#life sure comes at you fast huh?

[skyburger]

WHAT THE HELL NOBODY EVER TOLD ME TWO OF MY FAVE VILLAGERS GOT A LINE STICKER TOGETHER. ive loved tabby for YEARS like since 2019 at LEAST. and these stickers are from 2018 how did i not know !!! i love tabby and boots so much 😭😭😭 TABBY AND BOOTS ANIMAL CROSSING I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHH OOMFS FOREVER AND EVER

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[bunnys-kisses]

love is a kick to the stomach

max verstappen - sequel to: lust is a loaded hand gun

tags: smut/fluff, pregnancy & kids, falling in love, dad!max, body worship, tenderness, plot, cowgirl position

a/n: this was made possible by the support of over a dozen people asking for a sequel! i hope you enjoy it <3

"are you sure you're going to be fine on your own?" your former teammate charles asked as he helped you pack the last of your suitcases. your apartment in monaco was bare, and for good reason, you were going home.

you replied with a shrug, "i'll be fine. i mean if i could sustain a driving career for as long as i did. i can handle raising a baby." you rubbed your lower back a little bit.

charles said,"i guess so, you know, monaco isn't a terrible place to raise a child." he gestured to himself with raised eyebrows.

"as much as i'd love to." you said, "i think people will start to raise eyebrows when they see max's look-alike running around. plus, i guess it's a way to get away from it. something simpler for my kid."

you hadn't spoken to the father of your son, max didn't know you were pregnant. and it was the best for everyone if he never knew that you had a child with him.

you remember the first time you held nicolas in your arms, it took you close to ten hours for you to deliver him. you had to say, the aches and pains of racing were nothing compared to the rising anxiety and pain of delivering a child. didn't help he was stubborn like this father. you tried not to think about max too much during the moments of lessened pain. part of you wanted him there, while you were determined to raise your child alone. the moments of weakness you felt during delivery made you want to hastily unblock max's number and call him before the next contractions came.

"okay, okay. just you and me, baby, just you and me." you told yourself as you laid in the hospital bed with your belly swollen from the months of carrying your son. you hissed through your teeth as another contraction hit.

in the end, you had nicolas. or nico as you called him. tired, over-heated as you pushed out your baby. the nurse told you it was a boy. wrapped in a blanket as he was placed on your chest. you could only describe it as maternal warmth as you cried. this was your baby. your little nico. "congratulations." the nurse told you as you held onto him gently. when you gave birth to your son, max was in monaco streaming with the rest of the redline team. fully unaware that you just had his child.

you lived a quiet life after that, but sometimes you could still feel the rumble of the track in your soul. it pulled you in, there was no reason for it to come back. there was no way you could, nico needed his mother and you made the choice to start a family of your own.

"nico!" you giggled towards your toddler, nico was now close to three years old! you picked him up from his spot at the coffee table, surrounded by papers and markers. you gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, "remember uncle charlie?" you swayed a little with the child in your arms.

the little boy nodded, "uh-huh." charles sent you and nico christmas presents every year. he even visited once or twice during summer break and spent a week with the two of you, he loved the time away from the hustle and bustle of racing. nico knew uncle charlie mostly because of leo, you had to teach him how to be gentle with the dog.

"well, he is inviting us somewhere. we're going to see him race, just like what mama used to do." it was the pre-season testing, it would be nice to see everyone. see how things changed in the three years since you left, "i know you've been asking about the cars." you smiled at the little boy.

nico really was the son of two racers, even now he was colouring pages of cars and he learned some of his colours from the cars in your neighbourhood. his expression light up, "the cars?"

you chuckled and said, "yes! we'll see the cars go really fast." it felt somewhat silly to say that raising a child felt more fulfilling than any of the titles you won.

it was almost more challenging with more rewards. driving was intense and lit an inferno in your stomach. but, you were constantly swarmed by the media with people yelling in your ear at all times. you were both hated and loved by the press, the organization and the fans. and while parenthood was harder in a lot of ways, it was nice. it was quieter. you saw friends, you found interest in painting, you read all the books you bought on your travels as a racer. the best part about having a kid was having a travel buddy. you weren't your stats or your trophies, you were just you.

but driving was a drug, and you also wanted to see the cars go very fast. so within a couple of weeks you were on the track for the pre-season.

"and that nico, is a racing car." you pointed towards the red ferrari car. a similar one to the one you drove. and you watched your young son light up the way you did all those years prior.

-

you knew you were going to see max. it was stupid to think that you could not see him. he had won the previous year's wdc, he was everywhere. so while you spoke to lewis and charles, you caught sight of him. and he caught sight of the toddler in your arms.

charles looked over to where your gaze was and said, "oh shit." then tried to shift over to sort of usher you and nico away from the gaze of max. but you reached out and touched your former teammates shoulder.

"it's fine..." you assured him. the past year, as it felt like nico was growing so much everyday. the feelings about max had resurfaced. while you believed that you and your network of friends and family could raise nico just fine. max didn't know that nico existed. a night of passion was just that in max's mind.

you shifted your toddler in your arms and looked over to max. you smiled and gave him a small wave. and you could see the expression cross max's face.

nico let go of the front of your shirt and made child's grabby-hands towards the man. and max took a bold step forward, and then another, and then another before he was crowded in your space. an expression across his face as he looked down at you and nico.

"hey." you said.

"hi." he replied. he raised his hand for a moment, but stopped himself. he swallowed and asked, "who is this?"

you looked down at the boy who was holding onto your shirt once more. you smiled at max, "nicolas. but everyone calls him nico. he's my son."

our son.

max swallowed and looked at the boy. he patted him on the top of the head and smiled, "well, hello nico. your mama was an amazing driver." he looked at you once more before you were pulled away by charles to see the rest of the ferrari team. max watched you walk away, just as he did all those years prior.

-

"can i watch nico?" charles asked while

"i can watch him just fine. i've been doing it for three years." you chuckled as you grabbed a chip from the bag and ate it.

charles crossed his arms and looked at you, "when was the last time you had a break? plus me and alexandra are thinking about, maybe, having a child once my career winds down." he smiled a little, "want to make sure that i can handle a three year old."

you looked to your son on the carpeted floor playing with the duplo blocks that you had brought with you. you then looked to charles and asked, "so you're probably assuming that if you can handle the son of me and him, you can handle your own child?"

charles nodded, "the child of ferrari's princess and mad max. must be a handful." he laughed a little.

