#omega definitely ain’t gonna be the one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Bite to Break Skin {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Welcome to my first time writing for A/B/O dynamics, one of my absolute favorite things in fanfic. There’s so much potential and I’m definitely interested in exploring it with other characters! Just a small heads up, this one is pretty dialogue heavy throughout.

“C’mon,” he said as his breathing finally slowed, “we gotta get up.”

The fingers combing through his damp hair paused. “Can I wear your shirt?”

“You’ve been wearin’ ‘em for years, ain’t gonna stop you now, idiot,” he huffed as he peeled himself away from her, their skin tacky with sweat. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t be shitty to me, Katsuki, I have your virginity!”

“And I have yours. Even exchange. No reason to stop teasing you,” he grunted. Pulling her to her feet he guided her towards his bathroom with a hand on her lower back.

They cleaned up in easy silence, each of them still feeling the content fuzziness in their minds that now seemed amplified and even better than usual. At different points they briefly wondered if that was normal after losing their virginities.

Probably, they decided. For them it was a natural progression in their over two-year relationship. Having gotten together just after the provisional license exam in their first year their hero course schedules only got busier and they got less time to spend together between classes and training and work studies and internships. But those moments were coveted and left plenty of time for them to take their relationship at the perfect pace for them.

Two years of wandering hands and mouths had culminated that afternoon while the majority of the class had gone to the shopping district and neither of them could regret a single thing about it.

“Katsuki?”

She felt warmth bloom in her chest as he looked over his shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and expression relaxed. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” she smiled, fingers absently twisting the hem of his shirt that she wore.

“’Course you do,” he smirked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and returned them to his bed, the grey sheets rumpled. He bunched them down to the end of the mattress and laid down, pulling her to lie next to him curled into his side.

He was always so warm and she loved it, now especially as the chill of January lingered in the dorm hallways and throughout their rooms. Being close to him as they laid together was one of her favorite things about their relationship. As much as he seemed like a loner in their first weeks at UA she never believed it was true and once they were together behind closed doors he was happy as long as they had some sort of contact with each other. She’d never been prouder of being right than that day.

His attentiveness was something she knew would likely contribute heavily to his secondary gender when he presented in the future. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be an alpha, and an amazing one at that. His protective streak and pride in his own abilities couldn’t be attributed to any other presentation. While she herself was unsure of what she would present as, he had always promised that it didn’t matter.

“Alphas want omegas but I want you, and that means I get you no matter what we are,” he’d grumbled one evening not that long ago when she revealed her fears of presenting as a beta and not being what his alpha would need. “Secondary gender can go fuck itself if it thinks I’d leave you over some random omega. Shit, you don’t even know if I’d be an alpha anyway, dumbass.”

If she hadn’t been sure about him before, that conversation had cemented it in her mind and in her heart. Katsuki Bakugo was the one for her and it sent her heart into a tailspin to know that he felt the same way.

She pressed herself closer to him, basking in the warmth of his body and of her thoughts.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled against her forehead.

“So’re you.”

“Nah, your skin’s pink like you took one of your showers from hell.”

She huffed out a laugh. “’M fine, Katsuki. It’s ‘cause you’re warm and I’m still kinda hot from before.”

“You’re always hot,” he said with a pinch to the seat of her underwear.

“Just cuddle me, you ass.”

His arms tightened around her and they laid together in comfortable silence. At one point she started to doze against the warmth of Katsuki’s chest, one hand on his hip at the waistband of his sweats. She’d never felt safer.

In the middle of her dreamless nap she awoke to a persistent poking to her nose. When she opened her eyes, her boyfriend’s furrowed brow came into focus as she blinked. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

“You’ve got a fever.”

She wanted to protest but the trails of sweat she could feel having trickled down her back was unmistakable. She definitely felt warm but she wasn’t disoriented or feeling sick.

“It’s like a full body fever,” Katsuki muttered, dropping his hand from her forehead.

“I feel really hot, but I don’t feel sick,” she told him, sleep leaving her as confusion took over.

He fisted the collar of the shirt she wore at the base of her neck, squeezing for just a moment before pulling back a glistening hand.

“Shirt’s soaked with sweat, take it off and I’ll get you one of my tanks,” he said, rolling out of bed and walking over to his drawers.

She peeled the sticky fabric from her skin, the feeling more uncomfortable than the fact that she was sitting topless once it was off. Nothing Katsuki hadn’t seen plenty of times after all.

A black tank top hit her chest before falling to her lap and she picked it up immediately, pressing her nose into the bundle. It’d barely been a minute since he left her side but she needed the comfort. Which is why when all she smelled was the scent of detergent her nose wrinkled.

“It doesn’t smell like you,” she complained, and he laughed from where he was straightening the other tank tops in his drawer.

“It’s clean, dumbass, I haven’t worn it yet. I’ll be next to you again in like two seconds anyway.”

“Hurry up,” she whined, slipping the tank top over her head and surprising him with her needy tone. “I haven’t smelled roasting chestnuts in almost two minutes, this is cruel. I even miss the little bit of sugar.”

He turned to her with furrowed brows. “I smell like that right now?”

“You smell like that all the time, ever since I’ve known you. What, you don’t know what your own cologne smells like anymore? You gone nose blind?”

He shook his head slowly. “My cologne is sandalwood. Always has been. The sugar I’ll give you because of my quirk but your perfume has nothing on that with your sweet cherries’n shit.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. “That’s not my perfume, Katsuki. My perfume is the same floral one I’ve worn since middle school, it’s not fruity or sweet at all. Come here, do I smell like that now?”

He crossed back over to the bed and sat in front of her, gently tugging her forward to press his nose into her hair. Her face tucked under his chin and she breathed in the same familiar scent.

“Sugared cherries just like always,” he muttered. “Do I…?”

“Mhm, roasted chestnuts with a pinch of sugar,” she replied almost dreamily. It was stronger than usual, but maybe that’s because she was concentrating on it. It felt like it was surrounding her and through her and it made her skin burn hotter. It was good. So so good, and she wanted and she needed more.

She pressed herself closer to him, his confused grunt falling on deaf ears until he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her from himself to look at her. He’d felt her skin grow warmer against his bare chest, the heat startling. But when he looked at her panic shot through him as she doubled over with a whimper.

He called her name but she didn’t answer, just clutched her stomach harder while curling further into herself and whining low in her throat.

“Alright, hey, hey, listen, okay? I’m calling Aizawa, he’ll help us figure out what’s wrong,” he tried to soothe, pulling her back into his chest. Her skin burned against his but he needed her to know he was here, he wasn’t going anywhere when she wasn’t alright.

It was awkward trying to reach his phone on the bedside table with her curled against him but he was hellbent on making her feel better and if that meant practically popping his shoulder out of its socket with the stretch so fucking be it.

“What’s wrong, Bakugo?” was the greeting he got and he immediately started listing off what was happening as she continued to tremble in his lap.

“She’s burning up to the point I feel like I’m touching an oven and she—”

“Todoroki’s still in the dorms, call him up and have—”

“NO!” he snarled into the phone. “He doesn’t need to be near her, just tell me how I can help her! She’s in fucking pain and nearly incoherent right now! You’re not fucking helping me!”

Aizawa was silent for a long moment. “Bakugo, where are you two?”

“We’re in my dorm and I’d appreciate if you could save the damn lecture for when she’s actually conscious enough to fuckin’ hear it too.”

“How long has she been like this? What was she doing when she started feeling the fever? Is there anything that’s—”

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t know! An hour or so and we were just here, she was asleep while I scrolled through my phone.”

Aizawa’s tone went knowing as he prompted, “And before that?”

He weighed his options for answering. They were already in shit for her being on the boys’ side of the dorms, how much worse could it be? They were consenting adults and they were responsible about it and if it did help figure out why she was—

“That’s what I thought,” Aizawa sighed before he could decide how to answer. “I can’t be there to help but I’m sending Recovery Girl. Try and keep her comfortable until she arrives.”

When the line went dead, he could only mumble out curses as he dropped his phone and kept her pressed against him. Her little noises of pain had lessened and she didn’t feel as tightly coiled in his arms as she had, but he was still worried. At least the old lady might actually be able to do something.

“Well I must hand it to Aizawa,” Recovery Girl chuckled as she pulled the thermometer from her lips, “the man does know his students.”

“The hell are you laughing for?” Bakugo hissed. He had been pacing back and forth while she examined her, hovering close and getting more frustrated by the moment. Sure, his girlfriend didn’t seem to be in pain at the moment but he wanted whatever caused it to be taken care of now.

“Don’t take that tone with me, boy, you may be an alpha but I won’t be disrespected.”

He did a double take, sputtering, “An alpha? I’m eighteen, I haven’t presented!”

She smiled in amusement. “Not fully, no, but you’re both presenting as we speak. Fated mates can present at an earlier age when establish an intimate connection prior to turning twenty. It likely hit her first being an omega and that pulled you over too. I must say I’m a bit surprised as fated mates are quite rare at your age, though maybe even more so that this took so long. It’s admirable of you children to take things slow but when I was your age—”

“We’re fated mates?” she murmured, breaking the older woman’s rambling. “So we…?”

“Quite a spin on the high school sweetheart’s trope wouldn’t you say? Certainly a story for the pups.”

“Wait, so she’s burning up because…” he trailed off as his cheeks flushed pink. “This is…”

“Yes, yes, this is her heat beginning and your rut will follow, keep up boy. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail on that—”

“NO!” they shouted together, mortified.

She laughed, high pitched and maniacal. “Oh alright, I’ve had my fun. You children are so easy to poke at these days. But I do suppose we need to get you prepared for the next week or so. Dear, make a list of things you’ll need from your room and Bakugo will go fetch them for you.”

“I can’t just go myself?”

“Look at that boy’s face and tell me he’s alright with you leaving his den.”

Of course when she looked to him Katsuki’s face was contorted into an angry grimace, his lips twitching back to bare his teeth.

“Just tell me what you need,” he ground out, and she quickly rattled off everything she could think of that she may possibly need. Without a word he disappeared through the door, a lingering touch to her hand a silent promise to return quickly so as to soothe any worries of abandonment or actions that could be interpreted as rejection by her inner omega.

Recovery Girl turned the chair towards her and grabbed her bag from the floor. “We have a few things to discuss now, dear.”

She went over the arrangements made by Aizawa for their classes and schoolwork as well as daily drop offs of prepared bento boxes for them since they wouldn’t be leaving Bakugo’s room. Their parents had been contacted which sent a fresh wave of nausea through her for reasons other than the heat, but she was assured that it wasn’t as a punishment since they were both eighteen. Still, she could only image the conversation she would hear at the end of her heat when she heard from home.

Expectations of what would happen during the shared heat and rut were next and she while she was sure her face couldn’t get any hotter, she was proven wrong. As awkward as it was though, at least she was talking it over with another woman; having the same conversation with Aizawa would have killed her.

Finally, it seemed that the verbal torture was finished as Recovery Girl reached into her medical bag with one hand and beckoned her closer with the other.

“Let me see your arm, I need to give you a preventative injection.”

“Ah, I uhm,” she stuttered, cheeks still reddened but not from the heat, “I’m already taking…”

Recovery Girl shook her head with a chuckle. “Presenting alters your existing biology by releasing additional hormones which awaken parts of your mind and body that contribute to the primal instincts of your secondary gender. Generic contraceptive methods would be fine for a newly presented beta but as an omega the hormones released at presentation boost your fertility to a point where the pill may as well be candy for all the prevention it does.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’ Now unless you and that boy of yours have decided that you want pups within the year I need to give you this.” The syringe was brandished in front of her.

She held out her arm and she cleaned the area with a swab before feeling the familiar prick to her skin and the cold chill spread into her heated blood.

“Any last questions for me before he gets back?”

She went to shake her head but paused. “Just… what about our quirks?”

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Quirks take a backseat during these times unless a threat arises. Once bonded you will kill and die for the other and your pups, but for right now you two shouldn’t have an issue. I’d say ‘won’t’ but I think we both know your class has a habit of finding trouble, hm?”

“More like trouble finds us,” came a grunt from the doorway.

Katsuki reentered the room with her laundry basket on his hip and a tote bag over his shoulder. He visibly relaxed as he crossed the threshold and set her things on the floor at the foot of his bed.

She sat down on the plush area rug to go through what he’d brought, her legs tucked beneath her as Recovery Girl began speaking to him about the upcoming week like she’d done for her.

Rifling through the laundry basket she pulled out her pillows and blankets as well as her favorite hoodies, then she pulled everything out of the tote and put those sweaters and shirts onto Katsuki’s bed. Once everything was piled atop his sheets she began to sort through everything, enjoying the familiar smell of her own things mixing with the scent of Katsuki’s den. She hoped he would scent a few of his shirts and let her use his pillows and blankets for her nest.

“…and once you know the heat and rut have passed I’d like you to give me a call so I can come and assess you two.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki mumbled, his cheeks burning from the conversation as he took the offered slip of paper with her number. He’d never been more relieved to have a conversation end, and as soon as the door closed behind the terrible old bat he turned back to his girlfriend and his heart nearly stopped.

She was absently arranging his sheets with some of what he’d brought from her dorm to make the beginnings of her nest. Their combined scents filled his room to an almost dizzying potency but he had never felt more alive, more proud, and his inner alpha growled happily in his chest. Here was his mate, his omega, building a sweet-smelling nest in his den for the two of them and their pups.

The thought of pups broke through the haze of his instincts to allow nerves to set it. They were only eighteen and just about to finish their last few months at UA before becoming fully licensed heroes. Having pups wasn’t something they could do, at least… at least not now.

Recovery Girl had mentioned the preventative and rationally he knew that she wouldn’t give them something designed to fail and he was grateful for that but at the same time, he’d love to have pups with his mate. She was everything he could ever imagine wanting in a partner and he knew his mate would be the best mother to his pups. He’d thought so long before they presented and he was sure he’d think it until he took his last breath.

Her soft voice brought him out of his musings as she looked up at him through her lashes and shyly asked, “Could you… scent a few of your shirts and sweaters? For the nest?”

“’Course,” he replied, and seeing her eyes flicker towards his discarded pillows added, “You can use anything of mine. We’re mates.”

The heat-induced flush on her cheeks darkened slightly with embarrassment, but she nudged his pillow towards him anyway. He grabbed it and held it in his hands feeling both uncharacteristically anxious about scenting something for the first time and filled with pride at his mate seeking out his scent for her nest.

As he scented different things for her and she took them to construct their home for the next week or so he could see the flush fading little by little and he saw less sweat droplets running down her hairline. It was almost as if the larger and more structured the nest grew the tamer her inner omega became. That soothed him too, making him thankful for the calm before the storm of her first heat really began and pulled his rut to the forefront with it.

He leaned against the far wall as she worked in silence arranging their things into the what he assumed was a perfect nest—he didn’t know much about omega nesting instincts but it looked inviting enough to him that he had no qualms about spending the next week tangled with her in the textile haven. It was as if the movement she caused sent more of that sweet smell of hers wafting through the room and he could’ve sworn the sugary scent was getting stronger by the moment.

With a few last cursory pats to the sweatshirt walls she looked up at him.

"Do you think we'll lose ourselves in the heat and rut?" she asked quietly, shifting from foot to foot.

Katsuki sighed. "That's what happens with most people."

"You know, I… I knew you were it for me a long time ago, Katsuki. This morning is an amazing memory and I guess, even if this is how we get to spend the rest of our lives I'd like to remember this first too."

"Then maybe we can bond before it fully hits. I can… smell that it's going to hit hard again and that you're already feeling it creep up.”

The slick feeling between her thighs meant he was probably right. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I guess I'm just nervous."

"Hey, I know this whole thing became way bigger than either of us thought but I’m still me—the alpha part doesn’t change that. Shit I couldn’t even think of hurting you without wanting to die before, can you imagine what type of insufferably sweet asshole I’m gonna be now?” he asked with only mild disgust as he crossed his room to lay one hand on her hip and the other on her cheek.

The smile he received was worth the uncomfortable admission of his feelings; reassurance wasn’t his forte and sharing his feelings even less so but he’d always try for her.

“I know, and I’m happy you’re the one I get to be with.”

“C’mon, your nest looks good,” he said, easing her forward towards his bed. “We able to get in it yet?”

She kissed his cheek. “Yeah, let’s get in our nest, alpha.”

The shudder was hard for him to suppress, but he allowed her to pull him into the plush space where they laid together once more. They laid on their sides facing one another and Katsuki reached out to stroke his thumb over the back of her hand where it lay between them.

It was an unspoken agreement to take all the time they could before allowing themselves to indulge in the instincts of their new secondary genders, and they spoke quietly about what it all meant for them.

Mates were more permanent than marriage and fated mates even more so. The idea of claiming bites at only eighteen was daunting but at the same time it was always the plan anyway. Of course they knew they’d present but that seemed far off and more inconsequential the longer they were together prior to a few hours ago. They had their after-graduation plans and a claim had been a mutual desire, and even pups sometime in the far future. Secondary gender, as Katsuki had loved to point out, wouldn’t change that.

But with the presentations occurring and revealing them as an alpha/omega pair there were still some things that hadn’t been discussed or planned for, and they needed to be addressed.

“I’m getting warmer,” she murmured.

“We’ve got a long week ahead of us but it’s nothing we can’t handle,” he smirked.

She gave him a weak smile and pushed past her nerves to bring up what had been on her mind since her talk with Recovery Girl.

"Will… will you…?"

"If you want to, we can bond now while we're still mostly clear-headed. Some shit I’d like to remember too, you know?"

Her cheeks went pink. "No—well, yes that's probably a good idea but I… I'm… will you actually knot me?"

He choked on his tongue. "Fuck, shit, do you want me to? Do I need to? For your heat?"

"I don’t— Don't you need it to get through your rut?"

"It's… I don't want to make the decision for you, alright? If you want me to I will and if you don’t I won’t. ‘S always your choice.”

