#AGAIN AGAIN IM SORRY FOR ALL THE TAGGING AAAAA

[starry-night-rose]

Inspired by one of my beloved mutuals, I have decided to make mutual tags for everyone! Sorry for the tag everyone!

@windbornearchon - jas ☀️

@rosietrace - rosie 😈

@spadecentral - eli 🐣

@geminiiviolets - basil 🌿

@merotwst - ellie 📝

@bunnwich - ren 🐇

@authoruio - uio 🖋

@nem0-nee - nem 🎨

@nuitthegoddess - nuit 🐉

@tunabesimpin - tuna 🐟

@thetwstwildcard - liz ♠️

@vivaresmala - luna 🌙

@fumikomiyasaki - fumi 🍏

@lovelyjasmari - jas 🎀

@oseathepebble - mari 🐺

@daisyneptune - daisy 🌼

@celiica - mercie 🦈

@br3adtoasty - toasty 🍞

@indulgentandidiotic - aries 🐮

@cinnamoroxie - roxie 🌟

@shehassecrets - sophia 💔

@fruixtii - fruity 🍇

@grandi-flora - wren 🥀

@vaporvipermedia - viper 🐍

@italoniponic - cherry 🍒

@luvkamishiro - yion ✏️

@robo-milky - chris 🎊

@hyuckonia - hyuckie 💪

@pyroxeene - vi 🌌

@angry-strawberry-pie - bunny 🐰

@evilcokito - coco 💀

@writing-heiress - kayla ♥️

@hamstergal - nette 🃏

@revolllutionary - rev 👑

@sakuramidnight15 - sakura 🖤

@hades-eternal - monmon 🩸

@twsted-princess - melanie 🧁

@ducky-died-inside - ducky 🐥

@mellytheteddy - skai 🧸

@xiao-lantern - ren 🍁

@aqua-beam - calira 🪷

@tulipluvlettr - tulip 🌷

@pixy-styx - pixie 🕊

@gothic-pegasus - kittle 🐶

@v-anrouge - aster ❣️

@absolutelyobsessedkiya - kiya ✂️

@the-v-lociraptor - raptor 💙

@iliketodrawig - jana 🎢

@transriddlerosehearts - len 🐠

@silent-dragon - joi 🐼

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

AAAAA OH MY GOD<3333333 Please do a part 2 to hold me, console me, im eating it up

The angst is delicious, thank you<333333

Hold me, console me (part 2)

Theworst!logan x reader (part 1)

Tags: @pedroscurls

A/N: I know this goes without saying but I am a WHORE for broken men and the “I can fix him trope”, Logan fits just that. LEMME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!! (not proofread btw)

You find yourself standing in front of a familiar door that morning—Wade's door. He had been the one to play matchmaker between you and Logan, always eager to meddle in his own chaotic way.

‘Sweet and sour, just how I like my cu-‘ he used to tease about your dynamic, though he never meant harm. How could he, when all you did was bring him and Al delicious dinners and baked goods? Wade would’ve married you himself if Vanessa weren’t in the picture. ‘You’re my twin flame,’ he’d often joke, even though you were nothing like him. You were quiet, reserved, and detested socializing unless it was within the comfort of either your or Wade’s apartment.

Now, here you are, on the morning of your worst heartbreak, clutching a tub of ice cream and a bag of microwavable popcorn outside his door.

Three sharp knocks echo in the hallway. You hear a clatter from inside, followed by a string of muffled curses, until the door swings open to reveal a face that knocks the air right out of you.

Logan.

“Oh...” Your eyes widen as you freeze, a storm of emotions brewing within you.

Before you can stop yourself, you push past him, setting down the ice cream and popcorn on a nearby table. When you turn around, your face is met with the solid wall of his chest. He looks down at you, sorrow etched deep into his features. And suddenly, everything boils over.

“You,” you spit, fire blazing in your eyes. You strike his chest, again and again, and he lets you—lets you unleash your frustration, your anger, because he knows he deserves it.

“You left. No warning, no note. You were just... gone! Clothes packed, phone off! What were you thinking? I begged you to stay, Logan. I begged.” Your voice cracks, and the tears come, burning hot down your cheeks. But all you notice is the tears in his eyes, and the soft rustle of movement from the kitchen where Wade is likely listening.

You try to ignore the thought of Al and Wade overhearing your heartbreak, keeping your tear-blurred gaze fixed on Logan.

“Bub—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “I know it’s hard, Logan. I do. I was there when Wade went through his worst. I’ve stood by friends in their darkest days. I want to be there for you, through everything. But you shut me out.”

Your voice trembles, betraying you, and you see him instinctively move to hold you, but you step back, wiping at your tears. The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable, but you continue.

“I’m sorry if you think I’m pushing you too hard. I’m sorry if I ask for too much. But I love you, Logan. And no matter how much you run, I won’t leave you. Not ever.”

The silence between you lingers, thick with unsaid words, before it’s broken by slow clapping from the kitchen.

“You really hit him with that one, sweets,” Wade’s voice calls out. “No, seriously, I was just telling him he should’ve dealt with his frustration by boning you—”

But Wade’s words are cut short. Before you know it, Logan’s grabbed your wrist and is pulling you toward the door, past Wade’s crude commentary. He leads you out of Wade's apartment, two doors down to your own, ignoring the continued yells from Wade behind you.

“Logan, what—?” you barely get the words out before his arms are around you, lifting you from the waist until your face is nestled against the crook of his neck. You feel the warmth of his tears against your skin, his body trembling with quiet sobs.

You hold him, your hands moving to comfort him, running through his hair, soothing his ragged breathing.

“You—” he starts, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “In my world... you died. I killed you. I let you die.” His voice shakes as the sobs take over. “I never meant to... I didn’t mean to let them die, bub.”

You feel his knees give way, and the two of you sink to the cold hallway floor. He’s crying harder now, his grip tightening around you as if letting go might make you disappear too.

“I’m sorry, I’m so—”

“Shhh,” you whisper, cutting him off softly. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here.”

He clings to you, his desperation palpable. You pull away just enough to cup his face in your hands. “Look at me, Logan. I’m alive. You didn’t lose me—not here.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, feeling his breath begin to slow, then to his tear-soaked eyelids. You kiss him softly, murmuring gentle reassurances between each touch.

“I’m here. I’ll hold you. I’ll love you. Forever. Does that sound like a deal?”

As you cradle Logan’s face in your hands, his breathing starts to slow. The raw emotion in his eyes begins to soften, though the weight of everything still lingers in the air between you. He looks at you, truly seeing you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, a small, shaky smile begins to form on his lips. It’s brief, but it’s there. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t say that,” you reply softly. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the cold floor grounding you both in the present. His arms are still tight around your waist, as though letting go might shatter the fragile peace you’ve found. You stay like that, the world outside your apartment and Wade’s chaotic energy fading into the background.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, your hands sliding from his face to his shoulders.

“Come on,” you say gently. “Let’s get up. You’re going to catch a cold sitting here, even if it’s for a little bit.” You say, aware of his super healing.

Logan hesitates, as if reluctant to let go of the closeness, but then he nods. You both stand slowly, your legs shaky from the emotional intensity. Without a word, you lead him into your apartment, closing the door behind you.

Inside, the dim lighting casts a soft glow over the room. It’s quiet, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that just unraveled in the hallway. You sit on the couch, and Logan follows, sitting beside you. There’s still a heaviness in his movements, a man weighed down by too many ghosts from his past, but he’s here. He’s with you.

For a few minutes, the silence is comfortable. You lean against him, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest is a soothing reminder that despite everything, you’re both still here—alive, together.

“You don’t have to talk,” you say softly, sensing the turmoil still swirling inside him. “Not now. Not until you’re ready.”

Logan’s thumb traces slow circles on your shoulder, a sign that he’s listening. After a moment, he speaks, his voice quiet but steady.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he admits. “But... I want to try.”

You turn to face him, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and sadness. “That’s all I need to hear.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sorry for leaving,” he whispers. “For everything.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his words. “I know. But you’re here now. And we’ll figure it out. Together.” You reach for his hand, giving it three squeezes before reaching up to give him a peck, one of reassurance.

For the first time in a long while, you both let the quiet settle, not out of avoidance, but out of mutual understanding. The journey ahead might not be easy, but it’s a path you’ll walk side by side. As the minutes tick by, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. You’re not alone in this—neither of you are. And for now, that’s enough.

Suddenly, a loud knock on your door breaks the silence that makes you jump, followed by Wade’s unmistakable voice shouting through the wood.

“Hey! Are you two done with the emotional stuff yet? I’ve got pancakes in here, and they’re getting cold!”

You exchange a glance with Logan, both of you barely suppressing a laugh. The tension in the room eases just a bit, the smallest sliver of normalcy creeping back in.

“We should probably go before he kicks the door down,” you say with a smirk.

Logan stands and offers you a hand, his expression a little lighter now. “Yeah,” he agrees, a small but genuine smile finally reaching his eyes.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both walk back toward the world—not broken, but healing, one step at a time.

[mitskicain]

hiii ive read your ken sato works (and im especially waiting for the doghouse to finish) and i want to tell you that i was squealing and had heart palpitations reading your works like… holy shit… ksadkajwadks also as someone whos planning to write about ken im wondering if you always write with the thought of his canon storyline as ultraman or if you just write whatever you think of? (this is kind of me looking for validation as well bcs im planning to write ken but minus all the ultraman stuff but i feel like thats gonna remove a chunk of canon compliance and all that)

again… thank you so much for putting your works out here !!! i hope youre always in good health, and that whatever you have going on in your personal life will be going smoothly and with ease for you. much love <3

HI ANON😚😚‼️‼️ thank you so much for the love :”))) and I’m glad to hear you’ve liked the doghouse so far!! I’m so sorry that the epilogue is being delayed I’m currently struggling with burnout 😭😭💥💥 but hopefully when I recover you guys will all like the ending 🤞🤞

AND AAAAA PLEASE TAG ME WHEN YOU GET TO WRITING UR KEN FIC‼️‼️ I’d love to see what you come up with for him!! And to answer your question: I guess I only take the parts I like? I stay true to the American influence he’s gotten and the general setting but I don’t really restrict myself to make everything entirely accurate or realistic if that makes sense? I guess a lot of the scenarios I put him in focus on his career as a star athlete rather than ultraman (with the exception of a prayer is whatever you say on your knees) honestly, I would tell you not to worry too much with being lore/cannon accurate because after all, writing is about taking creative freedom!! I’m so so looking forward with what you’re cooking 🥰

and thank you so much for all the wishes 🥹🥹 I’m wishing the best for you too anon!!

[sonwar]

hello!! i would like to first preface that i'm a fan of your writing (ao3 user sonwar) from your kpop works (namely the seokhoon (seventeen) titled 'do you know my heart? (i can't be without you)' in 2020. and if i remembered you wrongly, and you have in fact never heard of this fic or the kpop group before please feel free to delete this ask i apologise deeply aaaaa (whoops ahahaaa im sorry if that's the case)

today. as one does, i was thinking of this fic: its definitely one of the bigger fics the seokhoon tag has seen, and also one of those fics which leave a kind of Impact. even as i ponder seokhoon today as a writer myself, i find so many of the symbols and metaphors i use in my writing to have come from that fic. (if you remember) the ideas of jihoon admiring seokmin's singing & calling him the best singer—i took that and i turned it into a kind of how jihoon's music has been made real vs seokmin's which comes more as instinct—and jihoon, who is in awe of this. and of course seokmin thinking about jihoon all the time—that's something that i genuinely hold so close to my heart. it's so sweet and just soooo seokmin. aaaaaa

your writing there has such a tender and sweet quality to it that ive been striving to achieve—emotion comes across in a way that is. muted (i mean this positively). i feel comfortable reading it because it never feels shocking everything just feels so natural. those 33k words are a source of comfort. i love and value growth in characters/the progression of time in fic, and oh man!!!! you really show the emotional growth of seokhoon so incredibly well in that fic. its so good to me. it feels so alive because of the references you made but also because of how you wrote them. to create life!!! it's so incredible because. its all just so rich and perfect and good and i'm so grateful that ive been able to read this and have it affect me on such a level. my comment on that fic does nothing to live up to what i actually thought of it and now even if i cant convey my appreciation on the fic comments itself, i tried to find another way to reach out to you (hence, this lengthy anon ask)

feel free to ignore this/not reply!!! i understand that you've orphaned the seokhoons for a reason but in a way i just really wanted to let you know that your writing has made me feel so much. and for that! i am so grateful!! thank you again and so much for all of it.

hi anon! you have me right, i am responsible for do you know my heart (as well as "when i'm with you i bloom" and "i'm dying to be taken apart" in case you were looking for me...) i had sort of decided i was going to keep my kpop fandom side off tumblr, since i have found it to be sort of unwelcoming towards kpop, for whatever reason? but your message was so touching i'm throwing that out the window and doing whatever i want anyway! (more under the cut <3)

Letting you know off the bat that your message made me! incredibly emotional and teary eyed! Thank you very much for your kind words, you really can't know how much it means to me, and I'm so glad you reached out to me this way as well! I genuinely got so excited when I read your ask, I'm always happy to talk fics and even more happy to talk seokhoon, as I don't have many people to discuss them with! So thank you! The reason why I orphaned my old fics is...probably a lot more simple than what you might be thinking? The truth is, after posting those three seokhoon fics (which I wrote in pretty quick succession to each other), I went about two years without writing anything at all because I didn't have the bandwidth for it, and then I wrote The Mystery of The Pears in some kind of fugue state over the course of a couple months, and when I read that back to myself I felt that my writing had grown so much, I didn't really want that writing to be associated with my writing of a few years ago. But, to be honest, I re-read my Seokhoon fics again a few weeks ago and found that I enjoyed them much more than I thought I would, and much more than I did when I first wrote them, so I wonder if it's less that my writing has grown and maybe more that I've learned to be kinder towards myself...that'll teach me to orphan fics without completely thinking it through first, I guess. (that being said! i'd like you to know i am still planning on writing more seokhoon! seventeen is very near and dear to my heart, like. i really can't put into words the love i have for those boys, which is to say that i'll probably be a carat for as long as they're seventeen, and maybe even a little longer than that. plus, i feel personally tasked with bringing more seokhoon into the world, so, you know. currently, i'm really trying to finish a seokhoon fic i promised a friend MONTHS ago, even before tmotp was finished, and then i have about...3? seokhoon wips i've started and would like to finish? whether they all get done is to be seen, but hopefully!) Anyway...I have to say, I really love the way you took my little headcanon about Jihoon admiring Seokmin's singing and devolped it further! It's something I think a lot about, too, I think it's so interesting that, objectively, Seokmin has a much wider range and capacity as a singer, but that ever since Jihoon was a trainee he's been told he "already knows how to sing" and "doesn't need singing lessons." It makes me wonder how Jihoon approaches singing, if it's something that he considers more physical, like a muscle that he can control, rather than something emotional, which I think might be closer to how Seokmin approaches singing. I mention this because, considering that Jihoon is also the one making guides for the others to follow and the one directing them in the recording booth, I'm a litte curious about how those different approaches meet together in a more practical way, if that makes sense. I do still think it's something Jihoon would admire and think about a lot if only because it would be so different from his own approach. I also have some theories about certain songs in their discography being written specifically for Seokmin's voice (Same Dream Same Mind Same Night immediately comes to mind, I really think out of all their songs, that's the one that showcases the style Seokmin's voice is suited to the most and he really shines on that song...)

I am of the belief that Seokmin would have been watching Jihoon a lot longer than Jihoon would have been watching him...something about admiration that shifts and changes the closer you get to it...And I don't think Seokmin knows how to not take care of people, it's just who he is, but I also think that feeling is heightened a little bit with Jihoon specifically, who takes on a lot of responsibility without ever complaining about it, and who describes himself as someone who deals with things on his own. I think (and I've seen him) he would try to find ways to make things easier for Jihoon without him having to ask for it first, so that's where that comes from. I think muted is one of the sweetest ways anyone has described the way I write emotions. I like the idea of emotions that come easily and gradually, like. Slow drip love rather than sudden and all-consuming (and, that way, when trying to convey something that is bigger and overwhelming, it's easier to contrast those two emotions against each other), so thank you very much for that. I also think it's very funny you mention the way I wrote the progression of Seokhoon in that fic because, while I find your words incredibly kind and I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed it, and I can still sort of see why I wrote that fic the way I did, I do sometimes consider sort of re-writing a different version of that fic because I'm so sure I could do it better now...nowadays, I think the timeline would be a little different? Idk. Something for future me to consider... Anyway! Thank you, again, for such a lovely ask, I really am so very thankful, and I'm so glad you enjoyed my Seokhoon. Please feel free to message me whenever you'd like! (I'm also on twt! I only use tumblr on browser so I only log on when I'm using my laptop, but I'm a lot more active on twt.) Also, if you ever post your fics or already have, please let me know! I'd love to read them, and I'm always looking for more Seokhoon fics, since there's so very little of them to go around, as I'm sure you know...

