion wrought in his features. He glanced around suspiciously, then looked back up at her. 

“How did I get here?”

She giggled and kissed him again, and he returned it despite himself. His hand drifted to her waist, holding her gently, and he gave a soft moan against her lips. “You really don’t remember?” She whispered, and he lightly shook his head. “What’s the last thing you remember from last night?”

“I…” He hesitated, closing his eyes for a moment, then frowned. “I was out with several of my friends.”

“Oh, you have friends?”

He smirked slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, smart-alike.” She grinned and moved so she was straddling him, thighs on either side of his hips. “Mm… we were all very drunk, I believe we were playing a card game that involved quite a bit of alcohol. Here,” he grunted and reached under her, taking his wallet out of his pants.

“You slept with your wallet.”

“I did no such thing,” he said flatly as he sifted through the contents. “Ah…” He took out a very long receipt and then closed his eyes for a long time. “Fuck.”

She frowned and gently took it from him. Her eyes widened as they moved down the list, to the total of $97.64. “Was this all for you?”

He nodded and sighed again. “That’s how the game is played. You have to buy your own drinks.”

“Shit, maybe you need to go to a hospital…”

“No, no…” He put the receipt back in his wallet and then set it aside. “I have a very high tolerance.”

“Of course, that explains why you couldn’t remember your address last night.”

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, then swore quietly under his breath. “I am so, so sorry you had to see that.” His squeezed her waist gently. “Did I say anything else… embarrassing?”

She hesitated, the words he’d said to her last night still reeling in her head. She could hear him, could still picture his face when he met her eyes and told her he loved her. A soft smile pulled at her lips and she reached up to stroke his face, shaking her head as their eyes met. 

He sighed and nodded, letting his head fall back into the pillow. “I’m not certain I believe you but… I’ll take it.” He squeezed her waist again and she playfully rolled her hips over him, raising an eyebrow when she felt his morning wood pressing into her. He snorted and pressed his palm into his forehead. “I have a searing headache.”

“Mm, and orgasms are the best way to get rid of those.”

“Eirwen…” He sighed and moved his hand to her back, pulling her down toward him and bringing her lips to his. She hummed softly, ears drooping, hands sliding up to his face. His fingers felt so large and strong on her back, a contrast to the way his heavy weight leaned on her the night before. She liked it, liked knowing both sides. Annoyed as she had been with him last night, there was something sweet in having helped him, too.

When they did eventually break apart she squirmed to let her face rest in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped around her thin body. He kissed her forehead and she relaxed into him, smiling against his neck.

After a while he sighed, his fingers drawing small circles on her back. “How am I going to get out of here, Eir?”

She laughed and hugged him tight enough to earn a grunt. “Very carefully.” She sighed and sat up to look at him again. “You can climb out the window. Like a teenager in a dumb movie.”

“I am not a teenager, and I am not climbing out of your window.”

She laughed and kissed him again. “Still very limber, though…”

“Still not climbing out of your window.”

They kissed again, deep and hard, and she let her hands explore his chest and cup his cheeks. “Don’t you- have class?” He managed between breaths. 

“Later. I already went to one this morning.”

“Wait, what day is it?”

She snorted and kissed his neck, making him gasp sharply and buck his hips underneath her. “Not your class, don’t worry.”

“Can you imagine it?” He asked, his voice low and rasping. Her pulse picked up, and she trailed her teeth along the muscles of his neck in response. “Mm… I am here, with you… and later I would teach your class…” One of his hands moved down her back, laying over her ass for a moment before squeezing it. She jolted and he smirked, a smile in his voice as he went on. “I could fuck you now… and then in the classroom…” Her breathing hitched and she gripped his shirt, eyes closing as his hand strayed between her legs, teasing the soft skin of her inner thighs. “And then in my office…”

There was a loud knock at the door and she stiffened suddenly, panic bright in her eyes. He froze too, unable to react before she jumped out of bed and threw a blanket over him. He sputtered and started to move it before she quickly covered him with another. “Stay quiet!” She hissed, and saw him lift up his hands in surrender before running to her door.

“Yeah, hey?” She asked, a bit loudly, face to face with her startled roommate. The other girl blinked in surprise, smiling slightly. 

“Uh, hey, yeah.” The girl smirked, as if she knew what was going on, and Eirwen knew paranoia would make her look crazed. “Lotti and I are gonna go get groceries, do you want to come with us?”

“Is Olivia going too?”

“Uh… no she’s in class until noon.”

Eirwen blinked, tilting her head slightly, then nodded. “Uh… no I’m good, thanks for letting me know though.” 

Her roommate gave Eirwen a knowing smile, stealthily trying to see into the room before she closed the door tighter. The other girl left then, and Eirwen quickly shut the door before running to Solas and lifting the blanket off his face. 

“Uh-”

“Does your jacket have a hood?”

“Yes?”

“Good.” She heard her roommates shuffling about before leaving. “Come on, we can get you out while they’re gone.”

“I-” She didn’t give him time to respond as she pulled him up and to his feet. He stumbled back and cursed, leaning into the bed as a surge of pain shot through his skull.

“Sorry! Sorry!” She stopped and helped him stand, kissing him over and again until he was laughing at her ridiculousness. 

“Eirwen- Eir, it’s alright.” He put his hands on her shoulders to slow her down, and after a second she nodded. 

“Right. Okay.” She kissed him again, then leaned her head into his chest and wrapped her arms around his back, hugging him tightly. He kissed her head and closed his eyes, holding her now, so close she could hear his heartbeat.

“One day we won’t have to do this,” he said softly, and she exhaled shakily against him. “One day we can be like everyone else.”

She smirked and shook her head. “We’ll never be like everyone else, hahren.”

That made him chuckle, and he sighed after a second, humming softly. “Would you want to be, da’len?”

“No,” she replied, laughing. “No, I wouldn’t.”

if you enjoyed this fic, please hit the reblog button on this post. comments are cool but not necessary -you can leave no tags, a keysmash, or even just 'nice' if you'd like! thanks for your support -arden