She rolled onto her side to face him, one hand rising up to trace his cheekbone and the slope of his nose, even the dip of his cupid’s bow until she came to a stop at his chin. She pressed lightly and he turned his head to look at her.

“I’m not afraid of you or anything like that. It’s all just very sudden and a lot to wrap my head around, you know? Six hours ago we were virgins and now we’re literally together for life. That’s not bad, just a lot.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But it’s why I want you to make the call. I ain’t gonna force you to do something you don’t want. We got forever to figure our shit out.”

She laughed. “Yeah we do. For now though, I want you to. We’re gonna bond today and then heatshare, rutshare, and get tied together for the next week. This morning was amazing and now that we know we’re fated mates I think that’s gonna make it even better.”

“Once is all it took to get you addicted, huh?”

“Shut up!” she whined as she pushed against his shoulder and turned away with a blush. His loud laughter echoed throughout his room and she crossed her arms with a pout.

“Oi. Look at me.”

She rolled onto her side to face him again, lips still pouted cutely. His eyes were soft as he looked over her face and she felt proud of the small smile upturning his mouth as he did.

He reached out to smooth a hand over her hair and then gently nudged her shoulder. “Lie back.”

She moved onto her back and he settled himself over her, lying between her parted legs. It was familiar and made her smile; they’d laid together like this a hundred times over the course of their relationship and maybe it was the perfect way to cross into something more permanent.

“Katsuki,” she murmured, feeling his hands go below the tank top. He pushed it up and over her head, tossing it to the side and fixing her with an unwavering gaze.

His hands slid beneath her, pressed between her body and the sheets below, and he kissed her softly. Her hands slid up his back before settling over the solid muscle of his shoulders.

“’M gonna be the best alpha on the fuckin’ planet,” he said as they pulled apart. His lips ghosted over her cheek and down her jaw to settle at her neck. “Know I already got the best omega.”

“Will you say it?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes.

The huff of a laugh and curl of his lips on her skin made her shiver. He moved in closer to her and raised up to whisper exactly what she wanted.

“I love you.”

Her arms tightened around him and tried pulling him closer but she knew it would never feel like enough until they bonded.

Katsuki seemed to understand that too because he moved back to her neck and grazed his lips teasingly for just a second before sinking his teeth into the perfect spot as a claim.

She gasped as her head tipped back at the rush of sensations that seemed to flow from the bite. Her brain filled with static but her body felt a rush of coldness like ice water had been poured over her to combat the heat she’d been feeling for so long. Her heart sped up in her chest and she knew it was synched perfectly with Katsuki’s. The entirety of her being was aligned with his and the bond cemented as she let herself move forward and bite into her mate’s neck to stake her own claim.

Time seemed to speed up before slowing down again when she was tasting blood off of both her and Katsuki’s lips as his hands cradled her face and kissed her deeply. The coolness she had experienced during the claim had been almost completely swallowed by the heat she felt pulsing through her and becoming tangible as a needy whine against his mouth. He was so close and smelled so perfect and she wondered if she could feel him closer, her hands digging into the defined muscles of his shoulders as she held him against her.

“Look at my pretty mate,” he said lowly, his voice hushed. He nosed against the underside of her jaw just above the fresh bite as his hands roamed over her torso. “My omega, smellin’ so sweet just for me.”

The purr that bubbled from her lips surprised her but his warm hands on her and the quiet praise pushed it aside quickly when he kneaded her chest.

Her hands traced over his arms, fingers trailing down over dips of muscle. “The strongest alpha I know is all mine. I’m so lucky to have such a handsome mate.”

A please growl rumbled through his chest as her fingers hooked in his waistband and began sliding down the sweatpants until he was able to kick them off. He quickly returned the favor with her underwear to leave them both completely bare. With their scents completely unhindered for the first time with the bond formed, they could both smell the heavy, warm sweetness of roasted chestnuts and cherries that filled his dorm room. It was spicy but soft and made their heads spin knowing that this was them.

Katsuki’s hands roamed the familiar curves of her body as he leaned forward to kiss around the bite mark, feeling her lips against his neck as she did the same to him. Shivers ran up his spine at the contact and a groan escaped him as his fingers reached the apex of her thighs.

“Tell me what you need.”

She whined, hands splayed on his toned stomach.

“C’mon, tell your alpha what you need,” he coaxed.

“You,” she whispered. “Your knot. Your pups. Our pups.”

When we’re ready, was the silent understanding about the request.

Their hips met as Katsuki rolled his forward, breathy moans coming from both of them as they relished the still-new feeling of intimacy and clutched onto one another tighter.

Instincts took over, cutting the moment short, and filled with room with groans and whines and pleas between the two of them. There was no slow fumbling like there had been earlier but instead the primal need to be closer and chase the pleasure that came with the heat and rut.

She kissed him hard as the heat throughout her body pooled low in her stomach and she could tell the difference in the feeling of closeness but her hazy mind couldn’t dwell on it past knowing that this was what she needed, what would finally cool her down at least a bit.

“You’re mine,” she murmured as her back arched up from the bed and her nails dug into his shoulders.

“’M yours. You’re mine,” he grunted, mouthing at the bite once more.

Their scents were overwhelming the closer they came to their end.

“C’mon alpha, need your knot,” she whined, crying out as he still within her.

His teeth sank into the bond mark fully again, and she bit into his as she felt exactly what her inner omega needed, what she herself wanted, and allowed herself to succumb to the feeling of contentment and pleasure she would live in with her mate going forward. Warm and sated and full and safe with her alpha was where she wanted to stay.

“Bakugo. A word.”

He stalked over to his teacher, watching his mate step into the hallway from the corner of his eye. The new bond was sensitive and he was anxious when he couldn’t be with her. “What?”

“May I ask which of you proposed the idea of a non-traditional bite?”

“The hell are you talking about? We both have bites and they’re scarring the right way.”

Aizawa regarded him silently for a moment before waving him off. “It’s not important. Go.”

The blonde rolled his eyes and left the room, and he gathered his sleeping bag in his arms to set up in the corner for his midday nap.

It was annoying and awkward to have to deal with the paperwork and phone calls to guardians because two of his problem children couldn’t keep it in their pants while on campus—what he wouldn’t give to have seen Mitsuki Bakugo deal with this shit—and he certainly didn’t like the fact that he had to relay to the class what had happened either. He had prepared what would’ve been one of his best punishments to date for when the overwhelming scent of newly presented and bonded mates had lessened at least a bit, but it had all been abandoned the moment the two stepped up to speak with him.

Her embarrassment was obvious, the fact that her twice her age male teacher knew exactly what had been happening in that room for the past week probably enough to make her want to vomit, but furious blush aside she held herself well. Bakugo had (likely somewhat unintentionally) over scented the room alarmingly with equal parts calm for his mate and warning to his alpha teacher, his own blush prominent.

What stood out though, was the bond mark on her neck. It was already scarring which was to be expected and its placement was correct but it was backwards. Traditionally a bond mark was given to an omega by an alpha in the midst of a shared heat and rut, primal positioning meaning that the bite was given from behind. It was biology, instinct, the overwhelming need to lay claim—he understood that, had experienced it many times over even long after a bond mark was given. Fated mates were more susceptible to this too, especially when presenting early.

But this type of bonding mark made him think that it wasn’t fueled by that need or desire built deep into the rumbling chest of an alpha. At least, not completely. Looking into someone’s eyes was intimate, vulnerabilities laid bare before the person they’re going to spend their life with. That wasn’t easy, and a week prior he would’ve said that Bakugo would probably never be able to do it. To see that it was quite the opposite and seemingly unconscious on his part was fascinating.

He considered that instinct wasn’t the reason but the more he thought about it as he sat cocooned within the warmth of his sleeping bag, the more he realized it may actually be the opposite. Maybe it was instinct. Love was funny like that sometimes.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! I have a few ideas about a possible sequel for this story that would take place in the future when they’re ready, though nothing concrete just yet!

850 notes · View notes

mhathotfic · 4 years

Text

As early said, here’s three sets of head canons from the old blog for my babies that I so lovingly edited together for you all to enjoy

Warnings: swearing, sexual activity, omegaverse

Pairings: Shouto Todoroki x reader, Izuku Midoriya x reader, Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Todoroki

- Let’s be honest here poor baby wouldn’t be allowed to behave like an Omega at home

- Endeavor would probably see it as shameful for his ‘perfect creation’ to be an Omega rather than an Alpha

- He would absolutely attempt to gain his Alpha’s attention as soon as realized he liked her

- Both as an act of defiance and genuine interest

- He wouldn’t really know how to get her to court him at first

- Just kinda leaves his stuff where she’ll find them in hopes that she’ll get the hint and scent the item(s) for him

- “Oh hey! Todoroki-kun! You left your sweater behind when we were studying, sorry about the smell I kinda got my scent on it by accident” “That’s alright, I like your scent” “I, ahem… I could um s-scent more things for you if you want?”

- When it comes to nesting, he’s kinda lost

- He wasn’t allowed to make nests at home so even though the instinct and desire to build them is there he has no clue how to act on it

- When he starts feeling more comfortable in their relationship, he’d ask her for help

- He knows Alphas don’t nest like Omegas, but he figures that if he’s going to ask someone it should be the other person who’ll spend time in it

- Her advice is to find a place that makes him feel safe and secure and just let his instincts do the rest

- And that’s how she ended up with her Omega’s nest inside of her closet

- “(Yn)? Have you seen- why are you in the closet?” “My Omega demanded I take a nap with him and I’m in capable of telling him no” “But, why yo-?” “His nest is in here” “Wh-” “I’d like to repeat, I am incapable of telling Shouto no”

-Despite her obvious claim over her Omega, there’s still gonna be other’s who disrespect their relationship, which brings us to jealousy and of course it goes both ways

- He thinks it’s really cute when she gets jealous

- She doesn’t usually get possessive just agitated that someone would even think they had a shot at him

- When she does get possessive though, oh boy

- There’s a part of him that gets really excited

- She’s shorter than he is so she’ll tug on him until his face is buried in her neck and start scenting him

- Normally he isn’t into PDA but something about his Alpha making sure everyone around had no doubts about who’s Omega he is just so hot to him

- “He’s mine and I have no problem kicking in your teeth if that’s what gets it into your thick skull"

- When an Omega starts trying to flirt with her, he doesn’t usually care

- She’s really good at shutting them down quickly so he just lets her handle it

- On the off chance that the other Omega is still being pushy is when he gets mad

- He’ll stand behind her and stare them down until they get the hint and leave

- If that doesn’t work, he’ll get aggressively affectionate and demand to go back to his nest and be scented

- He doesn’t feel like getting into a physical fight, so his goal is to make them as uncomfortable as possible

- If it still doesn’t work well rip to the poor fool who that it was a good idea to still try to take his Alpha away after he literally begged to be scented

- “Alpha let’s go, if we stay any longer, I might hurt someone”

Midoriya

- One of the most sought-after Omega in Yuuei

- It’s rare for an Omega to get into the hero course and even rare for them to actually become a hero

- But there’s Baby boy doing his damnedest to become a great hero and that’s interesting to most Alphas

- He didn’t need to pursue an Alpha they just flocked to him much to his frustration

- Started being interested in his Alpha because she didn’t make such a big deal of him being an Omega

- “Why are you guys so weird about him? Yeah, he’s an Omega and that’s cool and all, but he came here for the same reason the rest of us did and shouldn’t be treated like some trophy to be won” “But you’re trying to court him to” “That’s because he’s already mine, fuck off”

- He didn’t realize she was trying to court him

- He just kind assumed she was just being nice to him

- He’s not going to complain

- Is just kinda like ‘I guess I have an Alpha now, that’s cool!’

- He’s constantly asking her to scent stuff for him

- His nest has so many scented items that it barely even smells like him and he loves it

- Has been caught rolling around in it because he missed her, and this was easier then seeking her out to ask to be scented

- “What are you doing Omega?” “O-oh, I uh I missed you and my nest smells like you so…” “Izuku Baby, I’m going to need you to stop being so cute, it makes me really want to give you some pups and we’re still too young for that” “H-huh?!”

-Jealousy isn’t the hugest problem, but it definitely happens more often than either cares for

-Like I said earlier he’s a really sought-after Omega, so he has someone trying to take him away from her every other day

- Nothing less than bonding him proper will get them to completely stop

- It’s annoying for both of them

- Like he’s practically smothered in her scent, but he’ll still has to tell others to back off because she’s his Alpha

- When she gets fed up with his so-called suitors, she’ll get really possessive

- She’ll wrap her arms around his waist from behind and bite down on his scent gland

- Not hard enough to bond him but enough to make a very clear point

- "He already told you to stop, you should listen to him because I’ve got no problem with showing you he’s mine”

- When he gets jealous it’s really cute

- It doesn’t happen often since he has that reputation of being a prized Omega

- Most don’t bother with trying to tempt his Alpha but when they do, he gets huffy

- She’d never stray from him but since she thinks it’s cute when he pouts, she won’t stop the other Omega right away

- She won’t flirt back of course, she’s just ignoring them really but that never seems to be enough of a hint

- He’ll literally just drag her off without a word until they get to his nest

- “You’re so mean, you should have told them to stop (Yn)!”

Bakugou

- She didn’t court him he courted her

- As soon as he noticed her that was it

- That was his Alpha and any other Omega who was interested could fuck right off

- Was genuinely worried that he might be too aggressive of an Omega for her

- Tried to tone it down and act more like a traditional Omega in hopes that she’d pay more attention to him

- Turns out she was into the whole feisty ‘Fuck you, you’re my Alpha now’ attitude he had

- “Why are you being so weird? You’re acting like-” “Like an Omega shou-” “Not my Omega! Mine’s a little shit who keeps stealing all my good hoodies because he thinks I don’t notice and that’s exactly the way I want him! How I want you!” “I- wait what do you mean I’m a little shit?!” “That’swhat you choose to focus on?!”

- Ok he’s obviously not your average Omega but he has the strongest nesting urges out of these three

- Tries to claim he doesn’t nest though

- That clearly carefully constructed pile of soft things tucked away in the corner of his room is just a pile of shit he hasn’t put away

- So, what if he likes to put things, he’s gotten from her in that pile?

- It’s also a coincidence that it just happens to be big enough for both of them to comfortably lay in it together

- He just happens to like cuddling her in it, but doesn’t make it a nest, damnit!

- “You know it natural for you to make a nest, right? You don’t have to be so embarrassed by it” “Fuck off, it’s not a nest” “Katsu, we’re literally laying in it right now, do you really expect me to believe that this is just a random pile of stuff?” “It’s not a nest! One more word and I’ll kick you out of it!” “If it’s not a nest and just a pile then how are you gonna kick me out?” “I swear to- oh fuck off!”

-Jealousy is very surprisingly not a problem here at all and it amazes everyone around them

- She never gets jealous over him

- She doesn’t have to because he handles it himself when others try anything

- He gets genuinely offended by other Alphas trying to court him

- They tend to be interested in trying to ‘tame’ him and he ain’t putting up with that

- Not when his Alpha already treats him so well and loves him the way he is

- when he gets tiered of a particularly stubborn Alpha, he’ll stomp over to her and cling to her side

- “You fucking see this?! This is my Alpha! I don’t fucking need your shitty ass when I already have the best damn Alpha, shithead!”

- She also handles it herself when Omegas come onto her

- He would get jealous if it wasn’t for how she handles it

- She gets mad and disgusted that they even attempted to approach her

- Tells them off right away

- He thinks it’s really hot that she gets so defensive on his behalf and so mean about it too

- One of the only times he’ll call her Alpha in public

- It’s also something that makes him really consider giving her a few pups like right that moment

- “You, annoying little bitch! You have some nerve thinking you could take my Omega’s place! Look at him, why would you think I would want you over him?”

-Ok, so I didn’t really know how to include the head canons about their heats in a cohesive way so I decided to stick them right at the end because I want them with the other head canons

Todoroki

- Baby boy is a bit clingy even when he’s not in heat so once he is?

- Oh boy

- He’s so needy and it’s really cute ok?

- He pretty much needs to be in constant physical contact or he starts to panic a little

- He hates that he clings to her like that because he thinks it’s embarrassing

- He really can’t help it though

- He’s been on strong suppressants pretty much since he first presented

- As a result the heats he did experience were intense and lonely until he was with her

- She’s the first and only Alpha he’s ever trusted enough to be around him and take care of him during his heat and he can’t stand the idea of her not being right there within his reach

- He eventually decides to stop taking suppressants

- He trusts her to take care of him and wants to experience everything he can with her and this was no exception in his eyes

Midoriya

- She might as well permanently move into his nest because she’s not leaving it anytime soon

- He has stupidly high stamina and an even higher sex drive

- Baby has always had heats intense enough to throw any interested Alpha into a rut when they get a whiff of him

- So she’s understandably possessive and protective during the days leading up to and during his heat

- He loves it

- Loves that she’s protective and won’t let anyone to get close to him

- It makes him feel spoiled and like she puts him on a pedestal

- Though it is little troublesome when she starts picking fights because some Alphas can’t respect that they’re mates

- He gets it, but he’d rather have her fucking him instead of having to stop her from fucking others up

Bakugou

- The neediest fucking brat oh my God

- Will drag her off to his nest and then act like he isn’t in the middle of his heat and doesn’t need to be fucked

- Will try to deny that he’s in heat and gets huffy when she presses the matter

- Really, he just wants her to be more assertive

- Just really wants his Alpha to put some effort into trying to take care of him

- It makes him feel desirable and like he has her wrapped around his fingers

- We all know it’s the other way around but just let him have this, it means a lot to him

- Once he gives into his heat, he’s so whiny

- Begs for her to lavish him in attention

- Doesn’t matter what type of attention she gives him as long as she’s catering to his every whim and desire

- He’s so loud to, no one has any doubt about what they’re doing

818 notes · View notes

songandashadow · 3 years

Text

Recently Read Fics

hi guys! this is just gonna be a short list of some of the fics I read in the last couple months because I’m really busy and kinda stressed out. Also, I’ve picked up reading physical books again and I’m really happy about it and have been occupied with the almost 50 few books on my to-be-read-list. Anyway, please read the tags and leave Kudos/a nice comment on works you enjoyed/liked/loved. :)

⋆ Everybody's Darling by superglass | 27k words

This WIP is the continuation of the fic Diamonds and Pearls which is one of my favourite fics. It’s an AU set in the 80′s and deals with heavy themes like the HIV/AIDS crisis of the time. The way this author writes about LGBT culture - especially Drag is amazing and I love it. The first chapter of this was posted just a few days ago and I’m really excited for the next one.

