Title: Bite Me, Claw Me, Make Me Yours
Fandom: 9-1-1
Pairing: Buddie
Chapters/Length: 4/5 I 6548
Rating/Warnings: Explicit, violence, tw: blood blood kink, blood drinking, alpha/omega, near death experience. Temporary MCD
Event: Buddie Bingo + MF Halloween edition bingo
Brief Summary: Eddie knelt next to him, offering his neck. “Bite me.”
The vampire looked at him. No one, ever, offered him his neck. He always used to be forced to take blood to live. It was a matter of kill or be killed, a survival mode.
“Are you sure?” The vampire asked, eyeing the neck as he licked his mouth.
(Written for Buddie Bingo + MF Halloween Edition Bingo)
1 I 2 I 3 I 4- Pregnancy - @buddiebingo + "I think I need to lie down." @mfbingo
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights over a bottle of flat beer,
to sweep stuck onion rings across the dirty restaurant floor,
to wear the frayed coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still you end up here.
Joyce copes with Bob’s death and begins to acknowledge her feelings for Hopper.
Angst and Fluff. Post-Season 2. Chapter 4 of 5.
Also on ao3.
Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
Her sleep is everything but dreamless.
It’s mostly a series of jumbled images, fractured glass shards of memories.
Will lying in a hospital bed, tubes and wires everywhere.
Baby Jonathan smiling, blowing raspberries and cooing at her.
Her wrist, bruised by anger (look what you made him do), mottled with purple and blue and green.
Hopper’s face, smudged with dirt and grime, between her hands, her name escaping him on a choked breath.
Will, furious and alien, his fingers crushing her throat.
Sunlight streaming through the broken window in the living room, birdsong piercing the quiet of the house.
Hopper’s arms around her the night before he leaves for the Army, hot tears streaking her makeup down her cheeks.
It’s dizzying, overwhelming, she wants to cry out — and then suddenly she’s elsewhere, a place that she’s never seen before.
It’s the strangest thing.
She’s standing on a bridge, utterly alone, surrounded by endless, endless white.
There is no horizon — just blankness, silence for miles in all directions.
She turns in a full circle, trying to gauge her closest surroundings.
Wait a minute.
This bridge…
This is Bob’s bridge.
Joyce steps off the edge of the structure she’s been building in her mind for so many months, considers her handiwork.
Bob would be proud, she thinks.
A shiver travels through her; the air itself seems to sigh, expand, contract.
No.
Bob wouldn’t want me doing this, because he’s dead.
He’s dead, and I’m still here.
She closes her eyes.
“You know, you’re a pretty great architect. I always figured that Jonathan and Will got their talents from you.”
It’s Bob’s voice, clear as day.
Joyce opens her eyes.
Bob stands at the other end of the bridge, grinning, hands shoved in his pockets.
He’s healthy and whole and untouched.
She wants to say something, anything, but her throat is tight, so tight — she can’t make a sound.
“It’s alright, Joyce. I’m doing just fine. You don’t need to worry.”
Bob pauses, weighs his words, nods to himself.
“See, here’s the thing — life is for living.”
His expression softens; his eyes are kind, wistful.
“Do me a favor and live a little, okay?”
Then he’s gone.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation.
Joyce wakes up at 6:08 AM, suddenly desperate to brush her teeth. The house is perfectly still.
Outside, the sun is beginning to touch the deep blue darkness of the sky, filling the room with dim light.
She sits up, blinks; looks down at Hopper.
He’d stayed beside her all night, folded slightly inward on himself, his arm tucked under the pillow.
Her heart squeezes in her chest. He’s so relaxed in sleep that he looks years younger. His dirty blonde hair is unruly, longer than it used to be. Strands of it curl around his neck and ears.
She wants to smooth them back from his face, like he’d done to her the night before, but she can’t bring herself to wake him.
She quietly slips out of bed instead, pausing only to grab clean clothing, and goes to the bathroom to take a shower.
The warm water pours over her like a baptism, washing away the sweat and blistering pain of the fever.
It makes her feel human again.
Joyce wraps a towel around herself after she brushes her teeth; looks at herself in the foggy mirror. Steam curls around her in lazy wisps.
She leans in closer to the mirror, inspects her reflection. Her hair is damp, the tips already drying and feathered. She’s lost weight in the past few months and her bones are sharp edges beneath her skin. The hollows of her cheeks are more pronounced than usual, and there are dark circles under her eyes.
There’s no denying that she looks like hell.
