#i know the one on the top right corner is supposed to be the shorter lesbian holding the taller one

[kismetmoon]

various meme redraws to show off their vibe bc i still cannot fathom writing proper dialogue for them

[ID: a page of digital drawings of two original, stylised Flatland characters named Ruth and Liz on a cream background.

Liz is a humanoid character with light grey skin that fades to dark grey and then black on the edges of her head and forelimbs, a seven point star-shaped head with an eye in the centre and two hoop earrings, and a thin tail with a star tip. She also has a prosthetic left forearm.

Ruth is another humanoid character with an eye for a head that has four bottom lashes, a lowered eyelid and a blunt point on top. She also has dark grey skin with lighter grey patches and a dent in the middle of her torso.

On the left is a redraw of the ‘I love my wife’ meme. Liz has a orange blush and her eye is closed. She is shouting out and holding onto Ruth’s hand. There is a large, jagged, yellow speech bubble above Liz that says “I love my wife!!!” in all caps. Ruth has a green blush and her eye is closed. She is holding her face, bending one knee up and wagging her tail in a bashful expression.

On the top right is a redraw of the ‘smug lesbian’ meme. Liz is stood sideways and lifting Ruth, holding her by her lower back and dent. She is looking at the viewer with a half-lidded stare. Ruth is holding onto the back of Liz’s head and shoulder. She is smiling with her eye closed, wagging her tail and kicking out her legs. There are grey boxes of handwritten, capital text around them; the top one says “Smug face”, the left one says “Shorter lesbian” and the right one says “Taller lesbian”.

On the bottom right is a redraw of the ‘eye type’ meme. They are both facing the viewer and drawn as busts, with Ruth on the left and Liz on the right. Ruth has a large brown pupil and a soft gaze. The text above her says “most gorgeous big brown eye you’ve ever seen”. Liz’s eye is wide with a yellow and green cat slit pupil. The text above her says “staring into your soul”.

There are three star doodles in the bottom left corner.

End ID].

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[prettyboykatsuki]

ANOTHER WORD FOR HOMESICK (I WANT TO SAY YOUR NAME AGAIN) | M. BACHIRA

☼ tags ; omegaverse, afab + fem!omega!!reader, alpha!bachira, childhood friends to lovers, established reader backstory, coming-of-age, romance, mutual pining, implicit sexual content (virginity loss to an oc), explicit sexual content ft. bonding, knotting, penetration, oral (f!recieving), fingering, praise, lovey dovey dirty talk, petnames (mostly baby) 18+

++ notes: readers appearance is mostly non-descript but they are shorter than bachira and have several piercings and a tattoo which are explained in story.

☼ content warnings ; lore applicable sexism, sexual harassment of reader as a minor (details in authors note, explained further in extended authors note), lore applicable homophobia, implied bisexuality + referenced mutual queerness queerness, underage drinking, heat / estrus as a symptom of puberty

please thoroughly read content warnings and tags before clicking read more.

☼ ao3 link | extended authors note | fics for gaza

THIS IS PART TWO. CLICK HERE TO HERE PART ONE.

☼ wc ; 16.8k / 33.2k

☼ a/n ; sorry for the incredibly long wait. as always i got extremely carried away. but cheers for fujoneet reader coming after this! written as part of the @ficsforgaza intiative

☼ synopsis ; you spend the next four years of your life pining miserably and trying to get over your first love. it all comes crashing during the year you turned twenty-one, fresh out of a break-up and forced to reconcile with your estranged childhood friend.

PART TWO: LIGHT MY WAY BACK HOME.

Freshman orientation seems less like an orientation and more like a social gathering.  

You’re not really sure why you didn’t think of that. This one is being held by seniors in your department, so you figured they’d talk to you about things like majors or clubs or general campus life.  

The presence of alcohol and cigarettes after only thirty minutes is what alerts you of your doom. You’re screwed.  

For many reasons and in many ways.  

For starters, you’re all the way out in Hokkaido, which is a 19 hour trip from your hometown. You don’t know anyone at school except that one alpha you keep bumping into, and more importantly - you wouldn’t know of any good ways to excuse yourself to leave. You don’t even know where to go if you did.   

Secondly, you’re really not interested in drinking again. At least, not for now. The memory of Bachira is strangely fresh despite it being over a year since, and you’re afraid a drop of alcohol is going to make you spiral out and humiliate yourself in front of your peers.  

Third, most of the people here seem at least somewhat acquainted with each other. From the introductions at the start, there’s only one other freshman here and he’s already friends with a bunch of people. On top of that, he’s the rowdy alpha type you have a hard time with so you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do other thank stick to the wall and hope for the best.  

You text Miki-chan as you sit in the corner. Were you always this poor at socializing?  

After a few minutes, someone comes and plops themselves next to you. You’re mildly startled by her presence, jumping in your skin. She smells sweet,  a mix of overripe mango and something floral. You startle as she crowds in your space, eyes widening.  

“You’re the new freshie, right?”  

You blink at her then nod. She’s extremely pretty and not entirely Japanese which is common for this campus. “Uh, yes. Nice to meet you…”  

“Hira,” She says easily  

“Nice to meet you, Hira-senpai.” You bow.  

“Oh, how formal! Sure, call me that if you want.” She moves in even closer. You feel your heartbeat skyrocket and feel thankful you’re wearing a scent patch. “You looked a little lonesome in the corner, so I thought I’d come save you. First party like this?”  

You’re surprised. “Is it obvious?”  

“Mm, not really. But I can tell at least. I’m good at reading people. And I was interested in you,” 

You stare at her as she leans against the wall. Long lashes, dyed hair, full lips and a scent so intoxicating you could drown. You feel flush just looking at her, attracted to her undeniably. The look she’s giving you is making you a little delirious.  

Your eyes go wide. “Sorry?”  

She beams but doesn’t repeat herself. “Are you a beta?”  

“An omega,”  

You feel her nose brush against your covered scent glands and feel a jolt up your spine. “Oh, you are. You smell good.” 

You blink slowly, hesitating. “Thanks.” 

“Which way do you swing, then?”  

Is she… hitting on you? Then again, she could just be the touchy type like Bachira.  

“I prefer omegas. I’ve never dated an alpha seriously.” But I was in love with at least one.  

Her eyes light up. “So you swing both ways, or at least you like omegas. Good. My radars rarely wrong. Ever been in a relationship with anyone?”  

“Just for a few months in highschool.” You admit.  

“Right. Got any experience then?”  

She’s…  

“Uh, not really no. Kissed and stuff but that’s about it.”  

“Eighteen, no experience, and into other omegas…that tracks. You’re not having much fun at this party, either. So, how about…” You feel her hand on your thigh and nearly choke on air. “We change all of that in one go?”  

You feel a little guilty. You’re not sure what you should be doing. You never really thought about losing your virginity when you were in school for obvious reasons, and thought of it even less so when you were with Bachira. It’s not like it’s of incredible importance to you. Is it something you should let go of easily? Does it matter?  

On the other hand, are you ever going to have a beautiful omega girl older than you offer to take your virginity and it not be an illusion? You’re not really sure if it’s possible. And you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a eunuch. Some part of you hopes it’ll get your mind off of Bachira.  

“I really don’t know what I’m doing, just as uh. As a prerequisite.” You say stiffly.  

“Are you a quick learner?”  

Your breath hitches. “Yeah,”  

“Then you’ll be just fine! Sooo… wanna get out of here?”  

Shit. “Uh, y-yeah.”  

“Great!”  

She grabs your hand, hauling you up and dragging you along with her. Some of the seniors in your department shoot you a look like they’re impressed and you’re not sure if you should be mortified or flattered. “Taking the freshie with me.”She turns to someone who’s name you don’t remember. “Don’t wait up! And don’t come home either.”  

Said friend sighs. On the way out, you hear them ask around about sleeping over and feel a little guilty.  

__  

She tells you about herself on the way to her place. A short walk from campus, you spend most of it wondering if you’re in some kind of dream. Hira-senpai is mixed but she’s grown up in Sapporo for most of her life.  

Half-north indian and half-japanese. Tan skin, brown eyes, and long hair - something about her looks straight out of a dream. She holds your hand on the way to her apartment and talks to you so casually it makes you feel like friends. She’s good at conversation in a way that’s familiar to you, reminds you a lot of Bachira no matter how much you hate making the comparison.  

Most of all, she’s an incredibly attractive distraction. She’s just a touch taller than you but she’s got long legs and nice assets, with curves in all the right places. She’s toned too. She dresses nice and smells so good. Has all the flair of an omega that makes your heart race.  

Once you get up to her apartment, she wastes no time in getting you into her bedroom.  

Kissing someone with the intention of having sex is different than whatever you were doing in highschool. Hira is well practiced in how she touches you, strips you naked, admires you. 

She’s aggressive with you but you don’t mind. You end up in her bed faster than you thought you’d be. She kisses with with tongue, teeth nipping at your lips and neck as she whispers to you all sorts of things about likes and dislikes. You learn how to use your mouth and how hard to suck, and smooth your tongue along her scent glands in the ways to turn her on.  

You find you don’t mind touching her. You like making her feel good. She gets wet for you and talks to you sweet. Intoxicating, you let her play with you as she pleases without words of complaint. You make her cum once, then again because you like how she grips onto your hair. Her praise is nice when you make her cum. It feels good when she returns the favor even though you feel embarrassed the entire time.  

You fuck until sunrise and sleep in her bed. When morning comes, you find her wrapped around your with your body covered in unfamiliar nips of teeth. She tells you to stay for breakfast.  

You feel like you walked the stairwell to adulthood a little too quickly. But it’s the longest you spent not thinking about the past 

So you stay with her. You sit up and open your phone.  

(sent 9:34am) just lost my virginty to my omega senpai. uni is weird  

9:35am: You have 24 new notifications.  

__ 

[ NINETEEN ] 

“Do you wanna become club manager?”  

You shoot a surprised glance at Satou-kun, one of your only alpha friends on campus and captain of your university soccer team. You’re currently in the club room, reviewing footage of their opposing team before they start training for the inter-collegiate tournaments.  

This is a favor you’re doing for Satou-kun as a part of him helping you find board and housing all the way out here. Your current university had been your last choice despite being incredibly prestigious as a result of extra-curricular and exceptionally good marks for years of highschool.  

 You were supposed to be staying in a dorm room but there was some trouble in the office and no space left in the omega-beta dorms for you to stay at.  

You met Satou-kun crying outside of the 7/11 near your campus, dropped down to your knees in pre-heat distress. Satou is from the countryside. A big, lumbering 6’4 alpha who apparently can’t leave people alone in times of need, especially not crying omegas. He bought you a meal and helped you find room and board temporarily before later finding you an apartment near campus.  

In short, you owe him a lot. Insistent on paying him back, you’ve spent a lot of time helping out their soccer team doing this and that. Once, off-handedly during their practice, you’d helped one of their other team mates out with their dribbling and have since then become a psuedo-member.  

You don’t really have any interest in soccer. Or at least, you didn’t for the first eighteen years of your life. Maybe it’s because you’re so far from home, but there’s something about seeing them play that feels familiar and fulfills an old itch.  

Still, you’re not really expecting the offer. You’ve only known Satou-kun for a few months and you’ve known his team for even less.  

“Uh. I’ve never been a sports team manager, so I don’t know if I’d be any good.”  

“Seriously?” He sits next to you in a chair backwards, pushing his hair back with his hand. “You know a lot about soccer though?”  

You swallow. “A friend—sorry, an old friend of mine plays. My nii-san did too but that was way back. I’ve just been around it a lot.” 

He gives you a long look, brushing past the very obvious shake in your voice. You like that part of him, you think. “I think it’s fine. The team likes you. You’re meticulous and do well under pressure.” He takes a drink from his water bottle. “Plus I think the guys would be more motivated with a pretty omega manager. At least they’d wanna impress you.”  

You blink. He says it so neutrally you almost don’t catch it.  

“Thanks?”  

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just an observation,” Satou says, shaking his head. “I think you’d be an asset to the team. There’s no one else who can mediate with coach like you can.”  

Your lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “That’s true,”  

Your thoughts end up at Bachira as you consider the offer. Lips furled into a frown, something heavy weighs on your heart. You’ve gotten better at not letting him consume your every waking thought. Being busy has helped. But soccer is the one thing that reminds you of Bachira most. You’re not really opposed to being manager. You just don’t know if it’ll be too much. You’re not enough of a masochistic to say yes without hesitation. The painful, constant reminder of him through being manager just feels overwhelming.  

You haven’t seen him in nearly two years, except on T.V. or in the news, doing exactly what you thought he would. You’ve put so much effort into getting over him but it feels like you’ve hardly made progress.  

You sigh.  

“Can I give you my answer later? After I consider it more?”  

“Sure. If it isn’t too invasive though,” He leans into looking closer. “Can I ask what’s making you hesitate? I’d guess it’s that childhood friend but,”  

You blink in surprise. “Yeah. That obvious?”  

He shakes his head. “Got a nose like a hound, granny always said. Could feel the change even with the strong patches and inhibitors.”  

“Ah,” You look down at your lap. “My friend and I had a pretty bad falling out. Think it was two years ago now, but I’m just worried it’ll bring up bad memories.”  

“You cared about him a lot, huh?”  

You aren’t sure what brings you to say it out loud. “I was in love with him. Basically my whole life.”  

It’s the first time you’ve ever said it to anyone. It doesn’t feel as horrible as you expected.  

“Was he an omega?”  

You give him a humorless smile, shaking your head. “An alpha.”  

He blinks in realization before nodding.  

“Must’ve been someone special then,” Satou scratches the back of his neck. “I can’t tell you I understand it but you know. Maybe being our manager can help give you some better memories than what you left with. With time.”  

“I know it probably sounds ridiculous. Two years is a long time.” You reply back. 

“Huh? Hardly.” Satou looks at you directly when he speaks. “Don’t force yourself to get over it. I know you’re the worrying type, but sometimes it’s fine to just let things go as they are.You have to keep living your life right?”  

“Right,”  

“So don’t think of it in negative terms like getting over it. Do it if it’s something you might want to do. If it gets too much I’ll support you as captain or let you leave. You can make new memories here. It’s an opportunity, that’s all”  

You give Satou-kun a small smile. “Satou-kun…you’re a good guy. You’ll find a good wife.”  

“You sound like granny,” He says. “If you’re ever interested in becoming farmers wife in the country side, you’re always welcome to take the position up.”  

“Are you joking?”  

“No.” He says, standing up. His tone is unreadable. “You’d be good at it. You’re strong with good attention to detail so I think the work would be easy for you. Plus you’re after a quiet life, aren’t you?”  

“This is a bad proposal,” You deadpan, shaking your head. “And most omegas would be pissed if you told them they look good to work on a farm.”  

“It’s a compliment.”  

“This is why you’re not popular.” You retort with a small chuckle. “If I ever decide to marry an alpha and give up on everything, I’ll find you. For now, I’ll have to decline the proposal. But I’ll accept becoming manager.”  

Satou-kun claps your shoulder. “Eh. I’ll take it,” Your eyes meet. “If you change your mind on either thing, just let me know.”  

“Of course. Thanks, captain.”  

“Anytime.”  

__ 

“Are you sure you want this?”  

Hira-senpais roomate, Shinohara, busies himself with sterilizing needles. You glance at yourself in the mirror in their bathroom, red-rimmed eyes making you feel pathetic. You really want something to do.  

Drink, smoke, something. But you’re not trying to start on using substances when thinking of Bachira since you’re sure it’ll kill you. You just need the distraction. The game is still playing in the background in the other room, so when you hear the channel change and feel thankful to whoever shifted it.  

You rub your eyes with the end of your hand, voice hoarse. “Yeah. And I’m gonna get a tattoo.”  

“You’re still this hung up on that kid? Whatever his name was,” He snaps his fingers. “Bee boy.”  

You huff. “Yeah.”  

“Have you tried dating other people?” He suggests.  

Shinohara pours rubbing alcohol onto something before wiping your ear with it on both sides. It’s cold and makes you shiver. “No. Never been interested,”  

“Don’t you think it’s about time you get interested?” He uses a marker next, placing a dot carefully before assessing it. He repeats the process on the other side. “I mean, if just seeing him on T.V. is enough to do this to you after all this time… You barely react to anything, like a damn stone statue. Yet, here you are.”  

“It’s not just that,” You sniffle again. Shinohara-kun gives you a disbelieving look in the mirror, shaking his head. It’s not just the fact you saw Bachira, but that you keep seeing him exceed your expectations. In news magazines, in articles, in ads for sports drinks. What broke you was seeing him on the news after seeing him earlier in a magazine for the greatest talents to come out of Bluelock, with speculation in his potential to become the greatest striker alive.  

You’ve done a good job not thinking about him. You even got used to the press when you went to your hometown and saw him plastered on posters. But it dawns on you he’s still living his dreams and he’s not even twenty yet.  

And you play no part in them. You bite your lip trying not to cry.  

“I’m not piercing you if you keep shaking,” Shinohara says with no real bite. A gloved hand wipes your tear. “So toughen up, brat.”  

“Stop calling me that. You’re only a few years older than me,”  

“Stop acting like one and I’ll consider. Now take a deep breath. It’s gonna hurt pretty bad, alright? If you jolt I’m gonna kill you.”  

“Stop worrying about me.” You sniff, wiping your nose. “I’m fine”  

He rolls his eyes. “Then count to three and take a deep breath.”  

__  

[ TWENTY ] 

“I’m home!”  

Your face is cold from the winter air as you step inside. You shake off the snow from your body as you wipe your face, exhaustion settling in from the long travel. It’s not your first winter break home but even after two years you can’t get used to the distance  

You leave your bag and luggage at the door as you strip out of your jacket, hanging it on a nearby hook. You sigh in relief, mind drifting off to thoughts of sitting in the kotatsu and warming up while you let your brain rot from television. You only have so many days break before you have to travel back to Sapporo. You glance at the shoe rack and notice a single pair of loafers. Your parents are probably grocery shopping. You always have hotpot the day before New Years.  

There’s only one other person that leaves. You raise your voice louder as you call out again.  

“Nii-san, I’m home.”  

“In the living room,”  

You stretch your arms over your head, sweater sliding over your stomach as you walk into the living room to see him spread over the couch watching something on the T.V. Looks like some kind of comedy variety show.  

“Hey,”  

You make a noncommittal noise, beelining to the kotatsu in the center of the room, sliding yourself underneath with a long sigh. Nii-san laughs behind you.  

“Still snowing?” 

“Got worse in the last hour,” You prop your elbows on the table, laying on your arms with a loud yawn. “My bags wet so I left it in front of the door.”  

He hums as the two of you continue to watch T.V. in comfortable silence. You feel his gaze on your back for a while before turning around slightly to look at him. “What are you looking at?”  

“Did you get your ears pierced?”  

You blink. “Yeah. My helix and upper lobe on both sides.”  

He stares at you for a long while after you tell him, leaving you confused. It’s rare you see your brother these days. He’s twenty-nine this year. He’s scruffy, face prickly with hair and hair grown out longer than normal. Eyes squinted, you feel his hand pull at the collar of your sweater before peering down at your back.  

“When did you get a tattoo?” 

Surprised, you pull away from his grasp frowning. “Same time I got my piercings.”  

“What for?” 

“I just wanted to get them,” You say, fidgeting with your. 

“Well, it’s fine.” He says after a while, voice softened. His hand comes up to your head, patting it like you’re a kid again. You squirm away from the touch and sudden affection. You don’t know if you’ll ever properly figure out what’s on his mind. “You’re such a goody two-shoes kid a little rebellion won’t hurt. Kaa-san’s gonna freak over the tattoo though.”  

“I won’t be here long enough for her to find out I don’t think. And even if she does, it’s not like I can get it removed now. It’s usually covered up enough that no one noticed.”  

“I saw it cause of the way you were sitting, so don’t worry about it.” He says, patting your shoulder. “What’s the tattoo of?” 

You frown, turning away with a flush. “…A bumble bee on a kuroyuri flower.”  

“A bee huh? Should kill that stupid brat.”  

“Nii-san!” You shake your head. “I already told you the fight was my fault. Don’t use it as a reason for your grudge, okay?”  

He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re twenty right?”  

You nod. Nii-san grabs a beer from the plastic bag besides him, cracking the top open before handing it to you with a long look. “Here,”  

You take the beer from his hand and take a drink from the top, malt hitting your lips and warming you up from the inside. “…Thanks.”  

“If you’re gonna go out of your way to defend him even now, just text him and make up already,”He says, shaking his head. “The piercings, the tattoo… all that was to get over him, huh?”  

You feel embarrassed. Was it that obvious you were hung up on Bachira this way? He always had a weird sixth sense about things, so maybe not. “It doesn’t matter.”  

He sighs. “It does matter. If you care this much, there’s no way it doesn’t. Don’t be obstinate and figure things out with him.”  

“Even if I could do that,” Which I can’t, ever. “He’s rarely home anyways, and I don’t want to have that conversation on the phone. Plus, he’s probably forgotten all about it.”  

“You’re a smart kid but sometimes you’re so oblivious it makes me feel bad. Was it because you’re sheltered? You have no common sense.”  

“Hey!”  

“I know you’re just being careful but there’s no need to this extent. You two were attached at the hip for almost two decades. There’s no way he’d forget even if he’s a famous soccer player right now. Just make up with him.” He says, then sighs before giving you a serious look. “But seriously don’t marry him. I’ll kill you both.”  

“I told you he likes alphas.”   

“And you like him, despite liking omegas, right?”  

You make a noise of indignance “That’s different,”  

“It’s not. I don’t care about him but don’t be a coward. You’re a lot tougher than that as is and it doesn’t suit you at all.”  

You turn your eyes to the T.V. pretending to watch it while deep in thought.  

You don’t know. It’s been three years since you and Bachira stopped being friends but the wound doesn’t feel any more healed than it did last time. There are longer stretches of time in between that you can without feeling like the world is collapsing underneath you, but you’re not over it despite your best efforts. Maybe it’s true you haven’t truly tried hard enogh. Your last conversation was messy at best, a rushed outro to a life long friendship without any real closure.  

But you don’t think you’re owed closure. What’s more, you don’t even know what you’d say. There’s both so much and so little you want to tell him.  

I’m proud of you. I’m sorry. Who takes care of you now that I’m gone? Do you miss me as much as I miss you? 

But how do you have that conversation? You’ve never been good at being upfront with your feelings. You keep to yourself, keep your head down, and get lucky to be around people who do it for you.  

Even if you were to get closure now, could you handle it? You were never under the impression Bachira could love you, but at least now you can be open about it. At least now, you can tell people when they ask you about love and confess it like some sort of sin. The first time you told Satou-kun that truth, it felt like a weight had finally been unburdened. To become friends again now would mean you bear that silence of that again while you try to fall out of love, or you confess to it him and make things hard on you both.  

You don’t want either outcome. You just want Bachira to be your friend. And you want things to be easy. You’re not seventeen anymore.  You have school, work, clubs - things that you still need to be present for.  

You can’t handle the heartbreak of that loss twice. It’d kill you.  

Maybe, someday, when you’re really over it - you’ll reach out to Bachira as friends. Another two years so it’s been at least five, and you’re closer to graduation than you are to highschool.  

For now though, the idea of seeing Bachira again is painful at best and stupid at worst.  

“I need more time,” You reply after a while. “To get over it more. I don’t want to meet him when I’m still this… emotional about it.”  

Nii-san sighs, over you. “Fine. If you say so. Drink your little heart out over it but when the time comes, dont’ miss your chance alright? Promise me.”  