⋆ your quietest voice by flimsy | 8k words

My notes on this after finishing it at 2am: ‘This was kinda confusing to me but I enjoy the different take on time travel/parallel universe thing the author did.’ I would like to add that I liked the writing style a lot.

⋆ Ain't That A Kick In The Head! by keysmashlesbian, wreckingtomlinson | 22k words

A fun Famous/Non-Famous AU in which Louis is a football player, Harry doesn’t know a thing about football and accidentally becomes a meme.

⋆ until this blood runs cold by soldouthaz | 13k words

This was refreshing, seeing as there are definitely not enough Vampire fics in the fandom and this one is relatively recent. L has been working and living the same way for years before Vampire! Harry moves to his town and, morbidly enough, becomes his boss at the morgue. Interesting, short read.

⋆ Gimme Some Sugar by nonsensedarling | 13k words

Just a really fluffy and humorous fic including (I used to be a) Baker Harry and his Manager Louis working an overnight shift together, pining, bantering and being sweet (ha! puns).

⋆ Little by Little by nonsensedarling | 65k words

This is definitely something different from the usual A/B/O fic. Wonderful writing and the pacing is great. Omega Harry/Omega Louis.

⋆ Crystal Ball on the Table by QuickedWeen | 12k words

Cute and fluffy Girl Direction witch AU in which Harry is anxious and oblivious most of the time and the cuteness is real.

⋆ Sodom and Gomorrah by coffinofachimera | 15k words

Quoting my notes: “This is definitely not for everyone but I like it because of that. Unlike anything I've read before. Very raw and emotional. I can imagine someone who is religious definitely not liking this but I'm not, so I can't be completely sure. The ending isn't a happy one but the rest of the fic makes up for it.” - so just to be sure: read the tags!!

⋆ Against My Better Judgment by flamboyo | 13k words

Ah yes, one of the best tags in existence: Idiots to Lovers. Pining, Misunderstandings and first kisses make up this College/Uni AU.

⋆ Take My Breath Away by RealityBetterThanFiction | 153k words

I guess this is one of the better known fics in the fandom but I read it for the first time last month and boyyy was it a rollercoaster! Of course I can’t tell you anything about the accuracy of this, seeing as I don’t know anything about the British Royal Navy or even flying in general but it seems well researched and put together to me. The boys are pilots/RIOs. Definitely worth a read, even if you know nothing about the topic.

#larry #larry fanfic #larry fic #larry stylinson #larry fic rec #fic rec #larry fanfiction #fic #rec #rr april 2021 #rr

70 notes · View notes

420pogpills · 3 years

Note

I’ve been saying I’m going to do a long post about infantilization, hyper sexualization, and just general disrespect of George. But I haven’t yet because I lost motivation, but I think this current discourse inspired me a bit. If there’s anything you’d want to add or posts you’d want me to link let me know. You’ve got generally good takes about this stuff and I think it would be awesome if I got multiple opinions💖

oh boy i could go on about this topic for days :’) so i’m gonna rant for a bit lmao

i’m gonna try to paint a picture here for why i think people do infantilise george (because they do no doubt about it - i know it ain’t us on tumblr but there is a lot of people who do it on other platforms and it’s so???)

i know how usually guys are described as sexy or handsome or hot or whatever, but everyone describes george as pretty. so do i because i think that’s correct, i think he’s got very pretty features, he’s just genuinely a very pretty guy! but i guess in the general sense, pretty is usually used to describe females. combine that with the fact that george is probably the smallest of his friends (not shortest, but the most.. delicate? his hands are quite small, he’s pretty thin, all his clothes look oversized, etc - he’s got a delicate build basically) and i think that’s why such a large portion of people see him as the weakest one i guess? and so in turn people maybe think that the weaker ones need protecting, and so on and so forth.

and then the way his friends behave too, i feel like can encourage people’s warped view of george. for example dream always protecting george, maybe to some people it might make george look even weaker. suggestive comments in past like ‘you can just say he’s a bottom’ lmaooo - this of course is in no way the fault of his friends obviously, i’m not saying his friends are responsibly for people thinking george is a small uwu baby but i just mean people who do think like that might have gotten some of their ideas from those behaviours. i remember as soon as dream called him a bottom in that one stream, suddenly i was seeing people refer to george as that constantlyyyyy. so the way his friends treat him definitely does have an impact on shaping people’s perception of him.

and you know what, you’re free to think what you want obviously, like if you want to write fanfics where he’s a shy soft boy or draw fanart of him in pink dresses, that’s totally cool. what’s not cool is the people who project that onto him.

he tried to do a media share stream and his mods were losing their minds because people were sending in weird nsfw videos. someone dono’d calling him a fucking omega. people have attacked his friends for saying things about him, as if he’s not able to stand up for himself, HIS OWN FRIENDS. that is the shit that i’m not okay with.

some people seem to forget that george is literally a 24 year old man who’s got a degree - he’s been to parties, he’s most likely dated, he’s not a virgin mary, he swears like a sailor off stream, he used to be a cs:go sweat, etc etc. he’s a grown ass man even if he looks 16! it’s so insanely disrespectful to treat him like some sort of fantasy you have in your head. really and truly, he deserves better :’))))

#ask #dreamonotfound #georgenotfound #cw negative #discourse

47 notes · View notes

instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

"Holy shit the school bad boy's courting you." Dustin whispered in disbelief as he stared at both the pin and the worn bloodied bat Steve had settled between them on the table.

"Wait, he's what?" Steve frowned, fingers picking up the pin adorned with a creepy smiling face. "No way."

"No, I'm serious Steve. This is like straight-up Jason Todd style courting. He totally kicked the whole baseball team's ass for you."

“That’s ridiculous man, Frank wo-” He ended up stopping mid-sentence because actually, Frank would. He definitely would. Everyone had heard the beating he had given Billy for smacking Hak-Quinn’s ass the other day, it made sense he would go against the baseball team as his way of proving he could provide for him.

Realization crossed Steve's face, lips forming a small surprised ‘oh’ while Dustin just shook his head as if he couldn't believe it had taken Steve this long to realize he was being courted.

"So what are you gonna do?" The younger boy asked, stealing a couple fries from Steve's plate before the other could react.

"What do you mean what I'm gonna do?" He said weakly, slapping Dustin's hand away when he tried to reach for more fries.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" And it was clear in his tone he knew Steve was acting like this on purpose. "Are you gonna accept his courting, or tell him no?"

The Omega blushes, immediately flustered by the question. Having thought he would be a Beta or an Alpha for most of his life, he had known the whole courting thing would've eventually fallen on him to do it. Now with the roles reversed, he couldn't help but feel flattered by the gestures.

"Look, I don't know, maybe I will talk to him about it or something." Dustin seemed to catch the finality in his words because he finally changed topics, asking Steve instead about how Demo was faring.

Still, he had already made up his mind on this topic.

By the end of classes the next day, he hunted down the self-proclaimed leader of Legion. Steve might've been an Omega sure, but he was also taller and had the body of an athlete. Even so, he believed it wouldn't have been so easy for him to cage Frank against the wall had the Alpha not allowed him to.

"Are you... Are you courting me?" He cut right to the chase, wanting to make sure it wasn't all in his head.

"Been trying my best, yeah." Frank had a jackal grin on his face, looking up at Steve. Not intimidated in the slightest, with a flicker of something in his eye that stirred something up in Steve's gut. Something strange and new and not at all bad. "You like?"

Steve didn't answer with words. Doubts he even could. Instead leaned down and kissed Frank hard. Kissed him until they were both out of breath, Steve's cheeks flushed a pale red. A wide grin stretched his lips when he finally pulled away.

"Friday, 7 pm. I'll pay for the movie tickets if you smuggle in the food. Deal?"

"I got a key to the theater's back door. No need to spend money on me, doll." Frank's grinning again, all sharp cheekbones and even sharper fangs.

"You kick the whole baseball team's ass for me, and I don't get to spend a couple bucks on you? Unfair." And yeah maybe he was pouting, but really it didn't sit well with him not to repay Frank in some way after the way he left the baseball team.

"If you insist, ain't gonna put up a fight. Just thought I'd tell ya if you wanted to trade emptying your wallet for a little thrill." Frank shrugged, grin still solid on his face. Reaches out to cup Steve's face. "Comes with the bad boy package, y'know?"

Steve couldn't help leaning into the touch, eyes never straying from those stormy grey irises. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, dripping with honesty. "I think I would like to find out."

Frank laughed and Steve found himself liking the sound way more than he expected. It was rough and relaxed and shameless.

"Be happy to show ya, doll."

And Steve had to admit the excitement of knowing he had an actual date was enough to keep his mind off the bullying and taunts for the remaining days of the week.

Frank meets him at the theater entrance, right on time. Steve, who had walked the whole way here so as to not have to explain to his parents where he was going, is thankful that he will be able to catch a ride once the movie is done.

As promised Steve pays for two tickets then Frank drags him into another movie after the first movie ends, and another one after that. Steve doesn't feel like complaining, even if the movie genres are all over the place. He's having fun and this is the most he's broken the rules after the whole omega thing.

And really, if they makeout halfway through the second movie and end up missing half the bullshit plot, Steve only has Frank to blame. He kept heckling the cheesy bits under his breath making Steve laugh until he was hiding snorts behind his hand.

It's around midnight when they finally leave the theater, and as soon as they step outside Steve's phone starts ringing. His parents on the other end of the phone, angry because Steve's being careless.

"You should be more careful! What if something happened to you? And shouldn't you be worried about studying? You already lost that baseball scholarship-"

He must've made a face or something because Frank snatches the phone from his hand. Quick reflexes and firm grip. It takes Steve by surprise.

"Hello, Mister .. Missus Harrington -" He starts, and he's determined to take the weight off Steve as best he can and he's no Fairfield and he's certainly not Hak-Quinn, but he can play a part good enough for a phone call. "The movie ran a bit later than expected, but I'll see your son home safe and sound!"

And before his parents have any chance to respond, Frank hangs up.

Steve is stunned for a whole five seconds, blinking at Frank, before what happened sets in and he groans. "Ah shit, now they are gonna want to meet you!"

"I got makeup in my car," Frank says, clicking his tongue as he hands back the phone. "Nothing I can do about the hair."

And Steve looks at Frank dumbly for a second. Confused because, why would Frank need makeup?

"Tattoo. For hiding the tattoo." Frank waves a dismissive hand as he slings his other around Steve's waist. Comfortable. Warm. Close. "Hak-Quinn taught me how."

Steve is dumbfounded. "You would... For me? Wha-"

"... Well duh?" He kinda looks at Steve, confused himself. "I'm not exactly the kind of person people are proud to bring home but it stresses you out so I can play pretend." He raises an eyebrow, grins again, like a feral dog. "Unless you'd rather I show up as is? Full punk?"

"Oh. Oh Frank no, I'm not ashamed of being seen with you." Steve shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "I just know my parents and they will try to prevent me from seeing you. I don't want that to happen, that's all."

Frank looks at Steve. And he's quiet for a moment. And then a softer smile steals across his face.

"You have no idea how you smell right now, do you?"

Steve flinches a little, looks away, but he knows Frank's question is honest, not a jab. "I'm scent blind actually. Doc said it would get better with time but I can't recognize my own scent at all."

"You smell miserable, doll. Not too keen on handing you back to the cause of it, y'know?"

And then Frank scents him. It's light. Polite, even. But Steve knows the action even if he can't smell what it does.

Skin on skin contact and the soft rumbling purr of an alpha.

It kinda hits him then that he's not alone anymore. Frank cares. Cares enough to willingly offer to hide parts of himself just so Steve wouldn't get too hard a time with his parents. It's easily the most thoughtful thing someone that is not Dustin or Nancy, has done for him. Can't help it if he tears up a little.

"Waitin' on your answer, doll," Frank murmurs, probably aware of how Steve is feeling thanks to his scent. "Makeup will take a hot minute and we're gonna have to get you home .. eventually."

Steve ends up shaking his head, surreptitiously wiping a tear or two off his cheeks. "I'm not gonna hide you like you're something to be ashamed of. I'll just deal with them if they get too pushy."

"Cute." Frank's grin returns and he steals himself a kiss before pushing Steve towards his car.

They drive too fast and blast the music too loud. Steve doesn't know any of the lyrics, the music too far off from his usual tastes, but when he tries to somewhat sing along and Frank rewards him with a heart-stopping grin? Worth it.

As expected, Steve's parents are at the door when they arrive. Disappointed face, even more, disappointed scents. Steve's mom is glaring at Frank, his dad is just looking at Steve like he's a lost cause.

"Mister Harrington. Missus." Frank's got a jackal's grin on his face again, and Steve can't smell it, but his scent is twined around the anxious omega like an extra buffer.

It's amazing how Frank doesn't even care about the venom in his parents' eyes, writing him off near immediately with his dyed hair and throat tattoo and grunge aesthetic.

Steve's parents don't even deign to give a response, just march back inside and wait for him to follow after them.

"I had fun, thank you. I will see you tomorrow." Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to Frank’s cheek before going in and closing the door behind him.

They barely waited until the door was closed before they started demanding answers. Frank probably hadn't even left, but they didn't care and Steve hated it. Hated all of it.

His night had been amazing, maybe even the best night he had had this year, but that call had to ruin it.

Before presenting, when they had still thought he would be a Beta or a late Alpha, his parents wouldn't have bothered calling him for a night out. As long as he was home for breakfast, everything was fine. These days though, they had become protective to the point it was bordering on controlling and it bothered Steve.

Maybe he should be glad that they were trying to show they cared but it was hard to do when their words were “Stop putting yourself in unnecessary danger that will just cause more trouble for us.” and not “We are just worried something will happen to you.”

Ever since the goddamn results came back, it was always about them. How this would be a problem for them. How losing the scholarship meant they would have to invest more money in him. How Steve getting involved with a delinquent would look on them.

They don't bother asking how he is coping with it all. The changes in his body, the bullying at school they know nothing about, how he had to give up the sport he loved because society decided Omegas weren't made to be in sports. For God's sake, he had cried the morning he received the letter notifying him his scholarship had been suspended. But either they didn't know about that, didn't realize, or didn't care.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” His dad demanded, disappointment emanating from every pore in his body.

Steve might've been scent blind, but familiarity and time had allowed him to distinguish his parents' scents and the shifts in their emotions. Because of this, he wasn't spared from the full brunt of disappointment, anger, upset coming from both his parents. It was hard not to reflexively make himself appear smaller but he knew that would just make his dad angrier.

"I don't really see what the problem is, dad." He said, running a hand through his hair and sighing in exasperation. "I told you guys I would be out till late, and that I was going out with a friend. You had the location of the movie theater too. So what really is the problem here?"

"When you said you would be going out with a friend, we thought you meant that nice girl Robin, or maybe the Wheeler's kid, Nancy. You guys made such a cute couple, Stevie." His mom interjected, her tone softer but no less upset than his dad's had been.

"Mom, please. Nancy and I broke up a year ago already, will you drop it? Plus Robin is not even my type!"

"Of course because apparently, your type is no-good delinquents, you have made that clear." His dad snapped, glaring down at him.

Steve frowned, glaring back at him. "Frank is a classmate and a friend. He defended me when the baseball team started labeling me as a slut just because I'm an Omega. I think that's more than either of you have done about this!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve knew he had made a mistake. His dad's nostrils flared and his mother gasped like maybe they were sensing something he wasn't. At least his dad might've because his mother was as scent blind like him, maybe worse. There was a reason scenting was something he didn't know how to do properly.

"Can't believe you needed the help of someone like that to defend yourself. Didn't we teach you to stand up for yourself, Steve? Or do you think just because you are an Omega now you get to play the weak card?" His dad snarked, eyes narrowed.

"Honey-"

"No." His dad shook his head, ignoring his mother's hand on his shoulder. "You are to stop any contact with that delinquent. Now to your room, Steve."

"Wha- Dad-"

"To your room, I said." He didn't yell but the growl was so clear in his voice that Steve couldn't help but flinch and lower his head.

Fine. He would play to their rules while they were watching, but like hell he would give up on what he and Frank had. Not after he had just gotten it.

#alpha/beta/omega dynamics #dbd #dead by daylight #steve harrington #frank morrison #dbd frank #dbd steve #adopted au #drabbles #Morrington #frankxsteve

23 notes · View notes

captainlilyuniverseworld · 4 years

Text

Son of A B****

Title: Son of Bitch Square Filled: Omega!Sam Ship (if any): Sam/Dean, Omega!Sam/Alpha!Dean Rating: T Tags: Omega!Sam, ABO, Mpreg, Backgound ABO Summary: Sam goes to see the doctor thinking there might be something wrong or that he’s too stressed, Dean thinks Sam’s just starting omegapause, turns out they’re both wrong Word Count: 2201 Written/Created for @spnaubingo

Son of A Bitch

“I’m sure you’re worried for nothing,” Dean said. “Just stressing yourself out.”

“But it could be something,” Sam replied. “I’d rather just talk to the doctor and see what’s going on.”

“Could be omegapause,” Dean mused.

“…Are you saying I’m old?” Sam asked. “I’m not even 40 yet.”