"he's not the son of satan, charles." you playfully shoved your former teammate. and he shrugged. you were thankful in a way that you didn't go with charles' plan for him to father your child. you felt like that would've been more complicated than what you had now, since you liked charles' current partner.

"take the night off or at least a few hours. go do something for yourself." charles gave you a sympathetic glance. and you had no choice to concede.

he was right, since nico's birth you had no time for yourself unless he was asleep. but usually you fell asleep too. in the end you dressed nicely, in a pencil skirt and a white blouse. you had your purse on hand and told charles to text you if there were any issues. and you made nico promise you to be good. you kissed the boy's cheek before you headed out.

you ended up at a bar. it wasn't busy and you blended in with the other patrons. the press didn't bother you too much, you had been out of the spotlight for long that it was mostly making the public aware that you still existed and now you had a kid.

"well, well, well." a man's voice caught your attention. you looked up from your phone to see max by your table, "has ferrari's princess finally come back to her castle."

you swallowed, "hi, max."

"where's the little one?"

"with charles tonight."

max nodded, "i was going to make a joke about him being the father... but i know that's not true." he sat down across from you at the table. he rested his forearms on the table, his watch shined in the low light of the bar, "what happened?"

"nothing happened. i just retired."

"with my son... a son i knew nothing about." his voice was low, "why didn't you tell me? do you think so low of me i wouldn't have tried to help? you ran off back home and blocked me..." there was a look in his eyes.

"i didn't want to burden the world champion." you lied as you took a sip of your stiff drink. you felt tension in your shoulders as you took a sip. your heart rattled in your chest, "i didn't expect you to do anything. i didn't need you to."

max reached across the small table and took a hold of your wrist to bring your closer. then he locked his fingers with yours. he said, "maybe i wanted to... did you never think i wanted to be a father?"

you swallowed, "no." you assumed he didn't. not after everything, you heard enough of his father's berating in your karting career. the angry dutch words followed by insults in english so everyone knew what was being said. and that apprently only scratched the surface of what had been done to him. you thought max was a good fit because he would be so disinterested in being a parent. but as he looked at you, hand in yours. you realized you made a grave error. you said, "being a parent isn't easy."

max chuckled, "i know. i'm not stupid. i thought about that night we shared, it comes back to me. i've never wanted someone the way i wanted you. and to know you carried my child, it only pulls me in more."

you took another sip of your drink with your free hand and said, "and what are you going to do about it, verstappen?" you may be a mother now, but you were ferrari's princess, the temptress on wheels. you'd still go toe-to-toe with any man.

max simply smiled.

-

you ended up in max's hotel room. his hands on you like they were all those years ago. he touched you the way a lover would as the two of you passionately made out. you moaned against his lips and you held onto his strong shoulders.

"i thought about you every day of your retirement. i wanted to know what happened. i thought you were sick." he kissed along your neck, his hands at your waist.

"i mean, i did have quite the stomach bug. took ten hours to get him out." you moaned a little bit as his lips grazed over your pulse point. you could feel a surge of pleasure through you. you had been with anyone intimately since max. you didn't have time for dates let alone hook-ups.

"i should've been there. i would've been there in a heartbeat. you, me, nico... a family." he said as he looked to you once more and you toyed with the material of his shirt, "i always had a fondness for you. you let nothing stop you."

you smiled, "i always thought you wanted a model... not a driver."

he pressed his chest against yours and looked into your eyes, "maybe in another time. i wish i could've seen you pregnant." he swallowed as his hands touched your breasts.

you chuckled lowly, "someone wanted a milf?"

he shook his head as he pressed his forehead to yours, "no, no. i wanted to see your body change from what we made. the child we made together."

"but racing..."

he groaned, "fuck it. choose between another trophy taking up space in my apartment... or a home with you and nico. such a hard choice, don't you think?" he chuckled as he held you so close to him. he groped your breasts, "a man who finds more fulfillment in pieces of plastic and metal than having a home to go to is a stupid man."

you chuckled, "i guess i didn't want to be your wag either."

he shook his head, "i don't think you can be a wag if you played the sport. if you are worried about there being expectations placed on you, then don't worry. if you can't drive, then i'll drive twice as hard for us. any ten second gap i have will be twenty seconds, because i know you only expect the best."

you felt warmth in your cheeks. and eventually he led you to the bedroom. you ended up on the bed with max undoing your button up. you giggled, "ah, does someone like mothers?"

he groaned with his nose against your heated skin, "only when they had my kid... nico looked exactly like me." he said as he got the button up off your shoulder.

you moaned, but then yelped as he pushed you back onto the bed. you looked up at him, "i'm on birth control." you licked your lips as you got out of your bra and max took off his t-shirt, "fuck, now i remember why i wanted to have a baby with you."

he put his hands on his hips and smiled. tiny waist, broad shoulders. a certain strength to him, but he didn't look like a dehydrated mess. he was strong in a way that excited you, but you also knew that he loved a good meal. long before he gorged himself on your cunt, he happily ate the meals you cooked. you remember he even said, "you'd make a great wife." which honestly sowed the seed that led to nico.

the night of passion that led to the making of your son. you could feel max's eyes wander across your body and he licked his lips. he said, "you look good. bit more curves than when we last were like this."

"yeah, i had an eight pound baby." you chuckled as you got the rest of your clothes off. max's hungry gaze lingered, "i got a few more curves that a track as carry him for nine months, you know he was three days overdue."

"stubborn." max laughed as he unzipped his jeans, "just like his mama."

you narrowed your eyes, "no, just like his old man." and max was all over you. the kissed became hungry and needy. neither of you had been intimate with another person since the night you made nico. three years ago. you were busy with a baby while max couldn't get you out of his head. he tried to find another woman, he tried to be close to someone. but you always pulled in the back of his mind.

both of you were into the hotel room and max kissed at your breasts. your breasts were roughly average size before you got pregnant. the training and weight guidelines for racing prevented you from having a big chest. but you went up at least a cup and a half during your pregnancy. and max loved kissing the heated skin.