[funkyjeans]

I’m so glad you liked it, I read your tags and aaaaa! And nice to meet you too! Tumblr being on brand won’t let me comment on the ask. I just need to say again I love your works and I am really excited to see what you have in store for us in the future! (also I hope your are getting better from whatever your in law family gave you)

im the absolute WORST at checking my inbox im so so so sorry this has sat here for so long!!! thank you so much for all your support -- im so happy that youre enjoying what i put out!! ive never really shared anything before and made it a point to make this year (2023) be the start of like,, idk creative pursuits!!

(can you believe im still sick and coughing all over the place???? this BLOWS bro,,)

[unriding]

very messy word dump below the cut + in tags :^) heh

okay it’s officially been a full day since reading this and i’m going to write down everything i remember feeling from day 1! and then in the tags im going to reread this (for the third time within 24 hours) and add thoughts that i didn’t put down here. SORRY FOR THE MESS & NO PRESSURE TO READ ALL THIS SJKDMF IT IS JUST A LOT OF WORD VOMIT BC IM INSANE OVER THIS FIC

okay i should start from the beginning. Wait I’ll use caps so it’s easier to read if you’re reading it bahahhaa OKAY. The way you write alpha / omega!!! It’s different from what I’m used to reading— and I mean it has a lot of a depth. The way you wrote reader being an alpha = being so protective over Aventurine fucked me up so bad /pos. Reader just wants him safe and they’re so real for that.

Going off on that, I LOVE HOW U WROTE THE READER. Understands Aventurine so well. Will literally do anything to keep him safe. Understands what sets him off and what he’s comfortable with. The part where Aventurine was talking about the next mission & reader seeing right through him ): are you serious /pos. WAIT I SKIPPED TOO FAR AHEAD. When Aventurine was trying to get reader to join the IPC? Dead. Evie DEAD. Reader saw right through him omg. Being able to notice the little changes in his scent, the way he tries to mask it etc etc. I love that so bad.

WHEN READER FOUND HIM IN HEAT FUUUCK. ARE YOU SERIOUS /pos. Fighting the urge to help him vs waiting to just make it better because reader has the power to ): I loved that so much. The struggle was so real. Literally bringing a doctor just to hear that he needs an alpha to help anyways omg. Lowkey when the doctor said that I was like PLEASE LET US HELP YOU PLEASEEEEEEE. But also. I didn’t want him to be scared either you know ):

I skipped over another scene sighs. THE part where reader said ‘I like your eyes because they’re yours” and then the end. Him saying he likes our scent because it’s ours. Are you serious /pos. Be so serious /pos.

Okay the scent gland scenes actually fucked me up so bad (I unfortunately did not dream about anything but maybe that is for the best because I’m still recovering from this scene). The part where he asks for just the wrist. Reader struggling when they FEEL HIS TEETH GRAZE THE WRIST IM GONNA EXPLODE OMFG. The immediate pulling away because we don’t want to scare him please. + the scent gland scene at the end. HE DIDN’T FEEL LIKE HE HAD TO BE ON TOP. We could lay side by side ): I was so happy that he was okay with that omg. Literally all giddy like aaaaa!!!!!! IM NOT A THREAT!! Actually that’s a lie I wasn’t giddy. I was literally in tears jejdkckckckk Aventurine 😭😭 ughhhhhhh /pos

I won’t comment on the actual scene (I am commenting on it right now actually) because I was literally so sad and my heart hurt so badly for him. I wanted him to see himself from our POV for just one moment so he can understand that we genuinely love him and treasure him & want to keep him safe. ):

ABOUT YOUR WRITING ITSELF : insanity. I will just say insanity. How should I put it in words….. just thinking about this fic again is taking all the words out of my mouth shejdjfjj (I say this as I type a 27738 page essay about it). I love how you write. I really do. Your writing style is so beautiful. I haven’t read the other tags under your fic but I’m sure many others have said the same thing!!! They word it better than me I’m sure bsjsjsjsjsk

I just love everything about it. How you add in little details (oh! Speaking of details— Aventurine’s reaction to reader cozying up to her husband in the other fic) HEJDJJDJDJ omg. But in this fic, the little signs of him being scared. Scared 24/7 actually ): I love how you conveyed his fear so much. And the way he tries so hard to hide it. HIM CRUMBLING DOWN TO HIS RAW SELF WHEN HES IN HEAT. AND THE FEAR THERE TOO. INSANE.

^^ How you wrote him so adamant about not needing help at first …. To him asking for the scent gland ….. to him agreeing to use reader. It was all so real. He didn’t just change his mind like oh okay! It took him a while to be okay with it and I love how real it all felt. You write dialogue & little details so well— it actually drives me nuts (/compliment /pos)

Oh this just reminded me. Your description of how Aventurine smells killed me /pos. And how you describe his scent as sweet. I’m really not okay /pos. It fits him so well. And … for reader…. the scent after rain ? Oh my god ???? I love that smell so much. It’s so comforting…. OMG. COMFORTING????????? BECAUSE. Oh wow. I’m really not okay now. I JUST LOVE ALL THE DETAILS LIKE THAT )))): it’s so clear you put so much thought into all these things because your fic has so much depth. I lowkey yanked out Notibility for your other Aventurine fic to highlight the parts I wanted to comment on ehdjdkkck I was annotating it like a book (I’m so sorry if this is creepy I promise I don’t do this on a regular basis. I don’t annotate fics normally. Actually please disregard this because I’m a bit red admitting this) (I just have the memory of a goldfish and can only remember feelings and not actual content) (That’s a lie because here I am remembering a lot of this fic MOST LIKELY BECAUSE I READ IT WITH MY EYES AN INCH FROM THE SCREEN PROBABLY I WAS LIKE O_O) /pos

NIGHT FLOWER: part i

Your place in the world was one of a tool. This was true of every slave: you were all things to be used. Kakavasha understood this about you, and he understood this about himself. It was how he survived all those years ago, and it’s how he survives now. And so, when Aventurine goes into his first heat in years and decides to suffer it alone, you can only think of one way to get him to accept your help: You offer to let him use you.

written for @/lorelune's spring fever collab & @ficsforgaza

13.5k words of omegaverse, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, angst with an eventual happy ending. gn alpha reader + omega aventurine (they each have both amab and afab genitalia). explicit piv sex, reader bottoms, the sex is consensual but emotionally complicated and deeply sad. cw slavery, racism, gendered violence, including very brief and non-graphic (but direct) references to sexual abuse during slavery. the sa and slavery are not eroticized. dead dove do not eat, mdni.

thank you to @acerathia, @minnaci, @owlespresso for all your help with beta reading and to @kosmiccarma for brainstorming omega aventurine hcs!

“I’ve alw███ l█ved ███, Ka██v█s███”

You knew it from the moment you met him.

Gaunt, pallid, weighed down by heavy chains. Irises that glowed like the auroras back in your world. Delicate features that made every passerby in the market stop to read the description on the placard. (Sigonian, it said, although you couldn’t read at the time. Avgin. Male. Omega. Sixteen years old. Sixty Tanba, no tax.) He had an all-consuming scent that was impossible to ignore—one that possessed you, made your heels dig into the dirt, every atom in your body resisting the impatient jerk of the chains at your wrist. Even through your muzzle, through the perpetual stench of carbon-steel and blood, you could smell it: honey and wildflowers. A fragrance that settled deep within you, flooded you with a warmth that felt like home.

Aventurine is not a spiritual person. He once told you this, his smile cold in the glow of an artificial moon. He'd been deeply religious as a child, but hasn’t since cared for fairy tales about fortune and fate, three-eyed goddesses or merciful rainfalls. Hasn't thought about anything like a destined love. He thinks the idea of a true mate is laughable, that no such bond could ever be forged between an omega and an alpha. That nothing so unconditional could ever exist.

You know differently, of course. You've known it from the moment you met him, from the second you laid eyes on him and thought, I need to help you, and I need to protect you, and I need you to be safe, and you’d never once heard the word ‘love’ in your life—slaves are never loved by their masters, after all, and you'd always been nothing but a slave—but every atom of your being knew that you loved him, that you'd always love him.

And when your master cradled your face that night and crooned that he owned you, that you'd always be his obedient, alpha pet—for the first time in your life, you knew that he was wrong.

You didn't belong to your slaver.

You belonged to him.

To Kakavasha.

These days, Aventurine does not smell like honey, and your jaw is not restrained.

Your muzzle was one of the first things that Aventurine threw away when he bought your freedom. According to the Amber Era system, it had been several months since the murder of your shared master. Ninety-five Star Calendar days after the Interastral Peace Corps had arrested Kakavasha. An entire rotation around the black hole at the centre of your wretched galaxy, all of which had been spent in the captivity of some new mistress. She picked you out because she liked your calming scent and the look of your face, but mostly she used you for the fighting pits just like your old master.

Aventurine had been sitting in the audience of your final match, then bought you out right after you won. “I’m in need of a fighter,” he’d said, smiling in his thick furs and jewels. He played the part of a slavemaster perfectly, his gloved hands wandering the span of your aching shoulders, touching the bloodied maw of your mask. “And I’d be willing to pay top credit for yours.”

She protested. You were her most prized possession, one of her greatest investments. Slaves from your planet were hard enough to come by—alphas capable of reproduction, nearly impossible. And you were so well-behaved, so poised, so endearing in a way that was rare for alphas. She was fond of you. Her omega slaves were fond of you too. They would be distraught if you left, and that would complicate her household affairs—and surely Aventurine, as a respectable owner of human capital like herself, could understand how inconvenient that would be?

Aventurine bared his teeth in a gracious smile. (You’d never seen Kakavasha make such an expression before—so disarming, so cunning, a crescent moon beneath snake eyes. He’d never smelt like this either, like an expensive cologne layered with bleach, and it left you feeling nauseous, wondering if he was ill.) He flirted his way into her good graces, made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and then he brought you into the first-class ship on which he’d arrived. You were so stunned by its luxury—the handwoven carpets, the crushed velvet seats, the imported tea from several galaxies away and the custom-ordered outfit he had bought for you—that you nearly missed the tremble in his hands as he punched numbers into the remote control lock for your chains.

He had regained his composure by the time he pulled away your muzzle, though. He threw it carelessly to the ground—your titanium chains, too. Then kicked both away with his shined leather shoes.

“There,” Aventurine said, smiling cheerfully. “Much better, don’t you think?”

“Vasha—” you started, voice thick with wasted grief, and all you wanted to was reach for him, to double check that he was real, but he placed a finger to your lips and stopped you. You stiffened at the satin touch, but he seemed unbothered.

“‘Aventurine’,” he corrected.

You stared blankly. “What?”

“‘Aventurine’. Like the gemstone. That’s my name now.”

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. You realized that you’d been holding your breath. You always had the habit of holding your breath in the luxurious, private rooms of very rich men, because you never liked what happened in them. Forcing yourself to breathe, you asked, “You gave yourself a new name?”

“No. The IPC gave me a new name. They gave me a job, too.”

“A job?” you asked, voice faint. Now that you were breathing again, you were noticing once more just how bizarre he smelled. Sterile and expensive and completely foreign. “You’re free now?”

“Well, I’m a freedman, but I don’t know if I’d call myself free. I’m a bit… indebted to the IPC, let’s say. But that’s fine. I can’t complain. I mean—look around. This beats the fighting pits, doesn’t it?” He gestured lazily at your surroundings, and you nodded.

“It’s nice here,” you replied, feeling absurd but not knowing what else to say. Once Kakavasha got talking, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise.

“You like it here? Good. This room’s yours. Mine is the next one over. You’ll live and work here, with me. I’ll make sure you’re paid well. Full benefits, vacation, salary, and overtime. The standard pay for your role is seventy-thousand credits per month, but I’ll see if I can get you more. HR is pretty strict about their hiring policies, but—”

“You’re hiring me?”

Aventurine went very still, his smile tightly controlled. His eyes remained fixed on you, but they seemed less snake-like, now. They looked more familiar. More afraid.

“I’m offering, yes,” he said neatly. “You’ll be part of my personal security detail. I don’t have the contract for you to review yet, unfortunately. I didn’t arrange one ahead of time because, well”—he laughed, as if this were polite conversation and he were making a joke about the weather—“I didn’t know if I’d find you alive. But things worked out in my favour. They always work out in my favour. I’ll make sure they’ll work out in your favour too, so long as you’re with me. So you’ll consider it, won’t you? Staying with—working for me, I mean.”

Your eyes went soft. Beneath the artificial fragrance, you finally caught a hint of his familiar scent—more wildflower than honey at that moment, the way it always is when he’s scared.

“Kakavasha—”

“Name your price,” he said loudly, “and I’ll match it.”

You sighed. “Vasha,” you said more gently, and his shoulders relaxed at the subvocal shift in your timbre, at the famed alpha Voice that necessitated your muzzle, “I don’t care about the money. Of course I’ll stay here. But—what happened? Why did you kill him yourself? Why didn't you let me do it? That was the plan. It was always supposed to be me.”

It was my job, you thought then, just as you had thought to yourself every night, curled up in your bed and trying to recall the scent of fresh honey, to keep you safe.

He shrugged and said, “It would have been too risky to involve you.”

“You were caught and sentenced to death. The risk was already too high.”

“But the stakes weren’t,” he replied simply, and before you could ask what he meant by that, he continued, “and it worked out, didn’t it? I work for the IPC. You work for me. We’re freedmen now. Whatever I've lost, it doesn't matter. Our gains far outweigh it.”

“And what have you lost, Vasha?”

He smiled at you, charming and distracting. A crescent moon beneath snake eyes. “Nothing of value,” he reassured you, and even though you could feel the calm of an omega’s voice washing over you, even though it released all the tension in your body, all you could smell was cologne and wildflowers, and you knew that he was lying.

Vasha once told you, curled up and quiet on the basement floor, that he despised his eyes. They were supposed to be a sign of blessing from Gaiathra Triclops, but they'd never brought him anything but trouble. They were the first thing that the slavers always noticed about him, the feature that made him such an alluring commodity. Their aurora glow, their strange beauty, their promise of a rare opportunity: a chance at owning a specimen of an exotic, endangered species, possibly the last of its kind. These are all things that you've heard in the parlour of your master’s house as he entertained rich company, the crowd of them gawking at his human curios.

Avgin are said to make the most beautiful slaves, he'd often say. And Avgin omegas are said to be the most beautiful among them. What do you all think? They'd all hum, peering closely at Kakavasha’s features, and inevitably someone would joke, I think I'd like to borrow him sometime, and then they would all laugh while your pulse ticked up and you imagined tearing at their throats. Vasha would search for your gaze in these moments, giving you a long, pointed look: Don't do anything stupid.

He’d always been so blasé about it, the way people fixated on his Avgin blood. You'll never understand how. He didn't react to any of the comments, the groping, the innuendos. He was, however, distinctly unimpressed at the way that your master liked to play him up as a rare and expensive acquisition, as a sign of his own status. It's embarrassing to watch, Kakavasha had remarked. Everyone knows that Sigonian slaves are uncommon but cheap—people always think we’ll bring them more trouble than our worth. This was how Kakavasha had ended up in the market in the first place: because his last master had been robbed, and he'd been wrongly blamed for it.

The blame, to this day, has never stopped. People—powerful people, politicians, businessmen, socialites—look at Aventurine’s eyes and immediately reach for their pockets. You've seen it for yourself, these spineless despots and scammers feeling for their wallets. Sigonian, you know they're thinking. Liar, cheat, thief, whore, worthless, worthless, worthless. Your hands tighten around your blade each time, a loaded gun with a finger on the trigger.

Alphas are said to be violent by nature. Aventurine has often called you the one exception to this rule: the most docile, good-hearted alpha he's ever met. But this is a lie. You do have a predator instinct, and it comes out in full-force whenever you’re around these particular types of men. These types who notice Aventurine’s eyes and see a thief; these monsters who see his irises and imagine what it would be like to bed him. You’d kill them if you could. It would be so easy, especially now that you are an IPC dog. The Company is already such a violent force; what would be one more murder?

But Aventurine has never ordered you to punish anyone. (Don't do anything stupid, he always tells you with a glance, smiling through every humiliation.) Nor has he ever seemed bothered enough by these meetings to try concealing his heritage.

A fellow Asset Liquidation Specialist once asked why he didn't just hide his eye colour—it would likely be better for fostering relationships, negotiating deals—but Aventurine had shrugged it off. I'm a gambler working with the IPC, he'd said. Do you really think a pair of coloured contacts would make anyone trust me? He'd laughed, and his voice had carried a threatening edge, and his coworker had shifted visibly at it. Being an Avgin is the least threatening thing about me, wouldn't you say?

You think that Aventurine likes being seen as a threat. Sometimes you wonder if this is why he doesn't mind wearing his eyes so much, but abhors keeping his scent. He washes his clothes until they're free of his disarming sweetness and then masks himself with an unsettling blend of ambergris, jasmine, and wood. And he is on suppressants all the time—hasn’t had a single heat since the day he killed his master. Hasn't smelled like himself, either.