“Okay, pre-omegapause,” Dean added.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Saying that isn’t actually making me feel better, Dean. If anything it’s making me think about morality and wills and burial plots.”

“But you’re not thinking about what could be stressing you out,” Dean pointed out. “You’re welcome.”

Sam snorted. “The way your mind works will never cease to amaze me.”

“Sam Winchester?”

He looked up at the sound of his name and saw a nurse standing in the doorway of the waiting room.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you at home alright?” Sam added.

“Everything will be okay Sam. And whatever it is, which is nothing, we will face it together. Like we always do,” Dean told him.

Sam smiled a bit. “I know…Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sam hung up as he stood and walked over to the nurse. “Right this way Sam. Since this is your first time seeing Dr. Sterns we have to do a couple routine tests for your file and then she’ll come in when we’re finished alright?”

He nodded and went through the tests. He made a mental note to see about getting Dean to the doctor at some point. They were both pretty healthy, but it never hurt to have a doctor sign off on it.

“Alright, I’ll take these samples to the lab and Dr. Sterns will be in a few minutes,” the nurse told Sam before stepping out.

He leaned back in one of the chairs and tried not to let on how nervous he felt. He sat up straighter as the door opened and a young woman stepped into the room.

“Sam Winchester? I’m doctor Sterns,” she smiled and offered her hand. “How are we doing today?”

“Just trying to remember the last time I was in a doctor’s office,” he chuckled as they shook hands. “Moved around a lot for most of my life, so I’m more used to the whole free clinic, and urgent care types.”

“Move around a lot for work?” she asked.

“Something like that,” Sam answered.

“Well, everything looks good, our labs are not too busy today so we should get those lab results back by the time we’re finished. I see you are a new patient with us, and you had a few concerns that prompted you coming in today. Why don’t we talk about those,” she said.

“Right, uh it might be nothing, and it could just be me stressing out over nothing, I’ve been having trouble sleepy lately, and I’ve noticed that sometimes I get night sweats. I’ve also been getting headaches a lot more, haven’t been in the mood for sex much lately, my mate told me to mention that one, I’ve had some cramping on and off as well and some weight gain…I went online, and from what I’ve been seeing I guess I might going into pre-omegapause?” he explained.

“If only all my patients were as thorough as you,” Dr. Sterns chuckled. “Some of the symptoms you describe can coincide with pre-omegapause. I see here you’re going to be thirty six soon, and it isn’t uncommon to start getting symptoms in one’s late thirties. However, what you’ve told me could also indicate pregnancy.”

“Pregnancy?” Sam blinked surprised.

That thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

“You mentioned that you haven’t had your heat in a few months? When was your last heat?” she asked.

“Mid May,” Sam answered. “And it didn’t last as long as it normally did. Usually it’s a week long this time it is a couple days. Three I think.”

She nodded and wrote something notes down. “If you don’t mind me asking, why is it your first thought was pre-omegapause and not pregnancy?”

“Well…if it was going to happen for me, shouldn’t it have happened by now?” Sam asked. “I mean…I’ve been with my mate practically all my life, and we’ve always shared my heat together, when I was younger I used to take birth control, but as I got older I started having bad reactions to it so I stopped, and there are times when we’ve forgotten protection, we just kinda assumed kids were just not in the picture for us.”

“Have either of you been tested to know for certain?” She asked.

“We were never in one place long enough to really think about it,” Sam admitted. He ran a hand through his hair. “But…you’re saying there’s a chance I could be pregnant?”

“There is a chance yes,” she nodded. “The blood sample will give us a more definitive answer.” Her computer chimed and she turned to look at it. “Which, it looks like we’ve got the results.”

“I haven’t been this nervous since I applied to Stanford,” Sam smiled a bit.

“Alright, let’s see here. cholesterol looks good, negative for any STDs or infections which is good, and the HCG levels in your blood are on the higher side, you are pregnant Sam,” she smiled at him.

“Really?” Sam asked.

She turned the screen so he could see. “Normal HCG levels tend to be around here, but when you’re pregnant they’ll be around here, and get higher the further along in your pregnancy. In some cases, very high HCG levels could indicate twins or even triplets. Given your age, it wouldn’t be impossible for you to have fraternal twins. Your hormone levels are a bit on the low side which could be playing a part in why you haven’t been feeling any nausea or morning sickness. That could spike the further along you get.”

“Son of a bitch,” Sam sat back in the chair. “Sorry,” he blushed embarrassed. “I don’t mean to swear it’s just…the fact that I might be pregnant never even crossed my mind and then to find out I am, and that I could have twins…it’s a lot.”

“Would you like to do an ultrasound?” She asked. “See what they look like? And it’ll tell us how far along you are.”

“Uh yeah, sure,” Sam nodded.

He got up and laid down on the exam table and unbuttoned his shirt while she wheeled over the machine. He shivered when the gel made contact with his stomach and watched the screen.

“And there is your baby,” she turned the screen so he could see better and pointed. “Judging by the size, you’re just about shy two months, which means, you conceived during your last heat, which explains why it was so short. Generally once pregnancy takes, the heat is finished.”

“Wow…They’re so small,” Sam was in awe.

“Let me print you off a couple of pictures, and I’ll write down a list of prenatal vitamins for you,” she told him.

She gave him some tissues to clean off his stomach and he sat up to wait for her.

An hour had him pulling down the driveway to their house. After almost two years it was still weird to know they had a house to call home. A permanent home. He pulled his car in next to the Impala and grabbed the grocery bag off the seat and locked the doors before making his way to the house.

“Dean?” He called as he stepped inside. “Hey boy,” he knelt down to receive a few kisses from their dog Zeppelin and Sam’s still not sure how Dean won that one one. “Where’s Dean huh? Where’s he at?”

Zeppelin barked and ran over to the sliding glass doors that led to the back porch. Sam took the pie he picked up from the grocery store out of the bag and set it in the fridge. He was pleased to see the writing on it hadn’t smeared on the drive home. He hid a few beers and soda’s in front of it. And maybe that should have been the tip off. He can’t remember the last time he had an actual drink, as he’d been drinking soda and water a lot more.

“Hey,” Sam stepped onto the back porch.

“Hey,” Dean smiled. “How’d it go?”

“Good, it was uh, it was good,” Sam answered.

“See? I told you you had nothing to worry about,” Dean turned his attention back to the grill. “Figured I’d make kabobs for dinner. I even made sure to do a healthy amount of meat and veggies so you won’t complain this time.”

“I don’t think meat on a stick by itself really counts as a kabob Dean,” Sam pointed out as he walked over.

Dean wrapped his arm around him as he turned the kabobs over and leaned up to kiss his temple. “Well lucky for me, pretty much the whole world agrees that meat on a stick by itself does count.”

Sam snorted and reached for a pepper. “I’ll go set the table. We eating inside or outside?”

“Outside, the weather’s nice,” Dean answered. “Grab me a beer too would you?”

Sam went back into the house and grabbed the plates from the cabinet and drinks for them. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Dean putting the kabobs on a plate, and tossing a few pieces of chicken to Zeppelin.

He could already picture Dean standing at the same grill with their little boy or girl. Talking them through the intricacies of perfect grilling. Sneaking extra food to Zeppelin when Sam wasn’t looking.

“I know you’re there Sam,” Dean said without looking over his shoulder.

“He’s gonna get fat if you keep sneaking him food like that,” Sam said as he set the plates on the table.

“He’ll be fine. Ain’t that right Zep?” Dean tossed the dog another piece before he turned off the grill and joined Sam at the table with a plate of kabobs.

“I’ve never seen so many vegetables on your plate before,” Sam teased. “And such variety.”

“At least I’m not getting a little paunch unlike someone,” Dean mused as he picked up his beer.

My paunch is our baby, Sam was tempted to say, it was weird to think it but it made him feel warm inside. He knew deep down Dean had always wanted a family, and Sam had always felt a little disappointed with himself that he hadn’t been able to give that to Dean despite his claims that all he needed was Sam. But now he was pregnant, and as much as he wanted to tell Dean, he didn’t want to ruin the surprise, so instead he just kicked Dean under the table.

“Ow,” Dean reached down to rub his ankle. “Mean.”

They finished eating in mostly silence, comfortable silence that came from years of living in each other’s pockets and Sam pushed his plate away once he was done. He covered his mouth as he burped.

“Excuse me,” he blushed.

“I will take that as a compliment,” Dean grinned.

“I picked up some pie on my way home,” Sam told him. “I put it in the fridge.”

“Is it apple? I hope it’s apple,” Dean said as he stood up. “You want a slice?”

“I’ll pass,” Sam answered. “But I’ll take a root beer on your way back.”

“Must be some good news you got at the doctors. You’ve been smelling all good since you got home, and you picked up pie? If it weren’t the anti-possession tattoos I’d think you were possessed by a demon or something…Which reminds…me…” Dean’s voice trailed off.

“Dean?” Sam leaned back to try and peer into the house.

He stood up and walked into the house and found Dean in the kitchen. He was standing front of the fridge holding the door open. He was looking down at the pie in the fridge. Sam had asked the bakery clerk to write We’re pregnant on top of the pie in frosting.

“Turns out it wasn’t pre-omegapause, or omegapause or stress…I’m uh. I’m pregnant Dean,” Sam told him. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said.

“Yeah…my thoughts too when I found out,” Sam chuckled.

“But what about…and all those times,” Dean said as he looked at Sam.

“Stress…it can decrease infertility and the chances of conceiving,” Sam replied. “The last decade and a half has probably been a little stressful what with hunting monsters and trying to keep the world from imploding…you know, just normal everyday stressful things.”

Dean laughed a little. “Yeah, totally normal stressful things…fuck, Sam this is…”

“Good?” Sam asked hopefully.

“More than good Sammy,” Dean answered. He set the pie down on the counter and walked over to Sam. His fingers brushed their bond mark as he pulled him down into a kiss and Sam melted into it.

“This is amazing,” Dean said as he pulled away. “You’re gonna get so fat.”

Sam snorted and shoved his mate. “Screw you.”

Dean just grinned at him. “I mean consider screwing is what led us here…”

“Oh my god, just eat your pie,” Sam laughed.

#@spnaubingo #Omega!Sam #ABO #ABO Background #supernatural #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #Sam/Dean #alpha dean #fluff #bingo board #spn wincest #wincest

90 notes · View notes

champhangman · 3 years

Text

Smoke

My second entry for theme #1 in the @12daysofchristmas challenge! This one is also my birthday gift to my very, very dear @adampage. Emi, you mean the whole world to me and words cannot express just how grateful I am for your always being there for me. I hope you've had the happiest of birthdays, and also that this puts a smile on your face.

Title: Smoke Fandom/Characters: AEW (Hangman) Adam Page x OFC (but not really OC bc it’s Emi) Warnings: Alcohol use, hints of smut Word Count: 4,665 Summary: Put one in my hand, her on my lips. Man, that's as good as it gets. Theme: #1, Bonfire Recommended Listening: "Smoke" by A Thousand Horses Notes: This fic isn't very Christmassy, but it is autumn-y?

@adampage / @cowboyshit / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @wardl0w / @hotyeehawman / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega / @rampagewriting / @hurricanranabaybay / @linziland13 / @bastardkingbrutalizer / @snarkandsarcasmftw / @rubyred1980 / @adriii-omega / @edgecution

"Who's that?"

Adam knew better than to jerk his head around and stare. But he was already twisting, a smile pulling at his lips when he saw the obvious focus of his buddy's attention. She was sitting at the bar with her friend, the neon lights reflecting wildly off her turquoise hair. She leaned back, laughing, and he felt the now-familiar twist in his gut when the sound reached him.

He turned back around to face Isiah, grinning. "That's Emi."

"Emi? The girl you were telling us about?" Isiah's face lit up. "You didn't mention she's so fine…"

"Cut it out," Adam groaned, shaking his head. "We're just friends."

"Not to sound like an asshole, but—"

"Don't."

"C'mon, let me say it."

"No." Adam took a sip of his beer and shook his head again. "Because I already know what you're gonna say."

Isiah rolled his eyes. Then, beginning to smirk, he rubbed his hands together. "So if you're just friends you won't mind me asking her to the party."

"She's already coming."

"Alone?"

"I think she's coming with—" Adam squinted at his friend. "Oh, no. No, no, no. You're not asking her out."

"Why not?"

"She's not your type."

Isiah snorted. "She's cute and has a nice ass, she's definitely my type."

Adam nearly choked on his beer. "How the hell do you know what her ass looks like?"

"I can tell." The younger man grinned. "It's science."

He wanted to ask. He really did. But he didn't want to get a lecture on the finer points of determining the size and shape of a woman's backside. "Don't ask her out."

"Worried she'll say yes?"

"No," he bit off.

"Oh," Isiah said loudly, nodding. "I get it, I get it."

Adam sighed. "What?"

"You like her. As in like her."

"Of course I like her. She's nice and funny and—"

"And you want to get in her pants."

"And I want to—" Adam set his beer down with a thump. "Th'fuck did you just say?"

"It's cool, it's cool." Isiah scraped his chair back and stood. "You're shy, Adam, I know. I'll fix it up for you."

"Wait a goddamn minute!"

But Isiah was already heading towards the bar. Adam watched, terror rising in his chest, as his friend approached the two women. Emi and her friend Jo didn't look upset at him for interrupting their talk when he leaned against the bar and gave them both a winning smile. He saw Isiah's lips move, watched in horror as the man's head tipped in his direction, then felt panic when first Jo, then Emi, covertly glanced towards him.

***

"Ladies."

The greeting was accompanied by a grin from the man that slid up to the bar and leaned so both she and Jo could see it. Smiling, Emi sat back a little and regarded the man warily. She couldn't sense any possible negativity or threat from him and relaxed a bit, reminding herself that she frequently had difficulty reading other people. But she couldn't be rude. "Hello."

"My name's Isiah." He nodded to Jo. "We've met before."

"Yeah, hey," Jo said, smiling. "This is Emi."

"Emi?" He gently rubbed his chin then leaned against the bar. "I've heard a little about you."

"You have?" she squeaked. Then, not wanting to sound like an idiot, she cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink before trying again. "Who's talked about me?"

"My friend. He can't shut up about you."

Emi blinked. "He can't?"

"Between you and me, I'm like ninety-nine percent sure he wants to ask you out. But he's too shy."

She almost snorted. No one ever wanted to ask her out. "Yeah, right."

"He almost had a heart attack when I said I was coming over to talk to you."

She wanted to look. To see who it was. She wanted to know who apparently had talked about her, and who might, possibly, if Isiah were to be believed, want to ask her out. But she couldn't. What if it were all a joke? What if she looked back and there was no one?

What if there was?

"Who?" Jo wasn't as shy as Emi. Jo didn't wait for things to happen, she made them happen. Ever since meeting her the first day she'd arrived in town, Emi had wished she were more like Jo.

"I'm sure you know him. You've gotta. He's right over there, about to have a stroke." Isiah tipped his head towards a spot behind them. "Be cool, be cool, or he'll really have a stroke."

Emi almost laughed. She turned her head just a bit, so she could sneak a glance in the direction he'd indicated. Seeing the blonde man seated at the little table, she felt her heart drop into her stomach. "Shut up," she blurted, looking at Isiah. "Adam?"

Next to her, Jo giggled into her drink. "Oh this is great."

"Shut up," Emi warned. Jo was the only person who knew she had a little bit of a crush on the man. The oftentimes too-pretty man with a sunny smile and bouncing curls who wore jeans just a tad too tight and had a liking for obnoxious Western shirts. The kids at school called him Mr. Cowboy. Jo called him the Panty Dropper. Emi… Emi just called him Adam. Even in her mind, because despite her overactive imagination that created a whole host of scenarios that would never happen, she couldn't bring herself to call him anything but Adam. Because she would die if, during one of their chats at school in the teacher's lounge, she slipped and called him something inappropriate?

"Why is it great?" Isiah asked.

"Because—"

"Shut. Up." Emi ground out the words. God, Jo was going to embarrass her.

Isiah laughed. "Y'all are coming to the party tomorrow, aren't you?"

"We'll be there with bells on," Jo promised.

"Clothes, too, hopefully," Emi muttered.

Isiah snickered. "This is great."

***

Adam didn't know why everyone called it a party. To him, parties were for birthdays or an important event like an engagement or retirement, or even a holiday. Parties involved decorations and nice clothes and best behavior. They had small talk and polite laughter.

This party had none of that. There were no decorations, unless one considered the pile of scarecrows waiting to be slung onto the fire. No streamers or balloons or floral arrangements could be seen among the pickups circled around the center of the field. Nobody dressed up, everyone wore comfortable jeans and flannel shirts or hoodies and their old boots. Each truck seemed to have a different song coming from its radio, but the volumes were still low while everyone began sharing the booze and food they'd brought.

No tense small talk over weak drinks. There were intense discussions about football, one group was talking about Christmas plans. The drinks were strong and the laughter stronger, almost boisterous. Adam casually moved around the circle, waving the smoke from the fire out of his face, relaxing a little as the evening wore on.

He was sitting on his tailgate, pouring whiskey into his cup, when headlights cut across the field. Looking, he watched them swing, heard the engine rev, and calculated speed and distance and angling as the truck reversed towards him. "Shit," he muttered, hoping his calculations were wrong. The driver hit the brakes, casting a red glow over him, and he held his breath when the engine revved again, watching the pickup's bed squeeze between his and Cash's.

"Haha, oops," a female voice laughed after the engine was cut off. The driver's door opened, missing slamming into his passenger door by barely a millimeter, and he sighed as Jo hopped out. "See?! Bet you thought it wouldn't fit!"

"That's what she said," Dax called from his truck.