"fuck." you gasped. both naked on the bed, moved against one another. it was like being in a familiar place. you knew max's body just as you did all those years ago. you kissed him and ended up straddled max's waist.

he was up against the pillows and your knees on either side of him. your hands roamed his chest and he shuddered. he looked up at you with those blue eyes, "please, fuck. please, give me a chance. give me a chance to be there for you and nico.."

you swallowed, you never expected that from max. a man on the top like that wouldn't easily quiver at the aspect of being a father. but max wanted it. he wanted the family. he wanted a home. you sighed to yourself, you guessed an apartment full of trophies wasn't enough.

you put a hand on his chest before you sank on his cock, "max. if nico decided not to peruse racing.... would you still love him?" that was a conversation you had to have with yourself. you loved racing, that was your passion for years. but you promised yourself to never be the parent that you saw early in your career. twisting their children to make them conform to the parent's standards. to force them into racing.

he said, those blue eyes gazed up at you, "if nico wanted to race. i'm behind him a hundred percent. if it doesn't, nothing changes... he is still my son. i'm behind him through everything."

you leaned down to kiss max on the lips, "fuck, max." you sank down onto his cock and continued to kiss him. you splayed your hands across his broad chest and continued to move against him.

"shit." he shuddered. he felt a certain euphoria that left him needy for more. never had he had soemthing like this. not since the last time he had you. it was a amazing. to have you so close once more. he wrapped his strong arms around you and moved against you. the kisses shared between you two were hot and heavy, it left him feeling tense in a good way. to have you on top of him, close to him was a feeling he wished he could never forget.

even after three years you still occupied his mind in ways that left him shuddering against you. after three years, after all this time, he still wanted to map your body with his tongue. even the changes post-pregnancy. he held onto you and kissed at your heated skin. he wished he was there, seeing the progress of you carrying nico. to be a father. he moved against you, he held you. he loved you, but he had been holding onto that love for some time. unable to properly display it, and to find out you had a child with him only fueled the passion for you. the two of you moved against one another, you both felt the intense pleasure from the heated movements against one another.

this was how you should've been a long time ago. if max had known you wanted a baby, he would've happily had one with you. but he should've been there for every moment of it. even if you couldn't race because of the pregnancy, max would kiss every winning trophy in your honor, he'd race for both of you. and then come to the paddock with you and nico, a family of three. a family he always wanted.

he wanted to kiss you in front of the cameras. even if you were retired, he wanted to make you feel that every winning was for both of you. he kissed at you heated skin and you moaned, he felt the warmth of love in his gut. you two should've been married by now, a house somewhere quiet. it didn't even have to be in monaco. max would happily pack up his racing sim gear and his cats, and move to anywhere you desired. he hoped that you two could be a family.

to come home after a triple header and see you and nico. the boy looked so much like him. those round cheeks, those wide eyes. the excitement on the track and his need to be close to his mother (you). it screamed a young max, but max wanted to be a better father. he wanted to be present, he wanted to be there for his son.

he groaned, "please, please. let me into your little family." he kissed as your larger breasts and moved against you. the pleasure was deep inside of him. to have you once more felt like a dream.

you held onto his short hair for a moment, you groaned a little bit as you felt the immense heat between you two. you leaned down and kissed him on the head with such tenderness. this wasn't the kind of sex you had all that time ago, this was something more softer. more gentle. less like a means to an end, and more like you two were becoming familiar with each other's bodies again.

"you look perfect," he said lowly, "i'm surprised you hadn't picked uo a husband after all the time." he held on a little tighter and worked your body against him. the pleasure shot through the both of you which only spurred you on the move faster.

your bucked your hips against his, you felt the inferno in your belly as you held his face and kissed him once more. if he wanted to be in nico's life then you'd allow it. you'd let max be involved, be the father he wanted to be. you thought his trophies were more important, but seeing him, his eagerness to be in nico's life made you realize that he wanted a family, a home. you kissed him once more as the two of you thrusted against one another.

you knew racing would always pull you back in eventually. it had that effect on people. it was infectious, even tucked away in your domestic life. you still sat on the couch with your rambunctious toddler and watched the races at odd hours.

"why do you want a life with me and nico, you could have any-"

"i don't want to hear it. nico deserves a father and you deserve a loving partner... hell, maybe even a husband." he said with total conviction as he moved against you. the pleasure felt like it was going to boil over soon.

you moved against him, eagerness in your movements. you couldn't think of anymore things to prevent max from being part of your family. your movements staggered and you felt the pleasure bloom into something more. you hissed, "fuck," while you moved against him. you felt the inferno in your soul, the need for him in ways you didn't need any other man.

this was the father of your son, and you carried feelings for him just as you carried nico. the combination of you two, the affection you had for one another in a brief moment. it was something you wanted to expand on. you wanted to love max verstappen.

you held onto the father of your child. you came around his cock and arched your back. you felt the fury of lust through your body as you moved against him. you laid a heavy kiss on his lips as your pussy clenched around his cock, "fuck." you said, words muffled by the kiss. max wrapped his strong arms around you and moved against you further. you felt his cock nudge against some of your softest areas and it made you toes curl through climax.

he groaned into the kiss and continued to move against you. a few more heavy strokes and he finished inside of you. he practically melted against you and you smiled against his lips with affection. his brain felt swamped with emotion as he said, "i love you."

and without thinking you replied, "i love you too, max." then kissed him once more with total affection for one another.

max swallowed as he held you as you slowed your pace to a stop. he craned his neck to press his cheek against your soft stomach, "don't leave again... please."

"max." you panted and combed your fingers through his hair. he held onto you tighter as if you were going to slip away.

he said, in a tone you never thought you could hear from a world champion, "don't.. don't leave." this was supposed to be simple. max was a means to a child, but he wanted to be in nico's life. he wanted to be a father.

you wrapped your arms around him and held him close to your abdomen. you exhaled deeply and said, "i don't want to pressure you into being a father... if you're going to be in his life, you're going all in. he needs stability."

max lifted his head to look at you. those blue eyes dazzled in the low light of his hotel room. he held onto you a little tighter, not enough to bruise however. he said, "i'm all in. you, me, and nico." like a promise.

maybe it was the post-orgasm hormones or maybe because you became a tad more in touch with your emotions after having a child. but when max said that, you cried.

-

"go nico! go, go!!!" you shouted as your nine year old sailed past the finish line in first place and you broke into a grin. your husband wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close into a kiss. you laughed into the kiss and said to your husband, "oh man. ow, ow. okay, okay!" you looked down at your swollen middle, "someone isn't happy about the excitement."

"sorry there, little one." max's hand rubbed your swollen middle. his wedding band gleamed in the afternoon light. you were welcoming a son in four months and could already feel the commotion of racing.

you smiled at max for a moment before your son got out of the cart and you were moving as fast as you could to greet him. with his helmet off, you cupped your son's chubby cheeks. he was looking more like max every day, but smashed records the way you did.

you were soon a family of four. you didn't live in your home country and max had moved away from monaco when you got married. max was a good father, as he picked up nico with ease.