At the end of the day, it’s manageable being an Avgin in this business, he often comments, spraying half a bottle of masking cologne on himself, but you can't be an Avgin and an omega. Wouldn’t you agree?

You'd know better than me, you reply, noncommittally—and truthfully.

But you're an alpha, he observes. Don't you have an opinion?

You don't pay me to have opinions, you always remind him, stone-faced. You pay me to stand here and look scary. And Aventurine always laughs at this, and he always wires you money and calls it a bonus as he pesters you for an answer, and he always gets distracted and starts scrolling through all his shopping wishlists instead. I saw this thing the other day and thought of you. And this too. Would you like either of them? Would you like them both? I’m a very generous manager, you know. I'll buy you anything you like.

But even though he always gets distracted, Aventurine never forgets. Sooner or later, he inevitably circles back to these questions—these anxieties about his scent, about his eyes, about his blood. He never cares for anyone else’s opinions, but he's always been curious about yours. Even when he was Vasha, he wanted to know what you thought.

He’d been sixteen years old and delirious with heat the first time he asked you, face wrinkling with pain as he spilled his thoughts. It was so incoherent, so sad, you thought it must have been about a fever dream. Mama Fenge, he kept saying. Mama Fenge blessed me, She blessed me, I'm blessed, it rained when I was born—did you know that? My luck, I was lucky. The Katicans, they never caught me. They got everyone else, but not me. I was blessed by Her. I'm going to save my people. I will. I'll save my sister. My eyes are proof. My mistress liked them. Said they're beautiful. Worth sixty whole coppers. A blessing. He pulled you close, pressed his scalding face to your scent gland, and his whole body shuddered with relief. This was the first and only time he'd allowed you to hold him, and it was only out of desperation, out of his mind. Do you like them, alpha? Do you like my eyes? Why? Is it because they're beautiful? Because they're from Gaiathra?

“I like them because they're yours,” you'd replied, and Kakavasha had laughed deliriously.

This is when he told you he hated them: I'd close them forever, if I could.

When you were younger—dumber—you had a habit of squirrelling away every spare coin you came across. You collected them in a little purse that one of the omega slaves had sewn for you—a thank-you for always keeping the other alphas away from her—and you hid it underneath a loose floorboard. By the time that Kakavasha was arrested, you'd saved up twenty-nine Tanba. You’d wanted enough to buy Kakavasha’s freedom and then to set him up for a comfortable life.

It had been a stupid plan. An embarrassing one. If you ever confessed it to Aventurine, he'd laugh at you. Slaves can't buy other slaves, he'd say. Leave the schemes to me next time. You’re too good-hearted for it.

You’d already known that, of course. You knew that you didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him, but you wanted to. God, did you want to—you spent every waking moment thinking about it, every sleeping moment dreaming of it. It wasn't even that you desired him, though he was beautiful and fragrant and more delicate than anything that had ever touched you in your life, which was only your master’s hands and your muzzle and your chains. Aventurine would feel so soft in comparison, you’d always figured. It made your heart ache, thinking about getting to hold something so lovely.

But really—that desire came second. What came first was how mated omegas feel safe around their alphas, and you so desperately wanted him to be safe. Kakavasha had looked so frail, so grim, as your master took his chains and led him home from the market, and you could smell the fear coming off him in waves. And you could do nothing to stop it. You had nothing you could use to stop it—nothing other than your hands that could kill for him and your pheromones that could soothe him and your useless heart that wanted to collect sixty Tanba for him. That was all you had.

So you failed in the end. Of course you did. You didn't have the status to buy him or mate him or even just provide for him. You couldn't even do for him the one thing you could have done—which was to kill. And Kakavasha suffered for your incompetence. He had to dirty his hands with blood and gamble his way into wealth and then suddenly he was freeing you, not the other way around.

And now you are comfortable. You'll lead an easy life from now, Aventurine reassured you when he brought you onto his ship all those years ago, and he's kept that promise. What about you? you'd asked him then. Will you lead an easy life with me, if you're working for the IPC? And he had smiled and lied to you: Yes.

It had been a painfully obvious lie. If you were a smarter person, you'd have never believed it in the first place. Aventurine has no interest in leading an easy life, because an easy life would be less profitable, and less profit would mean less safety. And he is always, always worried about being unsafe. It is indiscernible to everyone but you—an alpha (his alpha, always his, even if he doesn't want you) who has watched over him for so long that you can detect every shift in his scent. No matter how much cologne he drowns himself in and no matter how strong his suppressants are, you know when he is afraid.

And here is the bitter truth, the ultimate proof of your shortcomings:

Aventurine is always afraid.

It is a beautiful day on Agnisahr, and you can tell that Aventurine is about to throw up from worry.

You're sitting in the middle of stunning wealth—Aventurine in his feathers and jewellery, you in your tailored jacket—in a lobby made from marble and pale sandstone, with a view of palm trees and rolling, scarlet sand dunes beyond the window. The waitstaff addresses him as Honoured Guest and they keep his crystal chalice filled constantly with water—one of the most expensive commodities on the planet. Aventurine has been drinking from it religiously, which is strange as he typically has the habit of forgetting to hydrate. A faint wildflower scent is drifting from his slender form. These are the only giveaway to his mood: he's otherwise as pokerfaced as ever, smiling calmly as he discusses his plans to sabotage the local government and acquire the planet for the IPC.

“This is a very dangerous mission,” you state flatly.

“All my missions are dangerous.” He takes a sip, one pinky up. “The IPC pays me well for a reason. As they say—”

“‘High risk, high reward.’ I know.” You try not to sound bitter, though you allow yourself to sound tired. “I still do not think the risk is worth the reward in this case.”

“I think over 5.6 million in credits is a great reward, actually. We could do a lot with that kind of money.”

You raise a brow. “What could an extra 5.6 million get you that you can't already buy?” It is—as Topaz would say—‘chump change’ in comparison to his current wealth, which sums to a number so vast that you can't wrap your head around it.

Aventurine pretends to miss the point. “Tons! We could buy a new spacecraft. Get another mansion. Or—we could take a vacation to Penacony. I hear it's quite nice there.” A playful smile. “I could get us a penthouse unit. With a featherbed.”

You frown. Sometimes Aventurine likes to flirt when you're being stubborn—not out of interest, but as a ploy to distract you. He’d developed the habit after he joined the IPC. It used to fluster you, but now it only makes you cross your arms.

“You could die,” you point out.

“You'll protect me.”

“No, I won't. You always find a way to get rid of me when things are most dangerous.” You give him an accusatory stare. “You never let me do my job.”

He's too shameless to deny it. “And it's worked out fine, hasn't it? I haven't died so far.”

“Yes. Just by dumb luck.”

“I beg to differ. My luck is quite reliable.” He sets down his glass. Glances back outside. A microexpression, brows knotting for the briefest second as he studies the sky. “I'm not worried.”

“You're a shit liar.”

That gets him to look at you, letting a small frown pass over his face. “No, I'm actually a great liar. You're just too good at reading me. It's very inconvenient, you know.”

“I can't help it.” You lean toward him, making a show of it as you sniff. An orchid-like scent—faint but unmistakable—has seeped into artificial ambergris and wood. “It's hard to ignore.”

He hums. He isn't frowning anymore—but doesn't look happy, either. “I should change suppressants.” He taps the side of his empty glass, fidgeting. Aventurine never fidgets: it's an amateur giveaway. “These ones clearly don't work well enough.”

“That won't help. I know you too well.” Your eyes soften. He's looking outside again, the blues of his irises distant. “You're worried, Aventurine. More than usual. Let’s back out of this—let Jade handle it.”

“The mission isn't what's bothering me,” he says patiently. “I just don't like this planet.”

“Because you can tell it's dangerous.”

“No. Well—it is, but nothing I can't handle.” He leans back. “I just dislike the weather here.”

You arch a brow. “...the weather?”

“Yes,” he says neatly, “it's too dry here. I'll break out.”

You open your mouth. Close it. It is possibly the most absurd thing you've ever heard, and certainly the worst lie that's ever come from him. For as long as you've known him, Aventurine has had flawless skin, marble-smooth, and ever since being freed, he’s never really cared much for looking handsome so much as looking rich. But he maintains his serious expression: all-in on the farce. “Did you know that outside the capital, this planet hasn't had any natural rain in a quarter of an Amber Era? And the stellar winds are terrible. I don't know how people live on a planet like this.” His eyes narrow at the cloudless sky. “The IPC is going to need to do a lot of terraforming if they want to make this into a merchant hub.”

“Aventurine.”

“It'll be a pain crossing the desert—the elements will ruin my clothes, you know,” he continues. “It won't be so bad while we're on the ships, but we’ve got to go outside from time to time. Can't make any friends otherwise.”

“Aventurine.”

“And there's nothing to do for fun when we’re not working.” He sighs dramatically. “I can't wait to get our 5.6 billion and leave for someplace else. I'm being serious about Penacony, by the way—”

“Aventurine.”

“—though not about the featherbed. I'll get you your own room, obviously. And I'll buy whatever dream experience you’d like. What kind would you want?”

Finally allowed a chance to speak, you say, “One where you retire.”

“Retire? Why would I ever do that?”

“I don't know. Maybe you decide you've made enough money.”

“No such thing.”

“Then you can settle down with someone.”

That makes him smile. It feels mocking. “Me? Settling down? With who?”

“Who knows. Someone who will treat you better than the IPC, I hope.”

“Anyone that nice would run in the other direction. But never mind me. This would be your dream experience. What happens to you in it?”

“I stop chasing after you and get to live out the rest of my days in peace,” you say dryly, and Aventurine blinks. “Please stop deflecting. The IPC gave you a suicide mission. We will both die if we stay here.”

He looks serious now. “I wouldn't let you die.”

“You can't know that.”

“Well, I do. And I've got decent chances at surviving too—at least one in ten.”

You feel like sighing—a deep, aggravated noise is heavy in your throat—but Aventurine doesn't enjoy it when you show anger around him. It's the one omega instinct that he can't ignore, you suppose: unease around an aggressive alpha. Voice tightly controlled, you say, “You’re going to bet your life on one in ten?”

  “Sure. My chances were worse on the last planet, and things worked out great. It'll be the same on Agnisahr.” Aventurine raises a hand, calls for the bill. The conversation is over. You lean back in your seat, watching sourly as he pays tens of thousands of credits just for water.

“You know, they say the royal family is backed by an Aeon,” you can't help but point out, once the waiter is gone. A last-ditch effort. Aventurine smiles at it, amused. Like you're a child.

“So what?” He glances outside, at the desolate landscape beyond the oasis—nothing but red sand, a blue, rainless sky, and two radiant suns shining above it all. “The protection of a god is nothing compared to the schemes of human beings. And gods abandon their people all the time, anyway.”

During your tenth day on Agnisahr, you realise that something is deeply wrong.

It takes you some time to understand what’s happening. At first you think that whatever political danger you’ve intuited is much worse than you thought, and that’s why Aventurine has been so pale, so discomforted, so exhausted. Then his scent starts changing—he switches clothes two, three times a day (because of all this heat during Agnisahran days, he tells his new business associates) and spritzes his nape with his cologne almost religiously—and you wonder if he is sick with something. If the food in this planet has something that disagrees with his Sigonian biology, or if he has picked up one of the local filoviruses, or if someone’s poisoned one of his meals because they’ve correctly identified him as a threat. Aventurine dismisses every single one of these theories when you bring it up, and—as if in denial—only attributes it to the weather. (I’ve never done well in deserts, he tells you, his eyes on his phone screen. I'm not used to them. It is above 300 Kelvin, and you do not see a single bead of sweat on his neck, and his cheeks are not even a little flushed.)

You only figure it out when he is too ill to get out of bed one morning and forbids all the IPC staff from coming near his hotel room. It sets off alarms immediately—Aventurine, no matter how sick, will work and see through meetings as long as he is mentally capable of it—and so you naturally ignore his orders and check on him, using the spare key to his sleeping quarters that you're given as a policy. And as soon as the door cracks open—as soon as you step inside only to be hit with a violent, cloying sweetness—you realise what’s happening and slam the door shut behind you.

“You’re in heat,” you blurt out, and Aventurine—a shivering, panting mess on the bed—groans in response.

“Why are you here?” He turns toward you, still lucid enough to glare at you through the tangled mess of his hair. His voice is weak, but no less self-possessed: “I was very clear—no company today.”

“I am your personal bodyguard,” you remind him mildly. Your voice is calm—both non-threatening and non-condescending. “Those orders don’t apply to me. If things feel suspicious, I look into it. And they felt very suspicious.” Your brow knits as you study his clothes. Mulberry silk clings to his form, soaked through with sweat. Thin, eucalyptus sheets are tangled up around him. There are only two pillows. No water bottles. No knotting toys.

Nothing.

“You didn't know you'd be in heat,” you realise. “What happened to your suppressants?”

“I don't know.” There’s a quiet, frustrated edge to his voice. Vulnerable too. It makes you think of when you were both still slaves, and Aventurine was confined to the basement of the manor—the one that all omega slaves were made to ride out their heats in. Either they would do it alone or were ordered to spend it with some alpha, usually either a friend of the master or an alpha slave he wished to reward. That's when they're most pliable, he'd tell his guests, or sometimes even you. They get so desperate they'll present themselves to anyone. Then amused laughter from the other party—How obscene!—as you looked away, blood hammering in your ears.

You had been your master’s favourite. His most obedient, most profitable pet—striking enough for his guests to admire, deadly enough for his audiences to bet on, docile enough for him to enjoy. Good enough for him to reward, and he often rewarded you with his most beautiful slave: his Avgin omega. Just don't mark him, he’d said, fastening the muzzle around your mouth. It'll ruin his market value. Who knows if someday he'd sell Kakavasha off to some alpha master who wished to claim him, he said. Though I don't think there's anyone in this star system who'd want a Sigonian for a mate, let alone a Sigonian slave. Then he’d paused, eyes scanning over you. As if contemplating. But maybe they'd try to get Avgin whelps out of him, he added, and you felt like throwing up.

You'd never mate him in those moments, your muzzle always prevented you from saying. You didn't even want to think about touching him, and he didn't want to think about it either. Even in the cruel grip of his heats, with nothing but the thin mat beneath him and his slave’s rags around him, Kakavasha hadn't wanted any kind of contact from you, rejecting any chance of solace. Don't, don't—not again, not again, he'd begged. Then as the nights marched on and his mind grew hazier, he’d start whimpering too: It hurts, alpha. It hurts. Help me. It hurts. Don't touch me. Not again. It hurts. It hurts. Stop it, please stop it.

It gutted you.

It went against every instinct, not to touch him. To let him lie there, in scorching, lonely pain, when all you wanted to do was to dispel it. It would be so easy to press yourself against him and let his skin cool against yours, do the one thing that your body was good at other than killing. But not again, not again, I can't anymore, I don't want it, I never wanted it, and all you could do was sit there, unmoving. Watch as the most delicate, precious thing you had in your life shatter.

And standing here now, watching Aventurine shatter before you once more—it is unbearable. He needs a nest, you keep thinking. He needs a nest and some water and some kind of touch, some kind of relief, but not again, not again, and you’re still a slave, still a worthless and stupid slave, and Kakavasha is still crying on a basement floor and you can't do anything for him.

“You need help, Aventurine,” you say, voice soft, and his whole body tenses. His scent dips, and the scent of florals overwhelms you.

“No,” he breathes, “I don't.”

“You do. You're sick.” You bite your lip. Your heart splits as you suggest it, but you say, “I can call a professional.”

“No,” he spits. The facade is gone. The poker face has cracked. The anger and the pain and the fear are all on full display, and his voice sharpens: “No strangers.”

No foreign scents, you realise he's demanding. A new scent would probably make him feel unsafe.

Then let me help you, you think of pleading, but not again, not again, and you're filled with so much shame at the thought that all you can do is look away.

“Then—can I do anything?” He goes still. “Not—not that, but something to make you more comfortable. I can build you a nest, at least—”

“No.” He takes a deep, shaking breath. “No nests. I don't need one—”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't,” he says. His voice is wavering now, on the verge of crumbling with fever and pain. “I've never—I’ve never needed a nest, I don't—I don't want to—” He presses his face into his pillow. “I need—I need to be alone, fuck—”

He doesn't mean to whine. The cry for distress is instinct, something that all omegas are programmed to do in heat. You’ve heard that they’ve evolved to make this noise as a way of appealing to nearby alphas for help, but you think this must be a lie as you never once saw your alpha master giving mercy to any of his omega slaves. Still, whether it is your biology or not—the noise that Aventurine makes has your heart aching so much you can't help but step forward. But he shakes his head and inches away, shuddering violently, and then his voice echoes again in that cold basement—not again, not again, and don't touch it anymore, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore, not again, and it's all you can do to back away until your spine is pressed against the door.

“I'm sorry, Vasha,” you say, strained. “I’m sorry. I'll leave you now.”