A musical giggle sounded from the cab of Jo's truck, and then he saw Emi climbing out. In the glow of the light Adam could see the shade of turquoise in her flannel shirt was the same shade as her hair. Feeling liquid slosh over his fingers he muttered a curse and tipped the bottle upright to stop the pouring. He ignored Isiah's chuckle as his friend took the bottle and, sipping the excess from the top, shook his fingers dry, watching out the corner of his eye while Emi hopped into the truck bed. She held a paper-wrapped bottle in one hand and he wondered what her preferred drink was. Funny, he thought, vaguely aware of Jo speaking, how he didn't know what Emi drank. When they ran into each other at the bar she was usually sipping a mixed drink or sticking to water.

"You ain't gotta sit over there by yourself," he told her a few moments later. Jo was gone. He had no idea where she'd slipped off to. He didn't really care. Isiah had abandoned him and taken his whiskey with him, but when Emi looked at him with a smile pulling at her lips he didn't care about that, either.

"You're sitting over there by yourself," she said, lifting her bottle for a sip.

"Let's burn these bitches!" Adam didn't know who hollered it, but heard some cheers of agreement.

"You wanna throw a scarecrow on the fire?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he saw something twinkling in her hair. "Do you?"

Adam shook his head. "Maybe next year."

"What are you drinking?" she asked after a moment.

The flames rose and he heard the whoosh of hay being consumed by the bonfire. Glancing down at his empty cup, he sighed. "Jack, but I'm out. That asshole Isiah took the rest with him."

"I've got some Tennessee Fire if you want." She dipped her head and he saw she had a bejeweled band on her head. "I've been drinking out of the bottle, though…"

"You don't got cooties, do you?"

She laughed, sliding off the tailgate and approaching him. Smoke whirled around her and followed her to his truck. He hopped down, eyes meeting hers, and lifted her onto his tailgate. He thought he saw her cheeks darken, but when he climbed up to sit next to her it was gone. "I don't have cooties."

"That's a relief." He held out his cup, eyes on her face while she poured. "Thanks."

"Not to sound like a downer, but does everyone just load up and drive home drunk as fuck?" she asked, briefly gesturing to the others.

"Naw," he drawled, lifting the cup for a sip. The cinnamon flavor clung to his tongue and added to the trickle of fire the whiskey created in his stomach. "Most of us just camp out in our trucks."

"In the middle of a cotton field." Emi shook her head. "Sounds…"

"Stupid?" He laughed. "It probably is. Some people might call for a ride, and there's always one idiot or two that drive home, but the rest of us sleep it off and roll back to town in the morning."

"That explains why Jo told me to bring a pillow and a sleeping bag." She glanced behind her. "Do you have one, too?"

"Yeah, up front."

"What if it rains?"

Adam tipped his head back to look at the cloudless sky. "It never has."

"But what if it does?"

"We'll drag ourselves into the cabs." He grinned at her. "You're a bit of a worrywart, aren't you?"

"I can't help it." She frowned. "I just want everyone to be safe."

"I think it's cute."

"Please," she snorted. "It's annoying. No one wants the mom friend."

"Some of us do," he promised.

***

Some of us do.

What the hell did that mean? The question popped into her mind again, though it had been hours since he'd said the words. The conversation had shifted to work, and then quickly to other topics, and it had flowed as quickly and naturally as the alcohol. She felt warm, almost toasty, perched in the back of his truck watching him climb over into Jo's truck to get her sleeping bag. It landed with a soft thump next to her and she reached for it, eyes still on him as he got her pillow and the extra blanket she'd brought. The truck dipped when he climbed back over, and she smiled up at him while folding the sleeping bag so she could sit on it.

"You're cold natured, huh?" he asked, handing over the pillow and blanket.

"It's December," she pointed out. "But yeah, I do get cold easily."

"Hang on." He lifted one foot to the side of the truck bed and her eyes drank in how the denim stretched over his crotch. She blinked, the bed swayed, and she heard his boots hit the ground.

She should have told him not to get her stuff. It wasn't as though she was going to sleep in his truck. It would just mean something to keep up with when she went back to Jo's truck. Jo. Frowning, she looked around, hoping to spot her friend.

A neatly rolled sleeping bag bounced next to her. The driver's door slammed, then Adam was climbing back in, tossing a thick hoodie over her lap. "Here, I won't get cold."

"Thanks." She spread it over her lap, fighting what had to be a stupid smile. Then, thinking of her friend again, she looked at him. "Have you seen Jo?"

"She's around," he said with a shrug. "So, how come you moved all the way out here?"

She told him, tongue loosened by his relaxing presence and the alcohol. To her surprise and embarrassment, she kept talking, finding it too easy to tell him that she was often homesick for Georgia, her old friends, and even her parents. He talked about family, too, and they passed the bottle back and forth as the bonfire's flames died down. Their voices lowered as the noise around them softened, and it felt all too natural to move closer so she could hear him better.

There was still the occasional laugh from someone, but slowly the laughter died out. One by one the radios were turned off, then just the irregular crackling from the fire among the soft conversations around them.

"Why are you wearing a tiara?" Adam asked after someone threw the last scarecrow on the fire.

"Oh." She laughed and reached to take it off, having forgotten it was still there. Still warm and toasty, now wrapped in the hoodie that smelled of him, she tossed the tiara aside. "Jo made me wear it when we went to dinner. It's my birthday."

"Yeah?" His smile was warm. "You should've told me."

"I just did."

"I would've gotten you something."

"No, I don't expect anything."

"We could've made this a birthday party for you."

"No," she groaned, giggling at the thought of a birthday party around a bonfire in a field. It sounded absurd. It sounded stupid. It sounded wonderful and sweet.

He slipped the bottle from her hand and set it aside.

She watched him sit up, and thought he was hinting that she should go when he spread his sleeping bag out. "Last night, at the bar…"

He lifted his head when she hesitated. "Yeah?"

"Never mind."

"No, c'mon, tell me," he encouraged, stretching out on his side. He reached around her, dragging her pillow next to his, then patted the sleeping bag invitingly.

Her heart tripped over several beats. Nodding, she uncurled her legs, leaning to pull off her boots before settling beside him. She waited until she'd spread her unzipped sleeping bag and blanket over her before shifting so she could see his face in the moonlight. "Isiah came over to talk to me and Jo."

"I know." He made a face.

"He said…" She drew in a breath. "He said you wanted to ask me out."

"He ain't wrong."

A door slammed, then an engine roared to life. Emi sat up, and saw Jo's head pop up from the back of Dax's truck. Surprised, but not really, when a hand reached up and yanked her friend down, she blinked to make sure she'd seen what she'd thought, and a few seconds later saw Jo's red-and-black plaid shirt flop over the side of the truck. She had known that there would be drunken sex happening at the so-called party. It was a bunch of country folks at a bonfire with almost unlimited amounts of liquor to spur them on. She was almost afraid to look at the other vehicles, but her eyes were already sliding, her head turning slightly, and she felt her cheeks heat when she saw more than a few couples making out. From somewhere – she wasn't about to look to see who – came a series of lustful moans.

"Hell yeah!" someone hooted triumphantly.

"Oh my god," Emi muttered, lying back.

Adam chuckled. "You're not really shocked, are you?"

"No… A little. I'm not uptight," she defended. "I just don't want to see it, you know?"

"I know," he murmured.

A thought occurred to her and she boldly reached over to poke his arm. "I didn't climb into your truck to have drunken sex with you."

"I ain't the drunk sex type, darlin'."

She had known he wasn't. She didn't know how she'd known, but she had. It was still nice to hear him say it, though. "…What kind of drunk are you?"

He laughed. It was almost a giggle. "I ain't drunk. But I get sappy. If I'm with someone I'm interested in, I get a little handsy… Sometimes I get loud and want to do stupid shit like chuck watermelons out the truck on a back road."

Emi grinned. "That sounds like fun."

"Yeah? We'll have to do that together sometime."

"I'd like that."

"So when I ask you out, you'll say yes?"

"You'll have to ask me and find out." She didn't know where this was coming from, this teasing and flirting that was so easy, but she enjoyed it.

"Emi?"

"Hmm?"

"Wanna go chuck watermelons out the truck?"

Her grin turned into a giggle. "I'd love to."

"I'll get someone to drive us."

"You'd have to. If we're drunk and standing in the back to throw melons, we need a driver."

"Watermelons are hard to find around here in December, though," he pointed out with a sigh.

"We can use pumpkins."

"Now we're talkin'!"

Laughing, she pulled her covers up over her shoulder. "This has been a fun night, Adam."

"It ain't over yet."

"It kinda is…" There was no more talking around them. Every few moments she heard a little moan or a soft giggle. The fire was almost died down. If she shifted her head just right she could see the glowing embers. They flickered, sparked, and she heard someone walking by. Seconds later there were soft murmurs of conversation in the truck next to them, and she turned her attention back to Adam.

"Happy birthday, Emi."

"Thank you," she murmured, trying to block out the sounds of movement. They seemed magnified, though, as were the whispers and rustling. There was fumbling, breathy gasps, then she heard the unmistakable rasp of a zipper being lowered. Unconsciously moving closer to Adam, she bit her lip when his hand found hers and squeezed.

"You wanna get in the cab?" he asked in a whisper.

She did, but she didn't. It would involve moving, but it would get her away from the sounds of foreplay occurring just a few feet away. Hesitating, she tried to decide whether or not she could tough it out. A man began to moan, she realized just what was happening, and she nodded. "Please?"

"I got you, darlin'," he murmured.

Have her, he did. He whispered for her to stand up while he climbed out, and the next thing she knew he was lifting her over the side, catching her to him with one arm as he opened the passenger door. Once she was inside he leaned to get her pillow, then gently closed the door. She got situated, adjusting her legs and the blanket while he rounded to climb in on the driver's side. A loud moan cut through the cab, shut off when he slammed the door, and when he looked at her in the dim light she began to laugh.

"I'm ridiculous," she sighed after their laughter had ceased.

"You're not."

"What does it say about me that I can't handle listening to people having sex?" She shook her head. "I guess I'm uptight about it."

"Are you uptight because you think it's a private thing that shouldn't happen around other people, or because you…" Adam cleared his throat. "Because you don't like sex?"

"It's been so long I can't even remember," she muttered without thinking. Then, before he could respond, she rushed on. "I think it's a private thing that shouldn't happen around other people. I mean, I couldn't do it around other people, you know? But I'm not gonna judge those than can. They're obviously having fun, they're consenting adults, I shouldn't be offended."

"Hang on." He shifted, stretching out his legs. "I've had too much to try to analyze all that…"

"I guess it would be different if we were in a house and people just went off to another room. I really don't mind people having sex." Emi sighed and fidgeted with the corner of the blanket. "I think part of me is just jealous that I'm not getting any."

"All you gotta do is ask."

"Sure, I'll just march over and ask two people that I might not even know if I can join in—"

"I mean me."

"You'd go ask them if I can join in?" she asked in confusion.

He laughed. "God, you're so fucking adorable. I mean ask me for sex, darlin'."

"I don't want a pity fuck," she said with a frown. Her frazzled brain finally caught up, and she turned to face him. "You've called me that a few times now."

"Does it bother you?"

"I like it."

"Good, 'cause I like calling you darlin'. And," he said, pushing himself upright, one hand leaning on the dashboard, "I don't do pity fucks."

"You don't?"

"If I have sex with someone it's 'cause I want them." There was just enough moonlight coming through the window for her to see him smile. "And they want me, of course."

"Everyone wants you." When he snorted, she rolled her eyes. "They do! All the women at work are always saying that you're a panty dropper or you make them wet when you talk to them, and I heard one say she'd like you to crack her back like a glowstick—"

"What do you say?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Apparently y'all talk about me." He exhaled slowly. "What do you say during these conversations?"

"I don't say a damn thing."

"You don't?"

"My thoughts about you are private, I'm not about to blurt them out for everyone to hear." For some reason she felt a giddiness beginning to rise within her. She had to be going delirious. The next words out of her mouth proved that she was. "Sure, when we talk and you flash that pretty smile I have to squeeze my thighs together. And yeah, sometimes when I'm alone in my bed at night I fantasize about you bending me over and railing the hell out of me. And okay, fine, if you must know, I keep that voicemail you left me when you sounded sleepy because the way you said my name made me wet. But—"

"Jesus Christ, darlin'," he muttered. "All that, huh?"

"Yes," she groaned. Lifting her hands to cover her face, she gasped when he gently pushed them away. "You've got to be used to it, though. Women practically throw themselves at you every day."

"They really don't," he said. His fingers whispered over her cheek. "And even if they did, I wouldn't care."

"They do," she insisted. He was moving closer and her heart was starting to race. "Are you blind?"

"I said I wouldn't care, not that I wouldn't notice."

"Why wouldn't you care? If men threw themselves at me, I'd—"

"Stand there and smile and blush, all pretty and cute like you have for months," he interrupted.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been throwing myself at you since we met, darlin'."

"Bullshit," she blurted.

"Maybe you're the one who's blind."

"I like things to be given to me plainly. I'm not good at the subtle stuff."

"Yeah, I'm starting to figure that out."

"But I refuse to believe you've been throwing yourself at me," she muttered.

"Maybe throwing isn't the right word. But I've been trying to let you know I'm interested."

"Really? You've been flirting with me?"

"Have been since May." He chuckled.

"God, I am blind."

"Can you see now?" he asked. His palm was warm, slightly rough from the work she knew he did on his parents' farm. It cradled her cheek.

"Yeah," she whispered. All she could see was his eyes. And his smile. "I see clearly."

"About fuckin' time, darlin'," he drawled while guiding her close.

Their lips met with mutual sighs. She felt the longing, the desire, rolling off him, mirroring hers. He tasted of cinnamon whiskey and smoke. He smelled of the outdoors, of woods and fire, and she practically melted against him. Their tongues danced the age-old dance and their hands and fingers began to explore. His breath was harsh and hot, hers was erratic. A few grunts passed between them while they moved closer to each other.

He pulled back slightly, releasing a breathless chuckle. "I ain't fucking you the first time in a truck."

"Oh?" she asked, licking her lips as the blanket slid away.

Adam shook his head. "For about five reasons."

"Which are?" She smiled when he shifted so he was stretched out on the seat and she was on top of him.

"One, I like to have room. Two, you deserve better than a sloppy, half-drunk fuck. Three, I know you'd be embarrassed about it in the morning when everybody gives you that knowing look. Four—"

She cut him off with a kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, and she pulled back to grin at him. "Three was enough."

"But four was my favorite one," he whined, dragging the blanket over them.

"Okay, fine, continue," she laughed.

"Four, I like you too damn much to act like a horny teenager. At least, at first," he added with a quick grin. "Five, I want it to happen naturally, not because we shared whiskey and listened to people fucking two feet away."

"Such a gentleman," she marveled. "There aren't many of those around anymore."

"I'm really not. I'll eventually act like a horny teenager, trust me."

"I can't wait."

"After I bend you over and fuck the hell out of you," he promised, pulling her into another kiss.

"I really can't wait," she moaned.

"We gotta," he whispered between kisses.

"Adam?" she asked, shivering after a long, drawn-out kiss. "Are you an idiot?"

"Sometimes, yeah, why?"

"I wanna do something stupid."

"If you say I'm the something stupid thing you wanna do—"

"Let's go to my place."

His fingers curled into her hips. She heard him gulp. "You sure?"

"Positive. I've got a big bed." Squealing softly when he sat up, she gripped his shoulders.

"We'll go slow," he whispered after kissing her again.

"We will?"

"Yeah." Sliding her off him, he scooted over to get behind the wheel.

"Don't drive like an idiot," she requested.

"I won't," he assured her, clapping a hand on her thigh and squeezing. "Trust me?"

"I'm letting you take me home so we can have sex, of course I trust you."

He started the engine, then leaned to give her a quick kiss. "No regrets tomorrow?"

"No regrets ever," she promised.

#hangman adam page #aew #hangman adam page fanfiction #aew fanfiction #12daysofchristmas #completely unedited whoops #happy birthday emi :)#my fics

39 notes · View notes

hivemindcoroika · 3 years

Note

ALL Coroika ones (excluding ones you haven't done / ones you don't want to do)

OK. HERE WE GO THEN.

1. character I find the strongest

I mean if Hivemind Could control the other team it’s probably him. But hmm I guess realistically This comes down to whether goggles or sussy goggles will have their plot armor break first : )

2. Weak character

Crusty Sean ain’t shit

3. Character I find annoying

ummmm. thinky. I really honestly do not find anyone annoying enough to really warrant a strong negative reaction lol....

4. Character I find cool

n pacer 🥺 I mean just Look at her. she’s tall and she’s hot and she has a Long Gun. good for her!

5. Character I like the most

It’s sooo hard to find a favorite so I’ll just give my top 5: I like hivemind, vintage, omega, prince, and inkfall

6. Character I hate

I Do not have capability to hate a squid....

7. Already answered

8. Overrated character?

mmmmmm I’m just gonna say the S4 as a whole bc I see So much content of them compared to the other characters but I don’t... really care I guess? they’re fun. I like seeing all the coroikas

9. Underrated character?

inkfall .......