"you did amazing, nico. good job!" he beamed at the little boy and the boy beamed back at him. you knew that people shouldn't have children to heal a part of themselves. you learned that when you were pregnant the first time. but when max gave praise to your son, he was giving the young boy the support he never got. that if nico was going to eventually end up in formula one, it wasn't going to be the way that max was brought up.

he'd do it right.

stern when he needed to be. you'd both push nico to be the best, but also give him the love a wide-eyed, chubby cheeked boy needed. and as you leaned down as best as you could to kiss your son on the cheek. you felt like a family. it felt like home.

you were confident that you could've raised both nico and your future son by yourself. but it was an adventure you'd rather share with max. <3

[mead-iocre]

Trick or Treat | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: you and your son go trick or treating and meet your neighbour

warnings: none

wc: 4.1k words

You arch, massaging away the kinks around your lower back with your fingers. At your age, you should not be getting back pain this often, but the reality is that having a good, flexible back is a privilege afforded to women who did not get pregnant at 19 years old, and are now a single mom to a very active 3 year old boy. 

You glance at the pile of boxes still stacked up against the wall and groan. The fun part of moving to a new place was knowing this was a new chapter in your life. There were new places to explore, and new people that could walk into your life to replace the ones you left behind. You forgot that having to unpack all your stuff was an essential hurdle you needed to get through first before you can even get to the fun part. 

At first, you were nervous about moving so far away, packing up your life to go to an entire continent away from home. Mom tried to talk you out of it, but you knew you needed a fresh start. And the further away the better.

You are knocked out of your thoughts by a soft thud coming from your son’s room. Since there was no crying that followed, you don’t rush out of the room but you quicken your pace regardless. You would’ve count on your rowdy child to injure himself somehow if left alone for too long.

You poke your head into the room. “Hey, bubba” 

A head of brown curls pop up from the other side of the bed. “Mama!”

The love of your life, and a tornado in the form of a little human, comes barreling over to you, struggling slightly with his little legs. It’s as if his mind is telling him to go fast, but his legs can’t catch up just yet. You crouch down to catch him before he knocks you down like a bowling pin. 

“What’cha doing?” You look around the room and sure enough there are crayons, farm animal figurines, and plastic toy tractors scattered everywhere. It was a mess, and it was only 11 am the morning. 

His room is still pretty bare aside from a small, low bed with little astronauts on his sheets, the blankets rumpled to the side from his nap earlier.

A simple dresser stands across the room, a few drawers pulled open and hurriedly filled with folded toddler clothes. Nearby, a lamp casts the only real light in the room. There's a small red spaceship-shaped rug near the bed, for little feet. In one corner, a couple of cardboard boxes that were stacked a while ago, containing toys and books, has now been tipped over.

Turning your attention to the boy in your arms, you are reminded exactly why you learned not to mind the mess. His brown eyes, with specks of green, round and framed by long dark lashes have you wrapped around his pudgy finger. He snuggles into the crook of your neck and you feel your heart melt all over again. 

“Playing dinos” 

You feel something pointy digging into your stomach, and when you feel around for the culprit, you find a plastic little t-rex in the pocket of his shorts. Obviously. 

You wave the plastic reptile at him, lightly poking one rosy cheeky with the head. “Bet you’re having fun, huh?”

Giggles ring out, and all you want to do is bottle up that sound forever. You heave him higher up your hip and use your mom privilege to rain as many kisses all over his face. 

The doorbell ringing catches your attention. You walk out of Reid's room and into the living room; allowing your wriggly son to slide off of you, to which he then promptly runs towards his basket of toys by corner of the sofa. You haven’t even opened the door yet before the unmistakable sound of wooden toy cars and blocks being dumped onto the floor can be heard. Lovely. 

You open the door and your find one of your neighbours, Liz standing on the other side. You haven’t met all your neighbours, and you probably won’t ever get the chance to considering the building has multiple floors, with multiple units on each floor, but you tried to take the time to introduce yourself to your neighbours when you see them. You blame the urge on the American in you. Making an effort to know your neighbours has always been the way you were raised.  

“Hello, Liz” You greet her. She is always so impeccably dressed and today she was sporting the comfiest looking green sweater you have ever seen. 

“Hi, dear. Just wanted to check on ya” You and Reid got the warmest welcome from her and her husband, Ben. Most of the people who live in the apartment were single professionals, or couples without kids. You could probably count with one hand the amount of families with kids that lived in the building. 

You open the door wider, inviting her into your home. She strolls in, leaving the scent of fresh lilies and ripe pear wafting in the air. “How’s the little man?”

“He’s good. He’s excited to go treat or treating tomorrow” You pull out a chair for her to sit and walk over to start the kettle. 

“I bet he is! What’s he going as?” 

You grab the tea bags and the spoons from the cupboard. “We’re still deciding, but we’ve narrowed it down to Spiderman or a Dinosaur” 

“Brilliant choices. I can’t wait to see him! You will stop by our door right?” They lived a few floors below you.

“Of course! Yours will be our first stop!” 

“Make sure you check the leaflet they gave out that tells you all the houses that are handing out candy. Remember, only the houses with pumpkins on their doors will be giving out candy” 

You nod, stirring the tea. Liz had warned you about this when you first brought it up days ago. You knew that trick or treating wasn’t a big thing in England, compared to back home but you were glad some houses around the area were planning on handing out candy. A part of you wanted your son to experience Halloween like you did growing up, but life just does not work that way. Maybe one day.

“I know. I think he’s more excited to wear his costume then actually trick or--”

You both turn when the crashing sound of wooden building blocks ring out. 

“Uh oh!” a sweet little voice calls out.

You pause for a second. No wailing, no yells for "mama", which is a good sign. It means no broken bones.

"Are you alright, bubba?”

“I’m okay!” You hear back. Then you hear the sound of wooden blocks tumbling again. He's fine.

Liz and you share a laugh before tucking into your mugs of tea. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Did you buy any candy?” Lia asks, picking up her plate and taking it to the sink. The other girls follow suit, cleaning the table free of pumpkin guts, and pumpkin carving supplies. Viv takes the intiative to wipe down the table, while Lotte starts going around with a black rubbish bag.

Leah furrows her eyebrows at the Swiss midfielder, confused. She stood up with her own plate to follow her teammates as they crowd by her kitchen.