As the door shuts behind you, you catch a final glimpse him—face pressed into the pillows, shivering.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was crying.

When you were both slaves, Aventurine hated seeing you during his heats.

Kakavasha was normally calm around you. Most of the time, he was even friendly (he was friendly to everyone whom he thought could be useful), but he was different during his heats. Sometimes he was vicious; mostly he was withdrawn. Nearly always, he wanted to be left alone. In those moments, all he could register was your alpha scent and his memories of what other people had done to him during his heats. And while you'd have hated to leave him, despised the idea of him being offered to another alpha—even more than that, you hated violating this boundary of his. Hated that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. Hated being the reason he felt so unsafe.

Hated being an alpha.

Now that you no longer have the orders of your slavemaster hanging over you, it is the least you can do to respect Aventurine’s wish of being left alone. He has every right to privacy, and you have every obligation to give it to him. But instead you have been standing here, outside his door, for a full system-hour.

Every time you try to leave, your body is wracked with anxiety. The thought of other people—other alphas—coming near him in this state makes you seethe, your hands flexing at your side. The predator instinct comes out, and the people around you notice it. Every person unlucky enough to walk down this hall scurries away under your glare, even the other IPC staff wandering about to look for Aventurine: Must be their mate on the other side, they remark to one another, and then they're gone.

It is a hard thing to hear. You are not his mate. You are not even a heat partner. If you were, then he wouldn't be in so much pain. Not now, and not back then.

Aventurine has never had easy heats. You keep replaying your memories of all his past ones, each one a wound in your heart: the aching sweetness of nectar and honey; his withering body as he clutched his abdomen and curled up; the tears and sweat staining the mat beneath him. And above all: the fear. The scent of it, the sight of it, the sound of it in his voice. Stronger today than any other day.

By instinct, you know that he cannot persist like this. That this time is somehow worse than all those other times, and that he will become seriously ill if left alone.

After nearly an hour and a half, you finally open the door, fearing the worst.

“Aventurine?” you say quietly, but there's no response, and your stomach drops as you see him.

His body is pale, listless. If it weren't for the fragrance washing over you or the sweat on his temple, you'd worry that he was dead.

Tentatively, you reach out. Rest a hand on his forehead, and it scorches you. He stirs at the touch, doesn't open his eyes—but the quiet sigh of relief is unmistakable. His fingers twitch, as if wanting to reach for you.

“Aventurine,” you say gently. “Aventurine, I'm going to take care of you. Is that alright?”

He doesn't respond. You grimace, pulling away to fetch things for him: several spare pillows from the closet, an extra blanket too. From his suitcase, you grab a few of his sweaters, all thick cotton and fleece. He’d had a sense that Agnisahr would be cold at night. Deserts always get cold after sundown, since sand doesn’t retain heat, he'd told you while he was packing. Or I think so, anyway. Don't know why. Must have read it somewhere. Then he’d given you a long, unreadable look before saying, Make sure to bring a jacket. The warmest one you have. The elements on a planet like Agnisahr can kill a person—even a person like you.

I’m sure I’ll be fine, you’d dismissed him. I can survive anything. Any kind of weather, any kind of illness, any kind of pain: these are all things your species is known for being able to endure, the trait that made you such a prized slave in your master’s eyes, such a useful agent at the IPC. You hadn’t given Aventurine’s warning any thought and hardly paid attention to what you’d thrown into your own suitcase.

It surprises you, then, that you find one of your sweaters in his luggage. Made from Sedanian cashmere and heat tech designed by the Intelligentsia Guild. Cloud-soft and warm to the touch. Aventurine had bought it for you before you were deployed to Jarilo-IV to collect intelligence for Topaz. Warmest thing in the known universe, he’d commented. One of a kind, too. Remember to wear it, alright? Don't let my money go to waste, now.

You stare at it, kneading the fleece between your fingers. You hadn’t mentioned wanting to bring this sweater. You’d lost it in your closet some months ago and forgot about it. Aventurine must have remembered and gone looking for it, because—why? You aren't sure. Probably because it’s warmer and softer than anything he owns, you guess. Of course he’d want to wear it.

You throw it into the pile of things you’ve collected for him.

You take it all to his bed, the mattress dipping as you sit next to Aventurine. One by one, you scent each item with your wrist, watching him carefully the whole time. You’re quiet as you lay them out around him, leaving him undisturbed as you build a nest. You order water and electrolyte drinks too, and you’re quick about going to the door when you hear room service knocking—with how feverish he is, he probably badly needs it.

Aventurine is awake when you come back. His breathing is still laboured, pained—but calm.

“I said I didn’t need a nest,” Aventurine says, though he doesn’t sound angry. You wonder if he’s too weak to be. His voice is faint, and his eyes are barely open—focused on the pile of blankets and clothing around him.

“You’re welcome.” You open a bottle of water, hold it out to him. “Drink.”

Aventurine pauses, stares at the offering like it's some kind of foreign object. But he accepts it eventually, sitting up and taking it from you. He winces with the movement, which he tries to hide. He ignores your frown as he drinks, and he doesn't stop until the bottle is empty.

“There are more,” you say, pointing at the several additional bottles on the nightstand. “And some food and some painkillers. I don't know how well they’ll work. This isn't a normal heat. If you're alright with it, I'll call a doctor and—”

“Everything smells like you,” he says quietly, and you stop.

“...yes. Unless they’re mated, nests usually feel most comforting to an omega when they smell like an alpha.” You swallow, looking away. “...you don't have a mate, and you didn't want a professional, so this was the only option I could think of. I'm sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says. He picks out one of the sweaters that have made its way into the nest, the Sedanian one. “I don't mind it.”

“Oh.” You let out a breath. “Then—can I call a doctor?”

His grip on the sweater tightens. “No.”

You frown. “Aventurine—”

“I’ve never needed a doctor before,” he says. He sounds unbothered, but he's fidgeting with the sweater now. “I don't need one now.”

A lie. He almost certainly needed a doctor in some of his prior heats, but you don't push the matter. “Maybe you don't need one,” you say instead, “but it would help.”

“I don't need help,” he says, and you look at him in disbelief. He catches your expression, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Not more than you've already done, I mean.”

“I’ve barely—”

“Contact Topaz. Tell her I'm incapacitated. Tell her…” He hums. “Tell her I have food poisoning. The personnel too. It's not time-sensitive, our business on Agnisahr, so it shouldn't matter if I need a few days off.”

“You really need—”

“Give my regrets to our Agnisahran friends. Deliver it in person. They see you as my right hand, so they’ll most appreciate it coming from you. Topaz can help you with the verbiage. And—try to socialise with them a little, won't you? I think that little omega princess of theirs likes you. Some of the courtesans too, and they have surprising influence.”

“I do not want to be around any omega other than you right now,” you say before you can stop yourself, and Aventurine stops, blinking. His expression is blank, if perhaps a little curious—but his scent shifts. You can't identify how. You add quickly, “I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this sick.”

“Ah. Right.” Aventurine looks away. His voice sounds strange, and his heat must be getting to him again, because it carries a hint of pain. “But you have to. The IPC’s goals take priority.”

You frown. “Your life is more important than the IPC,” you say, and he laughs. Loudly.

“What? This is just a heat. I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that without seeing a doctor.”

“I do. I’m willing to bet money that I won’t die.” He cuts you off before you can reply: yes, you're always willing to bet on your life. “And even if I do, that would still be less important than Agnisahr. Do you know how many resources are on this lifeless rock?” His mouth slants. “If we mess up here, I’m dead anyway.”

“I wouldn’t let them touch you.”

“Yes, you would—because they would kill you too.” Aventurine sighs. His eyes close, and his brow creases—a sign that whatever reprieve he was lucky enough to get is about to end. “Go do what I asked. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll… see a doctor if you do.”

You stand immediately. “Alright. I’ll be back to check on you.”

“I know.”

You stop at the door, giving him a long look. Seeing him like this—lying on a proper bed, cradled in a warm nest, with water and food and medicine nearby—you feel a little better. This is leagues beyond what he’d been afforded in his days as a slave, at the very least. Even if he isn’t free, at least he isn’t trapped.

But it still doesn’t feel good, having to step away. The last thing you want to do is talk to other people, pretend to have interest in other omegas. There are an astonishing number of them who are interested in you on this planet—that princess, and some baron’s son, and one of the prince’s favourite paramours—but you can’t bring yourself to care even for business purposes when Aventurine is like this. You can't act as if you are enjoying yourself when you know he is in pain.

You wonder about telling Topaz the truth. You wonder if she’d be worried enough about Aventurine to let you neglect this mission and cover for you instead, without letting Jade or Diamond or anyone else dangerous know. Not that you think that anyone at the Company particularly cares about Kakavasha—it’s only that he’s valuable. Aventurine of Stratagems is valuable. How many worlds have fallen because of him?

But he seemed unwilling to bet on his worth to them. Which is startling, given how often he's bet on it in the past.

“What’s so important about this planet,” you can’t help but ask, “that the IPC would rather you die than lose it?”

He’s silent for a long moment. His eyes are closed—hidden—but you can see his knuckles whiten as he clutches the Sedanian sweater.

“Copper,” he says. “They want it for the copper.”

When Kakavasha first suggested a friendship to you, it had felt like something in between a proposition and a threat:

Go ahead, he'd said. Use me as you wish. You can even stab me in the back if you want. Just be mindful of this: I don't make deals that don't pay off.

It might have been a strange way of making friends in any other circumstance, but in a house of slaves, it was a natural one. You had not been a clever person—still aren't—but you understood that your place in the world was one of a tool. This was the place of all slaves: you were all things to be used. Your body was a thing to be used. It was valuable for its strength, for its hardiness, for its threat in the arena and for its convenience in your master’s bed (or in a dark basement, or within a heat house, or inside whichever omega your mistress ordered you to calm down). It did not surprise you that Kakavasha wanted to use it as well. It did not surprise you that Kakavasha expected you to use him in return.

You never would have, of course. Kakavasha was not a thing to be used—he had always been a mate. Though you were happy to let him use you, because all you were was a tool anyway, so it was really all you could offer him: to be used.

None of this has changed for you. You don't think any of this has changed for Aventurine, either. With each new friendship he makes, he repeats those familiar words: Use me as you wish. And with each person who accepts, this is exactly what they do: they use him, and they use him, and they use him until suddenly they notice he's tricked them and they've got the losing hand.

You damned gambler, they always spit. You Sigonian wretch. All you know is how to manipulate people. Thief, liar, cheat, whore. Despite all these insults, Aventurine always smiles at them. Cry as they might, he’s won his bet and has their world in his palms.

Winner takes all, he sometimes gloats.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. This is all Aventurine knows; these are his great guiding principles in life. (He's told you this point blank, stacking up chips in his favourite gambling dens with a self-satisfied grin.) You often find yourself coming back to these conversations, particularly when you need to convince him of something.

And right now, you very badly need to convince him of something.

Aventurine is ignoring his doctor’s advice. His suppressants are unstable in extreme temperatures, he's been told. During travel on Agnisahr, they'd degraded, and now he’s experiencing his first heat in several years. Of course it's going to be painful, his doctor had said. I can prescribe you some medication to ease the symptoms, but really—nothing will work better than a heat partner. It doesn't need to be a mate. Any alpha will do.

The doctor had been an alpha. You had asked for a beta or omega, but alphas tend to dominate in Interastral Medical Schools, so they're in short supply. Aventurine had been still the whole time, face unreadable, but you could tell he wanted to throw up at the stench of an unfamiliar alpha. You had stepped between the two of them, not bothering to hide the animosity in your voice. We’ll take the medication, you had said, and the doctor had sniffed the air and nodded at you in approval.

Probably won't need it. An alpha like you could sort him out with just a few rounds, he told you, and both of you stayed quiet as he left.

You still aren't talking, or even looking at each other. Aventurine has lay down in his nest again, closing his eyes, while you stand as far away as physically possible—at the door where you'd just shown the doctor out. With the room shut off again, windows closed and door locked, Aventurine’s scent is starting to flood your senses once more. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him shivering.

“What do you want to do?” you ask.

“Nothing.” He swallows. “I'll be fine.”

He's afraid. You can tell he's afraid. And you can tell he’ll be more afraid if you take even a single step closer to him, so you nod and say, “I'll go pick up your medication, then,” and Aventurine doesn't stop you. You can see him curling up in his nest, face pressed into the cashmere sweater.

But he still doesn't stop you.

After a few more days, Aventurine finally breaks.

There is a rare sag to his shoulders when he calls you to the room, along with a taste of dread in the air. You haven't seen him so vulnerable in years. Aventurine is not an open person, so cunning and self-possessed in his wealth—but Kakavasha was more brittle, more powerless, flayed raw and open even though he didn't often get the whip. (It would ruin his value if he ever scarred—his looks were his greatest selling point, your master said.) He was especially defeated when forced to spend his heats with an alpha he didn't want. You wonder, a vice grip of pain around your heart, whether this entire situation is simply an extension of that. Whether he is calling you here against his will, this time compelled by his pain, rather than his master. Whether this luxury suite feels like that wretched basement to him.

He doesn't look at you when he talks, nor does he sit up. He remains curled in his nest, nearly clinging onto the blankets and clothes.

“That stupid medication,” he pants out, sharp even in his heat, “isn't working.”

“I can tell.” Your brow knots. He’s in so much pain, it is palpable. “I”—you hesitate, voice dropping. “Can I help you?”

He goes quiet. As both Aventurine and Kakavasha, he has always been disinclined to accept help from other people. There is no such thing as unconditional help in his mind—only leverage and weakness. He hates it when people have leverage over him, and he hates being weak. Both are things that can be exploited, and Aventurine always needs to be the one doing the exploiting. He always needs to be in control.

Even like this, the last threads of his sanity about to snap, with every circuit of his omega biology trying to drag him into insensible lust, he fights viciously to be in control.

Winning and losing. Using and being used. Exploitation and treachery. Control and being controlled. This is how he's always lived. This is how he's always survived.

This is the only way to let him maintain control when he is most afraid of losing it.

“I don't mind,” you say quietly, “if you use me.”

Even through the haze of heat, Aventurine’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“I don't mind if you use me,” you repeat, voice neutral. Unfeeling. The proposal might sound cruel to someone else, but not you. After all—your place in the world is one of a tool, and this is what you've always done as an alpha and a slave: sleeping with people to take care of their needs, or sometimes just their desires. It did always make you feel strangely hollow, but you think it will feel just fine with Aventurine. All you've ever wanted to do is keep him safe, and surely, this will do that, but—

“I'll only help if you want. I don't want to force it.” You lower your eyes. “But if you do want it, I'll be careful with you. You can lead. I promise.”

“...I know.” Aventurine’s voice is weak, cracks with pain, but you can tell he's speaking with clarity. “I know you will be.”

You look up. “Then you'll let me help?”

Aventurine looks away—a sign that he cannot adopt his usual smile. He’s clutching that sweater again, pressed close to his chest.

“Just your wrist,” he says quietly.

You listen carefully. “What?”

“I just—I just want your wrist.” He looks away. “Your—your scent gland. Only that.”

“Okay.”

You get up, then falter. When it was your job to comfort your mistress’ omega slaves, you were told to enter their nests—no permission needed from them, no permission needed from you, because only her permission ever mattered for anything. The omegas were usually too delirious to care, often had even begged for it with the state of mind that they were in. But Aventurine is different. He's not like you, and he's not like them. He's never bent to any of his masters’ wills. And even if he did, you wouldn't want to have him bend to yours.

Instead of climbing into his nest, you ask, “Can I sit on the bed?” He doesn't answer. “Just the edge of it,” you add, and you hear him exhale.

“Fine,” he says, breathing measured.

“Thank you,” you say, and he gives you a confused look. But then you're reaching out with a hand, offering it, and he is quickly distracted.

Aventurine drops the sweater, grabs your hand almost immediately. He turns over your palms, fingers tracing your heartlines—as if testing you, as if mapping out territory. He runs his thumbs along the veins of your wrists, too, right over your scent gland, and you have to force yourself not to shudder at the feeling. You only stay still, letting him explore the contours of your hands, letting him acclimate to the feeling of your skin. He laces his fingers with your own, a latticework trap, and he finally drags his wrist along yours.

Both of you inhale sharply.

You can't react. You know it'll scare him if you do, but it's hard to keep still. The way his scent blossoms, the way it mingles with yours, the way it all washes over you—what you're doing can hardly be called touching, but you feel like you're going mad. Especially when he flushes like that, his vibrant eyes fluttering shut. Especially when the sweetness of honey overtakes your senses. Especially when you can smell the way his body is reacting, all that wetness and heat and slick dripping between his legs. You don't miss the way his thighs rub together, nor the hard outline of his cock straining against his pants.

Aventurine shudders. He brings your hand up to his face, rests his cheek in your palm. His skin is flushed and burning with fever, and it's no wonder that he's sighing with relief at your touch. You try not to stare at the way his mouth falls open. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze a hazy violet and blue—before he closes his eyes again and presses his lips into your wrist.