10-13. Already answered

14. Character I would Befriend

*places a pack of shin ramyun black under a box and stick trap and waits for (shadow) vintage to take the bait*

15. Who would be my Rival

Lmao aren’t the squid people like really tiny. Like really really tiny. I can punt them all into the sun no one can be my rival

16. Most trustworthy character

i would trust omega with my Life

17. Least trustworthy character

shadow vintage would tell the whole fucking city i pissed myself in class even if I paid him not to

18. Most pure character

Prince... or shadow vintage. They both have reminders set on their phones to ping them like 10 times a day to remind their friends to drink water

19. Most Evil character

i Hope it’s shadow prince. he definitely has a DIE CRY HATE sign in his room

20. Best girl

Omega, your hand in marriage please

21. Best boy

vintage, cause he’s the only character with a bowl

22. Already andwered

23. Character id trust to hold my drink a party

prince but honestly he could take a sippy if he wants I don’t really care

24. Character that would work in another media

I want to see vintage run with the cookies so I can plop him in my lobby and tap him until he loses his mind. He and lemon cookie could compare whose bowl is more round

25. Already answered

26. Least creative character

Justice be like Yeah I do digital art and then shows you this:

27-29 don’t care

30. Character I would want to be stuck on an island with

hivemind because he can just summon down the space station or whatever and ummm you know I didn’t think this through I don’t know how the international space station could help us in this situation I just think it would be cool

31. Character I would Not want to be stuck on an island with

Safari cause I don’t need his weird bad luck curse anywhere near me

32-33 already answer

34. Character that can be trusted around children

aviators he’d be so great around kids. teach them the wonders of palm trees and a pretty sunset

35-36. Already answered

37. Character most recognizable to ppl outside the fandom.

I would love to think it’s aloha even if people don’t realize it because of this fantastic iconic image

38-39. Already answered

40. Character that needs more content

Inkfall...... 👁

41. Who needs Less content

Feel like I’m just repeating myself from the overrated/underrated questions. I’m just gonna say the S4 again

42. Shortest character

Vintage. hasn’t grown an inch since middle school and he’s so pissed about it

43. Already answered

44. Best cook

Well canonically it’s gotta be army but I imagine that double egg could whip up a fantastic barbecue

45. Character that should never be in the kitchen

Well canonically it’s Emperor, and that’s entirely right he’s gonna burn your shake

46. Most leaderlike character

ummm well it’s rider for sure. if this is about characters who Aren’t already leaders though probably N-pacer or omega (still gunna hold onto my hc that omega is the secret real xblood leader and just lets vintage do it bc she got too tired of it but she can reclaim her authority whenever she wishes)

47. Most Badass character

Omega, your hand in marriage please

48. Most talented character

Probably metry, I can totally see her as the has straight A’s and also has too many extracurriculars that she completely excels at type

49. Smartest character

Either hachi, hivemind, or justice only because they have massive Most Likely to Be a Math Major vibes and as someone who is terrible and the worst at math, anyone who is good at it is just insanely smart to me LOL

50. Fastest character

Lil judd

Thank you :) for the ask :)

#ask

14 notes · View notes

oh-i-swear-writes · 4 years

Note

so.... idk if you like doing headcanons or anything? or just like little drabbles? but maybe you could talk about bucky's slick when he's in heat and how steve responds and that stuff? and maybe bucky is embarrassed? idk...

Oooh Nonnie, I do love a good head canon…. So I guess we are doing it then ;)

Beneath the cut because it got a touch longer than I planned ;)

Steve knows when Bucky is going to go into heat. The scent of his pre-heat drives him crazy enough, but when his heat actually hits, Steve is pretty much as insatiable as Bucky is - and hey, that works in both of their favour, right?

Bucky’s slick is very much one of Steve’s favourite things in the world - the stronger version of his scent it holds soaking into their bedsheets (because make no mistake, when Bucky gets slick, he’s very slick anyway, but on his heat it’s even more) drives him absolutely wild. Bucky has suggested to Steve that for the sake of an easier clean up they invest in some waterproof sheets, but Steve never quite seems to get around the actually buying them - probably because actually, he loves it. Steve loves it when they smell like one another and one of the times that’s most obvious is when he’s pretty covered in it, too.

The other thing that Steve loves though, is the way it tastes.

There is nothing that Steve loves more than working Bucky up with his mouth against him, feeling the slick against his face and in his beard if he’s bothered to grow one. He loves the way it tastes, which is every bit as sweet as it smells, and if Bucky would let him Steve might well stay down there all day, quite honestly.

When Bucky has his first heat with Steve, he wakes up in the morning, having seemingly gone from pre-heat into full heat overnight and he can already feel how hot and hard and wet he is. Subconsciously he’s already pressed his face into Steve’s neck, making a soft needy mewling noise into his ear and laps gently against Steve’s scent gland, Steve waking up to the feeling against him before his nose fills with the scent of Bucky and he knows exactly what’s up - so really Bucky doesn’t get a lot of chance to be embarrassed because by the time he’s realised what is happening it’s already happened.

If he could’ve he might, if only because other Alphas haven’t exactly been kind about it before, it is messy after all, but right now he can’t worry about anything except getting what he needs to get through this, which is a good thorough knotting from his Alpha - something Steve is only too happy to provide.

It’s the aftermath that gets him though, looking at the mess they’ve he’s made and smelling the leftover Omega lust hanging in the air of their bedroom, clinging to the sheets. His cheeks flush red and he gives Steve a look.

Steve just pulls him in and grins, kissing him all deep and filthy before pulling back and mouthing over his neck lightly before he reaches his ear. “You don’t gotta be on your heat for me to want to do this to you, Buck.”

“But the mess, Steve,” he insists, looking at it and wincing slightly at the sheets which are definitely going to need a stain soaking treatment and…

And Steve has pulled him down and flipped him over again, pressing his hips into Bucky’s lightly as if the last few days haven’t been enough. “Ain’t never gonna be a problem. I love you, and I loved helping you through that,” he promises, mouth back on Bucky’s neck now and Bucky can feel himself melting into it regardless. Perhaps, he shouldn’t be as embarrassed as he’s been made to believe…

And yep, that’s it. I hope you liked it, Nonnie! <3

#headcanons #oh I swear answers #swimming in my swamp of smut #abo #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes #alpha steve #omega bucky #fanfic #my writing

33 notes · View notes

livesincerely · 3 years

Text

invisible strings (tying you to me)

Also on Ao3. Rated E.

Disclaimer, this is an A/B/O fic, which I recognize is not everyone’s cup of tea, so skip over this one if that’s not something you’re a fan of. <3

00000

It’s the smell that catches Jack’s attention first⁠—a citrusy sweet scent that drifts into Newsies Square with the morning breeze. Jack tilts his head, glancing up and down the street for the source, wondering if he can afford to spare a few cents for a morning pastry because he needs a bite of whatever that is, can already feel his mouth watering in anticipation… and then he sees Les and Davey break through the crowd.

Les is oddly subdued, staying close to his brother’s side, and Davey looks off, somehow, in a way that Jack can’t quite but his finger on, his mouth pursed and his eyes bright with irritation and… and…

There’s another gust of wind and that delicious smell hits again, even stronger this time, and holy shit, that’s Davey.

The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stands on end.

“Hi, Jack,” Les greets quickly, before peeling off to go join the littles in their daily pre-work game of marbles.

“Hey, bud,” Jack responds, a few seconds too late for Les to hear him, his eyes fixed unerringly on Davey. Now that he’s closer Jack can see how flushed he is⁠—his eyes a touch glassy and his face and neck shaded pink with fever⁠—which is far more distracting than it has any right to be. “Uh, Dave? You doin’ alright?”

“If that’s your way of asking if I’m in pre-heat,” Davey says, and the edge of sarcasm in his voice does nothing to dull the way those words hit Jack like a punch to the gut. “Then, yes, I’m in pre-heat.”

“And that’s… okay?” Jack says, trying to find a delicate way to ask if it’s good idea for Davey to be out and about in this state.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Davey says, in a tone that indicates that he’s already had this conversation a few times this morning. “Just because my cycle’s coming up doesn’t mean I’m gonna lose my mind trying to get any Alpha I come across to—” He cuts off abruptly, nostrils flaring, but Jack hears the rest of that sentence loud and clear: Doesn’t mean I’m gonna lose my mind trying to get any Alpha I come across to knot me.

Which is an image that Jack really didn’t need put in his head.

“I know it doesn’t,” Jack says carefully, dragging his wandering mind back to the present. “I’m not sayin’ anythin’ of the sort. But Racer gets cramps like you wouldn’t believe and Blink’s nose gets so sensitive he can’t hardly stand to be out in the city, let alone hawk papes all day. I guess I’m jus’ sayin’...” He pauses, searching for a way to put this into words without invoking any more of Davey’s ire. “I jus’ wanted to check, ya know? Check and...”

Davey looks at him, and then the defensive set of his shoulders relaxes slightly.

“...You just wanted to make sure,” Davey finishes softly. “Of course you did, you’re Jack, you don’t know how to be anything but stupidly overprotective.” He shakes his head and sighs, then continues, “Sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you, but it’s already been a rough morning and I’m a little on edge. But I’m okay, honestly, just feeling a bit achy and, well, irritable, as you can see.”

“Fair enough,” Jack says. “I hadta ask, but if ya say it’s fine, then I believe ya. I mean, you’re the one that’d know, right?”

Jack feels like he’s working with only half of his brain, just standing there stating the obvious like a goddamn moron and trying not to breathe too deeply lest the cloud of Davey scent send him into a complete tailspin, but Davey smiles at him like he’s said something incredible.

“Right,” Davey agrees, his scent cresting even sweeter as his expression lifts. “Exactly.”

They stare at each other, the moment stretching on and on.

Davey takes a step back and clears his throat, blinking rapidly. “Well, we should probably get going.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jack agrees, giving himself a little shake⁠—like that might clear some of Davey’s scent from his nose. It doesn’t, of course, but a fella can hope. “Sure, of course. “

“So, um, how many more days do you think you’ll be able to work?” Jack asks as they get in line for their papes⁠—not wanting to push but needing to know what he’s in for. “Before it, uh, hits for real?”

“My cycles tend to be pretty mild, so maybe another couple of days at least?” Davey says, nonchalant, and Jack’s brain stutters like an engine misfiring. “I can’t really afford to miss too many days of work, so I’m going to try and wait it out for as long as I can. But I’ll play it by ear.”

Jack swallows heavily. Davey already smells goddamn delicious, like spiced citrus and orange blossoms, all surrounded by a heady honey-sweetness, and it’s only going to get stronger. If this is what counts as mild, then Jack’s not sure he’ll survive for another two days.

“Oh,” he says weakly. “Sure, that makes sense.”

They move steadily up the line. Jack knows that Davey is talking to him but he’s having a hard time paying attention⁠ to the conversation—even harder than usual. Everything about Davey seems especially enticing today: Jack finds his gaze lingering on the swell of his lower lip, plump and pink, on the gentle flutter of his lashes, perfectly framed around those big blue eyes, on the long, lean line of his throat, and of course, there’s still that intoxicating scent.

Jack realizes that Davey’s asked him a question and has been waiting several seconds for an answer, quickly stammering out, “Uh, yeah, definitely.”

Davey frowns. Jack panics.

“Hey, Kelly, Jacobs,” Morris DeLancey calls, annoyed, and Jack’s never been grateful for a DeLancey in his life, but apparently there’s a first for everything. “Are ya buyin’ your papes or what? You’re holdin’ us up.”

Jack fishes in his pockets with fumbling hands, hurriedly handing over the money while Davey collects the papes.

“Hey, Oscar,” Davey says after thumbing through the stack, passing them to Jack once he’s through counting them. “We’re one short.”

DeLancey shrugs⁠—like he couldn’t care less about cheating them out of a pape⁠, the bastard—and goes to hand Davey another one, but then he pauses, head cocked and nose twitching as he catches a scent. He snatches the pape back just as Davey reaches for it.

“Sure you wanna be hittin’ the streets there, Jacobs?” he says with a smirk, a dark glint in his eye. “You’re smellin’ a little… ripe for the takin’, if ya know what I mean. Might wanna⁠—”

Davey’s scent goes pungently bitter⁠—to the point that Jack staggers back a little at the strength of it. He pins DeLancey with a glare so withering that he falters mid word.

“Give me my fucking newspaper,” Davey bites out, his voice absolutely dripping with contempt.

There’s a distinct note of fear threading through the air as DeLancey holds the pape out again. Davey rips it from his hand so violently that the thing nearly tears in half, then stalks away, fuming.

“You really don’t got a single lick of sense, do ya, DeLancey?” Jack says with a sneer, then hurries after him.

“That fucking asshole,” Davey spits out when Jack catches up to him, almost too furious to speak. “Fucking DeLancey and his alpha posturing bullshit.”

“You wanna go back over there and punch him?” Jack offers, and he keeps his tone light but he’s deadly serious. “I’ll hold his arms for ya.”

Davey takes in a breath, then lets it out slowly, visibly straining for calm.

“No,” he eventually grits out. “No, it’s not worth it.”

“Do ya need a second?”

“I just want to get this day over with,” Davey admits, expression torn between frustration and weariness.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Jack promises. He can’t pull Davey into a hug the way he wants to⁠—that will put his nose a little too close to Davey’s neck and he doesn’t trust himself not to just press his face against Davey’s scent gland and inhale⁠—so he settles for a simple pat on the back. “Let’s grab Les and shake a leg.”

For a second it feels like Davey sways on his feet, leaning ever so slightly into the contact, but the moment passes so quickly that Jack can’t be sure it ain’t just wishful thinking on his part. They start heading over to Les, but then a sudden thought occurs to him.

“Jackie?” Davey questions, when he notices that Jack’s stopped walking.

“One sec,” Jack says, turning back towards the distribution line. “I wanna see if one of the fellas can come with us today.”

He tries to say this as casually as possible, but of course Davey sees right through him, hitting Jack with a look—the one that says he thinks Jack’s being ridiculous.

“We don’t need a chaperone, Jackie,” he says firmly, like even just offering the possibility is absurd. “You’re nothing like Oscar DeLancey, you’re not going to hurt me.”

Something in Jack preens at this statement, impossibly pleased at Davey’s faith in him. But this isn’t something Jack’s willing to budge on.

“It’d make me feel better to have someone else watchin’ your back. Someone that for sure won’t get caught up in any ‘alpha posturing bullshit,’” he says, mimicking Davey’s tone from before.

“Fine,” Davey says, rolling his eyes even as a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “If that’s what you want. But I really don’t think that would’ve been an issue.”

Jack thinks that Davey’s giving him far too much credit, or is just drastically underestimating how good he smells. But he doesn’t say any of that, instead continuing to scan through the throng of Newsies that haven’t set off yet, searching for someone who’d be down to accompany them.

“Hey, Racer,” Jack calls when he spots him, waving to get his attention. “Come sellin’ with us?”

Racetrack wanders over, glances between Jack and Davey and then back to Jack, and catches onto the crux of the matter immediately. “Yeah, sure,” he agrees. “No such thing as too much back up.”

“Race, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Davey says, “helping me team up against Jack, not the other way around. Where’s the omega solidarity?”

“Ain’t you the one always tellin’ me to stop taking stupid risks?” Racer asks, somewhat absently, looking over Davey with a critical eye. “Hey, Davey, can I give you a hug? You look like ya need one.”

Davey opens his arms immediately. “Oh my god, yes, please.”

Racer is several inches shorter, but he makes a valiant attempt at wrapping Davey up in his arms. A rush of seething jealousy hits Jack like a wave breaking against the rocks, but he fights it down as best he can because he knows he’s being an idiot.

Jack doesn’t need to step between them, doesn’t need to tear Davey from Race’s grasp, doesn’t need to bare his teeth at him for daring to put his hands on Jack’s—

Jack doesn’t need to do any of that. Jack doesn’t need to do anything at all, except find a nice dark hole to drop himself into, or maybe run headlong into a brick wall and spend the rest of Davey’s heat blissfully unconscious, because he doesn’t know how else he’s gonna make it through.

Race curls his fingers around the nape of Davey’s neck, Davey let out a soft, contented noise, sinking further into the embrace, and Jack has to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out for him.

He is so fucked.

00000

It’s ain’t the worst morning Jack’s ever had, but it’s damn sure up there. He’d spent the walk out talking with Les⁠—or, really, letting Les chatter at him a mile-a-minute and very carefully not looking at where Racetrack and Davey are walking arm in arm, heads tipped together as they whisper and laugh.

But it’s when they actually start working that things really take a turn for the worse. Jack’s only putting the barest bit of effort into sellin’ his papes, most of his attention focused on where Race and Davey are selling just down the street. Davey seems like he’s doing okay to begin with, but as the morning rush continues, Jack notices that he’s getting a lot of... unwanted attention, to say the least. He and Race look like they have it well in hand, but by midday Davey is visibly tense, shoulders hunched up around his ears and looking like he might beat the next person that so much as looks at him wrong bloody with a rolled up newspaper.

Jack foists one last pape off to a random passerby, barely even waiting long enough to take their coin, then makes his way over. As he approaches, he sees Race and Davey exchange a few words, with Davey disappearing into a nearby alley for what looks like a well-deserved breather.

“How is he?” Jack asks quietly, nodding his head towards where Davey is pacing and muttering to himself, incensed.

“He could be doin’ better,” Race admits, running a hand through his hair, brow furrowed with concern. “It feels like every other person that passes has got somethin’ smart to say. Asshole customers ain’t nothin’ new, but he’s gettin’ harassed pretty bad and he ain’t in any kinda mindset to put up with it.”

“You think someone’s gonna try somethin’?” Jack asks seriously, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know they ain’t exactly the same, but you can usually make it to at least your second day of pre-heat before anyone gets handsy.”

“I ain’t worried about that, his scent ain’t anywhere close to peaking,” Race says, shaking his head. “Though, I guess anythin’s possible. I’m more worried that the next person that sniffs too hard is gonna get their lights punched out.”

Jack considers this. Pre-heat can come with a variety of symptoms, and different omegas are prone to different ones. Racetrack tends to get horribly painful cramps and turns into an absolute cuddle monster, crawling all over anyone who will sit still and pet his hair for a few minutes. Blink’s senses get super sensitive, usually sending him into the safety of a nest for several days, refusing to let anyone touch him unless they’ve washed the stink of the streets from their skin. Davey, it seems, is the type that runs hot, both his fever and his temper, which is such a departure from his usual disposition that it’s almost comical.

Because Davey is normally as steady as an oak tree, impossibly patient and put together. His anger is like water in a dam⁠—carefully contained and difficult to surmount, but with a hard limit nonetheless. But now with his heat coming on, that dam seems like it’s dangerously close to bursting.