The Swiss rolls her eyes at the questioning look from the her English teammate. One eyebrow raised so high it's nearly touching her hairline “For the trick or treaters”

“No?” Was the Arsenal defender's response.

“You won’t be having trick or treaters over?” 

“Nah. I might have an early night. Alex is having that party the night after tomorrow…” Alex always throws a halloween party every year, complete with costumes, loud music and lots and lots of drinks. Apparently this year, she rented out an entire club for the night.

Lia dries the plate that she’s been washing and places it on the rack. She turns to the English blonde, a hand on her hip. “Yeah but you know-- just in case. What if kids come knocking?”

The Arsenal defender pauses in the middle of washing her cutlery, and actually cares to think for a second. “Well then I’ll hand them a can of tuna” 

Lia gives her an unimpressed look.

Leah just shrugs. Halloween just isn't as celebrated around here. And especially not the whole trick or treating thing. “It’s trick…or treat, Lia. I reckon I should give them kids a trick once in a while” 

“The real trick would be that scowl on your face, Leah. No need to bully them with a can of tuna too” Beth pipes up, making a face, imitating her captain. 

The girls all laugh but Leah is unfazed. She's used to her "captain face" being the butt of jokes.

Lia was still not ready to let go of the topic of conversation. She presses, “I still think you should run down to the shops and grab a bag at least. Just to be safe” 

Leah fights the urge to roll her eyes. Lia was currently drying her hands with a tea towel, and the blonde has no doubt that the Swiss will use it on her if she catches an eye roll. “I’m pretty sure there are only two families with kids in the building. I could just chuck a few bags of crisps and a can of diet coke at them. It’ll be fine.” Surely she had a few packets of crisps lying around in her pantry somewhere.

“Just for that I hope you get a hundred kids knocking on your door tonight.” Lia threatens lightly. Walking over to the coat rack by the door, she picks up her coat, shrugging it on.

Leah stands off to the side as she watches her guests grab their things. “Slim chance of that happening, mate. I’m not leaving a pumpkin out tonight” 

“But we carved them for a reason” Beth points at the pumpkins all the girls are carrying in their arms. Being the only American on the team, Emily had somehow roped all the girls into carving pumpkins to celebrate the holiday. They had a fun time, and it granted everyone a chill night before tomorrows party kicks off.

“And I’m not inviting trick or treaters to my door.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The girls pile out of the door, each carrying their own freshly carved pumpkin. The girls say their goodbyes to each other by the door, promising to see each other tomorrow evening for the halloween party. Muted partings are shared by the door, and the smell of fresh pumpkin filling the hallway. Beth clutches Viv’s pumpkin in one hand while the other carries her own-- albeit struggling to keep her balance. 

“Beth, can you grab the keys from my pocket? I can’t do it while I’m holding Myle”

The blonde raises an eyebrow, gesturing at her hands that were currently occupied by two festive orange vegetables. “I’m the one holding both of our pumpkins?”

Viv shoots her lover an exasperated look. Leave it to Beth to state the obvious and leave it at that. Sometimes Viv wonders how her girlfriend survived without her for so long “Put one down then, darling” 

Beth complies, but not without exaggerating her groans as she bends towards the floor, still mindful of her knee many months later. “Maybe if you didn’t spoil the princess so much,” quick glance at the content spaniel nestled in Viv’s arms. 

“Ignore her. Mummy’s grumpy” Viv whispers to the dog. 

Beth crotches down to place one of the pumpkins on the door, right by Leah’s door. She reaches over to fish the car keys from Viv’s pocket, steals a kiss from her lover’s lips, and marches towards the elevators. Unbeknownst to her, leaving behind a lone pumpkin by the Arsenal defender's door. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Leah cracks open a can of diet coke. She glances at the time on her phone, the clock reading 8:05 pm. Unsurprisingly, she has not had any knocks on her door. Usually there would be trick or treaters around 6pm, around the time school finishes. In the years that she has been living in this building, most of the kids are done trick or treating by 8pm. Where are the hundreds of trick or treaters you wished would evade my house, Lia?

She settles on the sofa, stretching out her legs and grabbing the remote to turn on the television. When she finally settles on a live tennis match, she grabs a throw blanket and gets comfortable. 

Ding! Dong!

When her doorbell goes off, Leah doesn’t think much of it. She slips on her slippers, and drags her feet towards her front door. Pulling it open, at first she sees no one. When she lowers her eyes downwards, she is met with Spiderman. A small Spiderman, with little brown curls sticking out from underneath his face mask. He was holding a small bright orange pumpkin bucket. 

Leah is frozen at first. Partly amused by the sight of the mini Spiderman, she was also internally panicking at the fact that she cannot give this child (who looks below the age of 5) a can of diet coke. She mentally tries to remember if she had Fruitshoot or Ribena in the fridge. Of course she doesn't.

Then she hears a woman’s voice whisper from somewhere, “say trick or treat, bubba”

The little boy shuffles on his two feet. A cute little thing. “Oh. Trick or Treat!” He holds up his pumpkin bucket, already filled with mini bars chocolates and a colourful array of sweets. The bucket is practically half his size, and he falters slightly in his step trying to hold it up for so long. 

The female voice belonging to the mystery woman finally steps into her view and Leah’s heart stutters. 

Wow. She’s beautiful. 

Leah didn’t have to think to hard to come to the conclusion that this stunning woman was the little boy’s mother. Her heart drops slightly. Mentally cursing whoever the lucky bastard was that got to see this woman everyday. Obviously a pretty woman like her could not be single.

Meanwhile, you failed to notice the blonde’s blatant gawking. Far too focused on your son, and how he has now stuck his hand in his pumpkin bucket and was fishing out a mini bag of sweets. He hands you the bag of sweets with a charming smile, “Mama, open?”

You mentally patted yourself on the back for having the foresight to decide to do dinner early tonight. It meant that you did not need to worry about Reid’s appetite for the rest of the night so you took the mini bag of candy from him and ripped the bag open.

Leah couldn’t help it, but she watched your hands. She couldn’t help but steal glances at your ring finger in particular, half-expecting to see a gleam of gold or silver that would hint at a commitment or a partner waiting for you at home. Just in case. Just out of curiosity. 

But there it was—nothing. Just smooth, bare skin

There was no ring. Your ring finger was untouched, not even a hint of a tan line that some couples might get from wearing their ring for so long. 