Fuck.

“Aventurine—” You have to stop, voice strangled, when you feel the full softness of his lips working against your skin. He’s panting now, laboured breaths sweeping over your veins. Then you feel his teeth catch, a gentle nip on your flesh, and when he groans into your racing pulse—deep, relieved, desperate, a noise that makes your gut flare with heat—you realise you can't do this.

You pull back your hand, and Aventurine startles.

“Aventurine,” you say, voice strained. Maybe we should stop, you want to say, but he cuts you off.

“I need”—a shaky breath—“I need more.”

You watch Aventurine carefully. His pupils are dilated, blue irises nearly eclipsed. His cheeks are rosy, and he can't stop panting. You can fully smell his arousal now, even through his silk clothes. He's desperate, needing to be filled.

But he also looks torn. His brows are knotted, and you can taste a faint hint of fear in the air now. His knuckles clutch at the sheets, almost white, and he stares at them. He can't look up. He can't look at you. His whole body is tense, like he wants to bolt—and if he weren't so weak, you think he might actually.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn't nod. He also doesn't shake his head. His arms clutch at his midsection as he winces. He doesn't look like Aventurine. He looks like Kakavasha. It makes your heart ache as you watch him give into his body’s demands, wearing the same expression he did on the day your master bought him.

“...don't use your Voice on me,” Aventurine—Kakavasha—says quietly.

It takes you a moment to realise what he's asking. “I won't.”

“And”—his eyes somehow grow even more evasive, hidden by his long lashes— “don’t touch my commodity code.”

His commodity code. His commodity code that is seared into his scent gland. His code that, if you kiss, will ease his agony instantly. His code that, if you bite—will chain him to you irreversibly.

“Of course I won't,” you say instantly.

He closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

“And—” Aventurine looks away, jaw tight. His voice is quiet but wrought with tension: “—I don't like when people put things inside me.”

Something claws the walls of your heart.

“That's fine too,” you reply. “I don't mind doing it the other way.”

Aventurine’s sigh is nearly inaudible, but unmistakable. His scent shifts a little bit, the wildflower fragrance fading ever so slightly. But he doesn't come to you. He merely sits there—waiting. Expecting. Maybe dreading. Even in the senseless daze of heat, he’s too anxious to move.

You approach slowly. Though you're overwhelmed by the bouquet of his scent, though you feel a curl of heat in your belly in response to it—you are slow. Alphas are supposedly victims of insatiable lust whenever around an omega in heat, absolved of every action they take, but you are convinced this is a lie. You have never once wanted to handle Aventurine with such cruelty. You think that inflicting violence on him, more than anything else, would go against your biology. Every molecule in your body would reject putting him in such pain or inciting such fear. So you are careful when you approach him, slow as you inch up to him—but you do not think it helps.

Aventurine lies down, his face turned away from yours. His eyes squeeze shut, like he's expecting this to hurt. Uncertainty gnaws at your gut as you lean over him, draping your body over his—the only position you've ever taken an omega in, other than mounting them from behind.

(You do not want to mount Aventurine. You never have. It is an impersonal position, a position that omega biology supposedly would force him to enjoy, a position that alphas have likely dictated him to enjoy. You think there is nothing you would hate more. In your weakest, most selfish moments, in your worst ruts, when you’ve allowed yourself to fantasise about mating Kakavasha—you are always facing each other, and he is always looking at you with his eyes you've always loved, and it always feels intimate. Never impersonal. Never dictated. Never forced.)

Aventurine is so honeysweet beneath you. More fragrant than any omega you’ve ever been with. You glance at his commodity code, trying to ignore the scent of his branded skin, then lean down to press your face against the other side of his neck, where a faint scar mars the otherwise flawless slope of his nape. Like every other omega slave you've ever slept with, the scent gland there has been excised: a precautionary measure to reduce the risk of an unwanted mating bite.

(Not unwanted by them—the wants of a slave never matter—but unwanted by their owners. A mating bite would ruin the code seared into their neck, claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. It would hurt their resale value. Only owners are allowed to claim slaves in such a permanent way—and the wants of a slave have no relevance there, either.)

It's a funny thing, this surgical scar. Even with their gland missing, you've noticed that most omegas like having their neck scented by you anyway, probably from some vestigial instinct. You guess that Aventurine won't be any different, that maybe it will comfort him. But when your lips skim the scar left on him by his owner, his entire body stiffens beneath you. His fragrance cuts into your lungs, sharp.

You recoil, as if burned by the touch of him.

“Sorry,” Aventurine is quick to say. He tries to glance at you, but his diamond pupils quickly avoid you again. “Don’t worry about me. Just do whatever you need to do.”

“But you're scared,” you point out, and you see his brow twitch. “You’re scared when I touch you.”

“Not scared,” he lies. “Just…”

When his eyes finally look at you—land on your lips—you understand.

A bite would claim an omega more deeply and permanently than any titanium collar or carbon steel chain. If you lost your mind—give into the insatiable lust of an alpha whenever around an omega in heat—you might bite him, and then you would own Aventurine.

And Aventurine would rather die than be owned by anyone again.

He doesn't need to finish his sentence. You already know what you need to do.

“It's okay,” you say gently, and his brow knots. “I have an idea.”

Aventurine is always afraid.

This is a fact that has haunted you since the day you met him. You've wondered about how to fix it—the bare minimum as his mate (always his, even if he doesn't want you)—and you’ve never quite pinned down how. Because when someone has spent their life in perpetual fear, how do you make them feel safe? When their life is constantly at risk, how do you ever make them feel calm?

You still aren't sure of the answer. But after seeing Kakavasha become Aventurine, you now have a good guess.

It is clear from his scent that Aventurine does not feel remotely safe right now. Not when you leave to fetch something from your own room, and not when you return. The anxiety thickens when he sees, in your hands, a very familiar muzzle.

Aventurine stares. He is not smiling, but he also does not reveal his discomfort on his face, even as beads of sweat line his temple. But his voice is too controlled, too calm, when he asks, “You kept the mask.”

You nod.

“I told you to throw it out,” he points out, “when I freed you.”

“I know. Sorry. I don't know why I kept it.” You remember how tightly you clutched it before the incinerator, thinking about how strange it would feel, discarding something that you'd worn everyday since you presented—but you don't tell him this. Instead, you say, “But it’s convenient.”

Before Aventurine can say anything, you toss him the remote.

“You’re afraid of my bite and my Voice, but you don't have to be with this,” you explain. Your tone is gentle, soothing. Probably disarming coming from an alpha, with how he is in heat. Perhaps that's why he’s studying the remote rather than chucking it away. “You'll be in full control if I wear this.”

Control. Mere seconds after you say it, you can smell his fragrance change again, mellowing. It's only a brief moment of calm that fades when you latch the mask onto your face, but he doesn't smell as nearly as stressed before.

Aventurine watches you carefully as the carbon steel swallows your maw, its old and familiar edges biting into you. For the first time in years, you cannot tell what he is thinking—truly poker-faced even to you.

“You aren't bothered by wearing that thing while we do this,” he says—asks?—and you shake your head. The muzzle was part of you for years. You were wearing it when you killed someone for the first time. You were wearing it when you went into rut for the first time. You were wearing it when your master had sex with you for the first time. It doesn't bother you that you’ll wear it when you have sex with Aventurine.

If you could speak, you would ask him, Why do you think it would bother me? But all you do is gesture for him to sit up. To switch places with you. You lie down—something you've never done with an omega—and wait for him to get on top.

Aventurine stares at you for a long, quiet moment. It's followed by a sigh of relief. Disarmed, he—for the first time in any heat you've witnessed—finally relaxes. His scent wafts over you as he climbs between your legs, and you can feel the heat radiating from his hands as he parts your thighs, almost scalding.

He doesn't bother getting you ready, too needy to think rationally, but he doesn't have to anyway. You've been wet ever since you felt his mouth touch your wrist, hard ever since you heard him groan into it. You're equally desperate to get some relief as you feel his cockhead sliding against your opening, leaking all over your entrance as his slick drips onto your thighs. His breath shakes as he enters you, and he can't hear it with how you're muzzled—but you groan just as deeply as him at the tight stretch.

You hear him swear when you clench around him, watch him lean over you. His arms shake as he supports himself, refusing to succumb to his heat even as he chases his relief. You seek out his gaze (just as in your dreams, facing each other, intimate), and his neon eyes catch on your eyes for a brief, breathtaking second—

—before he looks away.

There's a flash of—you don't know what, maybe pain? Or fear?—in his irises as he does. A twitch of the brow, a tell he'd normally rather die than let slip. You have the realisation, as Aventurine moves inside you, that even while you're muzzled, even while he has complete control over you—he still can't stand having sex with you. Probably because he can't stand being in heat in general, you tell yourself. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't use it anymore, don't use me anymore. He'd have this reaction to anyone.

Still—you didn't expect him to have this reaction to you.

Your hands twitch, possessed by an old instinct to cover your eyes. But you'd probably scare Aventurine if you moved your arms, so all you do is dig your fingers into the sheets and squeeze them shut. You tell yourself again and again that he'd hate having sex with anyone in these circumstances—not just you. And then you tell yourself, as a desperate, broken moan leaves his branded throat, that he would also come inside anyone in these circumstances, caught within the cruel grip of his heat.

Aventurine stills inside you as he finishes. He pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he shudders in his ecstasy, his spend hot and thick inside you. You can feel his fever break as he comes down from his high, the heat coming off his body easing into a manageable warmth.

Do you feel better, you try to say, but you can't move your mouth while your mask is on. So you wait patiently for Aventurine to come back to himself, watching him carefully as he pulls out and rolls onto the mattress beside you. He finally glances at you then. His eyes narrow once they land on you, confusion flicking through them. Then displeasure. He reaches for the remote.

To your surprise, he immediately punches in the code to unlock your muzzle. Aventurine has apparently remembered the numbers after all these years, as if the moment he freed you has been since seared into his memory.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing you say, and Aventurine gives you a confused look. He’s still panting, dazed, so you ask, “Can I check your temperature?” And when he nods, you confirm your suspicion: he's still much too warm.

There is an ache between your legs and a strange hollow in your gut (because you aren't very experienced with receiving, you think—your body likely just isn't used to the feeling of it), but you quickly forget them. All you can think of is Aventurine, and how he’s still unwell, and how you need to comfort him. The instinct is so strong that you don't even say anything as you get up, straightening out your clothes.

“Are you leaving?” Aventurine asks. His voice is neutral, completely unbothered, but the thought is so horrific to you that you turn back to him with wide eyes.

“Of course not. I'm going to get you water and medicine.” A beat. You stare at Aventurine’s eyes, then think about how he hid them from you during sex. The hollow feeling comes back, but it's mostly eclipsed by your anxiety at the next thought: “...do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to?”

“I—” I'd rather die, you think. Being forced to leave him right now would feel like tearing out a piece of yourself. You don't know if there's an alpha in this world who could leave their mate in the middle of a heat. And even if he is unmarked, unattached to you—you still think of yourself as his mate. (His, always his, even if he doesn't want you.) “I would prefer not to. I am your heat partner. I'm supposed to take care of you.”

You hear a quiet breath. “Right. Of course. You're always so conscientious.” Aventurine nods, as if convincing himself of something. “Try not to take too long.”

“I’ll come back soon,” you promise, and the air sweetens. Encouraged, you add, voice gentle: “I’ll bring that medication, and then we can have sex as many times as you need after I come back. I'll make sure you're not in any pain anymore.” You pause, studying him. “Is there anything else you need to feel better?”

His fragrance changes once more, this time in a way you don't totally recognize. “No.” His voice sounds strange. His scent is still foreign, fluctuating, possibly hinting at some kind of pain. The heat must be getting to him again—and of course it wasn't enough, what you just did, what you can provide. He likely needs to be filled to get any kind of lasting relief, but you left him empty. “No, that's all I want.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look calm. Ignoring the emptiness in your gut. It didn't feel bad, but you hope it'll feel better next time you have sex. You think it will. Alphas are supposed to be filled with an insatiable lust near omegas in heat, after all. And even though you’ve never felt that before—never felt anything sleeping with all those omegas in your mistress’ house—you are sure you'll eventually feel it around Aventurine.

But the feeling never comes. Even though you can tell that his heat has returned by the time you're back—sweat beading his temples, laboured breaths at his lips, his bottoms now discarded, with full evidence of arousal between his legs—you don't feel much of anything as you reach for your mask again.

“Don't,” Aventurine says, before it can clasp around your face. You give him a curious look. He explains, “Don't. I don't want to have sex again. Not yet.”

You stare at him, shifting. Uncomfortable. Uncertain. Not knowing how he wants to use you. “What can I do?”

He gives you a long look. “Come here. I… I want your scent gland.”

It's a sensible request. If there's a way to seek relief without fucking someone—without fucking you, which he clearly hated doing—you're sure Aventurine would prefer it. So you climb into his nest, holding your wrist out for him, and—

“No.” His voice is quiet. “I want the one on your neck.”

“...oh.”

You stand there, not sure where to move. If he wants you in his nest again, or if he’d rather do this standing. You’re relieved when he demands, “Lie down.”

You expect him to get on top of you when you do. Assume that he wants complete control—but he instead lies down beside you. Presses his body into yours, and then his face into your neck. His nose and lips brush against your scent gland, a full-body shudder running through him, and—

—and now you know for a fact that it is a lie that alphas want nothing other than to fuck an omega when they're in heat. Because even like this, with his lips sweet on your neck, with the sheets soaked with his slick, with his spend leaking out of you—you do not want to have sex with Aventurine. You only want to hold him. You only want him to keep scenting you. You only want to scent him back.

You only want him to feel safe.

You breathe in deeply, lungs flooded by honey. You think of what it felt like to hold him in that cold basement, when he was delirious with fever and pain, and you think about how different his scent is now. How much sweeter it is. How much calmer he feels.

“Do you feel better?” you ask, and he doesn't respond, but you know the answer. His hands come up to dig into your shirt, and he presses into you like you're a sweater in his nest. Silence blankets over you both, calm and warm. His laboured breath starts to improve.

He does eventually speak.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he says, “what you smell like?”

You stare at him. Your master used to say that you smelled good, but he'd never elaborated, and you hadn't wanted him to. “No.”

Aventurine breathes in.

“You smell like—” A little sigh, shaking and feverish, leaves him. “You smell like rain.”

Your eyebrows tick up. “Rain?”

“Yes. Or not just rain, but”—he pauses, next words quiet—“more Iike after it rains. You smell like the desert after a rainfall.”

“Oh.” You don't know what to say to that. Feeling distinctly like it's a silly question, you ask, “Is that a good scent?”

“Some would think so. Especially to people from the desert. You probably smell like a blessing to them. Although…”

Aventurine goes quiet again. You stare at the chandelier above you, all crystal and white gold, and wait.

“Although?” you prompt.

“...although I wouldn't really know,” he says. “It’s just a hunch. I bet it's why so many omegas on this planet like you.”

You couldn't care less about those other omegas. All you care about is Aventurine. “And?” you say. “Do you like my scent?”

His reply never comes. He just breathes deeply again, seeking relief from your neck—not intimacy. Any alpha’s scent would work; that doctor told you so. Any alpha’s touch would work, too. There are no special feelings involved here. Your place in the world is one of a tool, and tools are never especially liked nor disliked. Their value exists only in how they can be used.

You don't know why you even bothered to ask the question.

But then something strange happens: Aventurine curls against you, pressing even further into you. His lashes flutter against your pulse again; it ticks up in response, beating fast against his lips.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I do like it.”

You swallow. “But I guess that's because you're in heat. Any alpha would smell good to you, wouldn’t they?”

“No.” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt. “No, I like it because it's yours.”

You know better than to read too much into his response. Aventurine had already said it earlier: No foreign scents. He's only tolerating this whole arrangement because you don't smell unfamiliar to him. Only able to use you because you are the least threatening option.

But the words break something in you—break the thing that made you unable to throw out that little pouch of copper coins that you were saving up for Kakavasha’s freedom, the part of you that made you wear that carbon-steel mask for him. It is this part of you that has your eyes squeezing shut and your arms wrapping around him. You know he’ll recoil, reject you, but just this once—you need to try.

Aventurine doesn't push you away.

He melts into you instead, inhaling deeply. Your scent gland tingles with the warmth of his breath, the feeling of his lips. He seems—comfortable.

You can't fathom why he’s staying in your arms. Perhaps he's simply desperate for some kind of relief from his heat, just like when you held him in the basement while he was delirious from pain. But Aventurine had spoken to you with clarity just now, and his skin doesn't feel scalding so much as warm, and his scent is so different than from that moment. So sweet and so gentle, without a trace of fear. It makes your heart squeeze. As much as you've always wanted Aventurine to feel safe, you'd never imagined that his scent would be so beautiful when he is.

It makes your heart ache. You've never held anything so lovely before, and you’ve never felt so warm before, and it all makes up for how badly it hurt to let Aventurine inside you. How hollow it made you feel to let him use you. How none of that matters as long as you can keep him safe like this, because you belong to Kakavasha. You'll always belong to Kakavasha, in a fate that was chosen for you on the day you met him.