“Let’s try and keep it from gettin’ that far,” Jack says with a wince. “The last thing Davey needs is to get arrested for murder.”

“So you’re gonna talk him into goin’ home?” Race asks, looking relieved at the prospect.

“I’m gonna try.”

Jack steps over to where Davey is pacing up and down the alley. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles showing white through the skin, and his citrusy-sweet scent gone almost acidic with aggression.

“Hey, Davey,” Jack says gently as he approaches. “Maybe you should just go ahead and call it quits for the day.”

Davey whirls around, eyes on fire. “I am just fine—!”

“You are not fine,” Jack says calmly. “And I’m not even talking about your heat, though I’m sure that ain’t making things any easier on you.”

He steps forward, running a hand soothingly along Davey’s arm, then catching his wrist in his palm and squeezing it lightly. “Querido, you smell like you’re two seconds from kicking someone’s teeth in, and that’s from a block and a half away. You’re fucking miserable.”

Davey deflates, his head hanging low. “I could keep selling,” he says, but it’s a weak protest. “I could.”

I know you could, if ya had to,” Jack assures him. “But ya don’t have to. You don’t got nothin’ to prove to nobody, you hear me? People are dicks, that ain’t your fault.”

“Newsies code: if you’re walking, you’re working,” Davey counters stubbornly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “I’m walking, so I should be working.”

“I never shoulda told ya about that stupid code,” Jack says softly, shaking his head. “All ya do is use it as a excuse to work yourself into the ground.” He steps closer, tapping at Davey’s chin with his forefinger until he meets his eyes. “Davey, it’s okay to need a day. All of us need a day every now and then⁠⁠—this ain’t no different than those times when Crutchie needs a break to rest his leg or last month when Albert had that bad cold that knocked him on his ass. It happens. So stop bein’ so hard headed and take care of yourself for once, yeah?”

Davey huffs out a laugh. “You’re one to talk about being hard headed, Jackie,” he says, deflecting, and maybe some other time Jack would let him shrug his concerns aside, but not this time.

“Dave, I’m serious,” Jack says. “We got your back, okay? We’ll keep an eye on Les, split up your usual share of papes between the lot of us, and sell as many as we can. It’ll all work out⁠; just let us help you, alright?”

“Alright,” Davey finally agrees.

“Thank you, Dave,” Jack says, and he pulls him into a hug.

Davey comes easily into the embrace, hooking his chin over Jack’s shoulder and leaning into him with a soft sigh. Then he lets out a tiny, startled noise and all but collapses against Jack’s chest.

“Dave!” Jack yelps, hands flying to Davey’s waist to steady him. He’s gone completely limp, his knees buckling out from under him, eyes glazed over. “Davey, what⁠—?”

And then Jack smells it.

Jesus Christ does he smell it.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

“I thought you said ya had a couple more days before it hit?” Jack exclaims, shifting Davey around until he can cradle him against his chest. He can feel the heat pouring off of Davey even through his layers of clothes, sweat starting to bead fresh at his temple.

“I do,” Davey says, but it comes out as more of a moan, tucking his nose right against Jack’s scent gland and inhaling shakily. Jack’s fingers tighten around his waist of their own accord. “I… It never hits early, it always comes… exactly… on time.”

But it’s undeniable. Davey’s blown right through the early stages and is revving up into a full-blown heat: right here, right now.

Davey’s hands find the front of Jack’s shirt, clenching the fabric tight between his fists, his breaths coming in short, desperate pants. His scent has kicked up tenfold, saturating the air with citrus-sugar-honey-spice, and Jack can feel himself starting to lose it, his own scent spiking as he starts to spiral.

Jack wants him. Wants to pin him up against the nearest flat surface and lick him all over. Wants to press his teeth against all that pretty, perfect skin until he’s covered in Jack’s scent and Jack’s marks. Wants to claim. Wants to make Davey his.

“Race!” Jack calls out. He tries to focus, tries breathing through his mouth instead, but it does absolute fuck all to help⁠—now he can taste Davey on his tongue. “Racetrack!”

Race comes running, skidding to a stop just inside the mouth of the alley, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, alarmed.

“Help,” Jack pleads, struggling to think rationally under the onslaught of Davey, but it’s like walking against the tide. His hands sit heavy on Davey’s hips, just barely resisting the urge to pull him closer, but also unable to push him away. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold out. “Tony, help.”

Racetrack takes a cautious step forward.

“Okay, Jack, how about we just⁠—” Racetrack puts his hand on Jack’s arm, trying to coax him into letting go, and Davey fucking growls, his lip curling back in a full-on snarl, an unmistakable declaration of back the fuck off, which is possibly the hottest thing Jack’s ever seen in his life.

“Or not!” Race yelps, quickly backing away, both hands raised in surrender. “Not is fine too, holy shit.”

“Fuck, Race, I’m so sorry,” Davey says, groaning in embarrassment, head falling against Jack’s chest. “I didn’t mean to⁠— What is wrong with me?”

“You’re in heat,” Race says, like that isn’t obvious at this point. “Your instincts are takin’ over.”

“But it’s never…” Davey struggles to find the words, starting to succumb to the heat haze once again. “It’s never like this.”

Race inches forward once again, this time moving towards Davey; Davey stiffens at his approach but manages to keep his head, standing stock still in the circle of Jack’s arms.

“Let go of Jack, Davey,” Race murmurs, tugging lightly at the bottom of Davey’s vest. Davey’s hands fist even tighter in the fabric of Jack’s shirt, a low whine building steadily somewhere in the back of his throat. It takes everything Jack has not to react to the sound of it, to keep his grip open and loose instead of pulling Davey in tight like every fiber of his being is screaming at him to. “You gotta let him go.”

Davey trembles, his scent souring with distress, and that’s even worse somehow⁠—like a shot straight to the heart. Jack clenches his jaw, biting his lip so hard he tastes blood, but he doesn’t move.

Racetrack says, “Davey, let go.”

There’s an infinitely long pause. Then, with a pained whimper, Davey’s hands drop back to his sides. Jack forces himself take a step back, and then another, and then another⁠—until Davey is safely out of arm’s reach⁠.

“Take him home,” Jack pants out, because if he doesn’t say it now he’s not sure he’ll be able to get the words out at all. It feels like someone’s sent an electric current up his spine⁠, liquid fire spreading through his veins: scorchingly hot and and almost painfully strong. “Racetrack, get him home.”

Racetrack cups a hand around Davey’s elbow, helping him lean against a stack of shipping pallets. Then he looks back over at Jack.

“Go get Les,” Race instructs him. “Tell him what’s going on. Then swing by West Avenue and find Specs, he should be closest, and send him this way.”

“Okay,” Jack says, but he doesn’t move. He’s still staring at Davey, at the furrow between his brow and the tense line of his shoulders, at the sweat beading across his forehead and unhappy set of his mouth. Every inch of him is screaming hurtdangerprotecthelpfix to Jack frazzled instincts.

Jack wants to have him, hold him, comfort him, protect him. He needs to protect him, needs to with a sort of all-encompassing intensity that makes his fucking bones ache. Just the thought of leaving him feels like tearing his own heart out of his chest.

“Jack,” Racetrack insists. “You need to go, okay? You being here is only gonna make it worse.”

But the first thing he needs protection from is Jack, and that understanding is what finally gives Jack the strength to stagger away, to put one foot in front of the other and walk away from Davey.

“Jack?” Davey whimpers, and Jack can’t. He can’t. He can’t leave him, he can’t leave him here, Davey needs him, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. “Jack.”

But somehow, Jack does.

00000

Jack is absolutely impossible to live with for the next couple of days, and even though he knows it, recognizes that he’s stalking around the Lodging House like a particularly pissed off bear, he can’t make himself stop.

All he can think about is Davey⁠: the look on his face, the bright blue of his eyes, the way he felt in Jack’s arms, and that unforgettable scent.

Jack’s not an idiot, he knows what Davey’s doing right now⁠. Imagines the long expanse of flushed, sweaty skin, spread deliciously across his bed. Eyes closed and lips parted, head thrown back. Muscles flexing, fingers clenching, hips working.

Jack presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, like that might stop the endless stream of images flickering through his mind, trying to will away his erection before it can fully form because if he has to jack it any more today his dick might actually fall off.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Davey like this. It’s rude and demeaning and perverted all kinds of other adjectives that basically add up to this: Davey is his best friend and Jack is a fucking asshole, no better than any other knot-head alpha on the street, completely losing control of himself like some sort of animal.

He doesn’t have any claim to Davey, he doesn’t⁠—not that his heart or his instincts are willing to accept the truth of that fact. Davey deserves better, deserves to be treated with all the respect and care in the world, deserves someone that will be able to keep up with that sharp mind and sharper tongue, someone that can give him stability and comfort and a good life.

Someone better than Jack.

But even just thinking about Davey with some hypothetical somebody sets Jack’s teeth on edge, makes his eyes flash red and a growl rumble through his chest. He throws himself back against the rooftop with a groan, angry and embarrassed and aroused and guilty. God—fucking⁠—damn it.

There’s a knock on the rooftop door, and then Crutchie’s head peeks out.

“Hey, Jack,” he says, voice gentle the way all of the Newsies’ voices have been the last couple of days, Jack’s fluctuating scent putting everyone on edge. Another wave of guilt rises up in him but Jack works to choke it back, trying not to let anything seep out. No one else should have to deal with Jack’s issues. “Uh, don’t freak out, but Sarah’s downstairs. She says she needs to talk to you, and it sounds like it’s serious.”

Jack jolts to his feet, heart in his throat. Because he knows, he knows, that this is about Davey.

Something’s wrong, a voice whispers in Jack’s ear, wronghurthelpwherefix.

Someone, maybe Racer or Finch, has lead Sarah to the side room just off the main hall. She smells agitated, her long hair thrown up in a messy bun and her nails bitten down to the quick, fiddling with a loose string on her blouse. She looks up when she hears them enter and her eyes are shaded dark with worry; Jack’s heart kicks into double time.

“I’ll give you the room,” Crutchie says, going to leave.

“Actually, Crutchie,” Sarah interjects, biting her lip. “Would you mind staying? I think that would probably be for the best.”

Jack goes stiff. He doesn’t like the implications of that request⁠—that whatever she’s about to tell him is so bad that she thinks he’ll need Crutchie for support.

“Jack,” Crutchie says, rubbing at his nose. “At least let her talk before you start freakin’ out.”

Jack nods and makes a concerted effort to tamp down his scent, knowing that the crazy, distressed alpha pheromones he’s putting out aren’t pleasant for anyone.

He’ll let Sarah talk. He’ll be calm. It’ll be okay.

“What’s wrong?” Jack blurts out. “What’s⁠— Is it Davey? Is he okay?”

“He’s… not doing great,” Sarah quietly admits, and a spike of fear hits Jack so strongly that he goes dizzy with it.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“This heat hit him really hard,” Sarah says, and there’s a tiniest hint of a tremor in her voice, which for Sarah might as well be a wave of tears. “I’ve never seen him like this. He can’t sleep, can’t keep any food or water down, and he’s burning hot and nothing we try can get the fever to break. We asked the nurse who lives downstairs to come look at him, and she thinks it’s the result of some kind of incomplete scent bond⁠—that Davey’s body thinks he has an alpha, has found his mate, and the heat won’t be soothed without them.”

“Okay,” Jack says, raking a hand through his hair, feeling a little like he might shake out of his skin. “Okay, well, does Davey know who he’s scent bonded to? A scent bond only happens ‘cause of a courtship, right? So he must know who it is.”

Jack’s stomach churns. He can’t imagine how he’s missed the signs of a courtship, or why Davey wouldn’t have told him about it.

Unless, Jack realizes, heart sinking, unless he figured it out. Unless he found out about Jack’s feelings and chose not to tell him about his suitor. About the person he actually wants. The person he wants to mat⁠—

Jack staggers to the nearest wall and leans against it. “Who is it?” he grits out. “Who…?”

Sarah and Crutchie exchange a glance, one full of shared understanding. Jack has a brief moment of betrayal, outraged that Crutchie knows who Davey’s been courting with too, that maybe it’s some kind of shared secret that everyone else knows about but Jack⁠—

“It’s you,” Sarah says. “Jack, it’s you.”

“What?” Jack breathes.

“It’s you,” Sarah repeats. “Of course it’s you. Jack, who else would it be?”

Jack blinks, then blinks again. He’s hearing her words but it’s like he can’t internalize what she’s saying, the information hitting his ears, then bouncing away without sticking.

“....Me?”

“Yes,” Sarah says, the tone of her voice starting to edge towards exasperated. “Davey’s instincts think you’re his mate, that’s why his heat flared up early when he was with you and why it’s been so bad.”

But that’s impossible, Jack thinks, and he tells her as much. “We ain’t even courting, there can’t be a scent bond.”

“Maybe you haven’t said the words, ‘hey, can I court you?’” Sarah disagrees, shaking her head. “But you’ve definitely been treating him like he’s an omega you’re courting.”

Jack stares at her. Sarah heaves a massive sigh.

“Jack, the two of you are so mated it’s disgusting,” she informs him. “You practically live in each other’s pockets, scenting each other, sharing food and clothes, super protective and possessive of each other. The only surprising part about all this is that you’re not mated already.”

“You look at Davey like he’s the center of your world, Jack,” Crutchie chimes in. “He’s the only one that’s always able to calm you down, the only one that’s always allowed into your space. We’ve all been waiting for you to get together for ages.”

Jack’s thoughts whirl and whirl.

“Okay, fine,” he eventually says, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s no big secret that I’m in love with Davey, but are you sure I’m the one he’s scent bonded to? Just ‘cause I want him doesn’t mean he wants me back⁠⁠—maybe he’s got some kinda private courtship thing goin’ on that he jus’ hasn’t told us about⁠⁠.”

“It’s you,” Sarah says flatly.

“Okay, then are ya sure that it’s a mating thing?” Jack asks. “Because yeah, I’m enough of an lovestruck idiot that I’ll buy that I was accidentally courting Davey⁠—” He can feel the back of his neck heating up in mortification even as he says it. “—but are you sure Davey actually wants this, that it ain’t just his heat talking? Maybe he didn’t mean to… reciprocate or whatever, and the scent bond was an accident. Maybe he don’t actually want me⁠—”

Sarah reaches out and slaps him over the head. “Ow, Sarah, what⁠—?”

“Stupid, overprotective alphas,” she says with a scoff. “Always thinking they know best. Davey’s asking for you, okay? He wants you. If you’re not ready to take the next step, not brave enough to admit how you feel then, fine, whatever, but at least have the guts to come out and say it instead of pretending like Davey doesn’t know what he wants just because he’s in heat⁠—”

“Wait,” Jack interrupts, dumbfounded, because there’s no way he just heard Sarah say what he thinks she said. “He actually said he wanted me? He asked for me, specifically?”

“Davey’s in love with you,” Sarah says, with the strong implication of ‘you goddamn moron’ underneath. “Of course he asked for you.”

The ground shifts and spins beneath Jack’s feet. Oh.

Sarah seems to take Jack’s stunned silence for hesitation.

“Look, if you’re really that against it⁠—if it’s making you uncomfortable⁠—then you don’t have to help,” she says, starting to worry the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “But, the nurse told us that if the alpha he’s bonded to can’t help him, then the only other option is to take him to a heat clinic.”

Jack’s vision blurs red. He must lose a few seconds because the next thing he’s aware of is Sarah’s furrowed brow, her eyes darting worriedly between Jack and Crutchie, who’s startled away. Jack doesn’t have to look at him to know that Crutchie has covered his nose and mouth with his hand in a futile attempt to block out Jack’s scent, which has gone absolutely acrid in response to this statement.

Sarah’s nose wrinkles, and then she sneezes twice in quick succession. “I’m guessing you’d rather not let that happen?” she delicately asks.

“No,” Jack says, his voice rumbling somewhere low in his chest. “No, not if he’s… Not if he really…” He stares at Sarah again, expression hard. “You swear this is what he asked for?” he demands. “You’re sure he wants me?”

“I’m sure,” Sarah says, gently, like she knows how important it is for Jack to hear it. “Jack, he’s been asking for you since his heat started. He begged for me to come get you. I’m sure.”

Jack swallows, then lets out a slow, shaky breath. “Okay.”

00000

“Wait here,” Sarah says. Jack blinks, then realizes that between one moment and the next they’ve made it all the way to the Jacobs’ building. “It’s just Mama and Davey upstairs, but I’ll tell them you’re here.”

Jack gives a jerky nod and Sarah disappears inside, returning some twenty minutes later with Mrs. Jacobs and a suitcase.

“How’s he doin’?’” Jack asks, skin tight with worry and anticipation.

Sarah shakes her head. “Not great,” she says. “It’s a good thing you came, I don’t think he could’ve handled much more of this.”

“Hello, Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs says, and she looks exhausted but her scent is tinged with relief. “Did Sarah tell you everything?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack says. “I⁠—”

Jack tenses, nostrils flaring, and he whips around just as a third person exits the Jacobs’ building. Jack manages to keep from growling at the unfamiliar person but only just barely, and it’s a good thing he does. Because this alpha is older, at least fifteen or twenty years older than Davey’s mother, and is so obviously not any kind of romantic competition that Jack feels more than a bit stupid for letting his senses get away from him.

As if she knows exactly what he’s thinking, the other Alpha lets out a dismissive snort, pinning him with a look that’s thoroughly unimpressed, and Jack feels something inside him stand at attention. She might not be competition, but Jack has no doubt that she could still lay him out on the concrete if she wanted to.

“This is the one?” she barks out.

“Yes, Mrs. Lansdon, this is Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs confirms with a nod. “He’s the boy Davey’s bonded to.”

“And what on Earth possessed you to court and scent bond with an omega, only to abandon him when he needs you most?” Mrs. Lansdon asks him, raising an eyebrow.