Yet after everything she’s been through in the past two years, there’s still something left of her.
Something that’s stronger than before.
The bedroom door opens, and soft footsteps tread down the hallway.
Hopper.
Her heart leaps wildly; she tries in vain to tamp it down, subdue it, that twinge of familiar guilt prodding at her subconscious.
Live a little, okay?
Bob’s voice is so clear, like he’s right there with her.
I was curled tightly around something warm. It wasn't very soft, but it had a little bit of give so as to be comfortable. Stretching out my back a little, I sighed, cuddling closer. Something was niggling at the back of my mind, but I knew I didn't want to face it yet. Not yet, not yet.
The warmth holding me shifted, but I paid it no mind, instead languidly stretching each part of my body. Discomfort and pain lanced up my arms, and I was forced to confront what had been begging to be noticed in my mind. I had transformed, Keith had forced me to.
Shooting up, I fell out of my bed, stumbling. I looked about my room, eyes wide as I took in the fact I had apparently been lying on top of God Shiro. He sat up, wiping his eyes as though I had woken him. I looked around frantically for signs that I was a prisoner, that they knew what I did, what I was.
God Shiro smiled fondly at me, and I stumbled further away, stricken. What had happened? Why was he looking at me like that? Why wasn't I in chains? You have so little faith in me. My god form growled grumpily, shifting this way and that in the back of my mind.
I shuddered, collapsing against the door, clasping my hands around my knees. Slowly I began to rock back and forth, images of what I could have done flashing through my mind faster and faster.
Only God Shiro's hand gently touching the top of my head pulled me out of my panic.
"Lance? Are you okay?" He scooped me up into his arms, taking me back to my bed. I was too shocked to protest as I was settled on his lap. My god form purred inside me, urging me to stretch against him again, urging me to drape myself protectively over him.
Red flew to my face, and I quickly covered it with my hands. What is wrong with me now? Why are these thoughts so invasive?
"Lance?" God Shiro asked again, one of his hands stroking over my cheek. "How do your arms feel? Do we need to change the bandages?"
"I- I don't understand," I confessed, voice tremulous. "Why are you being so kind? Didn't I- I transformed-what happened when I transformed?" I asked, seeing as God Shiro's brow had creased in a frown.
"You don't remember it?" God Shiro asked, concerned. A blush spread across his face, and I wondered at its meaning.
I shrugged. "It's… difficult to understand. I can't make sense of most of it, hazy shapes and sensations that have no context. I certainly do not understand why I would be feeling the things that I've managed to decipher." I replied, studying God Shiro's face intently.
It seemed I hadn't killed anyone, or even hurt anyone. Odd. Had my efforts to love them all paid off?
"Well, we didn't realize exactly what had happened at first. Thankfully you didn't do any damage to anyone or yourself before we realized what was going on. Keith was an idiot and didn't step down like the rest of us until after you had gotten a good bite in." Pausing, God Shiro took in how my face had drained of color. "Don't worry, he hurt you way more than you hurt him."
"Anyway, after that you um," now God Shiro looked embarrassed but pleased, an odd thrumming underlying his words that I recognized as his God form's voice. My own replied in kind, a rumbling that vibrated through my chest, seeming to soothe God Shiro's nerves. "You claimed us, as part of your hoard." God Shiro finished, looking away as the blush spread down his neck.
I was completely confused. I had no idea what a hoard was, much less why my god form would have done anything at all pleasant for any reason.
If only things had been different, you would have loved me much more. The deep voice within my mind whispered sadly, sending a shudder down my spine at my own personal reaction to the words.
I had wanted to, I had wanted to love my god form. But when every time I had transformed followed death and pain, how could I go on trying?
More rumbling from God Shiro had me looking up and into his eyes. I froze, something foreign keeping me in place, just staring. I knew that look. I had seen couples visiting my temple, asking me for blessings, give it to each other.
Why is he looking at me like that?
Opening my mouth, I ruined the moment. "I don't think I understand, what's a hoard?"
God Shiro stiffened, brow creasing into an intense frown. The emotion that couples shared vanished, replaced by hurt. I hated I had caused that emotion to appear on his face. God Shiro leaned back, shifting us so I was off his lap and we were merely sitting next to each other.
He rubbed at the back of his neck, staring at the ground. God Shiro didn't seem to know what to say.