“I thought you didn’t like him.” 

“You little—just promise.”  

“Fine, fine,” You fall forward again on your kotatsu - waving a dismissive hand. “Promise.”  

__  

“I can’t believe my favorite heat partner went and got a boyfriend on me,” 

Hira-senpai slides herself across from you in the booth in front of you. You glance up from your laptop just barely too greet her as Shinohara joins the both of you. Shaking your head, you take stock of your surroundings quickly. The cafeteria at the bottom floor of the  mathematics building is still just as empty as it was when you came in.  

“Where did you two just back from?”  

“A seminar thing for senior capstone.” Shinohara answers. You make a short ahhh sound before continuing on with your typing.  

“Don’t just ignore me, both of you!” Hira insists. Your lips quirk up at the corners.  

“Stop announcing that we have sex so loudly and I’ll consider it.”  

“Fine, fine. I just can’t believe you got confessed too and you said yes! And you only told me through text!!”  

“What was I supposed to do? You weren’t even on campus so I couldn’t tell you in person.”  

She pouts, dipping a fry into ketchup as she props her elbows up on the table.  

“Whatever. I want details!”  

“It was that huge omega guy on the soccer team, right? What was his name again…?”  

You furrow your brow. “How do you know that?”  

“I know everything.” He says seriously. You roll your eyes.  

“Yeah it was. Takahashi-kun. He confessed to me as soon as I got back from visiting home over winter break in the club room. Gave me flowers and everything.”  

“Flowers? What a serious guy. Are all the soccer club guys like that?”  

You grimace. “I think all soccer players are predispositioned to have something just a little wrong with them. Him being chivalrous is fine, all things considered.” 

“Hm. True.”  

“Sooo, did you just say yes right away? That’s super unlike you!” 

“Huh? No, of course not. I told him upfront that I’m still getting over someone so I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” You say, typing away at your computer. “But he said he didn’t care and wanted to date me anyways.”  

“What a weird guy.” Shinohara hums thoughtfully.  

“He’s that into you?!”  

You nod. “I guess so. I asked why it had to be me and he said something I didn’t catch. Just that he thought I’d be a good partner and accept an omega like him. Which I guess is true.”  

Shinohara chuckles. “You sound so enthused.”  

You shrug. “It’s not like I lied. He’s a good guy, I know that. And I mean. Not like I have anything to lose. You guys are the ones telling me to try and move on.”  

They both say “True,” at the same time, making you shake your head.  

“So you’re gonna date him seriously?”  

“I’m gonna try,” You reply with a long sigh. “I really just want to move on.”  

__ 

You date Takahashi-kun for a year.  

It’s a good year, and a good relationship.  

He’s good to you in all ways that matter. He still believes in old timey traditional of courting and courts you like an omega might an alpha despite you not being one. Brings you food he’s made and other handmade ornaments. He’s taller than most omega men. A little over six feet and muscular with a sharp jaw but the roundest, brownest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Often, he asks you if you’re fine with him. Comes into your arms and weeps into your neck, scent sweet like fresh cream as he apologizes for not being cute. Takahashi is more omega than you are. Shows submission and pleasure in the textbook ways you see only in books and pornography. He’s kind and doe-eyed and timid. He’s easy to talk to. He’s attractive. Sharing heat together always feels pleasurable and warm. 

Alphas like him. Mostly alpha women. And you like Takahashi too, while you date him. He’s tender and thoughtful - easy to read and easy to treat well. The relationship is never something worthy of complaint.  

Which is why you break up with him before you leave for winter break the next year.  You explain it  all to him and feel incredibly disheartened when he cries. Takahashi is the poster image for what makes a good omega. And because he is so good, so kind, so caring - it’s unfair to continue to be with him when you know you can’t grow to love him the way he loves you. 

If a year in your ideal theoretical relationship can’t be enough to cauterize the wound of your heartbreak, there’s probably nothing else that will except time. Even hysterical, you relay all of this to Takahashi as best you can. You don’t regret being with him, because he’s taught you plenty of things. 

It’s because he’s taught you so much that you’re able to break up with him at all instead of remaining comfortable and impassive. Because you know the depth of another persons unconditional love and because you also grow to love Takahashi. You love him in a different way than he loves you, and you leave because it’s unfair. It’s the first year of your life that has felt long and meaningful since you and Bachira parted ways four years prior.  

So you split with him, and tell him everything on your mind. And because Takahashi is a good person who loves you unconditionally - it hurts you both, even though he accepts. He asks that if someday, you think you might change your mind to call him. He asks to be friends.  

You promise to him both, and then tell him again that you hope someone better will be there for him and that you love him even if it’s not like that.  

The day you break up with Takahashi, you have to take a train ride three hours long to get to the airport where you’ll board a short flight, then make the hours long venture back to your hometown.  

You’re fine for the duration. You don’t cry often anyway. It’s fine until your phone buzzes with the notification that F.C. Barcha has won a tournament match and will proceed to the next World Cup Qualifiers.  

And then, like clockwork, you sob into your hands on an empty train - heart so full of longing you could nearly throw up.  

You think, breaking up with Takahashi-kun was the right choice.  

You think, I miss him.  

You heart doesn’t name who exactly you miss. That name is written all over it anyways.   

__  

[ TWENTY-ONE ] 

For the first few days of your winter break, none of your family is in your house for you to hang around.  

This is something you’ve always been used to. Your parents have been on a trip in Kyoto and won’t be back until after new years and nii-san is working a lot of overtime until about the same. You have a copy of your house keys so you have a place to stay, and you’ve made some shrine plans with Miki and Sasaki since you’re back home.  

They’re both still busy until the thirtieth though, so until then you have nothing to do.  

Today is the twenty-sixth, the day after Christmas. You’re home early since all of your classes finals lined up in the short-span of three days. It was stressful but you’re thankful for the extended few days that allowed you to go home early.  

Yu-san has insisted you spend some time with her instead of being by yourself. You always spend a day or two at her house during your winter breaks and have since you left for college. After your eighteenth birthday, it just felt like the right thing to do.  

You bring her something every year when you visit, and sometimes you stay over night. She treats you like her own, and fills you in about Bachira from time to time.  

In honor of upholding tradition, you decide to go see her a little early this year. Before you enter the familiar and cramped space of Yu-sans apartment - you always buy her a nice bouquet of flowers, a box of sweets, and an expensive bottle of sake. You have a gift for her too, some souvenirs from Hokkaido like always.  

You stop by your house first to drop off your things and lock up before walking the short distance to your childhood friends home in the winter air.  

You’ve been too often to knock after all, instead opting to text Yu-san and let her know that you’re there. You wait outside until she responds, giving you the go-ahead. 

yu oba-san (sent 9:57pm): the door is open but i had to step out for  a bit. make yourself comfortable.  

You gather your things up in one hand and tucking the flowers carefully in your arms to open the door. Your bag of gifts and drinks lands on the floor with a soft clunk as you set it down besides you, balancing flowers on the small cabinet near the entryway. Sliding your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it, you force your feet out of your winter boots, eyes searching around for the right pair of slippers.  

When you go to put your boots up on the shoe rack, you notice that there’s an unfamiliar pair of sneakers. You notice it too late. Mens sneakers. 

 A faint scent of burnt honey.  

You shake your head trying to shake the thoughts away. The likelihood of it being Bachira is so slim you wonder why you’re considering. The match for F.C. Barcha took place in Spain. It takes a day of travel to get to Japan, so you guess it’s possible. Even so, you think it’d be more likely he comes during New Years. It’s not guaranteed he’ll have enough time to even come home every year. He did two years back from what you know but not since then.  

You gather your things again. First the small bag you keep your personal stuff in, then the bags you’ve brought for Yu-san, and finally the flowers in your arm.  

You decide against announcing yourself since you suspect you’re the only there. 

Except you’re not.  

The whole world feels like it’s collapsing underneath your feet to see Bachira in flesh, tucked into the couch of his childhood home the same way he used to when you were kids - with both legs folded up and his chin resting on his knee.  

A shock of yellow hair, eyes gemstone gold and a stronger scent. Bachira. Meguru. 

You startle and think of what to do. What excuse you can make. How you can tiptoe your way out of the room and catch the breath that he steals away from your lungs.  

No such luck. Bachira is perceptive as always, noticing you before you get a chance to slip away.  

“Oh,” He murmurs. He’s taller. Just a bit, you think. “It’s you,”  

Your heart is thudding, blood rushing to your ears and face as you stare at him. You can barely feel your legs, weakness in your knees nearly making you buckle. Frozen stiff in place, you blink once, twice before nodding. You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat.   

“Uhm,” You don’t know what to do. “Yeah. I came to visit Yu-san.”  

He nods back.  

“She told me I should come over as soon as I can.” Bachira says. He feels unfamiliar. His hair is longer, but styled up and his ear lobes are pierced. He looks so much older yet so much the same. “My team mate dropped me off with his jet so I made it in a day.”  

Ah. Was it planned? She’s like your nii-san in how much she wants you two to reconcile. “Makes sense.” You flounder. Awkward silence falls so you try to come up with anything to say. Your hands are sweaty. “ Uh..Congratulations on your win, by the way.”  

He looks surprised. “Do you keep up with soccer these days?”  

Just for you. “A bit. Out of habit, I guess. And I’m the soccer teams manager at uni.”  

Surprised, he blinks in silence for a while.  

 “Oh. Well,” Suddenly, he beams. It’s no doubt forced and it breaks you into a thousand pieces though you try not to let it show on your face. Try not to let the omega part of you whimpering for approval too obvious. He smiles at you “Don’t be a stranger on my behalf! You should put your stuff down and sit. We should uhm..catch up!”  

You make a face at him that you know is pained, but nod anyways. The tension in the air is so thick as you slide to the other side of the room, putting the flowers and other gifts on the kitchen counter.   

Four years. Four years. How are you supposed to act?  

“Uh,” You call from the kitchen, hoping the nerves in your voice aren’t obvious. “Do you uhm, maybe want something to drink? I brought alcohol and I think there’s beers in your fridge.”’ 

Your eyes meet from the living room to where you stand behind the counter. He shrugs, giving you a lighthearted smile.  

“Mm. My nutritionist might get pissed but whatever! Why not you know? A beer would be good, thanks!” 

You nod and try to do the same - keeping the conversation as light as you can. You repeat that it’s fine like a mantra.  

“Is beer not too bitter for you? I bought chuhai cans. There’s a pineapple flavor,”  

The question is innocent enough to you, but you realize seconds later the intimacy of it. Four years or not, you were Bachira’s friend your entire life so it’d be weirder not to know and even weirder not to at least ask. It’s an extension of courtesy no matter how unnecessary, and plus - you’re known for being a little too obsessed with the details.  Bachira prefers sweet things and likes canned pineapple. You’re sure you picked it up out of habit.  

When you look up at Bachira, he looks nearly ready to cry. It startles you so much you jolt out of your skin. He turns away. “Haha…You remembered,”  

A pang of concern makes leaves you standing in place. There’s no way you would’ve forgotten. “Oh uhm. Sorry. Is that weird for you?” You explain, trying not to overstep any boundaries. “If me being too familiar is making you uncomfortable then—“  

“It’s not that,” He insists seriously. “I was trying to keep it together but I can’t after that,” He lets out a loud sob suddenly. Your eyes widen. Several waves of emotion pass over you at the same time. “I missed you…hicc, why would you remember that…sniff,”  

You soften, shoulder slumped with endured longing.  

“I missed you too,” 

“Liar,” He hiccups again, crying in full hysterics this time. You shuffle back to the living room to join him on the opposite side of the couch, placing the bag of drinks on the coffee table and reaching a hand over to squeeze his knee. “You haven’t talked to me in four years. You didn’t miss me at all but you remember something so dumb. You’re always like that. You’re so….”  

You frown. Does he really think you didn’t miss him?  

“It wasn’t like that,”  

“Then explain it to me now! Hasn’t it been long enough…dont you…!” He exclaims, pulling his hands from his face. You can’t contain your surprise about the reaction though you understand it completely. You feel similar. You’ve convinced yourself the entire time that any relationship you had with each other was completely one-sided. Assuming he would move on fine without you now that there were people in his life he could call friends. Still, it’s so unusual to see evidence of it not being true. “You never explained anything to me you just..” He sniffs “Left me. I thought you didn’t care anymore but…”  

His display of genuine sadness makes you feel horrible.  

You press your lips together in a thin line, reaching into the bag for a tall can of beer and cracking it open before having a drink so it numbs your nerves.  

Your stomach is twisted up in a knot so tight you kind of feel sick. There’s no way around the conversation now. You can’t bear to see him cry so much, so you should at least clear up the understanding. 

 Leaned forward, elbows on knees - you keep your eyes focused in front of you, keenly aware of Bachira adjacent to you on the couch wiping his eyes.  

“It wasn’t that I didn’t miss you, I just uh,” You swallow a lump in your throat until it smooths out. “I just have stuff I want to get over before we could be proper friends again. I wanted to reach out to you a lot. It wasn’t like I stopped caring about you after we fought,”  

“You hated me for lying to you and being an alpha right? Wasn’t that what you had to get over in the first place?”  

Your eyes go wide. “No, uh. It’s complicated. I didn’t uhm, hate you for lying about it. I was shocked sure but you are—were my best friend. I did distrust alphas for a long time and I still don’t really like them… but it didn’t matter to me. I told you then too but I didn’t hate you it was just,”  

You chuckle nervously, running your thumb on the rim of the can. “It felt wrong to keep being your friend. Not knowing something so basic. The fact you felt like you couldn’t tell me. It was more like I was too ashamed to keep calling you my best friend.  

“You… Really?”  

You nod. “And uh, I didn’t want to reach out to you again until i got over some personal stuff.”  

“You big dummy,” He wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve. “It wasn’t like that at all…. Even back then, I knew you wouldn’t have hated me just for being an alpha,” He hiccups another sob. “I was just so scared you would that I didn’t want to tell you. I thought you would start treating me different and we’d stop being close if you found out I wasn’t an omega. You’re such a good person, how come you think of yourself like that? Why do you think…hicc”  

“Sorry,” You mumble, unsure of what to say.  

It feels like a great weight has been lifted up off your chest.  

“Stop apologizing, dummy. Stupid.”  

You give him a wobbly smile.  

“What did you have to get over that you couldn’t talk to me for four years?” He huffs. “If it wasn’t me being an alpha, what was it?”  

Your eyes widen, heart rate picking up so rapidly you can only pray he doesn’t hear it. You swallow spit, teeth sinking into your cheek. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.  

You’ve thought about this conversation before hundreds of times. Often. How it would go, what you would say if you ever got the chance to say it. But having the opportunity to confess right in front you makes it all feel hundreds of miles away. 

Your mind has filled in the details each time with it going so badly. Bachira’s face, disgusted with you or otherwise unsettled always sears itself in your psyche so strong you  bite your tongue. You always found him a little unsettled by you in you thoughts. Disgusted with you for liking him so much even knowing he’s not into omegas. You don’t want your own cowardice or misunderstanding to get in the way of being honest with him after so long. 

You would’ve waited two more years to even speak to him had you been given a choice. But now with him in front of you, how could you possibly do that? It’s the universes way of ripping the band-aid off, you think. Such a tricky outcome can only being ordained by faith.  

“Well, I uhm, I was—am, in love with with you. Since we were kids so uhm, after we split ways I couldn’t really apologize. I w-wanted to get along with you again for a long time but I couldn’t…” You shake your head, refusing to see his expression. Terrified that what you’ll see is disappointment. “I wanted to sort my feelings out first so I could approach you honestly, I guess. I k-know you like alphas, so I’m not expecting anything really! I just wanted t-to ease the burden on myself a bit instead of hiding.”  

There’s a long, long stretch of silence. It feels like forever.  

“You’re in love with me? But you like omegas don’t you?”  

“Not exclusively I guess? I h-haven’t figured it out yet. I’ve never been with another alpha but my feelings for you are real. I know it’s burdensome to hear that but—”  

“It’s not burdensome,” He cuts you off instantly. Your eyes widen slightly. His expression has completely changed. “Are you being serious? You’re in love with me? Since we were kids? Even after finding out I’m an alpha?”  

You nod slowly. “Yeah. That was also part of the reason. Learning you were an alpha brought up questions. Uhm. Anyways. It’s been four years and I still can’t get over it so I didn’t want to put myself through that again. I hope it’ll make you believe that I don’t hate you at least,” 

“You still love me, then.” He says softly. “Right?”  

You flush, wondering why he’s asking. “Yeah. Same as always.”  

He covers his face with his hands, suddenly grinning. Your eyes grow wide at that openly. “Aaaah!! I’m so happy I could die right now.”  

“Bachira?”  

“You big dummy. You should’ve told me before. How come you’re the only one in the entire world who didn’t know?” 

“S-sorry?”  

For the first time in this entire conversation, you let yourself look at Bachira who’s positively beaming at you. You blink rapidly, feeling suddenly deeply unsure of yourself and your surroundings.  

“I love you too, stupid,” He says, sniffling. “Since we were practically babies.” He sniffles again, more tears streaming down his face. “Uwah, I can’t stop crying, I’m so happy.”  

“But you…don’t you also like…?”  

“Alphas? Yeah I do,” Bachira hums happily. “I’ve never been with an omega. And I’m not really that interested in them, either. I’m clingy you know? And selfish. You were the exception. My one and only omega.”  

You cover your face with your hands. 

“What’s wrong?” Bachira asks.  

You laugh. “I’m so happy I think I could die.” You mimic. Tears wet your lashes with unusual swiftness. “I never thought in a million years you would ever like me back. It wasn’t even a possibility for me.”  

It feels completely surreal. You want to pinch yourself. If it’s a dream, you want to thank whatever power is responsible for making it such a pleasant one and you never want to wake up from it. He…Bachira loves you. The way you love him. It feels so impossible. Your mind can’t catch up, leaving you slack jawed.  

“Me too,” He hums lovingly. “Ahh, I don’t know if I should cry or shout.”  

“You’ll disturb the neighbors.”  

His grin is crooked. “Then you should do something to keep me quiet,”  

Your face grows hot at the sudden implication. You’re not a virgin but the idea is immediately too stimulating for you to act normally. “What’s with that…”  

“You’re acting like you’ve never kissed anyone before.” He teases. You shoot him a sharp look.  

Your eyes go down at your lap. “Don’t tease me. I want too, I just don’t know if I can,”  

You feel Bachira move over to you. He sits himself besides you on the couch, tucking himself against your side and moving himself to look at your face where you’re ducked down. You can feel the tingling in your skin at the proximity. Overbearing alpha scent that feels like a tight hug only because it’s Bachira.   

“How can I not tease you when you’re being so cute, hm?” He hums. He’s so close to you. “You normally don’t react to anything but then you behave timid like this. It’s so cute. Don’t act shy and kiss me already. Or at least let me kiss you,”  

“Bachira…” You murmur, trying not to explode.  

“Ehhh?? That’s not my name.”  

You laugh a little, picking your head up. “Meguru,”  

“Better!”  

You laugh again, helplessly happy. There’s no word in any language tantamount to what you feel - this much you’re sure of. Embarrassment doesn’t subside quickly but seeing Bachira in front of you makes you happy enough to try look forward. He looks older, somehow. His smile is familiarly boyish, sharpened teeth and piercing eyes even stronger than before.  

Pointed, predatory - lidded eyes meet yours. “Let me kiss you.”  

You nod, unable to form words to say yes but wanting it so terribly.  

The second kiss you ever share with Bachira in your life is exactly like him. Overwhelming. A hard press of lips followed by his tongue sliding across the soft seam of your mouth, coaxing you open until he can slip his tongue in. Immediately salacious and hot, the kind of kiss you can only have in total privacy. The intentions of it are obvious. Your body singes at the feeling, immediately burdened with the weight of life-longing wantings as you kiss him. Deep and melty, your hands reaching for his waist body urging you to pull him closer.  

You feel something tingling at the base of your spine as Bachira slides his tongue against yours hotly. Wet muscle tracing your mouth, drawing lines over every inch like he’s trying to devour you whole from the inside.  

The scent of him drives you insane. He’s so close. It’s suffocating - rich, homey burnt honey and amber with something spiced clouding your mind as you breathe him through hot panting breaths and kisses and kisses. Wetness grows between your legs, the skin under your clothes starting to itch.  

You’ve had years now to understand your heat. You know exactly when it’s coming, when it starts and how it feels. You’re not due for another few weeks but you know what your body is experiencing like the back of your hand. Bachira won’t stop kissing you long enough to let you warn him, tongue busy lapping at your lips. He swallows the little noises you make. You put your hands on his shoulders as you push him away, chest heaving through unbearably labored breaths.  

A whimper in your subconscious - animal in nature, whines at you indignant. Inner omega burdened with desire and overwhelmingly craving the alpha so readily available. Estrus symptoms rush you strongly as your eyes droop, pressing your legs together hard so no slick makes a mess on the couch.  

“Meguru,” You breathe out, barely. “My heat.”  

“Was it soon?”  

You shake your head. “I t-think you triggered it,” You huff, keeping your hand on his shoulder and wincing at the way your body keens.  

His eyes fill with excitement. “Are you saying you wanted me so bad I made your heat come early?”  

“Don’t say it so..haah… blatantly.” 

He shivers, scent and pheromones releasing even stronger than before. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulder as he overwhelms you. He leans in close to you, teeth nipping at your jaw - fangs dragging feather light on your scent glands.  

“It doesn’t seem like you want to stop you know?” He murmurs the words against your neck, eliciting a low whine.  

“Yu-san is supposed to be coming back.”  

“She won’t for a while. It’s already this late, I bet she’s doing something else,” 

“You don’t know that though,” You reason. He hums happily, nonplussed about all of it.  

“Are you worried she’ll walk in? I can always fuck you upstairs. In my old room. She won’t catch us if you’re quiet,” His voice has a rasp to you you’ve never heard before. It’s usually smooth and upbeat, but there’s grit to it now that has you buckling at the knees. “I’m your alpha right? I should take care of you.” 

“Who said you were my…?”  

He gives you a serious look before you can get the rest of the words out. “Do you really think I’d let you be with somebody other than me now that I know? Don’t you think that’s silly?”  

The predatory hunger in his gaze makes your breath catch. A gazelle in the maw of a lion, you wonder if all prey animals tremble violently when they at risk of being eaten. There’s such a thing as survival instinct, but there are abnormalities and exceptions. Bachira bears his fangs you, a blatant claim of his possession - teeth nearly drawing blood on the thin skin of your neck and you think to yourself you want him to eat you. To split you apart and lick you up down to bone, until your vision clouds with nothing but the sight of his hunger.  

You want it so much you gasp, a bolt of lightning crackling through each of your veins. You shake your head obedient to your own want.  

“My alpha,” You try the words out, heaven on your tongue. A claim. “My Meguru,”  

“Yours forever. Always yours,” He hums, contented with the show of submission. “Oh, baby. I’ll take such good care of you know? Knot you nice and pretty. You’ll like I promise. Even alphas like taking my knot,” His hand slides under neath your sweater, slides just between the edge of your stockings and your bare skin. “But you’re an omega—my omega, and you’re perfect so you’ll love it won’t you?”  

You feel drunk on the euphoria. Lust, lovesickness, lenience, all of them make you want to melt entirely. It’s so unlike you. During other heats with other people, you always managed to anchor yourself somehow. You want to blame it on your biology.  

You’re  hardwired to want this in some ways.  