You're his, always his—even if he’ll never want you.

end part i

thank you so much to lore for hosting a fantastic collab and to my sponsors who funded this fic and got it over the finish line! please go check out @ficsforgaza to find other amazing hsr writers you can sponsor in order to help fundraise! here is my own wip list, if you are interested in seeing more from me!

and thank you most of all to YOU! I appreciate you so much for reading this chapter. thank you so much for sticking it through.

additional end notes

[misqnon]

hi, i just read all of ur posts tagged as misqnon's one piece liveblogging and it was so much fun T-T. im here to rant about one piece and im sorry.

i really love seeing people react to content i am caught up with and hold close to my heart.

i got into the 800s in the anime and stopped watching, took a break and then read the manga up to around 1060. but last month i decided to read the whole thing from the beginning and it is genuinely SO WORTH IT.

after u have caught up completely its super rewarding to go back and look at previous chapters bc its constant "oh my god look what was foreshadowed here??" and "now i understand the context behind this!!!" and "this interaction is so much more meaningful now that i know their relationship!!". yes it did take me a whole month of nearly nonstop reading to catch back up but i have 0 regrets.

wano and the arc after it are both super fun and interesting and i think ur gonna love it. the lore is crazy. i hope u dont see any spoilers bc going into it completely blind will probably be way more exciting, especially with the most recent arc since its kinda suspenseful and mysterious,,.

anyways thats all i have to say how do you end these things.. take care!!

AAAAA ANON THIS IS SUCH A FUN MESSAGE TO RECIEVE THANK YOU...

I ended up talking a lot so I'll put this under a cut lol

I used to be the person who said I would never watch one piece 😭😭 I've been into anime since I was like 12 and I'm almost 24 now (fuck . That's like half my life) and obviously it's always been on my radar but I always thought it was 1. Too popular 2. Too Long 3. Hated how oda draws women lmao so I was fine ignoring it and only knowing the basics from just Being On The Internet

I think sometime early on I caved and attempted to watch it- I got to alabasta and stopped bc the anime pacing wasn't doing it for me (though I liked it up until then, but didn't LOVE it)

cut to high-school where a couple of my good friends liked it but we never really talked about it, it was a lifelong interest for one of them bc he'd started reading it on like 4th grade

Well I'm still friends with them (shoutout to sam and seb) and they convinced me to watch one piece film red with them in like July or August of last year bc they were showing me the songs and I, ado fan bc I'm a retired weaboo and a vocaloid Stan, was like "haha that sounds like ado" and they went "IT IS!!!!??" so I had to watch it for her.

again, I was like oh this is fun I like this :^) but no IMMEDIATE interest, more of a passive thing... until the live action came out a month or so later and I watched it just because and DAMN I FELL IN LOVE FAST

I went back to the anime and rewatched the beginning, then skipped back to alabasta where I had left off years and years ago and now I'm Here 🧍

I watched up through part of dressrosa before I started reading the manga, and now I'm doing that while watching certain episodes of just the parts I really wanna see animated

It's been. So Fun

I am now that person who's like Hey You Should Watch One Piece. I get it now. I so get it lmao. And you know the weirdest part is that with it being divided up into arcs like it is I find myself thinking it really doesn't feel that long!?!? Am I insane,

anyways. It's been a while since I was in an active fandom or even in a fandom at all - ESPECIALLY such a big one!?! (I was in college for 4 years and Busy).

but it's. Crazy. I'm writing fanfics and joining discord servers and I've never done that before. it's been very fun and rewarding tbh...I don't like a lot of things about oda and aspects he included and ofc one piece isn't perfect or unproblematic but it IS a really awesome epic of a story about friendship and found family and anti authority and its just.

I'm also a person who's always loved reaction videos or just even seeing otherppl react to things I like so I RELATE AND IM SO GLAD I CAN BE THAT FOR U...

I'm ngl as I've been reading I've been wanting to look up some old one piece forums dated the time certain reveals happened bc I want to see how people felt as this shit came out holy Shit....

it's additionally funny bc this blog is about 10 years old and has amassed a decent amount of followers over the years who were just into some of the other random stuff I've been into but I know a fair amount of them were thinking we were on the same page of not being into one piece and now here I am. Ruining that. And with the pervert character as my favorite no less. lmao SORRYYYY YALL <3

I'll leave u with this message I sent into the discord I share with some friends the other day, none of which really watch op, when asked to explain something about the show. In fact, I think the reasoning for this message was BECAUSE I was explaining to a friend just how much oda foreshadows things!! jinbei, kaido, haki, sanjis backstory, ALL being mentioned by name or referenced DECADES/YEARS BEFORE APPEARING ON SCREEN...HUNDREDS OF CHAPTERS APART....I could rant on more but I'll stop for now.

thank u for the message and feel free to dm me to talk about this silly show anytime bc its sunken its claws into me 😭

[gureumz]

since tumblr was being mean... i'll just write this again then! >:0

i noticed u actually followed me back... TYTYTYTY SMMM can i scream for a second pls AAAAAAAAAAAAA

holy moly u have NO idea how happy i was when i saw that in my notifs- ive been such a big fan of you when u were still active in your older acc. i think you were one of the first smut writers ive rlly liked! I remember i couldn't stop reading your heejay 3some smut and its been engraved in my mind ever since... Thats when i started diving into tumblr and then knowing more about writing :') still gotta improve my grammar though

I was today's years old when i realised you were the same person who posted about that AND the jw royal au 🤡 i got the courage to actually tag you and then u followed me back? Me?? Me who owns a little blog?? God i felt like i was gonna jump off the walls and the fact we're moots now..? 😭 i sound like a weird die hard fan im so sorry :')

Anywho, id just like to say keep doing what youve been doing and ill be here suffering enjoying your work and continue to support you. ilysm and i hope you have an amazing day/night florie ! 💗🤍💗🤍💗🤍

AAAAA thank you so much 🥹 this all means so much to me and the fact that you've liked my work since my cloudninescenes days 😭 thank you truly!!!! 🤍

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

dria i ran out of tags for this 💔💔💔 so im just gonna write out all my thoughts!! absolutely ADORED this piece <333

ok so honestly i feel a little bit ill. PDHDJDH IM JUST??? kinda awestruck LIKE… the way u wrote this……. rearranged my brain a lil.

i know ive said it before but ur writing rly is so so pretty. the way u describe emotions and movements and just… Everything rly had me so hooked!!!! and i adore the way u characterize sugu… he feels so real and kinda vulnerable? like he really is just that lonely boy deep down. who just wanted someone to reach out for him :(

AND READERRRR WOW. i was so enamored w them i love love LOVE when writers take the time to give their reader a distinct personality/vibe and u did that so effortlessly…. theyre so fun and interesting and such a cool contrast to sugu!!!!

"i broke the lock." you reply with a shrug - and the two of you mirror each other's grin.

THEYRE SO FUNNY SPDJDK… and the dynamic here!! between them!!!! im genuinely sooo in love w it dria. its unspoken and affectionate and comfortable and playful… u can really sense their history!! so vividly!!!!!

"wouldn't want anyone comin' to snatch you in the middle of the night..." 

”isn't that what you came to do?" 

^ LIKE???? THEYRE SOOOO……….

”he's never been the type to mistreat gifts. especially a gift from you.”

🥺🥺 and this…. it made me go so soft LOL the fact that he keeps the picture frame… sugu will always be a big ol softie to me. a sentimental sap. i rly do think he was lonely after he left!!! :<

but!! back to reader!!! them wanting to save sugu…. aaaa idk its just so… refreshing to have a reader that takes that assertive role!! didn't you want me to come take you away, suguru?……. T_T sob.

but honestly more than anything… the entire final convo????? i literally died dria its so GOOD. sorry in advance im abt to copy paste 50% of this drabble’s dialogue PDBDBD I WAS SO MESMERIZED BY IT OK…… 💔💔

"i have to get there first," he whispers, and the raw emotion in his voice almost makes you recoil in shock. 

”where’s there?” (…) "tell me, suguru. is there the place you die alone on this crusade? is there the place you gave up everything for?"

(is there the place you'll finally be happy? happier than you were with me?

what, was i not strong enough to take us there together?)

"it's catharsis," he rasps, dipping his head, tip of his nose grazing the curve of your jawline, and you watch as he screws his eyes shut, in a world of his own. "there is release from this — this hell of an existence — this sinkhole of a world."

JUST. (MUFFLED SCREAMING) DRIAAAA 💔💔💔 this genuinely killed me i fell to my KNEES. incredibly normal abt this. 

nono bc u have the biggest brain ever. like…. catharsis traditionally being the endpoint of a tragedy…. where the misguided hero gets what they deserve………. (explodes) can u tell im starting to lose it. im in love w everything abt this. geto is just soooooo protagonist of an ancient tragedy coded…… so doomed by the narrative…….

also the fact that he RASPS it??????? stop. dont make me think abt this man’s voice i cant take it 😭😭

and aaaaa ’this sinkhole of a world’…………….. i cant tell u how much i adore this choice of words

AND THEN READER AGAIN…. them being so headstrong and decisive and also a little misguided maybe? in a ”lets just watch everything burn and be happy” way…

"forget the world. (…) where being found is the only road to take — what do you see?” 

”you. and me. and there is no world — only us."

THIS DIALOGUE??? FLOORED me. shattered me. AND READER PULLING HIS HAIIIRRRRR????? oh i love them so much theyre so fun and interesting and subversive hhhh

"then the world just has to go then."

^ AND AND AND… THIS LINEEEEEEEEEEE DRIA……. wowowowow. wow. the visceral reaction this gave me. u dont understand.

i said it already but i rly do adore the reader/character dynamic here :’3 both of them choosing to reject the world… and reader pushing sugu to leave everything behind!! its SUCH an interesting concept to me. it also rly DOES read like a stsg fic LMAOO

AAA this got long but i just!! love this <3333 genuinely made me a bit insane (as u can probably tell PDJDJD)… tysm for writing it!!! <333

folie a deux — geto suguru.

"and here i was, thinking you didn't have a heart."

suguru freezes, the cigarette he was nursing just moments before you walked in has slipped between his fingers, dissipating into ash beneath his feet.

your gaze lingers on a downturned picture frame on his coffee table, the rubber stand at the back is just as stable as it was the day you bought the frame for him — maybe shame finally caught up to suguru.

"you're persistent." he murmurs beneath his breath. and his gaze follows yours, he has to hold back the urge to turn the photo frame upright, he's never been the type to mistreat gifts. especially a gift from you.

it's been a long time.

and yet, it's like nothing has changed. but everything has at the same time.

"i locked the door," suguru mumbles and despite himself he crosses the threshold to meet you halfway, no more than a few feet between you two. "i broke the lock." you reply with a shrug, and the two of your mirror each other's grin.

"you should really tell your landlord about that," you say, and the distance between you and suguru grows smaller and smaller. "wouldn't want anyone comin' to snatch you in the middle of the night..." your words trail off, and he towers over you.

he's taller than he was before. he looks like he hasn't slept — or maybe it's the cigarettes, you don't know. you wonder if he's changed much on the inside. does he still like sour candy? does he still keep that one stretched out hair tie in his pocket?

does he still...

"isn't that what you came to do?"

suguru's voice comes out in a whisper, and you can taste him. he's so close you can feel his cursed energy thrumming in your veins.

you half expected he'd chase you away. tell you that he left for a reason, that he didn't want to be found. and yet, when you look at him, you see that same scared teenage boy.

didn't you want me to come take you away, suguru?

he doesn't wait for you to say anything, he already knows.

"i told you i wasn't ready." he says, dark eyes boring into your soul, a shiver running up your spine. liar, you've always been good at pretending to be okay, suguru.

"you also said you didn't want to be alive anymore, that you couldn't live in this world," you're past reasoning, and you lift your head to meet his gaze with your own pointed stare. "that you couldn't live with me—" but in suguru's mind, your eyes give you away. you're pleading.

"in a world like this— i'm living for you."

"then die already!"

he pauses, mouth agape. and he looks at you, hands falling limp at his side. "i have to get there first," he whispers, and the raw emotion in his voice almost makes you recoil in shock.

consume. consume. consume. consume—

everybody's so wretched and twisted in this world. monkeys and sorcerers and sorcerers and monkeys. they're all the same.

you're the same.

"where's there?" you press, and just as you move to get a step closer, his larger palm clasps around your wrist, stopping you. "tell me, suguru. is there the place you die alone on this crusade? is there the place you gave up everything for?"

is there the place you'll finally be happy? happier than you were with me?

what, was i not strong enough to take us there together?

"it's catharsis," he rasps, dipping his head, tip of his nose grazing the curve of your jawline, and you watch as he screws his eyes shut, in a world of his own. "there is release from this — this hell of an existence — this sinkhole of a world."

but we lived in this world too, didn't we?

we lived in this world together, suguru.

you and i.

"forget the world," you say, and he clenches your wrist a little tighter. despite this your other hand finds the nape of his neck, dipping under the collar of his shirt. "forget jujutsu and everything we learned. forget everything you know. forget what we were made for."

"where being found is the only road to take — what do you see, suguru?"

"you."

you grab a fistful of his hair and tug, his head lolls back and he looks down at you with hooded eyes, and your gaze meets him in tow. "what do you see?"

"you," he repeats, and it's weaker this time, his voice is breaking. "and me. and there is no world — only us."

"only us?" you repeat, and he leans in, his tongue traces your bottom lip. "only us," he whispers, and your mouths meet in a kiss like none you've shared before.

"then the world just has to go then."

notes ; wrote this during my soci lecture, it reads like a satosugu fic im so ill rn

[heartslobbf]

bbc ghosts, gorilla war / audre lorde, zami: a new spelling of my name / bbc ghosts, part of the family / audre lorde, zami: a new spelling of my name / bbc ghosts, something to share?

[thewhizzyhead]

A) YOUR MUSICAL SEEMS ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL

2) the non-binary Filipino thing makes me very happy bc representation is cool- (I’m only half but still)

AAAAAA thank you so much dude!!! I'm really glad you think so (cause once again i come up with these ideas while bullshitting around jdjss) and yea non-binary rep is always cool!!! Esp in Filipino!! Because we still don't have that (as far as I know) so someone has to do something and this is how i will contribute WOOOO

[cafedanslanuit]

i think i got an ex but i forgot him + isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, sae, rin, reo & nagi

♡   —   tags/warnings: gn reader + no pronouns, a bit of drama because the topic is exes after all but it's not angst, pettiness, jealousy, slightly unhealthy coping mechanisms but nothing too tw

♡   —   a/n: aaaaa this is my first blue lock hcs, i think! i was going to post another one first but this came to me suddenly so here you go <3 hope u enjoy it!

♡   —  masterlist

ISAGI   ―   i... im sorry but he’s the type to ask you to reconsider the break up,  whether it ended badly or not, no matter who was in the wrong. you see, he has a plan on how you can really make it work this time around! it only works if you carefully follow these steps and new guidelines, of course. worse part is it actually makes sense, and you could foresee a better relationship you got along with his plan. he's pretty convincing so you might take him up on that idea. however, if you don’t, he will accept it and try his best to move on, which is focusing intensely on his training to try to keep his mind away from you.

BACHIRA   ―   tries to be friends. just because the relationship didn't work out, it doesn't mean you can't still spend time together as friends, right? friends go on dates sometimes, all friendly, of course! nothing wrong with a couple of friends staying in for a movie night, cuddling, or sharing dessert in a nice little cafe. if he takes your hand, it’s only out of security, so please don’t think he has any ulterior motives! …anyway, it takes him some time to adjust to the new reality of your relationship but still, he will try his best to support you as much as he did when he was your boyfriend. if it ended badly, he'll still try to be as friendly as possible, but a couple of snarky remarks may fall from his lips without him being able to do anything about it.

KUNIGAMI   ―   he’s very respectful about the whole ordeal. after everything is said and done, he texts you a couple of times days later, genuinely asking how you're doing and it’s very clear he cares about your answer. if you need anything from him, he will offer his help, no questions asked and no retribution needed. after all, he still cares about you, even if it didn’t work out between you too. if the relationship ended badly, he will still be very respectful towards you but try his best to avoid you. a nod and a greeting is all you will get because, soon enough, he will pretend someone is calling him and he’ll go his own way.

CHIGIRI   ―   for a good couple of months, he’s going to be very uncomfortable around you. what haunts him the most is how difficult it is to get used to the change of dynamics between the two of you; now he’s not sure on how to act or what he’s allowed or not allowed to say anymore. if it ended badly, it's very likely you'll be on the receiving end of some ill quips and snarky comments about you, hitting you just where it hurts. he'll deliver them with the most unamused face, his eyebrow slightly raising as he waits-- no, as he almost invites you to take him on the fight. and if you do, be ready to lose.