"Well, Lance… a hoard is a dragon's most precious possessions. All dragons have one. They fill it with all manner of differing things. From shiny objects such as coins and jewels, to plainer things like a pretty leaf, or shell, or even a picture. A dragon protects their hoard with their very being, insanely possessive of the things in their hoard, for another dragon to touch an item in said hoard is an honor." God Shiro explained, his voice empty of emotion.
I nodded, this seemed to make sense. I didn't have any physical possessions, and I had come to care deeply for my teammates. They were my most precious things. Why was he so disheartened? Sure I felt a little embarrassed that now everyone knows I care for them a whole lot, but surely it wasn't a bad thing I had claimed all of them as mine to protect?
God Shiro continued, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion. "A thousand years ago, people being part of a dragon's hoard was fairly commonplace, but now it is incredibly rare. With how modern society is, and how dragons have evolved, we understand how tricky and dangerous it could be to claim a person as part of their hoard. However, to be chosen for such a thing, is an… incredible honor. It's as though being born anew, promised safety and comfort and you claimed all of us. You bestowed all of us with that honor and you…" God Shiro gulped, "you had no idea what you were doing," he sounded insulted, and finally he stood, pacing to the door and back.
"I need to think." He said abruptly, turning and leaving through the door.
Oh. Oh. That's why he had looked hurt when I asked. I had accidentally bestowed an honor upon them. Did that mean it didn't count?
They are all MINE! We will protect them tooth and claw from any and all who dare to threaten them. We will keep them safe. We will shower them with everything they could possibly desire. My god form thrashed inside of me, pushing my negative thoughts away.
Even if I did not consciously know what it meant, the sentiment was still there, and my instincts would guide me.
I will trust myself to protect them.
"God Shiro…" I murmured, standing. I would follow him and make this right. He might not think I was serious about my claim just because I hadn't been quite aware of what I was doing at the moment, but now that I knew, I wanted this claim and the responsibility that seemed to come with it.
…
It was difficult to find him, but when I managed it, God Shiro tried to avoid me. Just because we were in a public place with several of the others around did not mean I would shirk this off. He seemed to think I had pride.
Smirking to myself, I strode straight up to God Shiro, and grabbed his arm. He looked startled, turning to look at me reflexively.
"God Shiro, you did not let me finish in my room." I stated clearly, frowning.
Everyone around us froze, slowly turning to stare at us. God Shiro had a bright blush across his cheeks, and as soon as he had met my eyes, he had looked down at the ground.
"I said I needed to think, Lance, that means without you trying to talk about it." God Shiro's tone was terse, and stung more than a little bit.
Ignoring that, I kept on. "But you need to hear this before you go off to think." I insisted, tugging him closer. God Shiro resisted, but didn't keep trying to move away, so I counted it as a small victory.
"I may not have known I was claiming all of you as part of my hoard, or even what a hoard was, but now that I do know what it is, I don't regret it. I mean it, I meant it. I might not know all the finer points of what a hoard is, or what it all means, but I want to know and I want you to know that I don't regret any of it and accept any responsibilities that come with it," I was rambling a little bit, my voice desperate, reflecting my need to see that emotion in his eyes again.
They sparked a little, but remained mostly closed off. "Lance, I appreciate it. I still need to think a little, but thank you. It does help," God Shiro's smile was wane, and he pulled away gently.
I nodded, turning to look at the rest of the team. They were staring at me shocked, but not hurt as God Shiro had been. Tell them.
"I also have something I need to confess." Clasping my hands, I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. No one spoke. Looking at them, I saw I had their undivided attention, even God Shiro's.
"I have not been completely honest with you about my god form," I continued, shaking my head when Keith opened his mouth to protest. "In my village, I was not a bad god because I could not give them what they wanted, that was to be expected from time to time. I deserved the chains on me, the scars that trace my body, all of it-"
"Lance! What are you saying? No one deserves that!" God Shiro cut in, reaching for me. The emotion was back in his eyes, blazing beside an intense need to protect.
I smiled serenely, stepping away a bit. "I did though," Hunching in on myself, I continued. "My god form was not like any had been before. They had never seen one that looked like me. Soon it became apparent why, I was a demon sent to kill them." Pausing, I looked up to see my words slowly sinking in.
"Kill them I did. Every single time I was in my god form, people would die. I would kill them, tear them apart, shred them with my claws, or even drag them into the ocean where I would drown them until the chains would pull me back. I ruined ceremonies and rituals, important to the survival of the village. As they suffered, they made sure I did too. Every lashing, all the years of wearing chains, all of it, I deserved it all for everything I did." I finished explaining, looking at their stricken faces.