“There you go, bub” You hand him the opened pack of fruit roll up and he eagerly grabbed for it. It was then you remembered that you were standing in front of someone’s front door. You turn your head to find the owner of the house, a tall, pretty blonde leaning against the side of the door frame. Her hair was tied up in a low ponytail, tendrils of blonde hair frame her face. She was dressed in grey sweatpants, paired with a loose black oversized sweatshirt. You eye the familiar logo on the right side of the shirt– Arsenal. The football club. She must be a fan. 

When you tear your eyes away from ogling the woman, she meets your gaze with a gleam in her eyes. As if she knows you were checking her out, and she didn’t shy away from your attention either. 

You break the eye contact, picking at your fingers, a nervous habit you never broke out of all these years later. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Leah was rarely nervous in front of new people, but for some reason she was shifting from side to side, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Are you guys new? I mean– I would remembered you–”

She stops herself, clamping her mouth shut. She was seriously about to embarrass herself in front of not just any neighbour– but a pretty neighbour too.

You blink at her, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. You prayed the shitty lighting in the hallway did not make it obvious. Clearing your throat, you give her what you hoped looked like a friendly, neighbourly smile.

 “Yeah. Yeah– we moved in a little over a week ago. We live in the floor below you actually”

Leah nods, trying to make sure she was making appropriate eye contact. How many seconds is appropriate eye contact anyway? Has she even blinked yet? She shifted her gaze from your face, to the floor, back to your face, and then to the ceiling. She was totally not nervous, not even a little bit.

“It’s nice to meet you, then. I’m Leah” She takes a chance and holds out a hand, and to her utter delight, you take her hand in yours and shake it. Your hand was warm against hers, no noticeable cuts or scars which makes Leah think that your job didn’t require you to use your hands too often. Not that she was taking note or anything.

You introduce yourself, before gesturing to the mini man beside you. “It’s nice to meet you too. This is my son, Reid” 

“Oh yeah. Spiderman.”

“Trick or Treat!” Both of you startle out from your staring contest and turn to the boy by your feet. Remnants of his fruit roll-up plastered all over his cheeks and chin like a paint palette. He grinned up at you, his eyes wide with the kind of mischief only a sugar rush could inspire. 

“Trick or Treat! Trick or Treat!” he shouted gleefully, holding up his hands, sticky fingers wiggling in the air. Bits of bright colours clung to his lips, making him look even more ridiculous.

“Oh! I haven’t given you anything. Give me a minute, Spiderman”

Leah dashed to the pantry, rummaging through shelves filled with old boxes and canned goods. “No sweets, no chocolate bars, nothing!” she exclaimed, frustration mounting. She cursed herself for not heeding Lia’s advice to go out and buy a packet of sweets earlier. She opened her refrigerator, hunting through take out containers and cheeses, her mind racing through the bare options. A can of diet coke? Definitely not appropriate for a three-year-old.

Then she spotted it—a lone banana resting in the fruit basket. It was slightly overripe, but it would have to do. With an unwilling nod, Leah grabbed the banana and headed back to the door, her cheeks flushing slightly at the absurdity of it all. She was about to hand the kid of the hottest woman she has ever seen a banana. All because she couldn’t be arsed to go to the store earlier and pick up a couple bags of sweets. Shit. 

As she arrived back to the door, there you stood with your son beside you. His tiny basket held high, expectantly. “Trick or treat!” he chimed. Again. A demanding little thing.

Leah crouched down, a sheepish smile on her face. “Well, Spiderman, I don’t have any sweets…but how about this?” She presented the banana like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

The boy blinked, his eyes wide. “A banana?”

“It’s a healthy treat!” Leah said, trying to sound enthusiastic. She side-eyed you, trying to gauge your reaction. You were watching on with a palm over your mouth, trying to smother the laugh threatening to spill out. You were cute, Leah thought.

But back to the kid. “Perfect for after all that candy you’ll be eating tonight!”

Spiderman looked at the banana in her hand, then back at Leah, and finally broke into a giggle. “Okay!” He nodded, holding up his trick or treating basket so she could slip it inside. It thumped lightly on top of the small pile of sweets and chocolates. The kid peered into the bucket and giggled seeing his latest treasure sitting right on top. Leah couldn’t exactly see under the mask, but he could see his cheeks were perked up and it looked like he was smiling, so she took that as a win. She risked another glance at you, and you were smiling too-- without hiding it behind your hand this time. A big win for sure. 

You glance up towards Leah, noticing the slight flush on her cheeks and how attractive she looked when she tucked her loose hair behind her ear. It was also then that you noticed she had blue eyes.

You tuck that fun little fact in the back of your mind.

Snap yourself out of gazing at your neighbour like a creep, you pinch yourself lightly on the arm. Ouch. “Thanks for the healthy treat” 

Leah smiles hearing the teasing glint in your voice. Leaning against the doorway, she brings a hand up to massage the back of her neck, her bicep flexing nicely against her shirt. Not that you noticed, of course. 

“Yeah sorry ‘bout that” 

“Nah it’s alright. I appreciate it actually– more than candy,” You look down at your son, who was completely enamoured by his latest haul. He kept staring down at his bucket, his head halfway inside the thing already. “And he seems really happy about it” 

And as if he suddenly remembered what he was there for, Reid yanks his head out of his halloween bucket and looks up at you with wide eyes, exclaiming loudly “Mama, more candies!” 

Giving your pretty neighbour a sheepish smile, you grab Reid’s hand before he can go bouncing off to find the next door. “And that’s our cue to go. Thank you again for”

You both speak at the same time. 

“…for the banana” “the banana”

She laughs when she notices, and it's the most attractive laugh you have ever heard. It spills out naturally, unrestrained. And you find that you like the way her eyes crinkle at the ends. Her laugh was infectious as it was beautiful.

“So…uh– I’ll see you around?” Leah says, picking at the sleeves of her black sweatshirt. You want to say she sounds hopeful at the thought of you two bumping into each other in the near future because you feel the same. You hoped to see her again. “I mean– obviously we’re neighbours” 

You find yourself not being opposed to that idea at all. “Yeah. Maybe we can talk or grab a coffee sometime?”

Where the sudden bravery came from you have no idea, but the words had already left your mouth and you weren’t going to take them back. 

She smiles at you, her lips curving, and her eyes do too. “Definitely. I’d love to go for a coffee with you”

Perhaps you both stare at each other for a second too long, but that’s a secret only the both of you share. You linger, internally saddened at the thought of having to say a temporary goodbye, but you’ve got a coffee date to look forward to now. Steering your son and his Halloween bucket away from her door, you share one last smile with the pretty blonde who lives in the floor below you.