But now you’re old enough to know there’s more to it. More to why his touch is safe. What’s etched into your bones is Bachira’s name only. Only him. His knot, his alpha instinct, his fangs - they’re what transforms you into something beyond yourself. You want the alpha in Bachira, want him to sink his teeth into softness you’ve always kept inside of him only.  

“Want you,” You confess between bitten lips “Meguru, want you so bad,” 

 Nothing in your life has ever been so true. No words you’ve spoken have bore as much weight as that admittance. Bachira licks onto your mouth without subtlety, fangs sinking into the plush of your bottom lip with lustblown out in eyes.  

“Come on, then baby.” He tempts. “Let me give you whatever you want, mmkay?”  

Your agreement comes out more like a whine than a firm yes. Bachira laces his fingers together with yours in the way he used to when you were kids walking across the road. You can barely feel your legs as you hurry up the stairs, worn but loved photos of childhood life and home. There’s pinned up medals and photos and each step you climb makes your heart race a little faster.  

It dawns on you too late that Bachira is the love of your life. Your omega pines for it, longs for the intimacy of it. Alpha, alpha, alpha - Meguru. A hymn etched into your heart.  

He tugs you into his room and locks it quick, groping desperately for the lights before pinning you up against the door in one swift motion. You feel your back against the wood as his hands move all over you. He squeezes the soft curve of your hips, nails dragging light against your stockings as he hitches your leg up kissing you more. Sloppier, messier - breathlessly chasing your lips and never pulling away. Always running after you when you stop to breathe like he’s destined to be your only source of oxygen. You claw at him, your eyes fluttering shut, rolling your up against him as slick wets the inside of your tights.  

It’s embarrassing how wet you really are. It’s never been so bad So blatant. He laughs a little, the hard press of his cock against your core making you sputter. Giggly as he feels it, hand squeezing your knee tight where he holds you up.  

“So wet,”  He murmurs against your mouth. “You’re so wet baby. It’s making a mess you know? You’re not usually this messy are you? You’re not one for bad manners.”  

You whine against his lips. “Don’t make fun of me.”  

“Stupid. I’m praising you,” He replies. “Praising your perfect pussy the way it deserves. Always giving so much to me. Don’t you think it’s mean if I don’t give back just a little?”  

“Touch me,” You beg slowly losing your sense of shame. “Knot me. Fuck me. Wanna bond with you.” You sniffle, overwhelmed as you plant your face against his neck “Wanna be with you forever,”  

A low growl slips from his throat, makes you so weak you could break with the slightest touch. “Don’t say that lightly.”  

You claw at your sobriety. Overtaken with emotions or not, the desire to bonded—mated isn’t a suggestion from thin air. You want proof of him in your life forever, the shape of his teeth in your neck. It’s been so fucking long. You’ve pined for him for nearly your entire life. Clutching onto him is the only thing you can think to do.  

Pulling away, you search desperately for your reflection in his eyes, trying to show your utter sincerity.   

“I’m not,” You say with as much conviction as you can. Embarrassment makes your face hot. “I know I’m in heat but I…” Your lip trembles. “I’ve thought about it. I won’t regret. aI want you so much, Meguru. Bond with me.”  

He whines. “You’re so unfair. You can’t just say that and expect me to be fine. You don’t know how bad I want it. Want you. For so long.”  

“You have me,” You whisper, trying not to look away. “It’s hard for me to say stuff like that, alright? So if you get it bond with me.”  

“You’re so fucking cute.” He praises. “Of course I will. How can I say no when you ask me like that? So pretty, so,” He takes a deep breath. “So sweet. So perfect.”  

Your lungs expand with a breath. “Meguru,”  

“Wore something so cute only to get it all messy,” He hums. His hands pulling up on your sweater. “Who got this for you?”  

“Uni friends,” You mumble, heart picking up speed. Bachira draws the long sweater up on your form, sliding it up over your ass and waist. It’s shaded enough that the large wet spot isn’t obvious. His hands grip your ass, moan slipping from his mouth in appreciation for the touch. “T-they told me it’s in style.”  

He tugs the sweater off of your body and tosses it somewhere on the floor, leaving you mostly naked aside from your underwear. You paw at his shirt making he laughs warmly.  

“Wanna get me naked so bad?”  

Yes. You feel ashamed thinking about how much you wanna feel his skin. Bachira is all sinewy muscle under his clothes. He’s grown a little over the last four years, even though you used to be the same height. It’s a touch of it everywhere, broader shoulders and deeper musculature, a physique carved from so much training. The muscles of his torso make you swallow thickly, the promise of dark hair trailing from his stomach at the top of his pants.  

“You’re staring so much. I’ll get embarrassed.”  

You find your hands smoothing up his chest and feel aroused about how good it looks. Weird gratitude settles over you seeing your manicured nails on Bachira’s strong chest. Too pretty for an alpha, but sharp enough that you believe it. The thought of the two of you together sends you reeling with thoughts. You’ve always wanted it. Always wanted him.  

He only lets you admire him for so long. His hands go around to your back, unclasping your bra in one go. You let him take it off you - self-conscious in how he zeros in on your chest. Nipples hardening in arousal, his hands cup them and squeeze. The rough feeling and grip of his palms makes you gasp - harsh in the way you can only imagine someone who fucks alphas can be. Keening, you watching Bachira lean back in to kiss you briefly before leaving hot, wet kisses down your neck and chest.  

Before he gets any further, he drags you along to his bed. Manhandling you until you’re laying on your back on his sheets, he climbs over you with appreciation. His eyes trace your body before landing at your core, sopping wet from heat-addled arousal. You cover your face with your hands.  

Wordless, he grabs your tights and pulls them down from your body hard.  

There it becomes obvious, your wetness. Humiliation blooms in the pit of your gut as Bachira sits between your legs, pulling your them apart at the knee with complete and utter fascination. You’re wearing light colored panties - plain with silly patterns, pale yellow. Your arousal is no doubt visible, soaking beyond just the inset of your panties but the entire thing. Slick runs down your thighs, down your ass. It’s egregious, excess appropriately reflective of how you ache. Your body is wholly for a knot with how much of it there is.  

The longer Bachira stares, the more it pulses and throbs under his vision. You feel soaked from the waist down. “Is it always so wet…?”  

“It’s not… usually this bad.” You admit. Bachira growls something deep in his chest.  

Before you can protest, he rolls soaked underwear off you in one go and leaves you completely bare.  

He’s imposing, stood on his knees over you - nearly in a trance. Bachira pulls you up by your waist, his thigh supporting  your spine as he folds you up until your legs are in the air - bending down until your cunt is directly in front of his face. You gasp seeing his face between your legs. Both of his arms are secured around your thighs as he takes a sharp inhale. Slick drips down towards your belly because of the way you’re angled and bent. It’s humiliating seeing your legs overhead. He presses his cheek against slicked-soaked inner thighs.  

Holding you still like that, back off the bed nearly folded in half with only his own body to support you - he dives face deep into your cunt without a second of forewarning. Your whole being lurches at the sensation, the lacking of build-up going straight to your tender core.  

Bachira laps at your cunt like he’s starving for it. There’s no technique, nothing but sheer animalistic hunger as his tongue dives furiously into your sex - nose bumping and brushing your clit with each wet, forceful slide of his tongue, swallowing down as much of your slick with each go. You feel your body go weak, lightheaded at being held and ate so viciously. Arousal comes in waves until finds a pace for himself with little word of instruction other than desperate keening and vague asks for more. Your eyes are closed as tension draws in your stomach. His mouth finds your clit, sucking gently and letting the flat plane of his tongue smoth on the sensitive bundle of nerves over and over - sucking carefully.  

His face is red when you open your eyes to look at him slurp your pussy, slick up and into his throat as if its a life force. Your eyes lock and you whimper at how he smiles into your pussy, keeping rhythm. He hums against you as the feeling builds and builds and builds. Heat makes you lightheaded, your thighs trembling, feet pointed with your toes curling as you reach the inevitable end of your first orgasm. His arms are securing holding you and taking the weight off of your spine - both of them holding you tight. You see the veins flex in his forearms as he grips you. Something about it sends you careening off the edge.  

The first orgasm Bachira gives you happens like that. He makes you cum with your spine halfway up in the air, tension in your body going so tight before releasing all at once. Orgasm makes you crashland. You cum so hard, you’re blindsided. Tugging as from his grip, your thighs squish his face as you squirm, all the muscles in your lower body tremoring from release.  

“M-meguru, can’tcan’tcan’t,” You feel his mouth follow you through orgasm in what reverence. His tongue dips inbetween your folds, the only mercy you receive.  

All at once, he lets you down gently until your laid limp in his bed. His face is covered in slick and drool as you lay there gasping and twitching erratically in the aftermath of your first induced heat orgasm. You stare at him, dazed as he wipes his face with his hands then licks them clean.  

“You taste so fucking sweet,” He mumbles, awestruck. His hand comes down next to your head, nothing but pure adoration in his vision - fangs bared. The yellow gold of his eyes pins you to his bed. “I can’t get enough of you. Didn’t know anything could taste that good.”  

He presses his mouth to yours in a way that’s almost violent, holding your jaw so you can taste yourself on his tongue. When he’s pleased, he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek and all over your face. You can’t think of a single coherent string of thoughts, even after your first orgasm.  

Like a livewire, every place Bachira touches, lingers for minutes. Just his name, just his knot - the only things your brain can make space for so aroused.  

“Did I already fuck you stupid?” He asks, breathless laugh on his lips. “Aw, baby - we just got started you know? You can’t tap out so early,” He pats your thigh with sticky hand making you yelp and waking you up form your haze. “How can I make you my mate without your full attention, hm?”  

You blink at him, tears at your lashes at his face. Your heart feels strange, so relieved, so pleasant, you think you could die. The smallest, soberest part of you is happy to be with Bachira but your instinct is practically clawing at your chest begging for more.  

“Meguru,” You want to burst into tears but settle for soft sniffles. “Meguru, I love you. Love you, love you so much. I love you.”  

“Ehh? Why’re you crying dummy?” His voice is tender, so thoughtful. Bachira is so selfish while being so loyal at the same time it makes your heart sing. “I love you too, so so much. Are you crying ‘cause it felt good?” 

He leans into your space, letting your arms wrap around his neck with a sniffle. “It felt so good it was scary,”  

He smiles at you - beaming. You want to hold onto him forever. Your soul has never ached so much for another person in your entire life, You press onto him tight, chest squeezing against his as you pull him in for a hug.  

He laughs then, squeezing you in his arms before rolling around in the bed. The innocence of the gesture brings a quiet giggle to your lips as Bachira presses kisses all over you. Soft pecks on your shoulder, on your nape, at the crown of your head. “Wanna look at me this time, hm? Would it make you feel better?”  

You nod in his arms and he smiles at you again, so sweet. He’s different. His egoism is so present, so there - selfishness carving him into the man he is now. Bachira does as he pleases with you, but gives you these little mercy’s admits his ruthlessness that make you want to fold under his touch.  

He lays on his back and drags you along with him. You’re laid ontop of him, chest to chest - and he keeps you like that before gazing into your eyes so adoringly, you urge to look away. He holds your gaze, not intending to let you.  

“You’re staring too much.” You murmur.  

“I can’t look at you even though you’re so pretty? Unfair.” He says back just as fast.  

“You say embarrassing stuff so easily…”  

He smiles at you. “Because I mean it, dummy. There’s no one prettier than you,”  

“That’s not,” Your breath catches as you feel his hands grab your ass, pressing your face to his neck, scent glands next to your nose. “…ngh, it’s not..”  

“Don’t say it’s not true or I’ll get angry,” His voice is sing-songy as he gropes you with both hands, content to feel you as you rub your body against his desperately craving more touch. You want to be in his skin. “You’re prettiest to me.”  

“Meguru,” You whimper. “Meguru,”  

“Begging for my knot with such a sweet voice. How deceiving.”  The contrast in the tone of his voice versus his touch makes you long for him. “Do you want my cock so bad already?”  

You frown feeling bashful as you nod.  

“Ah, but you’ve never had a knot in here before have you? Not a real one,” He hums, voice thick with amusement. “So I have to open you up nice till you’re nice and soft on my fingers mmkay? Here, turn this way.” 

Bachira lays you on your side, letting you adjust so your arm can slide under him comfortable. He lays facing you, pulling you towards him until your legs slot together - one of your legs locked between his with the other on top. He’s face to face with you like this. He slides one of his arms under your back to pull you to him even further, the other reaching over around your thighs and sliding his digits against your slick cunt. Your own arm bent at the elbow, you hold onto Bachira’s face locking eyes with him. Hands splay at his face, hoping your expression is enough to get the points across. He smiles at you, fangs glinting out shiny as he stares back.  

No words are shared between you but you get the feeling he knows exactly what you want to tell.  

You feel his middle finger slide down until it catches on your entrance making you whine. He hums sogtly, forearm pressed against your thigh as he pushes his first digit into you slowly. Your lips meet again in something softer, heat stricken pining you moan as he sinks into your welcoming heat. His voice is a whisper against your skin.  

“Fuck, nghh - Meguru,”  

“Your body is made for this,” He says, awestruck and giggly. “It’s going in so easy. Needs my knot so bad it’s getting impatient and ready. So fucking wet,”  

You huff impatiently. Rarely are you so petulant and impatient. You want more, need him inside so much deeper. From the first time you had sex to now, you’ve never experienced this much longing to be penetrated. To be fucked hard and deep, hardwired in your subconscious.  

 It’s never been important until now, until Bachira. His first slides in and out so easily, you only start to feel it at two. You tuck against Bachira’s neck, feeling the shape of his fingers. They’re angular, bony but long and pretty. They reach into you deeper than you’re own even with just two.  

“There’s a spot that makes you feel good, right?’ He hums. You can feel the reverb of his voice from his chest. “Where is it… here?”  

He hits it almost instant, rubbing your gspot - lightly swollen from heat. You arch against him as Bachira places an appreciative kiss on your shoulder. “It’s there. I’ll touch it more for you, ‘kay.”  

So he does. He angles his fingers, his wrists in such a way that he can rub up against it in a beckoning gesture. Your clit throbs in response to the stimulation - sticky, honeyed want coiling in your gut and abdomens as you sensitivity skyrockets even higher. Pressure builds slower with his fingers, just two - pumping in and out of your soaking wet pussy noisily as Bachira concentrates, low lidded eyes. Pressing his lips to yours and swallowing your tiny whimpers. You feel like you’re going to burst when he adds a third finger in. You’re not expecting the stretch - not painful but full. Makes you feel even needier, canting your hips against the motion of his fingers.  

You cum again dully throbbing all over your body - the sensation snapping like something brittle - clean and even but obvious. Your cunt tightens, clamping down on Bachira’s ring, middle, and pointer and how deeply they reach inside of you. You’ve never cum like this before, never cum from the inside even during heat. Silken walls clamp down on his thick fingers never wanting him to go, only wanting more.  

The arousal is just strong enough to make you snap. You gasp, nearly biting his lips as you shudder and rut - trembling in the strong grip of Bachira’s arms. The praise he whispers against your hot skin makes you feel so wanted. Your brain chants for his cock, his knot so eagerly you don’t know how to get it across other than begging him until your voice gives. The omega in you whines, sniffles brattily when Bachira pulls his fingers from you leaving your cunt so sorely empty.  

“Fuck me,” You express, trying to keep your composure as best you can. “Can’t think.”  

“Eh? That’s a first,” He hums. He draws your hips to his, hand on your ass as his clothed erection is pinned up against your sticky sex. “You’re always overthinking with this pretty face but now you want my knot so much you can’t?”  

The words make you want to collapse, how mean he says them while still being sweet. 

“I’m sorry,” You hiccup. “I love you  

“Shh, shh - it’s okay,” He murmurs. If you were more there you’d know he’s merely teasing. “Don’t cry. Just have to stick beside me from now on okay? All mine. Gonna bite you and make it permanent so you can’t run away.”  

“Okay,”  

“And you can’t show how cute you are like this to anyone else, okay?”  

You sniffle. “Okay,”  

“Say it baby,” He echoes. “Say I’m yours and you’re mine.”  

So you repeat the words as best you can in this state, slurring your words. “I’m yours and… you’re mine.”  

He grins. “You’re so cute. So perfect. Ah, I’m getting jealous of other people just thinking about it.”  

You blurt the words out drunk off of the sensations in your body when you hear Bachira talk of jealousy. “I broke up with my last boyfriend because of you,” You mumble, inhaling his scent “He was really nice to me but I couldn’t get over you even though we were together for a year,” You let your eyes flutter shut. “It was just a few days ago. So, there’s nothing to be jealous over,”  

A long silence stretches between you at the confession as you listen to Bachira’s heartbeat pick-up pace until it’s a loud pump. The sudden change makes you concerned, pulling away to see what he’s thinking. You assume it was going to be something cheeky and playful like always, but when you look at him - he’s blushing full red. Completely bashful, eyes blown wide and blinking rapidly. You feel oddly amused at it as he presses his lips together, hugging you until you laugh.  

“You’re soo unfair. Ugh, how could you…ugh” He trails off to stare at you. “You love me?”  

You smile at him breaking out into a giggle. “A lot. It’s embarrassing.”  

He sighs blissfully content.  

“I can’t look at you while I bond with you but I want to when I knot you ‘kay? Wanna hold you really close.” 

“Meguru,”  

He whistles at the sound of his name on your lips, like it’s all you need to say. “Lay on your tummy baby. “ 

He moves aside to let you flip over until you’re laying flat on your stomach. You lift your hips up slightly to make yourself more accessible, burying your face in your arms crossed in front you. You feel anticipation build up in your body, thoughts complete clouded. Your incisors sink in your lower lip as you listen to Bachira unzip and take off his pants, wiggling your hips lightly to tempt him. His hand comes down to swat your ass in a playful gesture. You yelp.  

He’s quiet for a while, his hands coming onto your back. “What’s this?”  

Your eyes widen as his fingers brush over the spot. You hadn’t thought about it. Your tattoo. Shit.  

“…A tattoo,”  

“Of a bumble bee and a flower,” Bachira repeats, shit-eating grin audible. “What kind of flower?”  

“Kuroyuri.” You say, embarrassed. “Stands for love and curse.”  

“Oh you’re really that in love with me, hm? How old is this? It’s healed. You missed me so much? I’m so happy.” He says breathlessly, elation so obvious in his voice it makes you shy. “Tell me all about when I’m done fucking you, okay baby?”  

You bury your face away from him, feeling shy as he kisses the placement before moving along.  

The position doesn’t let you see Bachira’s cock. Instead you feel it, which makes it much more imposing than you ever thought possible. The weight, the heft, the thickness of it is makes your breath hitch as you finally feel it outside of the confines of his boxers. You don’t need to look at it, you can feel how massive it is. He slides it along the curve of your ass and you can sense it so obviously it makes your stomach churn. He slides it between your ass, pushing it through both cheeks but not penetrating and it stretches you. You can barely contain the shock in your voice, pussy throbbing at the idea of him being inside of you with something so unbearably big.  

He hasn’t even knotted you. How can he possibly be that big without a knot. Your voice trembles.  

“Meguru… you’re huge.”  

He laughs, breathless. Cocky and egoistic that sends your spine tingling like a solar flare. “You don’t like it?”  

“I’m a little scared,” You admit. “But I want it at the same time.”  

“Don’t be scared,” His voice is tender but his words are filthy. “You’re made for me. Your cunts all split open and soaking wet because it’s begging you for my knot, pretty. Just mine. You’ll feel so full with me. So don’t be nervous and let me in okay?”  

You breathe deeply shakily, eyes fluttering closed at the promise of it. “Okay, Meguru.”  

You find yourself thankful that you’re not looking at him, but at the same time - you’re unsure if it’s better. You have to focus in on the sensation. There’s nothing but posters on the wall for you to look at and your eyes are barely focused it. Every inch of your skin is dry kindle and Bachira is the lighter - the match, the spark that sends you reeling in the midst of your heat.  

Your heats are always drunken stupors, messy hormonal sessions. To you they’ve always been akin to intense inebriated sex that’s painful unless you cum a few times.  

But with Bachira your heat is all encompassing flame. It’s like letting the sun swallow you whole, sweat dripping down your spine. When Bachira pushes the fat head of his cock into your tight, wanting, needy fucking cunt - you cry so loud you might scream. Whats left of your sense snaps as your body throbs for cock, you push yourself back onto him with a groan. You want him to knot you, want him to fuck you full and cum deep inside and plug you up. Want him to make you so whole and he’s so good because he is. 

 You feel your fists tangle in the sheets, and then feel Bachira’s body slump over yours from behind. His hand falls over yours, squeezing it as the thick swell of his shaft pushes into you your pussy painfully slow and stakes its claim. You feel like an animal the way you give way to your desires.  

The sensations and scent in the room is so strong your eyes sting and your mouth waters, drool pooling at your lips as Bachira splits your pussy open completely on his fat cock. Everything is sweet,  coats your mouth as you take in a sharp gasp of air. You choke his name out from your lips, whimpering at the soft growl in his voice when he finally bottoms out. Inch by inch, veins of his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you.  

Your body is hypersensitive. You’re so wet, so out of your mind with that your thighs are trembling at the edge of an orgasm. If he moves the right way, you know you’ll cum instantly.  

He leans over your shoulder and you pick your head up weakly letting him lick into your mouth. “Gonna bond you. Gonna mark you and mate you and making you all fucking mine. Sink my fangs into your pretty neck, my pretty omega. You’re so precious baby. Make me so hard. I love you, I love you so much.”  

“Bite me,” Is all you can get out, your brain can barely think hard enough for anything else. “Please. Please bite me,”  

It’s sudden. Sharp. Exactly what you want.  

You feel the sensation of teeth in your neck and everything around you halts to honor it. An orgasm shatters you in the process of it as Bachira pulls out and thrusts his hips and you cum so hard you shake violently - hands fisted in the sheets and pussy spasming as you cum relentlessly. Bottomed out, you allow your body to take it all in before the feeling your bond starts to draw in so much clarity. Belly fully, muscles tight - everything slows the the whirring blades of a fan coming a halt or a car worshiping a red light. The world stops spinning, briefly - mind and soul and spirit melding together his fangs descent into your neck. You feel the sharpening teeth sink into the soft flesh of your nape and cry out at the dull sensation of pain, outweighed by the out-of-body euphoria.  

It’s like everything makes sense. Every moment, every concern, every heartbreak - every minute apart. Love like a nerve split raw, open, tender - make tears pool at your lashes and spill down your face as Bachira bonds with you and stays there long enough to penetrate. All endorphins, pleasure, pain. Something clicks steadily into place inside of you and makes sense of all of your mess. Everything you are. 

A sense of completeness like nothing you could ever know without him. You love him so much it swallows you whole.   

Bonding, a mark of permanence - can be rejected by the body. Bred into your secondary sex after years of evolution. A unique trait to alpha and omega sexes, whether same or opposite sex pairs. Bonds are equivalent to sharing yourself with another person. Weak bonds can be broken, and some bonds won’t take at all.  

When your bond with Bachira takes so easily some part of you just knows. Some place beyond instinct, beyond every thing in the world that defines you. All of you has always existed in part with Bachira. And this pleasure, this desire for closeness can only be derived from years of unconditional love.  

Whatever would happen of you, had you been born an alpha or beta, Bachira would be born alongside you and make you complete or you, him. The way the sensation connects you like an invisible thread is proof of that.  The ease of it. The desire between you is greater because of it’s exclusivity, because you prefer omegas and always will - but no one compares to Bachira regardless of sex or anatomy. He is yours because he is him, sweet smells and soft eyes and need.  