They were going to get rid of me for sure, but I had to continue.
"Keith, that's why I couldn't transform yesterday. I couldn't risk hurting any of you. I've come to care for all of you so much, if I had hurt anyone- if I had killed anyone…" I trailed off, the lump in my throat too big to speak around for a moment. "…that was the first time. I've never before transformed without killing someone until then."
Goddess Allura looked horrified, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She looked as though she were fighting back tears. Hunk was glaring at the ground. Pidge had her head cocked, looking me up and down, a frown on her face, and tears in her eyes. Keith looked green, hands and shoulders shaking. Coran was stroking his mustache thoughtfully, glaring past my shoulder. God Shiro was frozen, just staring at me.
"Every time you transformed you were like yesterday? Yesterday, as far as temperament went, that was completely normal for you? Aside from the, not killing anyone I mean," Coran asked, eyes focusing on mine. They were intense, as though if he looked hard enough he would draw the answer from my mind.
I nodded, "It was the same as always. When I transform, 'Lance' goes away. In my place is the god within me, as it always is."
Coran looked thoughtful once more, glancing at Goddess Allura who looked as though she had just realized something, so had the rest of the team it seemed.
"Well Lance, as we said before, you're a dragon, not a god. But what you're describing is a state we call 'feral'. If a dragon is in its feral state, then the person within is not in control, the dragon is driven by pure instincts." Coran began lecturing, pacing back and forth, worrying his mustache all the while.
"What causes a dragon to go into a feral state varies slightly from dragon to dragon. However, generally it is triggered when the dragon, or person are experiencing high stress, fear, anxiety, or anything of that sort. It isn't normal for it to be every experience, but what you're describing sounds like situations where it could happen reliably," Coran finished, stepping closer. He placed his hands on my shoulders, staring into my eyes again.
"Lance, you are not a monster, or a demon for doing those things in your feral state. You were afraid, and your instincts were reacting to that fear in the manner it found most appropriate. That doesn't mean you deserved what they did," Coran said softly, his expression tender.
I felt myself quake at his words. It's all true. Fear drove this. To embrace is to control. Drawing in deep breaths to steady myself, I nodded my head, agreeing. Even if deep down I didn't believe that, maybe one day I could?
Larger hands replaced Coran's on my shoulders, and I turned my head to see God Shiro looking at me in a manner that had red rushing to my cheeks. It was so tender as to be almost loving. I couldn't handle it, quickly turning my gaze down.
"You're important to us Lance. You might not have known exactly what you were doing by claiming us, but… thank you for claiming responsibility for it. We all appreciate it. I appreciate it," God Shiro told me gently, his words ghosting over my skin as to send bumps up and down my body.
"I will… I will do better." I vowed just as softly, ducking my head further.
Summary: Bucky, newly eighteen and at risk of being homeless and starving during the cold spring, makes a gamble trusting his shady boss and auctioning off one night of his life for enough money to survive.
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Alternate Universe - Mob, mafia boss zemo, Young Bucky Barnes, Older Man/Younger Man, Poor Life Choices, Human Trafficking, bucky trafficks himself really, Auction, Non-Consensual Drug Use, not between bucky and zemo, Slow Burn, Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Masturbation, minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Dubious Consent, First Time, totally realistic legal procedures, Marriage of Convenience
Word count: 9028
Links:
Chapter 4
Full fic
Excerpt:
“You saw and heard enough to put Zemo away for life, and the rest of his organization is much easier to take down,” Steve says.
Bucky’s back to imagining Zemo in prison, locked away from daylight and everything and alone or treated badly or any number of unpleasant things and he wants to panic again. Zemo never did anything to Bucky before this, he’s never even heard of Zemo doing anything unprovoked, and he knew Bucky was in the house the whole time, maybe if Bucky had stayed and not said anything he’d still be safe and there and -
“You don’t need to worry about him,” Steve says, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts. “He can’t get to you.”
Bucky fears that that’s maybe not the problem anymore.
Raven's new relationship has a profound impact on Charles' future.
All of Chapter 4 is up on AO3 now, for those who don’t like to follow on tumblr :D
Fic Summary: On the brink of losing his ancestral home, omega Charles Xavier agreed to do the unthinkable; he would sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of his family, and bear a child for a married alpha and his mate.
But Charles never expected that alpha to be Erik Lehnsherr, with whom he shared an impossible love and undeniable passion.