“Happy Halloween, Leah” 

“Happy Halloween, neighbour” 

You don’t hear the sound of her door closing until you and your son have turned the corner. 

here's a little bedtime story to celebrate the last night of october. this is story #3 of Butter's Meadio-cre Mayhem (the Spooky Season collection)

(if you're going to any halloween parties tonight, stay safe my loves <333)

comments and reactions are always appreciated!

・❥・- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[hoshigray]

𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 | ryōmen sukuna

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem/afab! reader - mosterfucking - double penetration (he got two) - biting - spanking - light choking - mention of blood.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: a quick something I wrote for Sukuna to take a break from writing a fic + I have jack shit for him in my masterlist, lmao.

Ryōmen Sukuna is most definitely a biter. There is no need to state this since it is obvious. But imagine him plowing you from behind, watching your ass quake under his erratic thrusts, forcing out choked moans from your writhing body moving to and fro with his. Tears roll down warm cheeks onto the cold cream sheets that cover the futon. Hands grip the material for dear life with every rut to your leaky cunt. And when he smacks the cusp of your ass, a shriek cannot be restrained from your lips. 

Sukuna loves your screams. They please him to no end — a gorgeous tune to his devilish ears. As a sadistic man, nothing gives him more joy during these moments than inflicting pain onto your sweet tiny body forced to accommodate both his girthy cocks. A beast like him is allowed to use you as he sees fit. His little pet. His little toy. Not like you can refuse. Judging by how your body adapts to his dicks inside your holes, it is apparent that you're also enjoying this, too.

Two hands are stationed on your hips to propel you forward to him, and the other two hold your hands behind your back. You're left with nothing to conceal the whimpers and cries that fly out your mouth. He wants to hear it all — the sound of your ass meeting his pelvis, the choked sobs when his black fingertips dent into the depth of your hips, your pants for air as he takes them away. It turns him on so fucking much.

He can’t fight the urge anymore — the sight of your sweaty body quivering under his bow gets him riled up. Your skin, so beautiful and pure, displayed none of his markings from the times before now. Blue eyes narrow to your shoulder, clear of nothing but sweat. Well, he’s just going to have to fix that.

He comes down to your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your flesh. A sharp cry sneaks its way out of you. 

“Eyyahhhh!!! Su-Sukuna, don’t, please! I can’t have any ma— Ahhaahhnn!!”

“Who told you’re in a position to order me, brat?” He gives the mark on your shoulder a slow lick, tasting the twinge of blood to engage his taste. One of his hands snakes its way to your throat to squeeze. Your mind plunging into a deeper haze than before. “Know your place. Don’t stop screaming for me.”

More chews to your shoulders prompt more tears to escape from your strained-shut eyes. And the pacing of his cock becomes unbearably fast for your brain and senses to keep up. The pain inflicted by his demon mouth, along with the tongue from his stomach licking the sweat of your back, coinciding with the erratic tempo of his hips — it’s all too much to bear. And your release hits you hard, your cunt and ass clamping onto his lengths that continue to rut into your now sensitive parts.

“Mmmph, haahhh…Heh, now you think you can come without my permission, huh?” Sukuna whispers dangerously to your ear, and you whine when his teeth catch your lobe. “Such a pathetic pet, aren’t you.” He pistons his dicks deep inside, churning your tender areas to the point of incoherent babbles. “A damn noisy one, too…Hmmgh! Oh fuck, fuck…”

Before he experiences his climax, Sukuna gives the back of your neck one last bite. Your final shriek signals the ingress of his warm load filling your holes. He keeps you pinned to the futon, making sure you stay still for every bit of his essence to enter within you. Your mind is too far gone to try and fight it — too occupied with the feeling of him corrupting your body internally. Just letting him ride out his own crescendo until he slowly dismembers his huge members off of you. Heavy pants are used to steady his breathing, and he examines his messy work on your body. Bloody bite marks, your ass trembling from the onslaught of ruts and slaps, and silent tears trickle down a dazed face. He snickers to himself. 

“Perfect.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 — dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[always-just-red]

Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.

If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration

Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea! (Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)

Fourth Wall

Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸

Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?

Genre: idk really?? real world player x character

Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)

| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your phone lights up with a notification.

Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.

It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.

The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!

But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?

Another notification:

Sylus: Take your time, kitten.

A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.

Sylus: I’m going to count to three.

Cute. He’s not actually going to—

Sylus: One…

Oh.

Sylus: Two…

Really?

Sylus: Three.

Ok.

You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.

Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.

He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”

You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.

Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.

Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.

He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.

With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.

You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.

It doesn’t do anything.

Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.

Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”

You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.

Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”

Ok but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.

“Stop.”

A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.

Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”

It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”

Does he mean the game? The other LIs?  

“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”

God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.

“Are you even listening?” he sighs.

Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?

“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”

Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.

“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.

“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”

This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.

There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.

He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.  

His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.

Did they change the animation?

“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”

[tojisun]

thinking about biker! simon going out with his girl and the other guys at a biker bar. reader hasn't really seen how scared people are of simon - who they all call ghost - until she goes to get him another drink. while she's at the bar, a guy comes over trying to hit on her. then this hulking, 6'4 guy in a skull mask appears and the guy is ready to run out of the bar. simon didn't even have to talk just glare. while readers like ???

ITS BEEN YEARS SINCE THIS WAS SENT IM SORRY FOR JUST REPLYING NOW :(( BUT YES ABSOLUTELY YES!! my stomach swooped when i saw this hhhhh im actually kicking my legs n twirling my hair n everythingg!!

naturally, im bad at making drabbles because this turned out long again :’) im sorry

biker!simon mlist // star divider by @/plutism <33

simon’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you further into the bar. you shuffle along his languid steps, head swivelling as you try to find familiar faces in the crowd – so far, none yet.

simon chuckles from beside you, and you peer up at him only to see his eyes crinkled from underneath his balaclava, no doubt smiling at you. he bows his head closer towards yours, trying, in vain, to devour as much of the space made by the height difference between you two.

“what?”

“nothin’, sweet girl.” he presses his covered lips on the top of your head, breathing you in. “come on, i see ‘em.”

he shifts the two of you, the hand that’s settled on the small of your back gliding until it hooks around your waist, pulling you ever so closer to him. protective. possessive. it makes you hum in delight, happiness thrumming underneath your skin.