You can’t help but weep about it as you know he feels it too, secretions from his teeth dulling the pain from the wound as he finally pulls out from the mark and laps at the blood.  

You feel such intense relief, heat subsiding leaving only pleasure and warmth. .  

You love him so much you could stay like this. You love him so much nothing else in the world could ever sway you from it. You don’t care what it makes you. What it means. You love Bachira as he loves you - conventionally unconventional. Beautifully imperfect.  

Tears slip down your face as Bachira licks your wounds for you like always.  

“I’m yours, baby.” Bachira says, soft. Whispers your first name as he says it. “I love you so much. My whole life. Since I was little. Since you called out to me and let me show you my dribbling. I can’t stand being without you, you know? So don’t ever leave me,”  

You laugh a little, sobering. “As if I could.”  

“Wanna knot you and hold you, kay? Gimme a sec.”  

Your body whines at sensation of Bachira slowly pulling out before flipping you onto your back in missionary. He’s quick to do it. You glance at his shiny cock , light throb in your neck as he shoves the whole thing back in one go and making your sensitive hole cum all over again. Your own body is ridiculous to you. You’re making a mess on his cock and definitely of his bed in the process, gasping as your muscles spasm in your waist. 

“S-sorry,”  

“Don’t apologize for that, dummy.” He kisses you. “Here. Hold onto me.”  

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and let yourself slump into bed, whining as Bachira fucks you a few times - sloppy, wet thrusts noisy in the room around you. You feel them in your exhaustion, another wave of tension making your stomach burn. 

“Gonna, fuck—knot you, gonna knot you, ‘kay? Touch yourself for me.”  

“Knot me, Meguru.”  

Bachira bottoms out. You feel his cum flood your cunt - so thick it’s in a stream as the base of his thick cock swells inside your pussy. You’re already so stretched by his dick on its own, you can’t imagine the sensation of the real thing until you feel it.  

It throbs hotly inside of you, deep. The knot swells up until it’s fat enough to stretch your open, slick pussy even further. You feel it in spite of how wet you are, the sensation rubbing on your walls raw punching all the air out of your lungs as he cock fills you completely. You feel it in your throat, his knot in your belly plugging you full as you breathe.  

“Fuck,” Your voice breaks. “You’re so huge, what the fuck.”  

He pauses then laughs hysterically as he sinks into you unable to move. “Thanks! I’m pretty proud of it.”  

You chuckle tiredly. “How long does this last?”  

He hums. “An hour-ish?”  

Your eyes go wide. “Shit. Really?”  

“Uh-huh,” Bachira says happily, collapsing ontop of you. “And when it goes down I’m going to fuck you some more.”  

“Mercy… my stamina… Meguru I’ll die.”  

“No way. I’ve waited too long.” He says with a deep breath. “But I’ll let you rest for now.”  

You close your eyes, smiling. “Pfft. Thanks.”  

__  

Your back is going to give out.  

Athletes are frightening. Your body is covered in bite marks underneath the collar as you peel out of Bachira’s arms in the morning after. It’s 7am, and the sun still hasn’t risen since it’s the dead of winter. You stare at him, kissing his cheek as he lays - completely rested and healthy. Bastard.  

“Meguru,” You hum, stirring him awake. “I’m gonna run to the store and pick us up something to eat.”  

“Noooo,” He says, half asleep trying to wrestle you back into bed. “Stay here. With me,”  

“No,” You reprimand, peeling away from him. He whines out loud. “I’m sticky. I’m gonna borrow your loose clothes okay? I’ll be back soon.”  

“Booo,”  

Ultimately too tired to protest, you yawn and crawl out of your bed, scrambling to the shower after rummaging through tubs of clean, old clothes in Bachiras’s room and picking whatever you think will fit.  

You shower, scrubbing yourself inside and out. You feel apologetic using the products in the shower as you scrape cum out of yourself as best you can and scrub your body. Layers of sweat and slick between your thighs have dried down and feel incredibly unpleasant now that your sober and your heat is mostly settled or it will be for another few days. You’re thankful that Bachira’s childhood home is the second most familiar place in your life as it allows you to get clean in hot water without feeling awkward.  

Once you’re cleaned, you dry off and borrow Bachira’s lotion - rubbing into your skin and taking care of your appearance best you can. You examine yourself in the bathroom mirror, feeling sudden humiliation at your face. You’re practically glowing, and you reek of Bachira and fucked out omega even after the bath. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and thanking all higher powers that you don’t have to see your parents for a few more days.  

After gathering yourself in the bathroom, you check on Bachira one more time in his room and smile as sleeps softly before slipping downstairs. 

His mom hasn’t returned yet. Her shoes, jacket, and other belongings aren’t in the house and her gifts are where you left them. You feel thankful about that as your eyes search for your bag, still sitting on the couch where you left it. Shuffling through it, you pop some heat medication dry before doing anything else.  

You grab it. It still has some battery left, left on DND. You check the time only, deciding you can swipe later. Heading out the door quickly, you make sure to lock up using the key underneath the mat for your quick trip to 7/11.  

A brisk walk later in the frostbitten air, you enter the convenience store. A bored looking cashier nods at you as you smile flatly in return.  

You pick up a couple of things. XXL condoms, juice and soda water, some snacks and ramen - along with some easy hot foods that can keep you both alive until you can get a better meal. Bachira has a decent appetite but you don’t think he’ll be up for a while to eat proper. He likes to sleep in during vacations.  

“Ah, excuse—Bachira?”  

Your eyes widen as you meet eyes with the familiar stranger and his friend. You know both of these people.  

You could not have possibly met them at a worse time.  

“Isagi-kun…” You bow, awkwardly thinking of what ways you could end your life right there in the 7/11. “And this is…?”  

“Rin Itoshi. He prefers Rin,”  

“Rin-kun,”  

The taller, brooding one gives you a look, crinkling his nose a little. You want to die. Your gaze turns to Isagi which is not much better as he’s wearing the worst shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen in your life.  

“I see. Nice to meet you Rin-kun,” You say, looking away, “What are you two doing here? This is me and Bachira’s hometown.”  

“We’re supposed to visit him in a couple of days actually but decided to do a little sight-seeing first. There’s more of us but they’re asleep at the hotel.”  

You just nod, silence stretching between you before Isagi breaks it.  

“I’m glad the two of you made up,” He says. “When did you guys start to reconcile? I always felt really guilty after the whole mall incident. Glad to see you  both doing well,”  

Your brain moves too slow to lie. “Uh. Last night was the first time we saw each other in a few years,”  

His eyes widen. “So the picture he posted was…?”  

You squint. “What picture?”  

Isagi makes a guilty face, unsure of what to do. Before you can ask, Rin, pulls his phone out and shows you something.  

It’s you and Bachira in bed with you asleep in his arms - your bitemark and visible tattoo showing in the image as his hand cradles the back of your head while you’re cuddling him in your sleep.. You’re both mostly covered by the sheets. The only caption is an emoticon and you’re not tagged. You blink, wiping your eyes. It’s so like him, you aren’t sure if you should laugh or cry. You sigh deeply instead.  

“You didn’t know?”  

“Haven’t checked my phone since..” You trail off. He’s so reckless. “Thanks for uh… showing me. I’m gonna head back but you and your team mates should come visit sometime. I cook hotpot for New Years so it’d be nice to have you all.”  

Isagi smiles amicably, politely ignoring the situation. You’re thankful your partners friend has so much tact unlike he himself. “Of course. I’ll ask Bachira for your info. Keep in touch”  

“Of course. Good luck on the World Cup qualifiers.”  

They both thank you for that before you turn and depart with whatever left of your dignity.  

__  

You check your phone on the way back to his place, seeing your notifications in shambles. Fifty messages total, some from family and most from friends congratulating you. You ignore all of them for now, especially the ones from your brother - not willing to know what they say.  

In your despair, you don’t notice the new pair of shoes when you open the unlocked door of Bachira’s childhood home either.  

“Oh!” Yu-sans voice is just as welcoming as it always is as you stare at her in the doorway awe-struck. She smiles at you incredibly knowingly as a new wave of mortification sinks in. “You’re back. Meguru is in the shower.”  

“Ah,”  

She gives you a long grin, letting the silence settle first before breaking out into laughter so loud it startles you. You can feel your body grow hot with shame, wishing the world would open from the ground up and swallow you.  

“You know I always thought something like this would happen eventually,” She hums, prepping the flowers you bought last night for a vase. “I’m grateful it happened when you were both adults at least.”  

“Yu-obasan..”  

“Oh don’t be so cold. Yu-san is fine. Or maybe kaa-san now that you’re both together.” She hums. “Anything but oba-san is fine. Makes me feel old. You know that.”  

You make an embarrassed face, sighing as you set your things down at the couch. You wanted to do stuff like this in order. Though you never really imagined you and Bachira together, you always thought for a serious relationship you’d have more of yourself together.  

“Uh,” You flush as you sit at the counter. Yu-san gives you a small smile, head tilted to one side as she arranges the flowers you’ve bought her. “It’s late to do this, but uhm… thank you for giving birth to Meguru and for taking care of me as if I were your own child all this time.” You feel your ears turn hot as you say the rest. “I promise to take good care of Meguru and you for as long as I live, any way I can and I hope you can accept our relationship and give us your blessing.”  

You pause, afraid to look up for a minute until the silence stretches on for a touch too long. When you look up, she’s smiling. Grinning. Meguru looks so much like her. Her laughter bubbles through the room airily like champagne.  

She comes around to hug you tight, startling you from where you sit, her hand on your head. “Asking my blessing… I don’t know how my Meguru got so lucky to find such a responsible kid. Of course you have it. As if you need to ask. Please do take good care of him and yourself. This is your home too, okay?” 

You smile before being startled by another familiar voice. “Uwah, I go shower and you’re having a hug without me.”  

“Come join us then!”  

“Yay! Group hug!” 

Bachira hollers as he squeezes you and his mom in a hug, suffocating you. It’s incredibly embarrassing so in some ways it feels incredibly familiar. They’re really too similar some times.  

When they pull away, Yu-san plays a motherly kiss to both your face and Bachira’s. “I’m going to go put these up in my room and hang out in the studio for a bit. You two should have a date, alright? It’s rare you have time like this.”  

“’Kay,” Bachira says, watching her walk up stairs before shouting. “Love you!”  

“Love you too!”  

You watch her disappear up the steps before seeing Bachira again sobered.  He smiles at you lovingly, but you pout - suddenly remembering this morning.  

“Ehhh?? Why are you making that face? Shouldn’t we be super lovey-dovey right now?”  

“The picture you posted,” You say, tugging at his shirt with your head down. “That’s too sudden. You’re a big athlete now, and—“ 

“So? There’s no one for me but you. I don’t care who knows. I want everyone in the entire world to know even though I don’t want them to actually see you.” He murmurs, crowding into your space. “I want everyone to know you’re mine. Don’t be mad, okay?”  

“I spoil you too much,” You say, because it’s true and it’s enough to make you not mad at all.  

He kisses you then. He tastes like the fruity toothpaste kids use and home when he does pulling back with a warm smile. You feel flush but keep your eyes on his face.  

“It’s the first time we’ve kissed just to kiss,” You hum. He smiles mischievously.  

“The second time, silly.”  

When the realization dawns on you, you gasp - smacking his chest in shock in dismay.  

You thought he blacked out for that kiss when you were seventeen! Bachira breaks out into giggles above you.  

“Meguru!” You exclaim, feeling huffy as he pulls you into his arms and begs for forgiveness. 

Meguru. Homesickness makes you ache, his name in your mouth the only remedy.  

Meguru. Your one and only.  

[prentissluvr]

just an observation — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, a little cliche hehe, reader is shorter than sam, poor editing as always, 1.3K words. requested !

prompt : one being shorter and it being a source of great enjoyment for the other.

sam really tries not to tease you about your height; he’s supposed to be a gentleman, and it’s not your fault that he’s so tall. but he just finds it so completely endearing that you’re shorter than him, and sometimes he just can’t help it.

you’re rambling about some movie that you watched last night, wandering the kitchen as you grab everything you need to make something to drink for the both of you. he leans against the counter, eyes trailing your sweet form.

“i don’t normally watch rom-coms, and it was sort of really bad, but it’s hard to resist anything with david tennant,” you say, coming to stand right next to him and open the cabinet by his head. instinctually, you put your hand on the corner to make sure it doesn’t hit him and reach up to grab your favorite mug. only someone (sam) has put it on the top shelf.

it’s not as if you can’t reach the cup. with a stretch and maybe some help from getting up on your tip-toes, you absolutely can. but sam is right there, willing and far more able. he doesn’t hesitate, turning a little and grabbing the cup with ease. you get a full, close-up view of his arm as it reaches right in front of your face and holds the cup out for you with a smile on his mouth that’s both sweet and teasing all at once. 

you narrow your eyes at him but let your own mouth curve into a little smile. it’s difficult to react properly to him when he’s being a teasing asshole and genuinely just trying to be helpful.

“thanks,” you grumble, taking the cup from him and grabbing his own mug from the lower shelf. he just hums an affirmation in response, seeming unnecessarily pleased with himself. you brush it off with a small laugh under your breath, then move to fill your cup with your choice beverage and sam’s with coffee from the half-empty pot. just to be close to him, you return to the spot at the counter next to him, preparing each drink the way they’re most well liked. sam lets you do it, only because he knows you like to do little things like this for him. 

that, and he loves watching you do anything at all. he loves to pour his undivided attention into you, sometimes so lovestruck that he doesn’t even care if you notice that he’s totally in love with you, despite the fact that he probably shouldn’t be. fuck being friends, he thinks sometimes.

so he watches and notices as you take extra care and precision to prepare his drink than yours, and he watches your lips move as you continue talking about the movie. it sounds like a bad movie, but you smile when you describe it to him, so he couldn’t care less.

“despite it being a pretty bad movie, the leads made it fun to watch,” you admit without hesitation. “it was horribly cliche and unoriginal, but there were some really sweet moments with her mom, and i don’t know anything much about cinematography, but i thought it was just gorgeous.” you slide his cup over to him and begin to work on your own.

he takes it with a sweet, “thank you,” and you just nod as you keep on blabbing, carefree and casual as sam looks at you like he’s in love with you.

“the setting was so beautiful, and the way they did the colors was just so pretty. so of course, that made it feel all romantic and shit,” you say, turning around with your own mug in hand to lean against the counter the same as sam. you take a sip of your drink and hum a little in satisfaction, and if your eyes weren’t trailing along the cabinet across the room, you might catch the adoration in his eyes. he schools his features to look more neutral when you look at him with this sort of longing that catches him off guard. “it was filmed in scotland, and sam, i have to go to scotland someday. it’s unbelievably beautiful to me.”

he smiles at you all soft. “we can try,” he says, not even thinking as he says those words. he just wants to please you.

you laugh a little. “well, that’s wishful thinking,” you sigh playfully. though, it’s completely true that the chances of you getting a break, much less an international one, are quite slim. you like the idea anyway. and you love that he said “we.” he’d go with you, that means. he’d try because he wants to make just about anything you want into a reality. a minute in silence slips away, like the coffee in his cup. you make it so perfect, he can’t keep his lips from the rim of the mug.

and while he’s content watching you sip away at your own drink, he likes hearing your voice so much that he’d like to fill the air with words rather than rustling clothes.

“you look extra short today,” he comments, a smirk splayed across his face. a screw must be loose in his mouth, because things that he’s not meaning to say keep falling from his lips. but he keeps thinking about the way your mouth tilted down just a little when you saw that your mug was higher up then usual, or the halfway annoyed smile you gave when he pulled it down for you. so this is the part where he just can’t help but tease, only because he loves you and doesn’t know how to show it.

“well, you must have grown in your sleep then,” you tease back, rolling your eyes. “what a rude thing to say,” you joke, “and here i was, thinking you were a gentleman.”

he shrugs, the smile on his face stretching wider. “i was just stating an observation.”

you tilt your head to the side and look at him with the hint of a smirk in your grin. “you know, you try to hide it, but i think you like that i’m shorter than you, don’t you, sam? which is silly, because most everybody is.”

he’s taken aback by that. he never expected you to call him out on it, to notice just how much he really enjoys being taller than specifically you.

“just stating an observation,” you quip when it takes him more than a moment to reply.

“and you like that i’m taller than you, so i guess that makes us even,” he grins. he pays plenty enough attention to you to know that it’s true.

you bite the inside of your cheek, already knowing you don’t have a better response to that. you raise an eyebrow at him. “fine. we’re even then,” you acquiesce, both begrudging and holding back a smile at the same time.

he tilts his head and looks at you with a glint in his eyes. “not that even,” he teases, clearly alluding to the difference in height between the two of you.

you roll your eyes again and scoff out a little laugh. “very funny,” you deadpan, unimpressed by the joke. you can feel him shifting closer to you, like he can resist it. his arm brushes against yours as he takes another sip of coffee. god, he’s flirty today. sam keeps you on your toes, he keeps you guessing and wondering and you know that he’s too nice to be sending mixed signals on purpose, but you just can’t tell.

you feel like you’re sitting on the bank of a river, dressed in white with a handful of daisies by your side and picking petals reciting “he loves me… he loves me not,” over and over again. today it feels like “he loves me.”

[appleblueberry-pie]

Vampire Geto Suguru

A/N: Ok so this entire writing makes zero sense because it sounds like i'm making this a short story, but I realized like halfway through that there is no way for me to finish this unless it becomes a short story and I felt every single patient bone in my body disappear at the realization. So...it's gonna sound unfinished. But if you ask questions about Vampire Suguru x Half-Vampire Reader, I will answer questions. I want to answer all possible questions that can't be answered in this 'supposed-to-be-a-short-story.' Cuz it has amazing potential that my hands can't fulfill.

Suguru almost has everything he's ever wanted. Power. Local fame. And control over the city he could call his. His followers, devotees, were nothing but scum on the bottom of his shoe that he could scrape off anytime he wanted. In the heart of Tokyo, he owns a corporate building meant to attract wealthy families in hopes of healing them of their pains and sins. Almost like what a place of worship would be.

Near-wealthy men and women sit in the largest room the floor below the top floor, meant to sit there in honor of Geto blessing their eyes with his presence. He is all they need and nothing more. He often convinces the people who make an appointment with him that it's the same thing for them, as well. But he's good at manipulating.

Filthy rich men and women, sometimes entire families, come crawling to him to fix family problems, their perverted minds, their souls, their bodies, in hopes they'd be pure at the end of the night. Instead, they become his next meal. Peasant human blood tastes a little too rotten for his liking. So, he sticks to the next best thing. The poor should be thanking him for taking the load for them.

The only problem was that nowhere in Japan was there vampires. At least, not anyone past his bloodline. But he already erased them entirely. Human women reek of selfish desires, tainted iron in their blood, and sex. It's so clear what they want and he can never get past the smell. So, as far as the seas go, he's never seen someone he could busy his mind with for the next couple thousand of years. If not, eternity. But who knows how long his patience will last until then...?

His nose was guiding him somewhere, currently.

His feet following the invisible trail of the scent. The smell he's only picked up back when his bloodline was still alive. When they were in their prime. When they were farthest from their human counterparts. There's no way he could find what he's thinking of, right?

His nose led him into a small grocery store. Somewhere around the alleyways and crooked backstreets in between the tall buildings in Tokyo at 2 in the morning. Only his kind would be out at this time of night.

He walks in, the fluorescent light accentuating his pale skin and muscular figure. His black hair and clothing makes him stick out in the midst of the colorful food choices surrounding him. And in between the different smells of fresh ripe fruit and disinfectant chemicals, he could catch the natural musk of another him.

Another him.

Another vampire.

He ignores the cashier asking if he needed help and nearly speed-walked through one of the aisles, the scent only getting stronger. He grows more determined and turns the corner only to run into a shorter girl, dressed in black like he was. You both make eye contact.

You two share a very silent and quick understanding of who was in front of who. And who was what.

"Excuse me," You mutter.

You attempt to side-step him and ignore him like nothing ever happened, and he mirrors your movement, effectively blocking you.

You look back up at him, your eyes more piercing than the first time you made eye contact. He could see the color difference the moment you moved to look up at him. Now that he was close enough, he could also smell your irritation. You're not dead.....you're half-human. No wonder.

He clenches his jaw. He knows himself enough to understand that he wouldn't even consider letting you go, knowing he just found the first non-relative vampire in Japan since- he doesn't even know how long. Black coat, a neat white turtleneck and skirt underneath the coat. Leggings, socks, and shoes follow the black and white pattern. Original skin color being paler than usual. Somewhat of muscle definition hidden. He was scaring you. He can smell it. And your fangs are beginning to poke out. And can he hear you growling at him?

He finds himself smiling, pleased with how his night was now going. "I apologize for bumping into you. Please, allow me to pay for your-" You shoulder him hard enough to almost knock him into the stand of chips behind him. No one's showed him that amount of strength in a while. He follows close behind you, not letting the moment phase him.

You place your things on the front desk, and the cashier matches your pace, scared of the, now two, taller figures watching him do his job. Both you and Geto seemed to tower over him from across the counter, eyes unfaltering in their predatory stare. You just want to get the hell out of the store and Geto....he just doesn't like the guy. He squeaks out the total, and before you could dig in your purse fast enough to grab your wallet, Geto places his card on the counter. You don't even bother to turn around and just wait silently for the cashier to finish up. When the transaction is over, Geto moves to grab his card again and you're already halfway out the door, things in hand.

You don't look back, hoping he would finally stop pursuing you. Once you turn the corner, Geto's already there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You let out a nasty hiss, nearly snarling at him and he raises his hands up. "I know. I'm not here to hurt you. I just...wanted to introduce myself." "I don't need your introduction. I know pretty clearly who you are. And what you are. Leave me the hell alone."

Geto's face dropped slightly when you tried to brush him off again and turned the other way with your groceries in hand. Once again, he's reminded of centuries of loneliness and his hand is already grabbing your arm. "Wait." You grunt in annoyance and slight fear. His man was a full vampire. You moved to Japan to avoid any kind of vampires. You wanted silence in your life from all kinds of people that would be after you to court you and kill you just because you're a half-breed. And the one time you thought you could finally have silence, there's a rich and powerful man in Japan who's almost like a Monk who can solve all problems of the modern man. And he's acting as if he's one of them, but turns out to be a pure blood. You didn't care if he told you sweet words.

You didn't want to die.

"Aren't you lonely? Being the only vampire in the city? I just want a companion. Someone who's like me. I don't want to sound desperate, but you're the only vampire I've meet in Japan in ages. Is friendship too much to ask for?"

You turn around, thankful for him letting go of you. "I left my hometown to escape all of the vampires coming after me. You being here is the only issue I have in Japan. Everything else is a blessing to come across. As much as I would like to help someone in need, all I want is to be alone."

Suguru wish he cared about your past as much as he cared for his own mental sanity.

For a half-blood, you were stronger than you let on. Getting you into the, very well decorated and furnished, basement was a hassle. You gave him a few nasty scars and ruined his shirt. But once you were thrown back through the heavy doors for the 4th time, you finally settled with the realization that you can't get past this man. Your ear piercing screams and bites turned into whimpers and cries as you attempted to comfort yourself in the corner of the cold room.

He felt bad. He didn't want you to be so...scared of him. But there's no other way for you to accept him. You tired yourself out and even broke one of your nails(it was already almost fully back) trying to escape.