Jack forces himself not to rise to this bait. “I didn’t know that’s what I was doin’,” he grits out, in a voice he hopes is at least approaching calm. “I didn’t realize what’d happened until just a while ago, when Sarah told me.”

“You’re saying you accidentally scent bonded to an omega?” Her tone of voice tells Jack exactly what she thinks of this idea.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…” Mrs. Lansdon turns back to Davey’s mother. “Esther, far be it from me it insert myself in all of this, but are you sure this is wise? It’s not too late to make an appointment with the heat clinic. I’ll escort you myself if that’s what you’re concerned about…” She trails off mid-sentence, both eyebrows shooting up high on her wrinkled forehead⁠—no doubt in response to the distressed, frantic alpha scent that’s rolling off of Jack in waves.

“No,” Jack chokes out, his whole body clenching up at the thought. “Not if Davey’s asking for me. Not if this is still what he wants.”

“I thought you said it was an accident?”

“It was, but⁠—” Jack pauses, struggling to articulate himself in the face of this unexpected scrutiny, his every instinct urging him to just shoulder his way up the stairs and find Davey. “—But that don’t mean this ain’t important to me, that Davey ain’t important to me. Because he is. He’s everythin’ to me.”

Mrs. Lansdon hits him with a shrewd, evaluating look, then her expression seems to soften ever so slightly.

“I suppose it’s not a crime to be young and foolish,” she concedes. “You aren’t the first alpha to have his instincts gallop off with his heart and you won’t be the last.” She turns back to Mrs. Jacobs and says, “Your boy will be perfectly safe, Esther, don’t you worry. All of the other tenants are betas, and if I see any strange alphas roaming around, chasing after a scent knot-first, I’ll shoot them.”

She says all of this very mildly, as if simply commenting on the weather. Sarah’s brow furrows and Mrs. Jacobs gives a nervous smile, like neither are sure if this is a joke or not, but Jack is under no such delusions. Mrs. Lansdon is utterly serious.

“Thank you,” Jack says, truly meaning it.

Mrs. Lansdon looks at him again, and that judgmental exterior thaws out even further. “Well, you just get on up there and take care of your omega,” she says gruffly. “It won’t do to keep him waiting. Let us sort out all the rest of it.”

“I will,” he promises, to Mrs. Lansdon, to Mrs. Jacobs, to Sarah, and to himself. “I’ll take care of him.”

“There’s bread and turkey in the kitchen for sandwiches,” Sarah tells him. “Plus a bag of apples and a good supply of water. We just did laundry, so there are plenty of linens and clean clothes in the wardrobe.”

“Make sure you keep him hydrated,” Mrs. Jacobs says, hefting her purse more securely over her shoulder. “And see if you can get him to eat something. We’re staying just up the road with another family from our synagogue, I left the number for you in case there’s an emergency.”

“Just follow your instincts and you’ll be fine,” Mrs. Lansdon advises.

“Oh, and Jack,” Mrs. Jacobs says, just before he goes to head inside, her expression serious. “There’s a package of alpha sheathes on the kitchen table. I expect you to use them.”

Jack feels his face turn red. “Right,” he squeaks out. “Right, of course. Understood, ma’am.”

He hurries inside, rushing up the stairs two and three at a time.

Jack can smell Davey the moment he reaches the floor for his apartment, a hint of sweetness in the air that makes Jack’s mouth water before he even gets the front door open. He finds the sheathes right where Mrs. Jacobs said he would, and though he’s mortified at the thought of her or Davey’s father going out and buying them, he’s also grateful for their foresight. A pregnancy is the last thing either Jack or Davey needs.

The further he walks into the apartment, the stronger that incredible scent becomes. It’s already doing things to him⁠—making his brain cloudy and his heart race, his dick starting to strain against the front of his pants⁠—growing stronger and stronger until all Jack can smell is Davey.

He pauses just outside of Davey’s bedroom, grasping the doorknob in unsteady hands; that spiced-sugar-citrus smell is so heavy in the air that if feels like it’s coating the inside of his mouth. He pushes open the door.

Jack’s eyes go wide, his brain skidding to a screeching halt. The sheathes fall from his suddenly slackened grip, hitting the floor and bouncing away, but that’s not important right now. Nothing’s more important than what’s in front of him.

Davey is draped across his bed, gloriously naked with a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, and the sight and smell of him is like nothing Jack’s ever dreamed. His hair, usually combed neatly across his forehead, is sticking up in every direction and his eyes are glassy with fevered desire. His hips are moving in tight, tiny circles, but he’s rocking into open air⁠—not an active attempt to get off, but like he just can’t help himself⁠—and his chest is heaving, all that bare skin flushed and rosy from his heat.

He tips his head back, giving Jack an unobstructed view of the long, lovely line of his unmarked throat, then turns to face him. As their eyes meet something in Jack’s chest stills and centers, some baser instinct prowling in the back of his mind whispering, ‘Oh. Oh, that’s mine.’

“Jack,” Davey moans, and the sound of it is like a siren’s call. Jack’s stripped off his shirt and vest before he realizes that he’s moved. “Jack.”

“Jesus Christ, Davey,” Jack growls, fumbling for his fly, stepping out of his pants as he moves closer. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

“Where have you been?” Davey demands, nonsensically, and Jack’s just found out about all this, came almost immediately once he understood what was going on, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s wondering the same thing. Where has he been?

“I’m here, now, sweetheart,” Jack says, climbing onto the bed and settling between Davey’s legs, right where he’s supposed to be. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Jack runs a soothing hand along Davey’s stomach and hips, then spreads his cheeks nice and wide, uncovering the perfect, rosy furl of Davey’s hole. He’s slick with need, all glossy and pink, but nowhere near as stretched as Jack had expected him to be after nearly two days of heat.

“Haven’t you been…?” Jack asks as he runs a finger through the delicious mess of slick glistening around Davey’s entrance, because he can’t imagine Davey getting to this point⁠—all strung out and panting and aching with it⁠—and not doing anything to quell the fire.

But Davey shakes his head. “I tried at first…” he whines, unspeakably frustrated, canting his hips up into Jack’s touch and letting his thighs fall open that much more, beckoning Jack to explore further. “But it wasn’t helping, it wasn’t ever enough, and that was worse than not touching myself at all.”

Jack nips possessively at Davey’s inner thigh, watching the skin there bloom red under his ministrations, then lowers himself down, pressing his nose right to where that intoxicating scent is strongest. He lingers there for a moment, just basking in the heady scent of Davey, and perfect, and mine, mine, mine, then licks him right where he’s wettest, lapping up every last drop of that thick, honey-sweetness. It’s absolutely incredible⁠—the taste of him is better than anything Jack could’ve ever imagined⁠—and he can’t help but groan, the sound of it rumbling low in his chest.

“Oh, fuck,” Davey gasps, and his hands go tight in Jack’s hair, pulling him closer. Jack doesn’t need to be told twice, pressing his tongue deep inside, working him open with every swirl and flick and thrust. Davey is hot, searingly hot under his hands and on his lips, and Jack understands why the Jacobs’ were so worried, because there’s no way this is a regular heat. But the thought slips away as quickly as it arrived because this is everything, this is where Jack belongs⁠—eating Davey out until he’s trembling and desperate for it, just as wet from Jack’s tongue as he is from his slick.

“Jack,” Davey begs, nails digging into Jack’s scalp. “Jackie, please, I need more.”

“You’re not ready yet,” Jack says. He pulls off Davey’s hole just enough so that he can slide two fingers into him, and Davey cries out, a throaty, guttural noise that sends a bolt of want shooting straight to Jack’s dick.

“Jackie⁠—”

“I said, you’re not ready yet,” Jack growls, adding another finger and crooking them up, and Davey moans, back arching up off the bed. “You gotta trust me, sweetheart. You gotta let me help you.”

Davey quivers beneath his hands. “I can’t,” he sobs. “It’s not enough⁠— I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, cielito,” Jack murmurs, working his fingers even deeper. Davey tears at his sheets, scrabbling for some kind of anchor, then one of his hands comes up to wrap around his cock, jacking it hard and fast in his fist. “That’s it, Dave, c’mon. I wanna see you. I wanna watch you come on my fingers.”

“Jack,” Davey mewls, and he’s soaking, dripping all over Jack’s hand, pretty and perfect and so, so close. “Jack, I need… I want… Jack.”

“Give it up for me, David,” Jack commands. He twists his hand, scissors his fingers, finds that little spot inside and presses it hard, over and over again. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

Davey’s voice breaks on a scream, his body locking up and his muscles clamping down around Jack’s fingers like a vice. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure, come striping his belly as he twitches in Jack’s arms, and it’s like something reaches into Jack’s chest and pulls, shifting the landscape of his heart around until Jack can barely breathe around the discovery of Davey, Davey, always Davey that ripples through him in time with his pulse.

“God, Davey, you are fucking gorgeous like this,” Jack says, eyes raking greedily over Davey’s form. “Tan bonito, tan guapo, y es todo para mi.”

Jack leans over him, biting and kissing at every bit of skin he can get at as he works his way up the long lines of Davey’s body. Davey’s even prettier in this moment just after: that edge of burning desire bordering on pain soothed away, leaving only sweet satisfaction behind… and with a plea for more simmering just underneath. Jack can’t do anything except oblige.

“Jack,” Davey moans when Jack’s lips find one of his nipples, his hands threading through Jack’s hair once again. “Oh my… mnh.”

“Tell me what you need, Davey,” Jack rasps against that fever-hot skin, moving over to give the other nipple the same attention, swirling his tongue around it until it pebbles in his mouth. “Let me give you what you need.”

“You, Jackie,” Davey says, arching up into Jack’s mouth with a breathy sigh, his knees coming up to bracket Jack’s hips. “Just you. Always you.”

“No,” Jack says, pulling away and bracing himself with his hands on either side of Davey’s head, forcing Davey to hold his gaze. “Tell me, David. I need you to tell me.”

Davey looks utterly debauched lying underneath him, mouth open and panting, pupils blown wide and eyelashes fluttering against the rosy flush of his cheekbones, but his voice is steady and serious when he says, “I need you, Jackie. I need you to fuck me, I need your knot. Please, alpha.”

Jack’s whole body shudders at these words, his heartbeat a deafening roar in his ears. “You have me,” he breathes. “I’ll give it to you, you’ll have me, omega.” Then he closes that whisper of space between them and kisses him.

It’s hot and deep and a little frantic. Davey groans, his lips parting eagerly to his own, and then Jack’s licking into his mouth, needing to lay claim to every inch of him. Because Davey is his, that lush mouth and those bright eyes are Jack’s, those soft little keens of pleasure and the spike of sugar sweetness in the air are all for Jack, only for Jack. He takes Davey’s lower lip between his teeth and sucks, swallows down Davey’s answering moan and keeps on kissing him, starving for more of him, and it’s only then that Jack realizes that he’s growling, actually growling into Davey’s mouth, the vibrations rumbling through the both of them from where they’re pressed together.

Davey looks stunned, just absolutely amazed and overwhelmed, and he reaches up with trembling hands to cup around either side of Jack’s face, thumbs sweeping gently over Jack’s cheekbones. “Jack?” he asks, voice hushed with reverence.

“I know, Davey,” Jack replies, nuzzling at Davey’s neck as he tries to regain some semblance of control. “I’m right there with you.”

Because he’d understood the explanation, he’d known, distantly, what a scent bond meant, but that’s nothing compared to this⁠—this feeling of perfectly matched pieces finally slotting into place, of home and right and mate. Of yours and mine, and mine, but yours.

Davey squirms in Jack’s hold, his eyes starting to smolder and his scent surging with a fresh wave of arousal, and Jack latches onto it, uses it to ground himself. Davey needs him, that’s what matters. Everything else can wait.

Jack kisses him again, then leans over to grab a sheath from where he dropped them on the floor, rolling it on with shaky hands.

“This still what you want?” Jack asks.

“Yes, but⁠,” Davey bites his lip, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I want⁠ to⁠... Can we⁠...?”

Davey flips over onto his stomach, lifts up on his hands and knees, and presents, just like that. Jack inhales sharply, feeling his eyes bleed red.

He’s only human. And Davey is everything.

Jack’s instincts take over. He kneels behind Davey, curls his hands around his hips and tilts his pelvis up, gets a perfect view of shiny, slick-covered thighs and a dripping wet hole, then lines himself up and pushes in, pressing forward until his hips are seated right against Davey’s ass.

Hot, scorchingly hot, hot enough to burn Jack from the inside out, and devastatingly tight. Jack can’t breathe, can’t think, his spine stiff as he fights against the urge to just take and take and take. Davey makes a noise that’s all startled pleasure, spreads his knees even wider, then tries to fuck himself on Jack’s dick, desperate and clumsy with it. Jack tightens his grip on Davey’s hips⁠—an unspoken command to settle, to let Jack lead⁠—and then takes over, fucking into him in long, powerful strokes.

It’s a rush of sensations. Jack feels completely in control and two seconds from losing it, pulled out to sea by the rip current of Davey, of how Davey feels, a tight silken paradise clenching around him, of how he sounds, the little gasps and grunts that tear out of his throat punctuated by the slap of skin against skin, of how Davey smells, that heady sweetness tempered by Jack’s own scent blending and melding with it.

Jack grinds in deep, pulls out slow, then picks up the pace, driven by some primal need to claim, to wreck Davey like no one ever has before, to possess everything Davey can give him and then give himself right back in return, until they’re so tangled together that they can’t be torn apart. Mine, but yours.

Davey is fucking gorgeous beneath Jack’s hands, head hanging down and his back bowed in beautiful submission, clutching at the sheets as he mewls and sobs. Jack presses a hand to the nape of his neck, then works an arm underneath him and hauls him upright so that they’re pressed together, back to chest, and the change in angle makes them both cry out.

“Fuck, Jack,” Davey whimpers. “Oh, god, right there.”

It’s so good and yet not enough. Jack can feel his knot starting to swell, catching on Davey’s rim each time he pulls out, and the hot, wet sound of it is driving the possessive, alpha side of him absolutely crazy. He’s distantly aware of mouthing at Davey’s throat, lapping up the salt and sugar there and murmuring a stream of praise against his pulse: some in English, some in Spanish, and some that just comes out as indistinct growls, their meaning lost to a rush of primal instinct.

Because Davey might be the one in heat but Jack feels like he’s about to shatter right along with him, every thrust of his hips dragging him closer and closer to his breaking point. It’s push and pull, give and take, each brush of skin and wisp of breath shared between them stitching them together: two halves of a whole. That’s what they are now, or maybe that’s what they’ve always been, and now that Jack’s found it, now that he’s figured it out, there’s no chance in hell he’s letting it go. Yours and mine and ours.

Jack’s not going to last much longer, his knot starting to fill out in earnest. From the sounds he’s making, Davey can’t be far behind. Jack presses in hard, then rolls his hips into his next several thrusts, trying to give Davey that last push over the edge. His hand slides down to sit low on Davey’s stomach, as if he could somehow pull him closer, somehow take him deeper, and he works a mark into the space behind Davey’s ear, thrilling in the wrecked little moan that leaves his lips as Jack stakes his claim.

Jack nips and bites his way down Davey’s throat, setting his teeth right against that perfect spot where Davey’s neck meets his shoulder, and Davey lets out a noise of pure want and tilts his head to the side, baring even more of his throat to him.

“Alpha,” Davey begs. “Yes, Jack, please, bite me, Alpha, bite me, pleaseohfuckyes⁠—”

It’s with the last fraying thread of his control that Jack manages not to follow through with this request.

“David,” he grits out, fingers digging into Davey’s hips to the point that he has to be leaving bruises. “Dave, are you sure? You gotta be sure, sweetheart, ‘cause we can’t come back from this.”

“We already can’t come back from this,” Davey says, and it’s true. They’re already changed. “I want this, Jackie, please. Please.”

“Mine,” Jack growls, grinding in one last time as his knot fully pops. “My omega. Mine.” He places one last kiss to Davey’s neck, then bites down, hard, and comes.

Davey locks down around him like a vice, his body jerking and twitching as he rides out his own orgasm, panting through the sharp pleasure-pain of Jack’s teeth breaking skin. It feels like nothing else, this moment of togetherness and completion⁠—like he’s found a piece of himself that he hadn’t realized was missing until it fit itself neatly back into place.

Davey. Mate. Forever.

When Jack comes back to himself, it’s like floating back into his body after the most incredible dream. There’s the decadent warmth of skin pressed all along his front, the steady thump of Davey’s heartbeat against his chest, the comforting weight of him in Jack’s arms. He shifts them around so they can lay on their sides, careful to keep from jostling Davey too much with the motion, hands settling securely around his waist. He swipes his tongue along the rapidly healing mating mark, then tucks his nose into the space behind Davey’s ear and inhales, something settling smugly in his chest when all he scents is deep satisfaction and a blossom of happiness⁠—no undercurrent of pain or discomfort.

He feels Davey curl back into him with a quiet, contented noise, limbs heavy with exhaustion and relief. Jack opens his mouth to ask him how he feels, if he needs anything, if he’s okay. What he actually says is, in a raspy whisper right next to Davey’s ear, “I love you.”

Davey shivers. He lifts one of Jack’s hand up and kisses his palm, then weaves their fingers together, their hands clasped right over Davey’s heart.

He says “I know you do, Jackie. You wouldn’t’ve come if you didn’t.” Another kiss, this one to Jack’s knuckles. “I love you, too.”

“You’re mine now,” Jack says, half amazement, half promise, drawing Davey more tightly against the curve of his body. “All mine.”

Jack feels more than hears Davey’s answering smile.

“Oh, Jackie, love,” he says tenderly, perfectly relaxed in Jack’s embrace. “I was already yours.”

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*final cut #tease series #given my love for possessive jack i'm pretty sure we all knew this was coming #so i'm just gonna own it #y'all had your chance to stop me lol #i was egged on

25 notes · View notes