SAE   ―   the moment you decide to call it quits, he completely walks out of your life. from that moment on, you won't hear from him ever again. doesn't matter how fast you check your phone after you've said your goodbyes, you're blocked on all social media platforms, both public and private. to make things worse, your shared google photos album is gone and you're even banned on the official *team* account. hell, he’ll even report the photos of the two of you together so they’re taken down from your account too. doesn't matter if it ended on good and bad terms, only time you'll ever see him again is on a promotional ad for his soccer team on the street or something alike. if he’s asked about you on interviews, he’ll only say it’s not “relevant” and ask for the next question.

RIN   ―   like his brother, he doesn't take it well either. he's the type to go through your social media at least once a day to see if you posted anything new, and if there's any nrw information he can get from it. so far, he's learnt you've been going out clubbing more often and that you've had a pizza date with one of your friends. he recognized them because on the photo, he could see they were wearing a ring, same ring that shows up on a photo of you too circa 2015. if you have an anonymous questions social media, he miiiight ask you on anon why did you break up with him. only for fun, it's not like he truly cares about your life, evidently. all of this happens while he ignores your greetings in person, feigning he doesn't hear you. you'd never catch him yearning to have you back, and he's gonna make sure of that.

REO   ―   new year, new model, baby. the best way to get over someone is to get someone else-- at least for him. he might’ve begged you for another chance at first, but once you make him understand you’re truly done, he lets his petty side come out. a couple of days after your final talk, you will have a front-row seat to mysterious instagram stories featuring two drinks, another one with two movie tickets and, of course, a photo taken from the passenger seat of himself driving one of his fancier cars. the way his forearms flex underneath his expensive shirt really gives the photo the edge it needed. but, is he truly dating someone else? probably not. but he’s going to spend every resource he had to make you think he’s replaced you. even if this may all seem unnecesarily mean, he's also the quickest to agree if you ever want to try again. whisper sweet words close to his ear and he's back to his righteous place by your side in no time.

NAGI   ―   it’s heartbreaking how he acts like he couldn’t care less about your breakup. it seems like the heart-to-heart conversation that ended in you sobbing against his chest while he stroke your back in silence never happened, because when you see him a couple of days later, he raises a hand and greets you, just like he would any other day. to nagi, he’s taken the best decision and is acting the best in an already shitty situation, whether the breakup was amicable or not. he really doesn't want to waste his time in pettiness and resentment, especially after getting to love you for as long as he did. however, his actions may unadventerly hurt you and give you a false image on what’s going on in his heart.

[snzunii]

hi hi !! may i request for a gojo x reader where reader is a really good gamer and tends to ignore gojo when gaming so gojo’s does smth to make her notice him ? i hope i followed the format right ! <3

DIRTY LITTLE GAME.

maybe ignoring your boyfriend isn't such a bad idea after all.

+ pairings. gojo satoru x f!reader.

+ tags. romance, fluff, explicit sexual content, rough sex, unprotected sex, edging, derogatory language, praise kink, degrading kink, sexist slurs as part of sexual intercourse, slight dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal fingering, fellatio, mouth fucking, overstimulation, use of pet names, 18+

+ word count. 2.7k

+ note. hehehe this was supposed to be fluff only but can't help myself im so horny for gojo ajshasjkd anyways, this is very late im sorry! trying to squeeze in writing on my sched thankfully i finished writing this today cos i alr have my classes tomro, dw i'd still write my remaining reqs aaaaa so i hope u enjoy <333

"It's Satoru's time!"

A short-lived wide grin was plastered on Satoru's face as he walk inside your shared bedroom, it was easily exchanged with a pout when he saw you glued on your computer with a headset on.

You looked at him briefly, just to acknowledge him. Satoru knows that when you are gaming, you are very hard to talk to. Satoru is completely supportive of what you do. He knows you enjoy it very much, and you are good at it.

But of course, there are times that his impatient nature strikes him and he just do this silly things just to make you notice him and stop playing.

He walked towards you and poked your shoulders but before he could even say anything, you removed the other ear cup, "Later."

"Okay but don't take too long. I want some cuddles."

You giggled at his exuberance, kind of tempted to leave the game and shower him with all your love and kisses but the game is getting to the good part, damn it. "Yeah, yeah. I promise."

Though, you get guilty sometimes when you put your game before Satoru but you figured that he understand it anyway, and you gave him pretty generous bribes once you finish. You remembered last time, you promised not to play for three days because you ignored him for hours on end.

And he was pretty happy with it.

You fixed your headset and focused on your computer, getting completely occupied on the game once again. Meanwhile, your boyfriend laid down on the bed as he use his arms as pillows while he watch you with a smile on his face.

This is one of his favorite things in the whole universe, watching you play. He love every single time your brows furrowed, your lips curl,  your eyes squint, how you close your fists— probably trying not to scream at your team players, he also loved how you sway your chair as you sternly play.

Oh, and he also love how cocky you are when you win.

Seriously, he can stare at you for hours and he really would. He would watch you until you are engraved on his mind though as much as he loved it, he also wanted to touch you and talk to you.

You know your boyfriend, sometimes you feel like the silence slowly kills him.

Satoru opens his phone and takes a snap of you which he posts on his stories with a caption, 'my girlfriend is ignoring me again, should i unplug the internet?'

Which earns him a glare from you when you see it later on.

After he posted your picture on his story, he scrolled and played candy crush on his phone because it's the only thing that he could play, according to him.

You looked at him with a frown when he screamed, "I finally finished it! I was on this level for so long!"

You snickered and nodded, "Hm. Okay, congratulations grandpa."

"Ha-ha, funny." he blew a raspberry, "You finished yet?"

You just shook your head, "In a bit."

Satoru sighed and closed the app on his phone, he scrolled and scrolled then he jumped from another app to another one and you aren't done yet.

He closed his phone and tossed it on the bed as he stood up, he poked your shoulders. "Finished yet?"

"No."

"Faster." he bent his body and wrapped his arms around yours, leaning his chin on the top of your head. "I won't let go of you until you finish."

You whined a bit, "Then how am I supposed to play properly if you're clinging on to me like a child?"

He didn't answer and just proceeded on planting kisses on your cheeks now.

Eyes focused on the screen, you tried to dodge his kisses, "Satoru!"

"What?!" he exclaimed and pecks on your cheeks repeatedly causing for you to giggle, you looked at him and places a quick kiss on his lips.

"I promise I would let you kiss me all you want if you just let me finish, okay?"

"Okay but hear this joke first." he said laughing, "I told this to Nanami earlier but he didn't laugh so..."

You groaned and begrudgingly smiled at your boyfriend, "Okay, fine. What is it?"

Satoru begins to laugh without even saying the joke, you just know that you will grouse in agony from hearing his stupid jokes but you know, you freaking love this man.

"Satoru stop laughing and tell the freaking joke."

"Okay okay, here it goes." he cleared his throat, "Do you know why people don't ever wash dishes together?"

You took a deep breath before asking the question that would make you sorrowful once you heard the answer, "No, why?"

"Because it's hard for them too stay in sink." Satoru burst out laughing once he finished saying the joke while you look at him with your dour eyes.

You looked at him for a good second before fixing your headset and turning on your mic, "Okay, guys. Focus, let's go."

"You're so mean, baby. I don't deserve this pun-ishment!" he laughed again but you ignored him this time. "You're ignoring me again, huh?"

Still no answer, he smirked at his thought. What he is about to say would definitely make you look at him.

"What if I fucked you while your mic is on for your friends to hear, would you ignore me then?"

You immediately turned your mic off and turned to your boyfriend with a widen eyes while he flashed you his mesmerizing art-like grin, smiling at you with a glint of innocence in his eyes albeit his mouth says the opposite.

Your mouth was getting ready to utter words but he held your chin using his fingers and directed your face to the screen, "Focus, right? You play your game and I'm going to play your pretty little pussy, hm?"

It's what he's good at, he thought. It is his own dirty little game. Satoru knows every bit of your move and gestures when you are playing your games and it isn't impossible that he knows his way around your body.

"Satoru-"

He leaned on your ear and removed the ear cup, "Uh-uh. You need to focus on the game or you'll lose. You don't want that to happen, do you?"

He started kissing your neck, you whimpered a bit as he bite and suck your delicate skin. His hands makes it way to grasp your thighs causing for you to squirm a bit when the warmth of his palm came in touch with your inner thighs. "My bunny is so jittery."

You bit your lip when he palms your crotch, igniting the heat in between your thighs.

"Sa—toru." you gasp when he sets your shorts and panties aside, sliding his fingers up and down your already drenched slit.

"Ah, babe. You flatter me so much, I really get you so wet this easily, huh?"

His deep chuckle grazed to your ears, as if it was a magical incantation that instantly gets you distracted, well, everything that he does makes you insane anyways.

"Ah!" he entered two of his fingers inside your wet throbbing hole, you gripped his wrists before he starts moving. "I'll... I'll quit the game first, okay?"

Thankfully, this isn't a rank game because you don't know what you'll do to Satoru once you finished playing his dirty little game.

He gave you a wide innocent smile as if his fingers aren't deep inside your cunt. As soon as you quit the game, he reclined your gaming chair and ordered you to lift your legs on the arm rest— giving him a wide access to your pussy.

He didn't even gave you any time to process things and instantly moves his fingers in and out of your hole, covering it with your slick juices. He moved your shirt up until it was removed from you, "Not wearing any bra, hm. You're such a good whore for me, you know?"

"A-ah! S-satoru! Fuck!" he leaned his head towards your chest and enveloped the full rounded shape of your breast into his mouth, licking and twirling his tongue on your perky nipple as he looked up to your satisfied reaction— hand still moving at a steady pace.

You gripped his smooth ivory hair, taking the handful of strands in between your fingers as you shut your eyes in pleasure while you let out lewd moans.

Satoru lets go of your mound with a pop, he memorized every bit of movement and signal that your body were making so he stopped moving his hand, "N-no.. why did you stop...?"

Satoru just likes doing this, he likes sending you to the edge and stopping once you are close so that you can beg him to just fuck you senseless, making you see how much of a needy whore you are.

It's like a payback, you know. For making him wait for you.

"Not so fast, darling. You need to work for it."

He stood up and unbuckles his belt, "You know what to do, sunshine."

You fixed your position on the chair, your back straightened while your thighs are closed like an obedient girl waiting to be pounded on. You slid his zipper down and pulled his pants along with his undershorts— springing his monster of a cock on your face.

Satoru looks down at you with a smirk on his face, you started pumping his shaft with your hand, you looked up to him while you gave his slit kitty licks.

"Stop teasing me." he groaned, you chuckled for a bit as you swipe the flat of your tongue from the base to his head and finally enveloping his stiff cock in slowly. "Good fuck- girl."

Satoru gripped your hair and pushed your head until the tip of your nose came in touch with his skin— you gagged a bit, with a bit of teary eyes, you looked up to him and saw him threw his head back as he let out a guttural moan.

Definitely enjoying making your throat his cocksleeve.

"Fuck that's so good." he moved his hip slowly, fucking your mouth while he looked straight into your glassy eyes, glistening with unshed tears. "Good girl, taking my cock in so good. So pretty."

You moaned a bit and gripped his thighs while he fucks your mouth, his lengthy and deep moans makes your pussy twitch in anticipation— your head was making up scenarios of how would he fuck your drenched cunt.

You panted when he lets go of your mouth, looking at his cock covered with your saliva. Satoru leaned down to your mouth and pressed his lips into yours, savouring his own taste that was perceptible on your mouth, delving his tongue and rolling it against yours while he leans you on the chair once again.

"I'm going to fuck my baby's pussy so good, she's going to forget her name." he said when he pulled away from your kiss, positioning himself in between your plump folds. "I'll cum inside you, you like that?"

"Mhmm- ah! Satoru-"

"That's right, honey. Say my name." he slid his tip up and down your slit and finally sliding in your wet cavern. He groaned at the warmth of your walls, taking his cock in, "So fucking tight, babe."

Lecherous moans escaped your mouth when Satoru moved slowly, he has fucked you many times and by now you should get used to how big he is but that's not the case, he always had to wait for you to adjust. You have a pretty tight cunt, after all.

Satoru placed his fingers in your mouth for you to bite on as he stretch your small hole using his thick rigid cock, his pace gradually fastens when he feels you sucking on his fingers instead of biting on it.

You whimpered incoherent words on his fingers causing for him to remove it from your mouth, "Hmm? What is it?"

"Faster," you pleaded. Now, who is he to ignore his princess' pleads? "Oh! Ah- fuck!"

Satoru chuckled hearing you moaned out loud from his fast and unrelenting pace, the sound of the skin slapping was all you can hear as he fuck your guts out in your gaming chair.

"Sa—toru! S-slow down! Ah!"

You pleaded for him to go fast but not like this, you feel like your body is shattering with every thrust. He grunted, "You really love getting fucked by me, huh? My own cum slut."

"Yes- ah! S-satoru, mhmm. You fuck me so good- Fuck!"

Your words energized him even more to ram his dick inside you harder and faster, hitting the one spot that makes your body arch as if you were shocked.

"Ah- I'm going to fill you up." he grunted, dick pounding inside your warm soft cavern as if he was shaping the velvety walls with the semblance of his cock while your legs felt like a limp, just thrown around the air. "You're going to take all of my cum, like a good little pet- fuck!"

You would answer but you are too far from reality, your mind was in a daze by getting fucked out so hard you can't even think straight. Satoru loves this look on you, watching you slowly melt underneath him.

You hold onto Satoru's shoulders, digging your nails on his skin as his lips stretched into a menacing grin. "Such a slutty face, darling. So good, so good for me."

"Please- Ah! Harder! Please— wanna come! Let me come! Fuck-" you babbled, your hole quivering around his dick as he rams harder and rougher you clinged on Satoru tighter when he leaned on your ears.

"Then come for me, you're a good little whore, hm? Come for me."

He pulled himself up and moved slowly but still harder, he circles his thumb on your clit as he hit your spot over and over. Every ram was causing your body to tremble, your mind was getting utterly immersed from the stimulation and not long you'd be melting to bliss.

Countless of pleasure ran through your veins, your sweet juices dripping from your cunt and covering Satoru's dick— that's when he started moving faster again.

"Ah! Satoru!" your mind was getting aware of the overstimulation, you were already shaking but Satoru's pace didn't cease. He broke you using his cock, making you cum for him like his good little bitch.

Bit of tears were falling from your eyes, he smirked and rutted your hole even harder than before. "You crying now, hm. Cry for me while I fuck your little hole, honey."

You scratched his back leaving red lines on his pale skin. He leaned down and sucked your tit into his mouth, adding to the overstimulation that your body was feeling. His pace were getting sloppy, his other hand kneading your mound as he groaned with your breast on his mouth.

You feel his hot seed shoot straight inside your cunt, filling you to the brim, claiming his ownership to your red swollen pussy.

Satoru stopped moving. Still inside you, he wiped your tears and kissed your eyes, nose, all over your face and landed on your lips. Kissing you softly as he soothe you, caressing your hair and groaning as he slowly pulls out of you.

"I love you." he whispered as he carry you to the bathroom. The only thing you could answer him was a small hum. He chuckled and placed you on his lap in the bathtub— he opened the faucet, "Gonna take care of my princess."

You leaned on Satoru's chest and just closed your eyes. Your body was exhausted but you are completely satisfied though.

Satoru really doesn't disappoint, if he's that rough at sex you know how soft and gentle he is with aftercare, showering you with all his love and kisses.

Satoru got your hair tie from your wrist and ties your hair up then gathers the water on the palm of his hand, sprinkling a bit of water on the upper part of your body.

You smiled and bask on Satoru's effulgent aura as he take good care of you.

"You still going to ignore me?" you heard him ask.

You chuckled and turned your head to look at him. You placed a soft kiss on his lips, he gave you his wide radiant smile when you pulled away, you returned the smile and answered him. "Yep. Still going to ignore you, you fucked me so good."

+ taglist. @fiona782 @yoshimochii @xoxostrawberrymilkxoxo @yeagerhoe @cosmiclvsh @whippedbyikemen @tojisqueen @enesitamor @Thatsharklovingwoman @haobrcndy @r-xochitl @joslynthecryptid @toshiswifey @Michelle_simps

if you want to join the taglist, please answer the form here! 🤍

[hokiis-writing-dump]

Little Fire Plume Pt.2

Gender Neutral Reader, Diluc x Child! Reader (PLATONIC)

(Figured I’d post this next since its been drafted the longest. Also, Aether and Noelle mentions since I chose Aether as my Traveler. NOT PROOF READ IM IN SCHOOL HAHA)

So lets say you’re slightly older now, and actually spend a bit more time around a few of the knights

Diluc has STILL yet to tell you how he found you, but who cares. You’re happy living safely with him, you have everything you’ve ever asked for, what else would you need?

There's some times where Diluc will let you wander out of sight, but only if you’re inside of Mondstadt and he can easily find you. Other than that, expect to always be within the sight of him, Kaeya, or the maids.

…Now however since you’re a curious kid, there was ONE time where you wandered SUPER far away from Mondstadt with Klee since you both outran the guards at the entrance.