Suguru sighed, discarding his tattered shirt. "I'm sorry things had to be this way. I do wish we can get along a little better when the time comes. But for now, it's just going to have to be like this." He sits on his old couch and sighs when one of his servants comes in with a pouch of blood. You watch her eye your captor down before smiling at him with the blood on a serving tray. "Good evening, Master-" Her voice obviously pitched to try and please him, when it did the exact opposite. You snarl and before she can finish her sentence, you tackle her to the ground, landing on the opposite side of the room.

She screams bloody murder as your nails dig into her skin, your mouth reaching for the crevice. She's never seen another one of you. Another vampire. She thought her master was the only one in the world, the only one meant to be considered and known. But here you were, ruining her ideologies. Killing her with your selfish nature. She wishes she could hurt you back, but you were bigger, stronger, and would haunt her in her worst nightmares in ways only Suguru said he could. You were everything he said he was. And she hated it.

Not like it mattered when your teeth breached her skin, sucking her unworthy blood for all she's known for. You groan at the taste of good blood for the first time in over 100 years. You stopped drinking blood back at home when you knew it'd get you nowhere, trying to hide. But you had a reason now. You had to leave this place.

Each swallow of warm iron made you feel brand new. You felt lighter. You felt energized. You felt angry that you stopped for so long. How stupid were you to give up something so good? Your outfit started to feel too tight. You were growing back to your natural height.

Suguru got up, watching you tear into his servant. He got a whiff of your scent once more, it was more potent, almost entirely different. He almost felt ashamed being turned on by it, but this is exactly what he wanted. Someone to indulge his fantasies in. You were perfect for him.

When you finished, you detached yourself from the girl's neck and stared at the dehydrated corpse underneath you. Suguru's voice was enhanced now that your hearing is back to how it's supposed to be. "I'll have someone discard the body." You ripped off the tight shoes on your feet and stood, meeting his eyes. You were a probably a couple of inches shorter than him. Definitely taller than you used to be.

"Let me go." You watched his eyes trail to your lips covered in blood and wanted to swipe him so bad. But you knew he was still stronger than you, even at full strength. You can smell it. (You would never admit he smelled so good.) Suguru smiles at your words. "I can't, Princess."

You step closer, almost attempting to size him up. "At least let me shower. Are you gonna neglect me of that, too?" "Only if I can't have the honors of doing it myself." You scoff, shouldering him on your way to the couch. He actually rubs his shoulder in pain this time. "If I let you bathe, you have to promise me that you won't try to escape. My home can only take so much damage." Suguru realizes he likes teasing you. "I'll let you prove yourself to me this one time. I hate that human scent lingering on you."

"I'm a half-breed." "You know that's different." You sigh this time, rubbing your face.

It's gonna be a while before you find a way to escape this lunatic.

[brightjimini]

High up in the tower

Xavier Thorpe x reader

The sirens song reaches y/n later than other students..

Warnings: reader gets hurt and spoilers for ep 8. (Havent really checked the spelling yet.)

word count: 1.2K

masterlist (from this wannabe writer)

A/N: I love Xavier in the show. I love the whole show. But he has a special place in my heart. I actually was supposed to post a Burce Wayne fic today.. but I got distracted by the show. Sooo I had to write something for this character. Let me know you thought!

-

The only thing that was going through my mind was that there was danger. What kind of danger? I didn't know, and the fear that clouded my mind did not allow any time to think rationally. I just had to get out of the school. 

The problem was that my tiny single room was in one of the highest towers at Nevermore. I hurried down the steps as fast as I could. Nothing else mattered to me, I just had to get out. A tiny voice in the back of my head screamed at me that something was wrong. This did not feel natural. But my body did not listen. 

The sounds of screams and footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls. I finally made it downstairs. Another sound reached my ears. A deep shout echoed through the halls of the ground floor. “-you abominations from this earth!” As far as I could see the hall that I was running through was empty and the angry screams came from somewhere by the fountain. 

I just made it past one of the open windows when from the corner of my eye a sudden bright light came closer. The fear I felt was not unnatural anymore and as I put one of my arms up in instinct my body lifted off the ground and I was slammed against the stone wall. 

-

There was a ringing in my head. Everything felt too hot and some places on my body were very painful. Without realizing it I had opened my eyes. It took a while for my eyes to get used to everything and be able to concentrate on something. That something being a boy with long blond hair and pale skin. He was kneeling over me. His mouth was moving but I could not hear what he said. 

My brain was foggy and it felt like every sense was coming in too late. The air smelled burnt and when I felt something pressing against my back I realized it was the hand of the boy. That I still could not recognize. 

Another man's face came into my line of sight. He looked older and had shorter blond hair. At least that is what I thought because there wasn't that much light. My body was picked up off the ground. There was something familiar about the younger boy. His name was on the tip of my tongue. Blue and red lights illuminated his neck and jaw. Before I could come up with his name my eyes closed and everything went silent.

-

The smell of lavender, cheap soap and antiseptic is the first thing I noticed when I slowly started to gain consciousness. With a little bit of effort I opened my eyes. Light streamed into the room from a window at my left. I heard footsteps coming down a hall towards the room I was in. I was in a giant hospital bed. The walls were an ugly light turquoise color. My upper body laid down against surprisingly soft pillows. So that I could clearly see what was happening around me.  The door in the right corner opened. 

“Xavier?” My voice sounded very different than normal. My throat was dry and my voice cracked in the middle of his name. He hurried towards me and sat down on a stool that was next to my bed. My eyes found the source of the lavender smell. A bouquet of lavender was on the plastic table next to get well soon cards, a pot of honey and a black book. 

“You told me the smell calms you down. Everyone sent you something even Wednesday.” 

I smiled at the kindness and  looked back at Xavier, he was wearing his uniform, but without the blue and black striped blazer. Instead he wore a vest on top of it. I looked back at his eyes. He had a worried expression on his face and my smile dropped. 

“What happened?” I asked. That seemed to bring him back out of his thoughts. He reached for a water pitcher and poured some water in a plastic cup and handed it to me. While I was taking a few sips he kinda filled me in on what happened. A crazy man from the past came back from the dead to kill all the outcasts. The sirens had used their song to get everyone out. But because my room was high up in one of the towers it probably reached me a little later. He didn't tell me every detail, but promised he would when I was healed enough. 

Almost my entire right arm was covered in white bandages from the burns. A part of my hair was also burned. I had a concussion and a few other little wounds and bruises. 

Xavier had found me in the hall after the crazy pilgrim was killed by Wednesday. I did not remember that part but I was conscious. I only had images in my head that were blue and red. Sadly Principal Weems was killed. He stopped explaining what happened at that point. 

“I should probably let you rest now, your parents are coming later today. Everyone is going home tomorrow.” He said. “They- The rest of the semester is canceled. After, you know everything..” His shoulders dropped and he leaned his head against the bed. 

It was silent for a while. The only thing I could hear were people passing the room we were in. Carefully I lifted my right arm and stroked his long hair. “Thank you.” I said after a while. The water had helped a little. He softly grabbed my hand and sat up. That is when I noticed the tears in his eyes. 

“I thought you died.” The pain in his voice was clear. I did not know how to respond to that. 

It seemed like he also did not expect one because he said: “I like you- I don't know- maybe even love you. But when I saw you laying there the only thing that was going through my mind was-” He took a deep breath and wiped a few of his tears away. I felt my own eyes water. 

“I was just praying that you werent.” He coughed and his grip on my hand tightened. I didn't even notice the slight pain that went up my arm.  

I was used to trying to lighten painful moments with my dumb humor. So the first thing that came out was. 

“Well i'm glad that I'm not.” smiling at him. Xavier let out a laugh and wiped the rest of his tears away.     

“But- yeah.. I like you too.” My voice suddenly more timid and shy. I had never confessed my feelings for someone. He leaned closer to the bed and pressed a kiss to my hand. And clutched it between both of his hands.

I forgot that we were in a public space for a moment and the door of the room opened. Xavier and I both looked as a nurse with a clipboard walked in. Her eyes went from him to me and again from him to me.

“I told you to call out when she woke up.”            

[sant-riley]

Domestic Simon Riley? 👀 -🪴

[With you] [Simon 'Ghost' Riley domestic headcanons]

(Romantic Ghost x Reader)

Summary: Simon is your disconcerning boyfriend, to most people it seems as if he'd be incapable of gentle touches and affection, you know better though.

More info: You're apart of 141, no one knows you two are dating, you are younger than him and are shorter than him in this.

Warnings: usage of the word Girl once but it is more geared towards fem! (This is so fucking self indulgent im sorry) possibly ooc for Ghost (idc tbh) , do these even count as domestic? Idk ive never dated someone, nothing else that I know of but do let me know if there is anything that needs to be tagged!

Ghost is so painfully subtle in public with the way he treats you, he'll never outwardly do anything romantic but his actions and how he looks at you while he does it makes people pause.

In your own quarters or homes though, its different.

He's extremely attentive to you, your wants, your needs, your dislikes, he knows it all, he classifies it as important as missions. Simon didn't have a good father growing up, he didn't get to see what a good husband was supposed to be like, he's learning from the bottom up and he takes it seriously.

You'll never have to ask him to make breakfast, he's always up before you and has it cooked on the table with your drink.

Knows exactly when it's the time you wake up, and if he's able he'll go wake you up personally, brushing your hair out of your face and gently running his fingers through to detangle it from your sleeping.

Despite how cute you are sleeping in just his large hoodie, he won't let you sleep in, y'all got stuff to do.

He'll pick you up and bring you down to the table, pressing a kiss to your temple, if that doesn't wake you up (you usually will look up for a real kiss), he isn't afraid to grab your face in one hand and just, smoosh your face, he knows you hate it but it's gonna wake you up bc you're trying to slap his hand away.

He sits across from you, but reaches out one arm across the table with his palm facing up so you can grab it whenever, he likes it when you play with his hands.

Don't get me started on Simon and washing dishes, he always takes over washing duty and let's you dry ‘em. But every other time, he's gonna let his hands stay wet and will tell you to “think fast” and flick water over you (if you truly hate it, he'll stop though)

you know that saying of peeling oranges? He's the biggest proof that there is somewhere out there that will do it for you without question. Doesn't matter what it is, if you don't prefer driving, he has no complaints about driving you everywhere, if you don't like washing your hair? Just tell him what products and what order you use them in, just sit there and relax.

If you wear makeup and you're too tired to take it off yourself, he'll do it for you and it makes me emotional.

In your shared bathroom, he sets you on top the counter and uses one hand to gently grab your chin, taking the remover and firmly rubbing off your eyeshadow/eyeliner/blush/etc, afterwards he'll murmer a “that's my girl.” (He loves you with or without makeup, but he loves you for you, doesn't matter which you choose to do that day or any day)

He covers the corners of the meeting tables when you bend down to grab at the pen you dropped, it's just second nature for him to protect you from hurting yourself. He's yanked you from the street, picked you up just with one arm to make sure you don't walk into something gross on the street, gotten in front of strangers who try and get in your face for something. His body completely covers your own, and he always has weapons on his person, he isn't afraid to resort to maiming someone for you, you're his number one priority.

Simon loves having you sleep on top of him, he finds the weight a good reminder that you're there, you're not going anywhere if you do, he'll notice right away. If you get up to go to the kitchen, he'll sleepily follow you and just stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time til you realize he's there. He'll make fun of you too “You should know ‘m right here, what kind of soldier isn't aware-” “Simon, I'm literally in just a bra and boxers right now.”

He demands your attention, this is one he'll do on bass in front of others bc technically he can get a with it. You're next to a recruit he doesn't like? Suddenly there's papers on a recent mission he needs your signature on, or he needs you for special 141 training reasons (he wants you to come with him to the dining hall, he's hungry and he doesn't want to go alone)

Dude stands right up against your back, in every scenario. His chest is probably an inch away from your back. He's playfully called your shadow by Price and the rest of the guys.

He grabs your hips alot, usually just to rest his hands there, occasionally rubbing small circles into the flesh, humming.

Simon will try and subtly leave as well if you leave the room, he gives it 10 minutes before he makes his way out to find wherever you wandered off too 

Price finds it fucking hilarious, he'll look down at his watch and mentally countdown to when Simon makes his escape. Simon can fool most people but not John, the way Ghost will tap his foot and roll his shoulders are tell tale signs that he's had enough of being there.

He'll dance if you want him to, though he simply sways with you in his arms, if you're of a specific culture, he'll try his best to learn it but no promises, while he is fast learner and perfects everything he does, he's a big man, he's not that graceful.

Without thinking if he sees you're cold, he's stripping off his jacket to give it to you, he doesn't ask, he just moves behind you to drape it over your shoulders.

He'll take off his mask with you, and let you trace the scars that litter his face, let you trace his features too, he's fallen asleep to you doing it and he doesn't know how much you cried silently when he did.

Simon practices new jokes on you, to get your opinion of them until he can tell the others, the louder you groan the better the joke is in his eyes.

Soap asks why you don't even react anymore and you just sigh. You are tired.

When he's especially annoyed and done with the day, he just shoves his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a death grip while he takes deep breaths, in the least weird possible, your scent and body so close to him helps him destress.

One thing he makes a huge point to do is to clean your guns for you, yes you should do it yourself but ever since y'all have gotten together, he's taken it upon himself.

He's scared, more scared than anything that something will go wrong when you're both not on the same mission, this is just a way he can ensure your gun will fire correctly and efficiently, that you can defend yourself when he isn't there.

Speaking of weapons, he gives you one of his personal knives for you to keep, he'll ask for it back only to sharpen it, everything has to stay in its best shape.

Likes when you drape yourself over him when he's sitting, alas he is just a man so he likes to feel your chest against his back.

Pulls you into his lap if you walk by, he'll let you get up if you truly want to but he'll position you to sit sideways and will rub your legs as he watches whatever is on the TV.

For anyone who has arthritis, Ghost will take the time to rub your ointments into your hands, he knows what weather makes then worse and keeps his own tube of it onhand so he's prepared.

He's always buying you things, he knows that it's not necessary but for him, it sees it as ‘if for some reason I fail at something else, at least I can provide this’ someone hug him he's fighting for his life.

Stocks up on every single essential you can ever need, your comfort food and snacks? Always on base and always at your flat, if you two are walking around the shoppes and he sees you eyeball anything, bet your ass he's going online to order it for you immediately, and when it shows up, he just shrugs. He doesn't see it as a big deal, it's just money. Which is very cute but also a ps5 is NOT cheap sir, you can't just-

[parvulous-writings]

It may come to absolutely no surprise to you but.......I have a preference to Halsin in BG3.

If you have any desire to write some fluff......If I could gift this man some honey comb in a jar with a handkerchief wrapped around the top, and there is a duck stitched on the corner of the cloth. I would. Cuz I really wanna. 💕

Words: 2.06K

Notes: Honestly, I do not blame you! Who couldn't love this big bear of a man? He's amazing! Takes place after the main game plot <3 My requests are currently open, though limited! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Halsin Silverbough - Archdruid and friend to many - was an absolute sweetheart, through and through. It was no secret that this strong hulk of a man was not only reasonable when it came to conflict, but actively sought the betterment of those around him. He sought it so actively, in fact, that he rarely ever left time for himself. He was always so ingrained or focused on what he thought needed to be done to right what wrong he could, that he gave little thought to when he may need to just take a step back, and relax. So, you took it upon yourself to give him the opportunity to.

Of course, being the lover of the Archdruid comes with some perks; one of those being that you knew everyone within the Grove. One of the younger druids, a young halfling named Barnan, had taken up beekeeping once the druids had re-settled, and that gave you the perfect idea for Halsin's little treat. "Good morning, Barnan!" You greet the shorter figure as you approach, glass jar in hand. Barnan jumps, startled by your somewhat sudden appearance. "I was wondering if you could lend me a hand.." You chuckle lightly, as Barnan recovers. "Oh, but of course-" He says quickly, patting down the apron that he so often wore over his normal plain clothes. "What is it that you need?" He asks you, a smile starting to spread over his face.

"I was hoping to get Halsin a little something... He's been practically run off of his feet again recently, and I think he deserves a treat..." You explain, not getting too into all the details, but giving the Halfling enough to know that it was important to you. He nods enthusiastically, turning to the shelves he had pitched up outside his little shack; "Let me see if I have anything that might take his fancy..." He muses, tapping gently at his chin. "Actually, I had something in mind already..." You gently tell him, and as he turns, you hold up the glass jar you had brought with you. "Halsin likes honey - I was wondering if one of your hives could spare some honeycomb for him?" Barnan blinks, then begins to nod, reaching for the jar. "Oh, but of course, of course! Let me take that for you..." He then pauses, looking at the jar for a moment, almost... Concerned. "Are you quite sure this will be enough..?" He turns his gaze back to you for a moment. You seem almost shocked - that was one of the larger jars you had found. Though, looking at it now... You supposed Barnan had a point - Halsin naturally had a large appetite. "Do you have a larger jar?" You ask after a moment's pause, and Barnan grins. "I wouldn't be a very good beekeeper if I didn't, now, would I?" He replied, making you laugh. "I'll grab one for you," He tells you as he hands you your jar back. "Wait here, I shan't be long.." You nod and move to take a seat on a stool Barnan often sits on in the morning - he loves his spot here, with a perfect view of the morning sun.

The breeze is lovely; warm and inviting, and carrying the many scents of the various wildflowers that are nearby, that grow all over the grove in fact. Branan really knew how to pick a good spot for himself to stay - and an even better for his beehives. There wasn't much that you considered 'perfect', but this place? A place so gorgeous, and the home of those you held so dear? This was perfect, without a doubt. Lost in your thoughts, you're unsure of how much time actually passes whilst Barnan retrieves some honeycomb for you. When he returns, he's carrying in incredibly large jar in his arms. "You're in luck," He pants to you, as he places the filled jar on the grass by your legs, "There was a fair deal of surplus comb in all the hives - I really should be keeping on top of them more, this far into summer... Ah well, I just suppose the days have been getting away from me!" He laughs. You chuckle along with him. "Thank you, Barnan... I really appreciate this..." You get to your feet, leaning down to pick up the jar with both hands. "Oh it's no trouble, no trouble at all... Give Master Halsin my regards!" "Of course - I wouldn't dream of neglecting to mention your help," You muse. "Have a good day, friend." You smile at him, and Barnan gives a nod, still smiling warmly. "And to you, my friend."

And with that, you start the short walk back to yours and Halsin's shared quarters, deeper in the Grove. It's always a pleasant walk - whether it's in the middle of the day, or the dead of night. During the day, you're greeted with polite 'hellos' and 'how are you's', and at night, you get to bask in the blissful sounds of nature as the world sleeps. By the time you manage to get back to your shared space, Halsin is already awake, half dressed, and lumbering out into the near midday sun. He stretches, basking in the warmth the light blesses him with, as you quickly try to hide the jar behind your back, not quite ready to give him the gift. "Good morning, my heart.." He greets you, smiling lovingly down at you. "I see you did not wake me..." He muses as he moves a bit closer. "May I ask why?" "I just thought that you deserved a bit of a rest... You haven't given much time for yourself recently, and I think you should." You reply, nodding as you spoke. Halsin starts to nod with you, humming quietly in agreement. He could find no fault in your answer. He starts to chuckle lightly; "Sometimes I feel like you know me better than even I know myself," He tells you, opening his arms and stepping forward for a hug. You quickly duck under his arm, spinning round before he can see the honey pot you're concealing with your torso. Halsin's head turns, trying to catch up with where you've flitted to, his expression portraying his almost comical bafflement. "My love..?" He starts, trailing off mid-sentence. "No you haven't done anything." You quickly clear up for him, giving him a smile of reassurance. "Then why do you dodge my embrace, hm?" "I have a surprise for you," You divulge, your tone almost cheeky. "And it'd be an awful shame to ruin it." Halsin can't help but laugh a little bit at this - he thinks himself almost foolish for so quickly jumping to the idea that you would recoil from his embrace, and your audacious tone did also amuse him so. "Alright, I shall... Let it go, this time." He teases. "I hope that the surprise will be ready before this evening, so I may embrace you at least once today..." "It will, it will... So long as you actually let me go continue preparing it.." You tease, and Halsin bows his head a bit in laughter. "As you wish, my love..." He murmurs. "I shall leave you to whatever antics you've managed to entrench yourself in today... Just don't get into trouble." He warns, only half joking. You roll your eyes playfully at him, before ducking inside, and out of his sight.

You're quick to rummage through what belongings you have to find the sewing kit you keep, mainly for clothing repairs, picking out a larger needle than normal, alongside some yellow thread. You set to work carefully, threading the needle carefully through the corner of the cloth that covers the honey jar, keeping it safe from bugs and other wandering hands. The little image comes together rather quickly and with a splash of other colours - a dash of black, and orange - you've finished your little project, and before you sits a embroidered duck chick. You admire it for a moment, proud of it. You know for a fact, that Halsin will love this - even if you weren't as proud of it as you were now, he'd still love it. You push yourself to your feet after a moment or so of making sure that you're satisfied, making your way out into the sun again. You shield your eyes with one hand, cradling the jar in your arm much like a baby. It doesn't take you long to find Halsin, knife and woodblock in hand, carefully chipping away at the carving he's started. You stroll towards him, smile growing on your face as you wait for him to notice you. "Ah, my heart..." Halsin starts, his gaze still focused on the block of wood as he carves. "I thought today may be a good opportunity to finally set about making us some new utensils.." He tells you, before finally glancing up. His jaw goes a bit slack, before he starts to laugh. "This was your surprise?" He asks you, as you present the honeycomb to him. "It is indeed... Do you like it?" "Like it? My love, I'm not quite sure how to express my thanks... You really did mean it when you thought I deserved time for myself, hm?" "Oh, I wouldn't say something I don't mean... I know better than that.." You muse quietly. "Barnan also sends his regards..." You grunt softly as you move to sit beside him. He leans over to you and presses a kiss to your cheek, and you can feel the smile still on his lips. "I shall thank him when I see him next..." He tells you as he moves to take the cloth-lid off of the jar, pausing to chuckle at the embroidered duck. "And I presume this is your handiwork?" He asks you, turning the corner of the cloth slightly towards you to show you. You nod at him. "Such a small detail..." The elf muses, smiling as he ran his thumb over the stitches. "Thank you, my love. Truly." He takes off the cloth, placing it on his lap for later, and before you can say anything else to him, his hand is in the jar, grasping for some of the sweet comb inside. You can't help but laugh at the sight - but you knew there was nothing you'd be able to do to stop him. He ignores you, choosing to focus instead on crunching down on the sweet treat you'd procured for him. He practically groans as the taste hits his tongue, and your grin stretches ever wider. "Enjoying yourself, my love?" You ask him, and he nods hurriedly as he takes another mouthful of honeycomb; you start to wonder if it's even touching the sides at this point. "Slow down, you don't want to eat it all in one sitting, do you?" You tease, and at this, he does slow down a little bit. He pauses for a moment, honey dripping off of his hand and into the jar as he finishes his mouthful. He then brings his hand towards your mouth. "Open," He prompts gently, and you comply, soon tasting the same sweet honey you had gifted to your partner.

As he pulls his hand away to eat the rest of the honey stuck to it himself, you give another quiet chuckle. "I didn't think you'd want to share this treat - I wasn't expecting you to." You tell him, and he picks up another chunk of comb, handing it to you. "I know you didn't expect me to. But with you, my love, I would share all of nature's bounty... It is not for one person to hoard it to themselves, it is to be shared and revelled in.." He says, rather sagely, as you bite into the crunchy snack he had bestowed upon you. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about honeycomb." You teased him, smirking as you did. "Of course I do. And don't talk with your mouth full." He playfully chides, gently bumping his shoulder into yours. You both lapse into a comfortable silence after that, sharing the honey and gazing out on the landscape that you call home. It's a peaceful moment, and one that both you and Halsin will certainly treasure for a very, very long time.

[wingedcupcaketimemachine]

Heyyyy, I saw your requests open and wanna ask for oneshot Zuko x GN!Reader(who is really-really sweet for a firebender), but they're childhood friends(and Zuko had a crush on them) and reader ran away to Earth Kingdom. Then they meet in some village where Reader lives and make something romantic there!

Please and thank you!

Zuko Reuniting With Childhood Friend

Pairing: Zuko x Firebender!GN!Reader

Summary: You and Zuko are childhood friends who grew up together in the Fire Nation.

Warnings: Contain spoilers for some of Zuko's backstory if you haven't seen the show. Also contains badly written kiss scene

Type: Romantic ❤️

A/N: I decided to give the reader a bit of backstory to explain why they fled to the Earth Kingdom. The one shot takes place during season 2 episode 14, "Tales of Ba Sing Se." Hope you enjoy <3

Oneshot starts below cut

Avatar: The Last Airbender Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You had been friends with Zuko back when you still lived in the Fire Nation. You had grown up alongside him and his sister, Azula, as your father was on of the Firelord's more trusted generals.

As a young child, you were never very interested in playing games with Azula and her friends. You preferred spending quiet time with Zuko around the palace.

Zuko never understood how he felt about you.. Of course he liked you. The two of you were friends, best friends even. But, did best friends make a fiery red blush rise from your face to the tops of your ears? Did a best friends cause your heart to stop beating every time you got lost in their eyes?

Even now, as his golden eyes met yours, his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest. He carefully studied you as you sat in the corner of the tea shop. You had changed. Your hair was different, maybe a bit longer than he remembered, and you had swapped out your red Fire Nation clothes for a simple green dress -- an Earth Nation staple. Most notably, your bright eyes had remained the same.

You studied him as well. This Zuko was much different than the boy you knew as a child. His hair was much shorter, and his once warm golden eyes had grown dull. You wondered, how had he ended up in a Ba Sing Se tea shop of all places? After his banishment from the Fire Nation, you weren't sure if you would ever see him again.

"Uncle, we have a problem," said Zuko as he approached his uncle behind the front counter, "Don't look now, but over in the corner table, it's (Y/N)."

Iroh swiftly turned to glance at your table. He recognized you in an instant. His mind was flooded with the memories of you and Zuko growing uo together in the palace.

"Uncle!" Zuko scolds, "Didn't I say don't look? Now they're gonna know that we're onto them."

Before Iroh could respond, you walked up to the counter with a small bag of coins in hand.

"Thank you for the tea, Zuko," you said politely, "And you too general Iroh."

Zuko felt heat rise to his ears. He had always though you were pretty, and seeing you up close was starting to make him a but flustered. "But why?" he thought to himself. Were friends supposed to think of each other that way?

"You're welcome," said Zuko with red checks, "But you can't call us that here. I go by Lee. And my uncle is called Mushi"

"Sorry!" you said quickly, as your face flushed with embarrassment, "I didn't even think that you would go by different names here. Speaking of which, what are you doing here anyway?"

"Well," Zuko said, "It's not really something we can discuss here."

"My nephew is right!" Iroh said, jumping back into the conversation, "Why don't the two of you go out tonight and discuss how both of you came to be in Ba Sing Se?"

At Iroh's suggestion, Zuko turned even redder, if possible.

"I like that idea," you said shyly before turning back to Zuko, "I know a restaurant in the city if you'd like to go there."

"Yeah..that sounds...nice," Zuko said quietly, "I can meet you in front of the tea shop tonight."

"Yeah," you said with a grin, "See you tonight."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After it had gotten dark, you stood outside of the tea shop waiting for Zuko. As you waited, you began to hear muffled voices from inside the shop.

"i'm not so sure about this, Uncle," said Zuko hesitantly "What if they end up hating me after I tell them. I don't want to lose them again."

"Do not worry Zuko. They have a god heart, and so do you. Now get going. You're going to be late."

"Hi," you said as Zuko walked out of the tea shop, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," said Zuko, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "Lead the way."

The two of you walked in an uncomfortable silence. The tension between you could be cut with a knife. After a brief walk, which somehow felt so much longer than the short 10 minutes, you came to a stop outside of a small restaurant.

"This is it," you said awkwardly, "Do you wanna go find a table?"

"Sure," said Zuko, before you fell into another uncomfortable silence.

"So," you said after you had settled in your seats, "What are you doing here in Ba Sing Se anyway? I thought you were looking for the avatar."

"I am!" Zuko said quickly, "But Uncle and I got a bit sidetracked. Azula's after us."

Your eyes widened in shock.

"Azula? But what could she want from you? She's already next in line to become firelord."

"My father," said Zuko quietly, "He sent her after me and the avatar. He doesn't seem to think my efforts to capture him are good enough."

"Of course," you said in a rare burst of anger, "I should have known your father would do anything to prevent you from returning to the Fire Nation. That's part of the reason I left, you know."

"Really?" said Zuko curiously.

He had always wondered what made you leave the Fire Nation. Although he had already been banished at that time, he had heard through letters from the Fire Nation that you had run away shortly after his father sent him to find the avatar. Selfishly, he couldn't help but think that you had left for him.

"I never really agreed with the Fire Nation's teachings," you said honestly, "I always wondered why we were taught that our way of life was better than everyone else, when, truly, each one of us should be seen as equals. But when your own father challenged you to an Agni Kai, I realized that we really weren't the heroes the Fire Nation said we were. We were the villains. I came out here to try and make a difference. I can't just stand by while our people destroy the world and everyone in it."

Zuko's gaze met you eyes and he saw the many emotions swirling inside of them. Most importantly the fiery determination that he hadn't seen since childhood. As your words sank in, he though about how he and his uncle had ended up in the city. Unlike you, who, through your unwavering need to help others, had worked the make life easier for the people whose life had been torn apart by the Fire Nation, he had spent the better part of a month terrorizing innocent towns on his hunt for the avatar.

"I always wished I could be more like you, you know," Zuko said ashamed, "I always thought I was doing the right thing by tracking down the avatar, but after seeing all the damage the Fire Nation has caused, maybe I've been doing a lot more harm than good."

You smiled at him before softly cupping his face.

"You're not a bad person, Zuko," you said quietly, "I know there's good in you. You just need someone to help you find it."

You felt Zuko's skin burn under your touch, as you look into his golden eyes, which are filled with hesitation. As you leaned closer, you could hear Zuko's breath hitch as his breath caught in his throat. Zuko began to lean in, hoping you couldn't hear his heart beating at a thousand miles an hour.

Your lips finally connected, for a brief second, before you pulled apart, faces flushed.

"You, know," Zuko said quietly, "I missed you a lot after I left the Fire Nation."

You smiled softly.

"So did I," you said before gently pulling him into another kiss.

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: implied murder, yandere yuuta, blood mention, cheating on unnamed husband

the mission wasn’t supposed to last this long. seven months—tops. no longer than that, definitely not any shorter. but it’s been 14 months now, and you think you’ve finally—finally—hit your limit.

Yuuta was nice at first. quiet and reserved, smart as a whip, quick on his feet when it came to calculations and trying to figure out the best option when time wasn’t on your side. he was the leading astronaut of this mission, to figure out where this new species had come from, what it wanted from earth, how to coexist with them.

but somewhere along the journey, had he slowly, so, so slowly, started to lose his sense of all that was right. and perhaps you were to blame in his downfall into treachery.

you were lonely, with your husband seemingly light years away from you. the others on the ship weren’t much company. Yuuta had that disarming kind of look to him that made you wonder how strong marriage vows were so far away from land.

Yuuta is a sweet lover, you learned, with his hushed moans against your chest and his soft groping and easy, sweet, slow strokes that rock you up the thin and hard beds. his eyes are big and wet where they stare up at you with entirely too much adoration, so much so that you have to glance away, focus on how he sits so deep inside you, you wonder why it took you so long to cave in.

he’s a jealous lover, too, you also learned entirely too quickly when you spot a trail of blood from a fellow astronauts cabin. it seem to all go quickly after that, the descent into madness; the captivity; the trapped air; the hollowed breathing; the running in the same circular path; Yuuta’s love; his love; his undying love.

“It’s always been you, hasn’t it?” he says with a smile, his hands and chin bloody as he corners you in the only room that, with a touch of a single button, could send you soaring into the open blackness of space. you eye the blinking button, wonder if he’s bold enough to push it, if you’re fast enough to do it and still lock yourself on the other side to save your own soul.

“Yuuta, please.” you whisper, eyes wild. “You know I have a husband back at home—”

“But you don’t love him, do you?” Yuuta cuts you off, his head cocked to the side, an amused grin splitting his face wearily. “If you loved him then you wouldn’t look at me the way you do, wouldn’t have—have touched me the way that you did, the way you keep doing—”

“That was a mistake, Yuuta!” You shout before you can stop yourself, knowing you’re on uneasy ground with someone that still drips with the blood of his own crew. he falters, only for a second, before he smiles, sweet and disarming, but the crimson splatter across his dimple does everything but calm you.

“Love is never wrong though, is it?” Yuuta says softly, holding his hand out to you—the other hovering above the button that will determine your fate. you pause, tears welling in your eyes, a sob caught in your throat.

“This isn’t love.” you try to plead with him, but he only beckons you once more, his finger poised and ready to strike. with a heavy head, do you relent, body slinking toward his own open and waiting one. he pulls you from the room, away from the open vacuum of space that was so readily, so greedily, about to swallow you whole.

Yuuta leads you through the ship, past the corpses, around the trails of blood, shields your eyes from the worst of it. and when he leads you to his bed, does he finally wrap you tight in his arms, his mouth gentle and smooth where it presses against your own.

“I love you.” and you know that he means it. that makes the pain of it sting even more.

[luveternals]

paring: 2. simon 'ghost' riley x top male reader warning: 16+, MDNI cw: swearing, mentioned insomnia, mention of night terrors, drinking (you share a bottle with him), really it's all just implied but the story itself has nothing heavy in it, spoilers you get your head shoved into a bucket full of water by your team mates bc they love you lol a/n: way shorter than what I usually write, EDIT: guess who wrote angst double the length of this after just posting this story? yeah, def not me. you're right. ~ ~ ~ You don’t want to make it a bigger problem than you it is, but your team has been fussing all over you for the past three days.

You suppose drastic measures are to be brought into action then.

Night terrors are normal in this field of work, and you know they are simply trying to take care of one of theirs. It’s been a week since you’ve had a good night’s sleep, and it shows on the large dark circles betraying your exhaustion for all the world to see.

The base is dark and still, the quiet only broken by occasional soldiers losing their fight against insomnia. You creep through the shadows, bagpack slung over your shoulder, and watch the corridos for any unwanted witness.

The door is locked. It only slows you for a few seconds. Inside the darkness is softened by the moon rays casting into the room from the window and illuminating the shape hidden under the sheets. The figure is still, too tense for someone asleep. You reach forward anyway and brush your fingers against it, not surprised to find the moonlight reflecting on the sharp blade now inches away from your face.

You stare at the skull mask glaring at you with a raised eyebrow and your head tilted. “Come on, then,” you say after a moment when he doesn’t move, then swat the hand holding the weapon to the side and leave the room before he can so much as frown.

The sky is clear and twinkling with stars, and you don’t question your luck when you find the rooftop free of any of your exhausted peers. You woulnd’t be surprised to find them raiding the fridge though. Or the secret cabinet behind it.

You’re laying on your back, bagpack as a pillow and stolen sheets from your room as improvisted picnic towel, when he finds you. You smirk at him when he moves to loom over you, hiding the moon from your sight. “You were taking too long,” you say, shaking the open bottle in your hand his way before taking a swig.

-

They find you snuggled together the next morning, with him curled onto his side and you drapped over him with your head shoved into the back of his neck.

You wake with a jolt when someone smacks you on the head and feel Simon roll away with a groan at the sound of laughter.

“That is not,” someone says out of breath and slaps the giggle person next to them, “’get better sleep’ is not the same as ‘go shag the lieutenant’.”

You scramble to your feet when you sleep muddled brain register two of your mates dragging along a a sloshing bucket of water. “Oh, piss off!” you say with a hiss when you find yourself cornered and notice no one had dared to look at the untouchable Ghost the wrong way. “You’re such a traitor,” you tell him when he doen’t do anything other than stretch his neck at your situation, “I will not share my next bottle with you.”

“I can live with that,” he says, and you know he’s smirking under that sodding mask, “cravin' tea right now anyway.” And the bastard, actually, leaves before your own team jumps you and shove your head into the bucket.

~ ~ ~ reblog, comment and/or follow if you like what I write. please and thank you. without feedback I don't have a reason for keeping this blog alive, since I created it so I can practice my writing.

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #7 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: you wrap the captain's fingers before the semi-final match and reassure an uneasy player.

wc: 1.3k

cw/tags: established relationship (fuckin' finally, right?), tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff, mentions of eating

note: shorter update because i forgot this was supposed to be a series of drabbles (and then i wrote 3k words on one part lmao).

“I didn’t think quarter finals would give you this much trouble, Satoru.”

“Me neither, and then that captain looked at you for too long and I saw red.” The corner of your mouth turns up and you glance at him to see his eyes shining proudly. He liked having an excuse to go all out, especially if it meant defending you from dirty-gazed players. “I think I overdid it a bit, though.” He shrugs apologetically while you finish wrapping the gauze around the joints of his right pointer finger. 

“It’s okay. I like taking care of you,” you reassure him and he leans down to press a kiss to your hairline, whispering how much he adored you. That morning, you offered to help him tape his fingers after he could barely wrap them around his coffee cup without flinching in agony. In normal Satoru-fashion, he attempted to play it off with a forced smile and a self-effacing joke about being clumsy; but, you were already suspicious of something being off when his face contorted after blocking a particularly powerful spike. It scared you and you were tempted to ask Yaga to call a timeout, but the pain on your boyfriend’s face vanished just as quickly as it appeared. You’d been extra careful after that match when you held his hand and he sighed deeper in relief when you gently caressed his knuckles. You’re just about finished reinforcing his joints when Megumi and Yuuji come back from the bathroom. 

“Will he be alright?” Yuuji asks you and you nod, kissing Satoru’s fingers one more time before setting them on his lap. Megumi eyes you two oddly, sticking his tongue to the side in disgust when Satoru murmurs that he loves you. You shoot him a pointed look and he apologizes under his breath. 

“He’ll be fine. It’s a precaution for when your captain inevitably goes all out and we need to make sure his body can keep up.”

“Mhmm, you definitely know about my body keeping up–” 

“Okay, you’re done.” Megumi and Yuuji’s eyes expand to the size of pool balls and your face suddenly feels like it’s burning. You push away Satoru’s smug face, abandoning him on the lobby bench to fetch the wagon with the jerseys, water bottles, and other items Yaga told you to bring. Yuuji takes the moment to ask Satoru about how his gameplay has been during the matches up to that point. 

The team remained steady through all preliminary matches, bypassing the first qualifier round and eventually making their way to the semi-finals. They were playing well, but so were the rest of the prefecture’s teams. If the close victories affected Satoru, he didn’t show it; he showed up to every match with a self-assured grin and would only drop his smile to stare daggers at the other team. It helped that he was a master at getting the underclassmen fired up to the point where Megumi and Yuuji were scoring just as much as him and Suguru. With Inumaki holding down the team’s defensive power, Satoru encouraged the others to try different plays and, if they didn’t work, immediately got the point back with an infuriatingly reliable ace. Often, between plays, he shot you a smile and made a little heart with his hands that made your stomach flutter. 

Megumi follows you to the wagon with his hands in his pockets, much quieter than his usual indifference. You fish around the wagon to find the box of team jerseys and set it near the top where it’s easily accessible, resting the handle on your hip while Megumi continues to look uneasy. If you didn’t know the boy as well as you did, you might have mistaken his silence for calm focus; but, his eyebrows were ever so slightly dipped in concern and it worried you. 

“What is it, Megs? You feeling okay?” 

“People are looking at us again. Some guys tried to pick a fight with Itadori and me in the bathroom.” Your eyebrows shoot upward in alarm and he’s quick to explain that though nobody got hurt, it still made him feel slightly anxious. It wasn’t uncommon for the team to be subject to funny looks or snide remarks, but you noticed the frequency with which they occurred increased exponentially this year. 

Not that your boyfriend cared in the slightest. 

“I think it’s because you’re a third year now, ‘toru,” you muttered into his chest one night. You both were on the verge of sleep after an exhausting prefecture-wide workshop day filled with conditioning, yelling, more conditioning, and more yelling. He’d snuck through your window and crept into your bed, pulling you naturally into his chest and claiming that he missed you too much to sleep alone. But, you couldn’t get off your mind the wary stares you received from managers of other teams when you told them about your team. 

“Huh?” 

“The other teams–they’re scared of you.”

“As they should be. I’m at my best right now ‘cause you finally came to your senses.” He flashes you a sleepy smirk, blue eyes droopy. 

“No, that’s not it,” you decide. His features abruptly drop into a stubborn frown as you contradict him. If there was one thing he hated more than his family, it was when someone told him he was wrong.

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not me. It’s you; all of it is because of you.”

“This sounds scarily like a breakup, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’re already sick of me.” You ignore him and keep verbalizing the thoughts finally clicking into place. 

“Baby, you’re a third year captain of a powerhouse volleyball school sponsored by the Society. Kyoto’s the only other team that can take that title. You basically have everything to lose if you don’t put in your all this year, not to mention you’re a Gojo…” 

Your words trail off when he stiffens next to you at the mention of his family name and you apologize for bringing it up. He despised talking about his family, how they’d been in control of the organization for decades and how people assumed he was a wealthy brat who paid his way to success. That couldn’t be further from the truth, and you’d spent hundreds of nights awake with him convincing him being a Gojo wasn’t his entire identity. It hung like a dead weight on his shoulders, being the prized son of the Jujutsu Volleyball Society. Many schools across the nation tried in vain to infiltrate the institution, but the archaic bloodline-centered system made it nearly impossible for outsiders to participate. Bitter schools tended to whisper in the hallways about your team, calling them monsters, beasts…

Curses. 

“Just ignore them, Megs. They’re scared because we haven’t been this much of a threat in decades. You’re breaking their status quo by knocking out the usual Tokyo rep.” 

“Do you think we’ll actually be able to do it this year? Get to Nationals?” You pause, looking over at your team. Suguru has Satoru in a tight headlock, scolding him for who knows what while Yuuji and Yuta try to calm their upperclassman. Satoru’s head wiggles like a bobble head while he tries to bite Suguru’s arm. Nanami hides his face in his hands and Yu sympathetically pats his back; their faces are grave like they were taking mugshots. Inumaki and Panda observe the scene with the rest of your players, munching on onigiri you packed as snacks. It was an entertaining picture and you wished you could capture the sincerity of the moment in a jar to keep forever. 

The team was a little stupid, sure, but they had spirit and heart you’d never seen before that made you want to stay. 

You finally look back at Megumi and nod determinedly before starting to roll the wagon to the warmup area, smiling when you hear Satoru’s yelp of alarm, a loud crash, and his stern captain-voice loudly instructing the team to follow you.

[grendelsmom]

Knitting Update or as I like to call it: the ice bear sock (mis-)adventure

So, I've been getting more comfortable with patterns lately and I thought "Hey! I wanna try my hand at this with something easy!". Seeing as christmas is around the corner I decided I would knit a pair of socks for a friend. And as a little challenge I wanted to design my own pattern for it. Which I mainly did by taking inspiration from an old pair of socks and changing the design around until it fit the amount of stitches required for the size of socks I wanted to knit. And look at that! They look nice - don't they? And they're almost finished!

Lovely ice bears walking through the snow! Only, I made a mistake with the first sock, which I only noticed once I reached the Zwickel of the second sock (my dictionary is telling me it's called gusset or gore? basically the part of the sock where the heel turns into the foot). In the first sock I had forgotten to leave two normal rows inbetween the decreasing rows - meaning that that part of the sock is now much steeper. It does still fit me, but it could potential be a problem for someone with bigger feet. So, I asked my other friend with the same shoe size to try them on for me. It wasn't a problem. What was however a problem was the ice bear pattern part at the top of the sock. You see, I did try my hardest to knit it as loosely as possible, but I still only knitted the stitches recommend in the guidline for a normal pair of socks without a two colour pattern. Meaning the part, because of the two colours, is less elastic and therefore too tight.

At this point I concluded that I had two options. The work I already done wouldn't fit my friend, so I decided to make them shorter later on and use them myself or gift them to a friend with smaller feet so they wouldn't be wasted. Continuing with the project I could either re-work the pattern so that it would work on a higher stich count or knit two plain socks and then stitch the pattern on afterwards. Because the second sounded like less work, I decided to go with that. And tada!

Looks fine, right? A perfectly normal sock, just waiting for the pattern to be stitched on. Yeah... well... as you can see I used a different yarn for this one. (I was getting kind of bored of the first one and the local store didn't have it in stock anymore anyway so I decided to change it up.) The first 1 1/2 socks were knitted in a 4 ply yarn. The second one in 6 ply. Or so I thought. Until I put them next to each other and realised that the second version looked way tighter.

So, I looked back on the yarn label (something I apparently hadn't done since buying the yarn) and - yes, you guessed it - turns out it was actually a 4 ply yarn and I had somehow confinced myself that it was 6 ply to the point that I never double checked it again. (Actually, I know how I did it. I was choosing between two different yarns and the other was a 6 ply. I thought "Oh, I definitely must remember that, because I'll need a different amount of stitches then". Which, yes, I remembered that. I just didn't remember that that wasn't the yarn I went with.) This is a sock the length of a EU 44/45 (US 11.5) with the amount of stitches, so width, of a EU 34/35 (US 4.5) - yes, it's that ridiculous.

So, instead of fixing the original problem of the socks being too tight, I actually just made it worse. And now three weeks after I started a project, that was supposed to take me a week max, I have 2 1/2 socks I cannot use for their intended purpose and just started the first sock I will hopefully, actually be able to gift my friend.

[treacletartlett]

Watery problems

going to the lake for a swim with your closest friends sounded fun, until you encountered a certain problem, not having a suitable bathing suite really made the nervousness gnaw at your head, but revealing this much of yourself to harry really seemed to catch his attention...

this kinda turned into a Romione fanfic, but they rock so it's fine!!!!

contains sexual content!

spending a hot day at the lake with your favourite people sounded amazing, especially since Harry, who you've been attracted to for quite some time, will be there, meaning you'd see him in less than you've had for ages.

while looking through your luggage, you found absolutely nothing you could wear to swim. the stupidness of your situation really hit, and you realised that it was actually the dumbest thing to forget while spending summer vacation with your friends.

being in Ginny's room, she obviously knew of your situation.

"here, try these. they're my other pair, I'm sure they'll fit you great." she smiled, while handing over the tiniest scrap of fabric over to you.

you and Ginny had very different body types, as she was on the shorter side, being 5'2 (180 cm), pretty skinny with a smaller chest and butt. you, on the other hand, were a couple inches taller and had a fuller chest and a slightly curvier body compared to hers.

it wasn't a rather big difference, but with bathing suits it matters much more than with other clothing types.

"Ginny, I don't think this will fit, or at least cover the necessary parts." you croaked, not wanting to walk around feeling like you're dressed to go to a hooker's house.