By the time Diluc found out, it had already been around 30-45 minutes, so if you and Klee were still running, you both now had quite a bit of distance away from Mond.

Diluc and so panicky when he found out, but held a good poker face and went out to search for you, Albedo tagged along too because...well, Klee.

Klee had planned to lead you both to Starfell so you too could go fish blasting together, or you could at least watch.

Now you guys would have made it with no interruptions...had you not run into Noelle and Aether. They both seemed to be doing the opposite of you both, and actually heading into Mondstadt.

 “Oh! Klee and (Y/N)! What are you both doing out here..?” Noelle had only seen you once from a distance, but had heard much through Amber.

“Yeah! We’re going fish blasting!” Klee said, pointing at the now nearby lake and Statue of Seven. You nodded and eyed Paimon and Aether, who looked pretty odd compared to the people you’d normally see.

“Does Diluc know that (Y/N) is here with you? He’d usually come with you both if you we’re going so far out of Mondstadt...” Noelle asked, looking at Klee.

“Uhm...uh oh...we didn’t say we we’re leaving, did we?” Klee mumbled, looking over at you.

Now painfully aware of your mistake, you had 2 choices. Quickly head back to avoid getting in any more trouble then you might already be in, or stay a little while longer anyways and say that Noelle and Aether we’re watching you both the entire time. 

Klee asked for them both to let you guys stay a bit longer, and with enough pleading and puppy eyes, they we’re convinced.

Diluc and Albedo are still searching all over for you both, but they ended up going more towards Windrise instead of Starfell Lake.

Albedo has to calm Diluc down every few moments so he doesn’t overthink and make his panic worse, and after wiping out several hilichurl camps out of fear you and Klee might be in one of them, they have still yet to find you both.

Albedo gets Diluc to sit down for a bit near the Statue of Seven in Windrise so he can figure out what places you kids could have gone too.

After a few minutes of drawing up ideas in his head, a quiet sigh exits him as he figures out where you both most likely would have gone.

Albedo taps Diluc’s shoulder to break him out, once again, of a series of horrible thoughts of what could have happened to you. “They might have gone to Starfell Lake to go fish blasting..” 

“...Oh.”

Now quickly heading to Starfell, Diluc quickly calms down once he sees you next to Klee, Noelle, and Aether while you pull on Paimon’s legs.

The moment you see Diluc, you quickly hop up and run over to him pulling the ends of his coat while hopping up and down.

“...(Y/N)”

“Yeah papa?”

“Please don’t run off without a word like that again...”

“Oh..sorry!”

Now safely on your way back to the Manor, Diluc carried you all the way, even when you returned home he continued to carry you around.

You certainly got a small punishment though. He couldn’t bear to be too mean to you, but you had to stay inside the Manor for a few days.

AAAAA I finally did this I’m so sorry it took so long. My writers block hit me hard, but...next post will be either Kazuha and Albedo or a short Dainsleif agnst. Hope you enjoyed, and I might figure out a request system soon!

[nztsume]

Hello again! Sorry it took me a while to get back to you, I’ve accumulated quite a list 😅 I have some that I think you’ll definitely be interested in, some maybe a hit or miss and others I don’t remember much anymore but you can still check them out <3 I’ll be updating the list when I find any more that come out, just let me know if you’d like more. I may have to send these in parts, we’ll see how many I can fit in 😅 I start by the story name, then author, chapters/parts, words/estimated reading time, book number, completion/ongoing and the site. :) I’ll start off with my favourites.

Bite Back , scorpiofromspace , 8/? Chapters , 23k+ words , AO3

manslaughter on cherry lane , con_fection , 11/? Chapters , 71k+ words , AO3

Royal Pain || Stranger Things , AintThatDevine , 40 parts , 10h 19m ERT , Book 1 - Complete , Wattpad

Fallout || Stranger Things [2] , AintThatDevine , 35 parts , 11h 33m ERT , Book 2 - Ongoing , Wattpad

TUBULAR! (billy hargrove x reader) , maddiwasnotherelol , 37 parts , 5h 22m ERT , Ongoing , Wattpad

in my dark times , azurevii (orphan_account) , 6/6 chapters , 50k+ words , AO3

Hold Me Now , OopsFanfiction , 2/? Chapters , 77k+ words , AO3 , (now this one is different because it contains a romance with not only Billy but also Steve and Eddie at the same time, I completely get if it isn’t your thing but it was very good and the plot line is amazing, I recommend wholeheartedly :) )

These are now the stories I don’t remember or haven’t read yet, I believe some of them do contain Mature and very explicit content so a warning is in place just incase, (no minors please), but I thought I’d add them just incase you wanted to check them out <3

DONTMAKEMEFALLINLOVE || Billy Hargrove, Stranger Things , billysvendetta , 74 parts , 15h 41m ERT , Complete , Wattpad

Freak Show // Billy Hargrove , 30SecondsToGreatness , 36 parts , 11h 50m ERT , Complete , Wattpad

Gone Girl , snxwscene , 40/40 chapters , 49k+ words , AO3

TURBO LOVER -{Billy Hargrove x Reader}- , MKing28 , 52 parts , 1d 1h ERT , Ongoing , Wattpad

Stranger Love [Billy Hargrove] , LadeyJezzabella , 26 parts , 4h 45m ERT , Complete , Wattpad

PANDEMONIUM [2] > BILLY HARGROVE , murphy-trash , 27 parts , 7h 27m ERT , Complete , Wattpad ,(this story does have a book 3, however book 1 was paired with Jonathan, endgame is Billy :) )

Royal Pain and Fallout are books which definitely go onto season 4, past season 3 with Billy, 100% an au. Hold Me Now is also intended on Billy Surviving :).

I hope these are good and I take no offense if these aren’t your thing. I know you didn’t want anything all about sex but I believe some in the second section contain a lot of it, I’m not 100% certain. The first section ones are hands down my favourites right now and I think are exactly what you are looking for. I’d love to hear your opinion on them, I hope this helped some way, it took a while to put together 😭.

Sincerely FanFicRec Anon ~ <3

God I hope this sends.

NOOOO YOURE SO SWEET THIS IS A WHOLE ASS LIST!!!! THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!!!! they all sound so good im gonna have a feast this week LMFAOOOO i cant believe how sweet u (and u guys!!!) are T_T honestly the thing is that i never really read character x oc/reader fics so im interested but like i dont wanna be weirded out of a really good story bc of the whole y/n thing thats rly the only cause why i said it LOL but these sound so cool!!!!! im definitely going to be reading them and ill keep u updated on my thoughts LMFAOO (i guess ill tag them as 'st fics' in here coz idk how else u could be able to find them T_T)

i cant believe this, billy stans kinda rock wtf <3<33 thank u soo much again aaaaa <3<3<3<3

[nikrangdan]

cafeworker!ni-ki

pairing: cafeworker!ni-ki x female reader

genre: fluff, comedy

description: the cashier at the new coffee shop was so adorable you just couldn’t resist visiting just for him

**did not proofread

————

contrary to popular belief, you were NOT a social person

whenever you were around friends and family, you were always the loudest person there

like SHUT UP Y/N!!!!!!

anyways although you were loud, people still enjoyed being around you because you had such a sweet soul and interesting humor

everyone close to you knew that you hated talking to people you didnt know

but to all the strangers? no

they would think you were an outgoing ready-to-meet-new-people extrovert

which was so, so wrong

but ALAS, you had to talk strangers almost everyday living in 2020

(well lets pretend we arent in the middle of a pandemic right now)

moving on......

so you were in high school at the downfall of your existence

you used to have so many friends when you were younger ..now you only have like 3

and those three were always busy (busy making up excuses thats for sure) so you never really hung out with them outside of school

and on one fine evening after school you decided to visit the new cafe 5 minutes from your house

u were really excited because all the cafes were 15 minutes from your house so now u could just walk to this one if u wanted to !!!

but yeah it was in the middle of a small plaza that had cute buildings

you pulled up to the parking lot and was just about to get out the car when u remembered..

u have to talk to the cashier :/

who’s a stranger! even more ://

it was always so weird to you.. whenever you went out you always had someone else order for you because you just hated talking to strangers

you just felt uncomfortable and you couldnt help it

its not like you have never ordered for yourself but you would always prefer not to

and now that you think about it

this is the first time you have gone out by yourself

you did text one of your friends beforehand but they said they “had homework to do”

LIES!!!!

but you really wanted to try the coffee so you just ran with it

time to face your fears!

you opened the glass door to reveal a cute looking cafe, like the ones you’d see in movies

you loved it already

glancing to the cashier you’d have to be talking to—

hold on

you had to do a double take because WOAH.....

the cashier...

he....

wow..

you have never seen a boy like that in your life

you stood there for like 3 seconds before coming to your senses and standing infront of the menu

that was infrONT OF HIM

“hi, what can i get for you?”

HIS VOICE OH MY GOD..!?!?!

“oh um.. can i get a second to .. look..?”

“yeah of course,” he gestured to the menu on the wall above him

hes so nice u almost cried

your eyes shakily traveled up to the chalkboard menu and u began to ‘read’ the options

its like u could feel his eyes on u WTF!!!!

um um um *internally keyboard smashes*

you couldnt even think

the words on the menu were like gibberish

the ONE time u go out by yourself

this had to happen.. of course! someone had it out for you, you were sure of it >:(

picking a random drink you gave him your order

“uh can i have an iced caramel macchiato?”

ITS LIKE YOU CANT SAY A SENTENCE WITHOUT UH OR UM

u cant help but think hes judging you

he looks like that while u are standing there in old sweatpants your dads tshirt

“sure, what size?” he looks into your eyes after putting your order into the machine

god you felt your heart stop

his Eyes..... theyre so beautiful

“oh um regular” you attempted to give a small smile

hopefully it looked like one

“okay that’ll be $5.12.”

you dug out some cash from your bag and handed it to him

he gave u your change and gave u a small smile

“your drink will be out in a minute”

AAAAA

he went :)

he is so CUTE.....?!?!

he looked around your age too

sigh... you knew he was way out of your league though

you were gushing over him but he probably thought you were just another boring customer

while waiting u sat at one of the 2 person tables on your phone

and u IMMEDIATELY went to text your groupchat

‘GUYS’

‘AT THE CAFE NEAR MY HOUSE’

‘CUTEST BOY IVE EVER SEEN EVER IN MY ENTIRE LIFE’

‘WTF IM GONNA CRY HOW DOES HE EXIST’

‘WAIT BRB HE S COMIBBG’

you tried to quickly put your phone down without looking suspicious when you saw him walking towards you with a drink in his hand

“here you go, enjoy” he said before swiftly making his way back to the counter and talking to the other worker there

wow... hes so mesmerizing

you’d steal glances at him every now and then while taking sips of your drink

you were sitting there for like 20 minutes before you noticed you finished your drink

you totally forgot you came here to see how good their coffee was

it was good by the way

sadly it was your time to leave

taking one last glance at him, you threw away your empty cup and walked out the door

wow

u cant believe you got to witness the most beautiful human being ever

in your small town?? crazy

you were sitting in your car just thinking

WAIT

U DIDNT EVEN KNOW HIS NAME!

you mentally punched yourself but then you started laughing

what does knowing his name even matter, its not like u were ever going to talk to him anyway

LOL

*sad emoji*

but the coffee was good so you definitely planned to go back

and not just because of the cute boy

...unless....

*time skip*

the next day you went there was a week later at the same time in hopes that he was working the same shift

AND HE WAS!!!!

score! 1 for y/n, 0 for umm... any other person who had a crush on him too i guess

the cafe didnt have too many people since it was fairly new and also in a small part of the city

so when you went in, you were the only one there along with the two workers

“welcome, what would you like to order?”

NOT THIS AGAIN

he looked even cuter today

his messy blond hair almost covered his eyes

you shouldve forced your friend to come with you this time

you ordered the same thing as last time but this time he asked for your name

hmmm

“um y/n” you answered

your heart was always beating 2 times as fast whenever you had to talk to him

he wrote it down on the cup and after you paid, you went to sit down at the same spot as last time

looking at him is literally the highlight of your day

the same thing happened as last time, he came over and gave you your drink without giving u a second glance

>:((((

boooo look at me cute boy

nonetheless u continued going to the cafe at the same time as much as u could which was like three times a week

literally over a month later and u dont think anythings going to happen

u punch yourself for thinking the boy would somehow find interest in you

hes still indifferent to you which isn’t surprising since you’ve never made any kind of move

ever

but

he should know u by now

hopefully..

*time skip again*

it was a saturday

at this point you’ve basically given up on having a crush on him and now since its become a routine u just say you go for the coffee

not really paying attention to your surroundings you dont notice that the boy at the cash register isnt the normal one you see almost everyday

“hey, what would you like to order?”

woah WHAT

you look up from your bag to notice a boy that was definitely not the one that normally stood infront of it at this time

and you also noticed something on this new cashier

a name tag

how come your old little crush didnt have one????

this new boys name was ‘jay’ and he was fairly cute too

looking around the corner at the other worker u noticed he has a name tag too

you recognized him because he was always working when the cute boy was at the cash register

his name was ‘heeseung’

after taking in these new additions you answered to jay

“oh um.. can i ge-,”

“she gets an iced caramel macchiato. her name is y/n”

??!<_|#%[>~€\£~

you whipped your head around so fast to see who said that behind you

was it who you thought it was ??!??!

YES IT WAS!!!!

OH MYGOD

ITS HIM

you widened your eyes at the boy who wasnt wearing his normal black and white uniform

instead he was wearing black ripped jeans and a gray hoodie

wow....... and u thought he couldnt look any better

BUT OMG?? HE REMEMBERS U

“oh wow ni-ki, you know her?” the boy named jay asked him

“uh yeah.. shes a regular” he said before walking to stand next to you

NI-KI

HIS NAME IS NI-KI OHMHGOD

u thought his name fit him perfectly its so CUTE

“are you gonna get something too?”

this whole time you were silent because.. what is going on

your heart was being SO fast you thought that everyone could hear it

“yup, can i get the same thing? also im paying for both of us”

WHAT??/):)/$;##\%|

ur eyes widened even more it looked like they were gonna pop out of its sockets

u unconsciously leaned towards the boy next you and kind of put your hands up

“w-what?? oh um no, you dont have to do that” you nervously said to him as he looked down at you

he kind of had a smile on his face

“i want to.”

there is no way this is happening

“oiiii ni-ki” jay chuckled while punching in numbers on the cash register

“ill have both of your drinks out soon, you two kids have fun!” jay said before turning around to face heeseung

WHAT??!!??!

your jaw almost dropped from shock

millions of thoughts ran through your brain and you couldnt even process anything

u cant believe this was happening

it was like a wattpad story or something.. is this how u meet ur soulmate

your thoughts were interrupted by a hand on your back momentarily and u look to see ni-ki shyly grinning and gesturing u towards a table

no way...

you awkwardly follow him to a 2 person table next to wall and sit down

you literally could not hear anything except for the pounding of your heart

“uh sorry about that...” he rubbed his neck and sheepishly smiled

“im ni-ki by the way”

“y/n...” u felt so awkward u wanted to cry

“agh, im really sorry if that was weird.. i just didnt know how to ask you out.....” he trailed off

*passes out*

IM JOKING

Ok but u felt ur heart stop bc NO WAY

“wait what??” u ask, ur eyes bigger than the moon

“um yeah... haha i took the day off today to try to talk to you.. sorry if that was weird..”

HE WAS SO AWKWARD JUST LIKE YOU IT WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER

“no its okay!! im glad actually...”

“really? so is it okay if we hang out?” he asked excitedly

u did not think u could handle HOW CUTE THIS BOY WAS O M G...

“of course! sorry if im kind of awkward though” you gave a small smile

“its okay, i think i am too”

you two began talking about the cafe and where you went to school

turns out even though you two lived in the same town (literally 5 minutes away from eachother) u went to different schools for some reason

u talked for like 2 minutes before jay walked up with your drinks

“hows it going guys?”

“its doing good bro, now go away..” ni-ki lightly shoved jay and laughed

you giggled at the sight

jay looked offended and came right back

“that is not how you talk to your elders ni-ki! y/n do you see this?!” he scoffed

ni-ki just rolled his eyes and turned back to you

“do not ignore me young man!” jay joked

“oh y/n, ive heard all about you from ni-ki over here by the way.”

ni-ki’s eyes got so big you almost got worried

he turned around so fast and gave jay one of those ‘i swear if you say anything ur dead meat’ looks

jay obviously did not care

“hes always like ‘y/n this y/n that’ blah blah im glad he finally got the balls to ask you out because im honestly sick of hearing it!” jay laughed

u were blushing so hard

NI-KI LIKED U????

this felt like a dream

ni-ki pushed jay away so hard and turned back with red cheeks

awe

but yeah that was the beginning of the cutest relationship ever

u and ni-ki were so cute together <333

you’d always visit him during ur free time

it took like 2 months before u two made it official tho

and he was the sweetest boyfriend ever