Ginny huffed, and turned away to look at herself in the mirror. she was twisting and turning, seeing how her perfect fitting bikini looked on her while talking to you.

"just try it on, okay? even if it showed a little more than you normally wear, it's only us. plus, you've got a hot bod, you need to show it off more." she grinned while turning to look at you.

you blushed, standing in front of Ginny and Hermione, all three of you so exposed in a tiny room really lifted the tension for you, but you noticed Ginny seemed as comfortable as ever.

"she's right you know," Hermione replied. "we've already seen you naked multiple times, and Ron and Harry probably won't mind..." she trailed off, seemingly in a moment of thought. "quite the opposite perhaps. anyway, it doesn't matter. we're all very revealed, and there's going to be no one but us. unless you feel uncomfortable of course.."

her soft voice calmed your nerves. she looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to answer.

the thing is, you weren't really sure. I mean, Ginny and Hermione weren't a problem, but Harry and Ron? Ron would definitely keep his eyes on Hermione, so in principle he didn't matter that much either, but Harry? that was difficult.

"no you're right, both of you. I'll just try it on and see if I'll wear it or not, besides, if I choose not to, I don't have to swim with you guys today. I'll buy a new bathing suite when we go to the stores or something." you shrugged, trying to act like this didn't bother you.

it wasn't that big a deal, but still, something kept making your heart rate go up when you thought of Harry and Ron seeing you like that.

anyway, you stripped from your underwear, leaving you completely naked. first, you slipped the bottom on, which resembled a thong more than anything, and exposed your whole ass. after, you asked Ginny to tie the knots of the top.

looking in the mirror, you observed the flimsy piece of fabric.

the triangles supposed to fit over your breasts only covered parts of them, enough to hide your nipples, but not enough to support and cover your whole breasts. the string tying it all together was thin, instead of being at the bottom of the triangles, it was attached to the corner, which resulted in it being in the middle, making it feel unsecured at the back of your back. the one going to your neck was short, making it feel like the top will jump up at any given moment.

the bottoms were low, stopping just above your pubic bone. a small piece of fabric managed to cover your private parts, but it left your whole ass exposed.

to summarise it, there was a very big chance of you flashing everyone the moment you step into the water. you felt very naked and exposed, thinking about how you would face the boys looking like this.

you knew they've probably seen naked women countless times, but this was different. you were their best friend, and who says this won't warp their image of you to them? if it were the other way around, you didn't think you could ever think the same about them, having seen them so exposed. you already got chills seeing Harry shirtless.

"you look great! see, I knew it would fit perfectly. right Hermione?" Ginny's ecstatic took you by surprise, even more did her words. you weren't sure if she was kidding, was she actually being serious about this bathing suite fitting perfectly? you loved her enthusiasm and support, but still, it has got to be a joke.

"yeah, it's actually not that bad, seeing as it's just us, though if we were going to a public place, I wouldn't agree, but it's just us, so I agree." Hermione smiled gently. she looked absolutely fabulous in her dark pink one piece, classy but gorgeous. Ginny rocked her navy bikini, sitting perfectly on her.

then there were you, wearing almost nothing in red. you almost laughed at the irony, but oh well, what would you do about it?

they were right, it's just us, nothing to worry about. you did want to see Harry's reaction, even though you felt a bit perverted about it...

"I wouldn't say it fits perfectly, but it's alright, I guess." you mumbled, turning away from the mirror and grabbing your stuff.

Ginny and Hermione did the same, all of you tidying up the place a bit before leaving.

while you all dropped your stuff in a bag, there was a knock on the door.

"can I come in? you all better be dressed!" Ron's gruff voice yelled through the door. Hermione instantly blushed, seemingly flustered by the thought of them seeing each other in less than usual for once.

you and Ginny grinned ear to ear, used to Hermione's and Ron's back and forth flirting. it got time they made a move, but they were both too shy and awkward.

"oh no, definitely not Ron, we're all butt naked!" Ginny yelled back while laughing, then she quickly pulled open the door, making Ron scream out of fear, covering his eyes quickly. he was wearing his orange shorts, complimenting his hair and freckles brilliantly.

this made the three of you burst out in laughter, clutching your stomach from how red Ron was getting.

"oh so funny, Gin, you're so hilarious." he spat out, agitated by his little sister's theatrics.

"I know, I'm hilarious, Ron. anyway, what do you want?" she breathed out, coming down from the laughter, also red, but in contrary to Ron, from bursting because of that.

"mum said we're leaving, so you need to come down now-" his words got caught in his chest when he saw Hermione behind us, looking flustered and blushing furiously.

they stared at each other in silence for a couple seconds before Ron spoke up.

"uh- well uh, mum said to call for you because we're waiting a-and she uhh, she made lunch for us to take with." he stammered, all in love and pathetic.

Hermione was so red she could explode. Ginny and I glanced at each other, grinning and trying to hold in our laugh.

as expected, Ron couldn't look at anything other than Hermione. he either looked all around him, avoiding her sight, or he only stared at her, his eyes could burn holes through her as we were walking down the stairs, where Harry awaited.

he was leaning against the back of the couch, wearing his dark blue swimming shorts, looking bored.

you inhaled a deep breath, your heart skipping a beat. butterflies and nerves danced in your stomach, and spread all over you body.

you've seen him shirtless a couple times, but they were all some years ago, when you were both children and immature.

he grew taller, obviously, and his body much more toned. quidditch and all the action making him more muscular.

his arms looked strong, his muscles visible as he rested them on the back of the couch. his quads were incredible, his legs toned and beautiful. his chest, oh God, his chest and stomach. they were sight of Heaven.

his abs weren't too intense, but just perfect.

you couldn't stop staring, and before you knew it your eyesight followed down his v-line, wondering what it led to underneath his shorts.

you caught yourself, turning red at the fact you thought of such things when everyone was around you. scared someone could suddenly read your mind, you looked around you, trying to distract yourself.

when he noticed everyone coming down the stairs he looked up, first, grinning at Ron and Hermione, looking like they wanted to throw up, but also like they wished they were alone and wearing less.

"you seem a tad bit red there, Ron. you alright mate?" he said, not being able to contain his grin. he patted Ron on the back, while Ron shot a glare that could burn this whole house down at him.

Harry chuckled, his chest vibrating with force, something so mundane, it made you clench your thighs.

"right, sorry Ron." he put his fist to his mouth, trying to hide his enjoyment. Ron ignored him and turned away, trying not to look at Hermione but failing.

he turned towards you, Ginny, and Hermione, smiling slightly at her, before looking at you and Ginny.

He greeted you both with a smile, which you both returned.

"hey Harry!" Ginny greeted before turning away to talk with her mother, leaving you standing there awkward and alone, while Hermione and Ron were finally trying to make small talk, resulting in Harry having his whole attention focussed on you.

His eyes skimmed your body briefly. He seemed slightly disconcerted, obviously not expecting you to wear something like this. you thought you saw a hint of judgement in his expression, but for the most part, he hid his thoughts and emotions, his face blank.

You blushed, immediately turning pink. You stood awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers and looking away from his eyes. suddenly feeling self conscious, your arms were wrapped around you. you felt the need to explain yourself.

"I-I didn't have my own bathing suite so I had to borrow Ginny's..." you mumbled, embarrassed and chuckling awkwardly.

"and, heh, as you, uh, can see it's a bit too small." you continued, trying to lessen the tension with humour, but it clearly didn't work, as Harry returned your awkward laugh with his own.

"it's alright, not that bad, it's just us here." Harry assured you. he turned away, relieving you of his gaze on your revealed form.

Ginny walked back, a bag of food in her hands which she handed over to Harry to carry. Ron and Hermione quieted, and got ready to leave.

while the guys carried all the heavy stuff, you and the girls carried your own bag and talked while walking. you kept thinking of Harry's gaze, of him assessing your body, even if it was brief, for some reason it turned you on.

you felt ridiculous, desperate, and self conscious. it didn't seem as if he thought you were attractive, but he didn't show any thought about you at all.

the lake wasn't far away. first you had to walk a path that went through part of the forest, but when you arrived you were mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

while Harry and Ron set up the space, placing towels, the parasol, and a small table with chairs, you and the girls set down your bags and watched them.

when they finished everyone took their spot on their towel, grabbing food from the bag Ron's mother gave you. you noticed your towel was right next to Harry's. he was on the far end, having Ron's next to Hermione's.

you ate in silence while the rest talked. you felt to awkward to talk to Harry, constantly having to fix your bathing suite every couple minutes.

on the contrary, Harry seemed at ease for the first time in a long time. he was smiling constantly and laughing, his shoulders hung, his hair falling in front of his face. it was purely and angelic sight.

his eyes met yours, and at that moment you realised you were staring at him for a good couple minutes, and your face flushed. Harry cocked his head sideways, his brow raised.

for some reason, you felt even more heat licking your insides, embarrassment filling you even more.

harry finished his sandwich, and beckoned you to him with his hands. surprise filled you until you played it off and cleaned the crumbs off yourself. you crawled on his towel and sat next him, his body heat engulfed you completely, his skin touching yours, making arousal grow inside you even more.

he bend slightly to whisper something in your ear, his hot breath like a caress against your skin. your breath shook, your heartbeat increased eratically.

"I can see it on your bottoms." he whispered, making sure no one else could see.

you turned your head to look at him, your lips close enough that less than an inch movement would result in collision. his big green eyes stared at you, almost like a deer. the sight made a shiver wrack up your body, awakening a need so deep you weren't sure you could function without satiating it.

"w-what?" confusion laced your question, your mind out of the riddles, only focused on the half naked Harry in beside you.

"your bottoms, I can see the spot," his answer didn't clear the air at all, and you weren't sure he meant literally or not, so you hadn't dared to look down.

"they're soaked." he finished, his sentence caught in your mind, your throat suddenly dry. you turned away from him, shame filled your guts to the point you felt you would explode from embarrassment.

you closed your legs, hoping everything was still covered and harry wouldn't be able to see your arousal anymore. he kept looking at you, as if waiting for your reply. suddenly, his hand found your shoulder, his warm skin resting on yours, sending tingles down your spine. he gently squeezed, lowering his head towards you, trying to catch your eye.

"no one has noticed," he chuckled slightly. "except for me." his soft and low voice sent butterflies frantic in your stomach, having to hold in your breath in case something other than a breath would escape you.

he didn't even do anything to you, and for some reason you still feel the need to let out a soft moan. suppressing yourself took all your strength, and harry moving closer to you, his side touching your back completely, didn't help at all.

"y/n," his hand wind up in your hair, rubbing your head soothingly. "look at me please." he urged slightly, this all taking you by surprise, but also mortifying you, and still, for some reason, turning you on.

his request lingered for a couple seconds, then, you turned to him. his eyes were already on you, his face expressionless. his hand was still in your head, his arm resting on your shoulder, his other hand was in his lap.

"don't," he smiled slightly. "be embarrassed."

you felt his words didn't help you at all, in contrary bringing more shame upon you than before. you looked down again, your back hurting from your hunched over posture. playing with your fingers, a thing you did often when you're nervous, harry's hands found yours, stopping you from squirming.

"it's okay, really." he pushed, seemingly desperate to make you open up. "what were you thinking about?"

his question startled you, speeding up your heart rate, your mind scrambling for a reply.

when harry noticed you struggle, he spoke up, nudging you softly, in a jokingly matter. "you can tell me, I promise."

you stayed silent, this whole conversation throwing you off balance. you weren't sure if you should be honest, and tell him you were thinking about him. he was your best friend after all, and nothing happened years prior that would indicate otherwise. it would either make everything awkward between you two, or end in something that could possibly bring you either regret or pleasure.

"you," you whispered back, taking the risk, since life is about taking risks after all, right?

"I figured." he smiled. silence filled the space except for the chatter behind you, reminding you of your friends' presence.

"oi y/n and I are gonna leave for a bit don't wait up with getting in the water yeah?" harry suddenly called out, surprising you completely.

he stood up and grabbed your arm, pulling you with him while the others nodded and resumed talking. he walked you through the forest, arriving at a place where it's completely quiet, your friends's voices unheard.

"harry, what are you doing?" you asked, nervous and butterflies dancing in your stomach. he pushed you against a large tree, darkness surrounded you seeing as the greens were covering the sky by how tall they were.

"thought we could use a more private space," he answered, still talking softly even though no one could hear you. "don't you think?" his hands caged you in, his face inches from yours. his torso not quite pressed against you but still feeling his warmth.

you nodded, all words in your vocabulary fleeting from your mind. your arms hing at your sides, you felt paralysed, standing rigid against the tree while harry stood so confidently in front of you.

"y/n, what were you thinking about me?" he asked, his big green eyes giving him an innocent look. his hand found your face again, caressing your cheek while admiring your features. "it's okay, you can be honest." he encouraged you, feeling that you hesitated.

"w-well I thought about y-you with me." embarrassment filled you, your feeble answer making you look and feel weak, knowing harry thought that about you too.

"and what happens when I'm with you?" he pressed slightly.

"we're all alone, a-and," you took a deep breath. "we didn't have any clothes on, and we're laying on the floor, next to each other." looking down, you realised it sounded more ridiculous out loud than in your head, which burned your face even more.

"why are we laying on the floor? what happened? what were you thinking about?" harry bombarded you, gently, but obviously waiting for your answer.

"well, we had sex, on the floor where I put on this bathing suit, and you found me. and the only thing I could think about was you, almost naked, and how you looked like underneath." you whispered the last part, feeling it's too erotic to say out loud.

"more? was that it, or is there something else?" he urged, your words not affecting him by the slightest. his finger tilted your chin up, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

"I thought about what you would be thinking seeing me like this, I- I wanted to see how you would react to this, and how pretty you are, and how I've always been attracted to you, and always wanted something- something more." word by word you grew some confidence, harry seemed to like hearing your thoughts, not the least bit thrown off or uncomfortable, the opposite actually.

"you really think I'm pretty?" he asked, his voice containing a hint of vulnerability, his cheeks getting a rosy tint. of all the things he could say, this was the last thing you expected. you couldn't really imagine harry blushing, especially not by something you said, so seeing it in real life made your heart stop for a second.

"I do." you replied, smiling slightly at him. he smiled back, leaning in slowly, until your lips touched for the first time.

it felt better than you've ever imagined. his soft lips only made the gentles contact with yours for milliseconds, and still, it exceeded all your expectations.

when you broke apart, heart beating out of your chest, harry smiled, keeping eye contact with you. you knew where this was heading, and even though you both haven't done this, you were anticipating the moment.

"are you okay with all of this?" harry asked, which elevated your feelings and anticipation even more. you nodded, trying to constrict your smile but failing miserably. it was all going so fast, and you weren't sure what to think.

"say it, y/n. and don't hide your smile, I love it."

your heart burst.

"y-yes, I'm okay." you managed to croak out, impatient for harry's touch on your skin.

the second the words left your mouth he began kissing you, rough and needy, but still giving you time to adjust and devour each other. his hands found their way to your bikini strings, and pulled, making your top fall to the ground.

you gasped in his mouth, your hands quickly went to cover yourself, but harry stopped you, holding your hands in his, and kissing the tops of your fingers.

"it's okay, you're beautiful." he mumbled, admiring you. you admitted there wasn't much difference to you with the top on, but still, it made you a little nervous being so exposed to harry.

but your worries calmed immediately, harry's smile and sprinkling eyes settling your nerves and make you feel good about everything, including yourself.

he led your hands to the elastic waistband of his shorts, guiding you to taking them off of him. he slid them down his legs until he removed them entirely, leaving him completely naked.

you felt better with him exposing himself entirely first, making it feel safer for you. he was an absolute piece of art. even though you've already seen most of him, you get to see his most private parts, which you loved.

he was beautiful. absolutely mesmerising, and you couldn't and didn't want to take your eyes off of him.

he was already hard, and his eyes were watching your face, seemingly waiting for a reaction, or response.

"harry," you whispered to him, stepping closer until his cock touched your leg. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his hands meeting your waist instantly. "you're so beautiful."

harry blushed immediately, apparently not used to getting compliments like that before. it made your heart ache, knowing he doesn't get genuine compliments often, but also knowing he obviously loved getting them from you and feeling grateful sends butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"t-thank you," he answered, not knowing how to show that he appreciated it more than you think, but he didn't have to, you thought, you knew how he felt by his eyes.

you kissed him again, and harry came back in his element, pushing you completely flat against the tree, his hands finding your thighs, spreading them lightly. his fingers found your clit, eliciting a low moan from you.

he pulled back, watching you intently while moving his fingers through your folds, wetness coating every inch of you. he gently pushed one finger inside you, moving softly deeper and deeper, letting you adjust and just seeing what's comfortable. when he found a good pace, his fingers moved rhythmically in and out, making you throw your head back, the sounds of your moans filling the space around you.

"harry, please." you breathed, not entirely sure what you're begging for.

but harry seemed to understand, and removed his fingers from inside of you, standing flush between your thighs, lifting you slightly, pubic bones touching, and him hard and warm against your wetness.

"I know, baby." he mumbled, holding your head, brushing your hair from your face. his other hand held you, supporting you by your waist.

tears formed in your eyes, your lips parted, breathing heavily. when you and harry made eye contact, something shifted in the air, and suddenly you got the urge to laugh.

it seemed harry had the same feeling, because as soon as your lips broke into a wide smile, harry began laughing softly, you joining him not long after.

"God, you're perfect, did you know that?" harry said, after catching his breath. you smiled shyly, a blush spreading on your already rosy cheeks, yet again.

he pushed your bikini to the side, admiring you. then, slowly, he sinked into you, stretching you an unbearable amount. he groaned, while you let out a soft moan, relishing in the warm feeling of him filling you up completely.

at first, it hurt a little, not used to the feeling, but after you adjusted, and he began moving into you slowly, pain turned into pleasure, making you throw your head back.

"oh my God, harry." you moaned, your hands found his hair, tugging at it gently. harry's lips were parted, his nose and cheeks tinted pink, breathing heavily.

he leaned down, kissing your neck. one of his hands left your thigh to hold your breast. his thumb worked your nipple while he squeezed, eliciting a load cry from you, the pleasure overtaking your body.

he thrusted into you faster and faster until he found a steady pace to keep up. you cried out, and harry moaned into your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. the sounds of you and skin hitting skin filled the forest, and you silently prayed ginny, ron, and hermione couldn't hear you.

you didn't bother keeping the noise down, though. it all felt too good that you didn't want to bother yourself with something like that. you loved hearing harry's sounds, his moans and cries elevating the pleasure.

"oh, y/n. you feel so good." he whined into your neck, his lips and tongue touching every part of skin they can reach, including your chest, and up, kissing and biting at your collarbone and going to your jaw, licking every part. when he reached your lips he kissed you so fiercely, not giving you the opportunity to catch your breath.

the hand that's holding you up was digging into your thigh so hard you were sure it would leave marks, aside the scratching of your back against the tree, surely turning your entire back red. but at the moment, you didn't care. harry was touching you everywhere, and that's the only thing crossing your mind right now.

you grew wetter and wetter, your arousal dripping down your legs while harry's thrusting into you hard. he entered himself completely, not even leaving an inch of himself to go without you. it felt like he was in your stomach, even though you knew that would be impossible. but the visual of his print inside you on your stomach when you looked down got you close to the tipping point. you didn't think it was possible for him, or anything else in that matter, to go deeper, feeling like he was constantly hitting the end of you, pushing against your cervix.

you pulled away, taking in as much air as possible, harry's face against the side of yours, breathing against you. his hair was falling over his eyes, sweat laced both of your bodies, both of your wetness coating your skin.

"oh, harry, I'm close, so close." you cried out, feeling the sinking feeling of being thrown over the edge, wave after wave crashing into you. harry's mouth lowered to your nipples, his warmth engulfing them, his finger to your clit, rubbing it up and down fastly.

"go on baby, come, for me." and that's all it took for you to fall over the edge.

your orgasm hit you so hard you lost your breath. pleasure overtook your body completely, making you cry out to harry loudly, clinging on to him while bucking and moving against him. harry's arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly until you came down, making sure to support you.

"God, harry." you yelled, feeling like it would never end. you tightened against him, feeling him come closer and closer. the after waves of your orgasm hit you hard, with harry's continued thrusts lengthening the ongoing shivers.

"y/n," harry called, and you knew immediately he's going to come. you pulsed around him, moving against him to meet him faster. "come, harry, please." after pulling his hair, and licking and sucking his neck, he came with a moan.

his pace became sloppy, and he slowed while riding out his orgasm. his hot cum filled you, covering your walls. after he came down, he pulled out slowly, making sure you're supported and slowly lowering you again.

he leaned his forehead against you while you both caught your breaths. he chuckled, holding your face and leaving a kiss on your lips. you smiled at him, hugging him to you tightly.

"you were great." he suddenly whispered to you. he held you tighter against him, resting his head on your shoulder. you did the same, breathing in his scent.

you realised you had to go back sometime, but for now you opted to stay with here with harry for just a while longer.

[kimikaami]

hi. fic below the cut :3

AO3 link

f!byleth/seteth || teen+ rating || angst || regency au || period appropriate ignorance irt gender and sexuality

this is a regency AU in which f!Byleth disguises herself as a man to join the army, who then meets Seteth and Flayn when she retires in her late 20s. It's an idea I've had for a long time, but one that I don't love enough to do a longfic for, so I thought I might try and do little scenes here and there whenever I feel like it. This is the first of them :)

“Walk with me?”

Seteth lifts his hands from the pianoforte’s keys, the last notes plink-plonking into the air as Flayn finishes the measure. “Now?” he asks, looking up.

From the couch, Mr. Eisner — Byleth — eyes him over the top of his book, the smallest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “The afternoon is drawing long,” he says, “and I could use some fresh air. What do you say?”

Seteth stares. Byleth holds his gaze, daring him. This is a ritual that he knows by heart, and yet he finds himself stumbling through the first steps every time — wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers is not part of the dance. 

His eyes drop, forfeiting the staring contest to glance at Flayn who now shuffles her sheet music to the next song.

“Go on,” she encourages, flashing him a smile, and Seteth imagines that she can read his mind at this point. He has certainly done enough worrying over her since her kidnapping scare for the both of them. “I will be fine here for a few moments.”

“Are you quite sure? I am happy to play with you a little longer.”

“There is always later, Father.” Her voice is almost gentle. “The sun and exercise will do you good. It is good to be out of the house, as you well know.”

“Quite right, Flayn,” Byleth says, now smiling in earnest. He closes the book and sets it aside. “I expect to be treated to your latest solo when we return. In the meantime however…” he says, standing, “Get your things. I will wait outside.” And without another word, he takes his leave.

“Well?” says Flayn, nudging his shoulder when he does not move. “You heard the gentleman. I have a piece to prepare.”

The jostling knocks something loose in him, leaving his heart in anticipation of something. “Quite right,” he mumbles to Flayn as he rises to follow his friend. “I imagine we will return shortly.” 

Flayn just hums an acknowledgment and pushes him away when he bends to press his face to the crown of her hair, drinking in the warm scent. It’s equal parts a goodbye and an apology. He falls into lies of omission all too quickly these days, and the regret is gone even quicker.

Seteth follows in Byleth’s footsteps.

—

He waits until they are out of sight of the house to move closer to Byleth, their knuckles brushing together as they walk. Looking down at the shorter man, Seteth admires the way his eyelashes settle against his cheek and resists the urge to trace his jaw with his fingertips. 

“The way she cares for you is sweet,” he says.

Seteth blinks, drawn out of his admiration. “Flayn?”

“Mmhm.”

He sighs and frowns. “She took on too much responsibility when her mother died — responsibility that I should have been the one to shoulder.”

“But she is kind and clever, and selfless.”

“All that and more,” he says. “And yet, were it not for you, I would have lost her. I was neglectful for so many years…” Seteth shakes his head. “No child should have to care for their parent the way she cared for me.”

At the gnarled oak that overhangs the path — a familiar landmark —, Byleth takes Seteth’s elbow and pulls him off the road and towards their spot. “Maybe so,” he says, leading, “but you are that much closer for it.” Holding the branches back, Byleth ushes Seteth through a line of bushes into their little grove lying just beyond. “In many ways, I envy you.”

Seteth pauses, waiting for him to make his way through. “The grass is always greener on the other side, I suppose. Your parents…?”

“I never knew my mother. My father died when I was young.”

“I am… sorry,” he replies, not quite knowing what to say. “I cannot imagine.”

“No, I should not have brought it up. I let my jealousy get the better of me,” he says, and in this moment, Byleth looks so profoundly lonely that his heart nearly breaks for the young man. 

Even after months spent escaping into gardens and secret groves to be with one another in peace, he still knows so little about his friend’s background. Seteth takes a step, trailing his fingers along Byleth’s sleeve. “Do not apologize.”

“Sometimes I think that no one knows me at all.”

Furrowing his brow in thought, Seteth looks down at him. Tipping his chin up so he has nowhere to look but at him, he ghosts his lips across Byleth’s, just as he had done to him for the first time months ago. It’s the kind of kiss that asks permission — feather-light, a sign that he cares. “I have ears to listen, my friend,” he says.

Byleth’s eyes shine, watery. “There are things about me, about my past,” he says, hands braced on Seteth’s chest to keep him upright, “that I have deliberately kept from you.”

The seriousness in his gaze is enough to make his breath catch, enraptured. “Please,” he almost pleads, heart in his throat with anticipation. Seteth had followed Byleth here with the promise of time spent enjoying one another’s company, but the prospect of getting to know his companion’s heart more intimately is an alternative that he treasures for its rarity.

On this day, however, it seems he is lucky enough to have his cake and eat it too. Grasping him by the shoulders, Byleth pulls him down and kisses him firmly, and Seteth’s arms reflexively wind around his waist, angling his head to make their position more comfortable.

“Say you trust me,” Byleth says when they part.

“I do. Of course I do,” he promises. Only a year ago, he had been a shadow of himself. To think, one man’s presence could provide him with all this — a desire to see tomorrow. Trust is the least of what he owes him.

Almost hesitantly, Byleth shrugs off his coat and drops it on the grass. The loose white shirt he’s left in compliments his figure, slender shoulders narrowing to a cinched waist that makes Seteth swallow as his heart races, especially as Byleth takes his hand and lays it over his own racing heart. So many times his hands have accidentally wandered here only to be firmly guided away. He relishes the warmth bleeding into his palm, closing his eyes and committing it to memory.

“Seteth, open your eyes,” Byleth says. When he does, Byleth looks into them unflinchingly. “Take it off.”

“Pardon?” he asks, surprised.

“My shirt. Please,” he reiterates. “Trust me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Do it, Seteth, before I lose my courage.”

“Okay. Okay.” Removing his hand from his chest, Seteth takes Byleth’s hands in his and kneels in the grass, pulling the other man along with him and drawing him into another kiss.

Byleth’s entire body shakes under his touch and Seteth backs off, concerned. “There is nothing to fear,” he says, trying his best to be soothing despite his own misgivings. They’re both in uncharted territory here, both fumbling along.

“I know,” Byleth answers, a bit of desperation leaching into his voice. He pulls out his ponytail with a toss of the head, and Seteth has just enough time to register how it softens his features before he is pulling him close once more, teeth clicking, tongue venturing forth. An embarrassing noise makes its way past his lips and into Byleth’s mouth as he plants his hands on his hips, encouraging him to make a move.

It’s enough to spur him onward. Fully giving into his desires, Seteth wastes no time pulling Byleth’s shirt out of his waistband, and then fumbling with the buttons. He starts at the bottom while Byleth starts at the top, and when their hands meet Byleth laughs into his mouth, worry forgotten until he finishes the last bit and pulls the shirt off for good.

What he finds surprises him. A thick layer of bandages, wrapped around his upper torso. His mind searches for some logical explanation. Byleth had told him when they first met that he had been discharged for heart problems, but surely that’s not the reason for all this…?

Reaching behind his back, Byleth fiddles with something, eventually bringing a loose end of the wrapping forth to hand to him. Seteth holds it, blinking.

“Come on,” Byleth encourages. “Finish it.” There’s an unmistakably vulnerable look in his eyes, almost scared, so he does. Back and forth, he passes the bandages around his body until they fall loose.

He leans back on his haunches. “Byleth?”

He can’t believe what he’s seeing. The wiry frame, the slender shoulders, the soft facial features —

“I — my father — he died when I was small. I couldn’t take care of myself,” Byleth says. “But he was an old soldier, and I knew I could pass if I tried —”

He’s only half listening, too shocked to comprehend. His — her? Byleth’s chest lies exposed in the springtime air, angry red marks pressed into her skin from being bound so tightly for so long.

“I never wanted… mislead… sorry…”

All at once, Seteth is confronted with two truths.

The first is that he wants her.

The second is that he has wanted her for months now. There is no real difference between what he feels now, looking at this woman half-naked, and what he has felt gazing at… him… across the room since that very first kiss.

His lungs ache. This is not — has never been proper. No. Some part of his mind must have known all along, must have recognized her as her and had been overcome. It makes too much sense — a sad, old, widower like him just looking for a replacement for what he had lost.

None of this has ever been real, has it? He’s made it all up. All of his emotions, only what he wanted to feel.

“Seteth?” His vision spins as he looks at her, speechless. “Say something, please.”

“This isn’t right,” he says, staggering to his feet before he’s even registered the action. “No — no, this isn’t — I have made a grave mistake. I have violated — I am sorry.”

“‘Violated’?” she asks, incredulous. “Is that what you think? Seteth, I wanted this from the very beginning.”

He swallows. “Put your shirt back on.”

Her face falls, hurt. “You won’t touch me now, because I’m a woman.”

His silence is confirmation enough. “I thought you cared for me.”

Seteth winces. “I did — I do. You are my dearest friend. Now, I don’t… you are a woman, Byleth, and we are unmarried.”

“Can’t you see I don’t care about that?” she protests. “I have lived as a man for nearly the past two decades. If I gave a damn about tradition —”

“I do!” he says. “I care. For the Goddess’ sake, I have warned my daughter against the evils of men who lust after women without any intent to marry, and look what you have made of me! How can I face her now, knowing the depth of my hypocrisy?”

Clamping her jaw shut, Byleth breathes heavily, willing away the tears that are beginning to spill down her cheeks. “All of this, it did not mean anything to you because I was a man.”

Closing his eyes, Seteth crosses his arms. “That is not what I said. But encounters between a man and a woman and two men — they are not the same.”

“They are!” she protests, voice wavering. “For me, they were.” Then, quietly: “I thought I meant something to you.”

“You do,” he answers, arms falling. “But you are incorrect. Things are not the same now, nor will they ever be.” Staring down at her, Seteth opens his mouth to speak, then clamps it shut again. Silently, Byleth wills him to speak. Whatever he’s struggling to articulate, he gives up on and releases a frustrated sigh instead. “I must go,” he says. “Flayn will be waiting for me.” With one final, pensive glance back towards her, he stalks back in the direction they’d come, leaving her in silence.

For a few minutes, Byleth just stares at the spot he’d been standing, mind blank.

Shortly, the shock turns to anger. It is mostly self-directed, but as she forces herself into moving and yanks her undershirt back on, it turns in his direction too. All these secret meetings, they meant nothing to him?

They had meant everything to her.

In an attempt to put him out of mind, her thoughts turn to her father. If only he had not died so young. If only she had gotten a normal childhood, maybe none of this would have happened. They could have been happy from the beginning. No need for secrets.

If there’s one thing Byleth knows, it’s that time spent wishing for a different life is of no use to anyone.

Still, in some instances, there is nothing else to do.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Byleth weeps bitterly until there are no tears left to cry.

[ggomos-maribat]

Soul-Stitching: The Heir and the Guardian

Masterlist

Chapter 3: to remember and forget | AO3

CW: Panic attack, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death

If Marinette can put it in simple words, the Justice League's prison doesn't look like a prison at all.  

The neatly-done bed, a queen size perhaps, leans against a large headboard. There's a desk positioned at one corner with a rolling chair tucked into it; at the center sits a sofa set on top of a comfy rug. In the other corner, a narrow door leads to the bathroom. The room is well lit, the palette is quite friendly, and the golden accents speak of lavishness. 

She barely caught onto what the Justice League discussed with the Parisian Government, but suddenly she found herself escorted into the Watchtower. Into space. If he had not already known where she was taken, Adrien would've freaked out.  

Speaking of Adrien, her biggest inconvenience is her lack of direct communication with the others. She trusts that her second-in-command will take care of things while she's gone but if they do get into non-guardian-permitted trips, it's not her problem if they incur more expenses.  

She looks down on the special handcuffs they put on her. Apparently, they are supposed to suppress powers, whether of the meta kind or the magical kind, but as soon as the metal hits her skin, she realizes that the cuffs don't do anything to her. Next, she stares up at the two heroes ordered to escort her. They stare back at her.  

“Um . . .” The shorter one breaks silence, rubbing the back of his head, “You're not actually a bad person, are you?”  

Marinette blinks. “What do you mean?”  

“Are you actually Hawkmoth?”  

“What difference does that make?” She asks. “If I say no, will you let me go?”  

“I—um, no we can't but why didn't you insist that you're innocent?” The masked man asks, “With the right evidence you could've won, but you weren't saying anything. How do you not care about being imprisoned?”  

“I'm not the only one falsely convicted because of the flawed justice system, you know,” says Marinette with practiced nonchalance. “The judge said I'm guilty, so I'm guilty. Nothing I can do about that.”  

“But this is a serious crime. Terrorizing Paris? Causing widespread trauma?” This time, the taller leather jacket-clad one interjects.  

“How is this any different from the situation of the ones wrongfully accused? Does that mean I deserve freedom and they don't?” She tips her head towards the room. “Ironic, how you're imprisoning me, a supposed ‘world threat’, in a luxurious room. If you ask the people in Paris, they'd probably tell you I deserve a death penalty, so this is actually a light punishment.”  

The two seem to have difficulty replying to her words, until the shorter one sighs and tells her, “Still, keep in mind that you still have a chance. The members of the JL are still half-and-half about what to do with you. Some of them want to keep you here under close watch while you're serving your sentence. The others are pretty convinced you didn't do anything—they're having a pretty heated debate right now.”  

“What do you guys think?”  

“I dunno, really. You're weird,” says the tall one.  

“Cool. I'll take that as a compliment.” 

“As a detective, I'm taught to consider every clue first before I act,” says the other. “For now, I still can't say for sure.” 

“Okay, that's reasonable.” She gives a flitting smile. “Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt.”  

She can tell they're feeling awkward based on their expressions and stances. She holds out a cuffed hand. “I'm Marinette, by the way. Nice meeting you both.”  

Marinette nearly laughs at their astonishment. She's aware she's unexpectedly direct even though she's the criminal. The brightly-dressed man steps forward to shake her hand first. “I'm Superboy.”  

And the other tentatively follows: “Nightwing.”  

“Superboy. Nightwing.” She nods, finally stepping into the wide threshold of her room and activating the automatic barrier. “I like you both. Before you go, can I ask when I can eat?”  

The two share a look before Nightwing replies. “Your meals will be delivered at set times. There's some kind of chute over there.” 

“Thanks. See you around?”  

---

Marinette easily falls into a rhythmic routine inside her ‘prison cell’. Though the bed is beyond comfortable, and the meals are filling, she finds that she has nothing to quell her boredom. So instead of walking around aimlessly, she decides to make use of the space to exercise. The other heroes don't seem bothered by this; in fact, in the first two days, rarely anyone stopped by her room. Later on, she wonders if she can request a sketchbook or two.  

Finally, on the third day, she's taken out of her cell, bound into handcuffs again, and brought to what looks like an interrogation room. There is only one occupant—Superman—but the glass panel on one of the walls tells her otherwise.  

She looks up and down at the hero, who gives a polite smile and motions for her to sit. 

“I think you're already aware of the situation you're in?” Superman asks.  

Marinette nods. If unfair treatment and injustice is her current situation then, yes, she is very well aware of that.  

“I know there are things you cannot simply say in court.” His face is grim. “I was there the whole time. But you can tell me, and we'll see what we can do for you. It's safe here.”  

Her eyes stray towards the glass panel, wordlessly saying, ‘Is this what you call safe?’  

“Fine,” Superman sighs, “But can you at least elaborate on why you can't tell us. Is this a binding secret? Will you be harmed if you divulge anything or are there drastic consequences for it?”  

“I'd say a little bit of all three.”  

“Is there anything that will make you talk?”  

She shakes her head. “By keeping silent on the matter, I'm not lying, but I'm not giving the full truth either. I can't tell you because this is what I think is the best course of action to protect you and many other people.”  

“What do you mean?” he presses.  

“You know about what happened to Paris, yes?”  

“Hawkmoth and the akuma attacks . . .”  

“Let's say Ladybug and Chat Noir decided to globally broadcast the existence of miraculi, magical jewels that can grant anyone immense power. What do you think will happen?”  

“It will be chaos. Everyone would be fighting to get a miraculous for themselves.”  

“A perfect example of why knowledge is dangerous.”  

Superman looks like he's thinking it over; she can only predict that he's trying to guess what kind of knowledge she holds, and how far worse it is than the Paris situation.  

“Fine,” he relents, “Can you at least tell us about Hawkmoth's reign?”  

Marinette notes how he said Hawkmoth's reign, which leads her to inwardly ask if he's one of those who believes in her innocence.  

“Why?”  

“What?”  

“Why do I owe you my trauma?” She makes her tone calm but her words impactful. “I've set my expectations for the Justice League, and now I can say that you've gone below it.”  

“What are—”  

“What gives you the right to persecute someone from Paris when you neglected our city when it mattered?” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Much less ask that someone for intel you can't be bothered to find yourself?”  

It's already common knowledge for the Parisians: at one point, the young heroes had called on the JL for aid during Hawkmoth's time, but they were unanswered again and again. It’s just bemusing, how in the most urgent of times, they haven’t responded at all, but when a random girl is convicted of terrorism, suddenly they're all up in their feet.  

The silence in the room is deafening, and Marinette can tell the onlookers outside are speechless as well.  

Superman's voice is painted with deep regret. “I'm sorry. We’re trying to extend our help to the city, even if that doesn't make up for our mistake. We want to do that with you as well, but why do you want to be in prison?”  

Partly, it's because she owes Paris that much. The city never found out who Hawkmoth was, so their anguish was directed at the heroes instead for keeping them in the dark. Then a year later, they find a girl fitting into the profile of their villain. If she's the convenient scapegoat they choose to blame, then so be it.  

“I didn't go here on my own. You guys brought me here,” Marinette says pointedly.  

“That's not what I meant.”  

“You know I can't cooperate even if you try to convince me.” She looks at the window, even if she can only see her reflection. “I think it's best for you to spend your energy elsewhere.”  

---

“That sign is flickering,” Adrien comments with a mouthful of burger in his mouth.  

Eating double-decker burgers in a Batburger parking lot at nearly two in the morning certainly isn't their usual gig. But Adrien gathered from the reliable internet that the Batburgers are a must-try during a Gotham visit, so he decides to hunt for them. Kagami surreptitiously heard about his plans and wanted to tag along, as did Luka. Fei has to join to babysit them.  

“Here, Gami, flip it upside down. The bun will absorb the sauce,” Luka suggests to the girl beside him, who has been attempting to bite down on her burger for a minute already.  

“Seriously, we are being americanized,” quips Fei, who squeezes out some more ketchup on hers.  

“Aw come on, it's a celebration for Adrien,” Luka says, “He did a good job in his defense attorney debut.”  

The boy in question groans, pausing mid-bite to drop down his head on his free hand. “I did so badly! Even when I spent all night reading that textbook on French law and making my cute little badge. She was still proclaimed guilty!”  

“We all know Marinette doesn't mind.” Fei picked up her soda from beside her to let Adrien have a sip. “You could've, you know, told her you'll be representing her. To get the trial running more smoothly.”  

“I had it under control,” the blond insists, “It's just that they brought up the childhood issues card, which is a foul by the way, they basically breached her privacy. I'm still so mad about that!”  

“If I could give my critique, I'd say you should've done a worse number on Rossi,” says Kagami.  

“I couldn't. They would've kicked me out of that trial and disbarred me.”  

“Adrien, you're not a real lawyer in the first place,” Luka reminds him.  

“Whatever. That trial's done and we just have to think about what to do next.” Fei makes a face at the grease on her fingers and furiously rubs them into a napkin. “Marinette's aboard the Watchtower now, so we have to do our work down here—”  

“Marinette's in the Watchtower?!”  

“Yes, Adrien, the JL took her away, remember?”  

“Do you think if I turn myself in for fraud, the JL will take me there too?”  

“Adrien—”  

“What if I say my father's the supervillain, do you think they'll take me? That earns me criminal points, right?”  

Kagami delivers a light slap to his arm. “I thought we agreed that you would not joke about that.”  

Adrien lets out a huff of defeat, focusing back on his burger. Just then a noise sounds out from above them—looking up, he sees that a vigilante has landed on top of the restaurant, partially cloaked by the night. The figure offers a friendly wave, which Fei snorts at.  

“Did we do something?” Adrien whispers as he looks at his friends. “If this is about the camembert stash in our hotel room, I swear to kwamis, it's not me.”  

“What does the infamous Red Robin want with us?” Fei yells up at the stranger.  

“Oh good. You know me.” Red Robin drops down to a ledge, much closer so they can hear him.  

“This is about Marinette, isn't it?” Luka guesses out loud.  

The vigilante nods. “The Justice League is conducting its own investigation for her case. I was hoping to hear from you, since you four are her closest friends.”  

“What's there to hear from us?” Adrien asks. “I already gave my statements to the court.” 

“Before you ask us, we knew nothing about her involvement with the Butterfly miraculous before the whole thing blew up,” Fei supplies firmly.  

Red Robin taps his fingers on his leg. Adrien wishes he can see him better, because he's pretty sure the Gothamite is buzzing with eagerness. Entertainment. “This isn't a formal interrogation so I call your bullshit. You're obviously lying.”  

“Even if we are, you don't have the evidence for that claim.” Adrien licks the sauce that has gathered on his thumb. “The police already asked us. They got nothing from us.”  

“But aren't you concerned that your friend just got thrown into jail?”  

Ah. All the while, they've been munching on fast food in a deserted parking lot. Adrien can tell there's something wrong with that picture. 

Kagami smiles wryly. “Marinette assured us she'll be fine before she was arrested. Unless the Justice League has turned inhumane and is currently torturing her?”  

“No—no, of course not! A handful of the heroes want to prove her innocence, in fact. Don't you want to help out?”  

“Even if we do want to fight for her freedom,” Fei replies, “Are you insinuating that we try to break her out of space prison?”  

And Luka adds, “Marinette's very stubborn if you haven't seen yourself already. We can't help her if she doesn't want to be helped.” 

“Any idea why she's like that?”  

The four of them simultaneously shrug.  

“So your lips are sealed like hers. Got it.” Red Robin sighs. “Why are you in Gotham?”  

“Oh? Did tourists need clearance from the Bats before vacationing in Gotham?” Adrien quips, raising an eyebrow.  

“No, I thought you'll be in Paris. Imagine my surprise tracking you down here.”  

Fei crosses her arms. “Marinette's trial opened up fresh wounds in that city. Of course anyone would want to escape for a short while.”  

“You're not from Paris.”  

“I was close enough to Marinette to understand what it was like. I'm from Shanghai, which Hawkmoth also targeted once, in case you haven't done your research.”  

“You're having a getaway in Gotham, though. Why in Gotham?”  

“Why does that matter?” Adrien rakes a hand through his hair. “If you're concerned about our safety here, don't be. We have experience beating up akumas while half-awake.”  

“Actually we wanted to see what's so great about Gotham that Batman chose to neglect Paris all this time,” says Kagami casually.  

That seems to have struck a nerve. “We didn't know—!”  

“You ignored a city crying for help,” Fei says, “Sorry birdy, but this is a touchy subject if you ask all Parisians. They may have given Marinette to the JL, but everyone still holds a grudge. It's not just us.”  

Later on, they finally chase off the talkative bird, but Adrien has grown quiet. While the burger did lift his mood a little, Red Robin's appearance has soured it again. He angrily sips on the last of Fei's drink (which he promises to replace at another time), leaning against one hand on the pavement.  

“The nerve of them,” he mutters. “Now I don't want to stay in Gotham anymore. Let's go back to base.”  

---

Damian's heart is practically leaping out of his chest. The incidents in Paris and the convicted girl are all the talk in the Wayne manor. At first, he had no mind of looking into it himself until he saw a picture of her.  

Before he knows it, he's suited up, headed towards the Zeta tubes and the Watchtower, breathless but persistent. He knows that face from his dreams. He has memorized that girl in his memories. If there is a chance she's alive after all, he doesn't care how; he just needs to confirm it with his own eyes.  

Finally he's there and he sees her sitting on the foot of the bed. Her blue eyes widen when they meet his, and she presses herself against the wall when he subconsciously opens up the barrier himself. That's when it dawns on Damian that it is her, it's Marie in the flesh, the girl he killed when he was a child. Overwhelmed with the tightness in his chest, he drops on the ground, trembling. 

“Hey, are you okay? What's going on?”  

He feels her presence nearby but her voice seems warped, like he's hearing her underwater. He tries to blink his eyes back into focus, only to be met with a hazy double vision. Hot tears run down the sides of his face; he doesn't notice the hands holding onto his arms.  

“You—you . . .I don't—” he chokes out.  

The voice is closer now. “Stay with me, okay? You're going to be okay. Come on, deep breaths.”  

Damian cannot even control himself, which is such a foreign feeling. His body is wracked with sobs as he holds onto her tightly in the fear she'll disappear before him again. He can't form coherent words, nor stop the shaky cries from his throat. It's as if all the grief he's bottled up in his childhood is coming out all at once.  

She slowly shushes him. “It's okay. I'm going to touch your back now, is that okay?”  

He nods against her shoulder, hearing his heartbeat become less erratic. A small hand presses against his suit and rubs circles on it. He starts to savor the warmth— 

“What are you doing?!”  

He's suddenly separated from that warmth, but he can't register what's happening. He can hear loud yelling and footsteps rushing, and from the corner of his eye, he catches the movement of his father's cape. Damian whimpers, clutching his head.  

“I don't know! He suddenly came in and—”  

I needed to see her! 

“You used magic on him!”  

No, she didn’t harm me. I need to talk to her! 

“No, I did not, he's having a panic attack—”  

Stop, please—the words seem to dissolve on his lips.

“Stay away from my son!”  Damian doesn't know how or when, but he's being carried away from the warmth, from her. His body struggles to break free, but he's forcefully held down. The tears come again, unstoppable as his whole body shakes. 

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Fun Fact! The idea of Adrien being Marinette's defense lawyer came from a joke between him and Kagami. If you ask Luka, he'll say he had no part in it. They carefully kept the secret from Fei and Marinette until the day of the trial . . . for obvious reasons Taglist: @noisydreamlandkoala