(you don’t notice the way many people shift to get out of simon’s way; heads downturned as though afraid of even meeting his eyes. you don’t notice the way they turn to each other when you two passed by, as though making sure that it was simon they saw. simon – ghost – with a sweet darling pressed to his side, his bulk warding away stray gazes. you don’t notice the way they huddle with each other, whispering promises that ghost’s girl should always be protected. because yes they fear ghost, but more than that, loyalty to each other is stronger.)

he leads you towards a small pack by the far side, the table doused less in light than the rest of the bar. johnny’s already turned towards you and simon, watching with a grin as you two make it across. kyle’s seated beside him, the younger man leaned to watch the ongoing hockey game. then you see the back of john’s familiar head, his beloved boonie slung around his neck.

“finally made it, huh lass?” johnny says in greeting, snagging the attention of both kyle and john, the two of them chiming in their own hello’s. you smile, waving at them as you claim the empty seat between simon and john.

“had to make a quick stop at 7-11,” simon responds, his hand curling at one of the legs of your chair before pulling you towards him. the metal squeaks against the tiles, the sound thankfully drowned out by the loud bass.

“oh did you?” john asks, ignoring whatever simon did given how they’re all so used to his soft displays of possessiveness. he offers you a smile when you turn to him with a nod.

“had to buy, um, medicine for my stomachache.”

it’s endearing how their faces shift so fast, little smiles falling as worry takes over. even simon, whose hand is draped on your thigh, tenses, gripping as though he was remembering how he heard your pained whimper or saw you sniffling as the ache echoed, throbbing just below your ribs, choking you up.

“are you feeling any better? did it subside now, at least?” kyle asks.

you nod, quick to reassure them. “the medicine worked! i’m feelin’ better, i promise!”

they relax, tensed shoulders going lax as life flutters back into the table. you smile before sinking ever so closer to simon’s side, shying away from the intensity of their affections for you – your own little band of brotherhood, visceral in the way they care for you.

simon’s grip loosens on your thigh, choosing instead to massage the muscle tenderly. you hum, turning to ask him what he’s getting.

“whiskey, maybe,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by his mask. “you getting your bellini today, love?”

“yes please,” you reply, blinking up at him.

his eyes crinkle again, a telltale sign of his smile, before he pats your thigh and gets up to place the order.

you turn to the group, tuning into johnny’s rambling, listening to him recounting his rally. it was the one you weren’t able to go to because of work, johnny having to reassure you multiple times (even through text) that it’s fine that you’re missing it. so you listened, enraptured, nose scrunching in confusion whenever johnny slips into heavy scottish in his excitement.

“english, mactavish,” simon sighs as he falls back to his seat, startling you. you see johnny flip him off and you make eye contact with kyle, sharing twin looks of exasperation.

simon slides you your bellini and you whisper a thanks, trilling when he noses the top of your head again – your clingy boy.

the conversation rises and falls, sometimes leaving your mind wandering when they start talking about shop, sometimes catching your attention so much that you find yourself leaning on the table, breathless and wide-eyed as you listen to their bike stories – johnny had continued about his rally, kyle talked about the repairs he did for a client who he’s sure is on the run, and john shared that horrifying experience he had on his way home where he thinks he saw a floating woman by the east side highway.

“your turn, big guy,” you say, tapping simon’s knee.

simon finishes his whiskey – his balaclava tugged just enough to show his chin and his lips – before plopping the empty glass on the table with a sigh. you huff a fond laugh, knowing that one glass isn’t enough to satiate the thirst so you dust imaginary dirt off your skirt before standing up.

he tilts his head up in question, arm still hooked around your waist.

“gonna grab us more drinks,” you say. “oh, tell ‘em about the gas station incident!”

he grunts, nodding, and yet he refuses to budge. you fondly roll your eyes and turn to the others. “drinks?”

they all shake their head, johnny specifically saying he’d have to order for himself because he’d want to try the house specialties. you nod, pinching simon’s arm as you dance away from him with a bitten grin, before making your way to the bar.

you prattle away your order, telling the bartender to add the tab to your table, and hover, swaying to the music. it’s a foreign rock band playing, the bass and drums reverberating loudly, you can feel the vibrations pulsing along your body, and you almost get lost in your own thoughts when a hand slides to your back.

you startle, mind quickly cataloguing that this isn’t simon. because simon, for all his impressive silence and his displays of possessiveness, never sneaks up on you like this. he has never let you doubt your safety while with him. so you back away from the stranger’s touch, your hands pressed close to your chest before finally turning to see who went up to you.

the man, who seems to be about your age, smiles upon seeing your face. “hey there, angel.”

the pet name makes you nauseous and your stomach churns once again. you have to ask for the medicine from simon when you return to the table.

“hi,” you squeak, not letting him off your sight.

“you seem new here. i am too.” he laughs, scratching his neck. then, “it really ain’t my scene.”

“uh-huh,” you say, not knowing what else to tell him.

his chuckles peter out, a suave smile replacing what had been an awkward display of forced laughter. he clears his throat. “so, what’s a sweet thing like you doing alone here?”

“she ain’t alone, kid,” the bartender answers for you and you turn to him, surprised, before thanking him as he presents you with your whiskey and bellini.

the bartender nods to you in reply before crossing his arms in front of his chest and addresses the stranger again. “go bother someone else.”

the man arches a brow in question, his lips pursing in distaste. “oh yeah? she seems pretty available to me.”

the phrase hits you badly.

your anxiousness bleeds away to make room for your ire and you snarl, dropping your hands from where they’re pressed on your chest to rest them on your hips.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice a measured anger. “i’m fucking what now?”

he raises his hands up like he’s pacifying you. “hey, hey. didn’t mean that, my pretty girl-”

“she’s not your anything, you mad wanker.”

the sound of simon’s voice makes you settle, a wave of safety and comfort washing over you, dousing the angry churning in the pit in your stomach. simon steps from behind the stranger, towering over him, before moving to stand beside you. his hand hovers, questioning, and you give him a soft nod that gets simon pulling you close to him. his hand falls to the small of your back, caressing, and you wonder if he knows that the man had grazed his hand there just minutes ago. if simon’s doing this to overwrite the unpleasant feeling that was sticking to you.

“oh,” the stranger breathes out and you notice the way his hands are trembling, the tight balls of his fists turning his knuckles white. “i, uh, i’m sorry, ghost.” then he’s off, running out of the bar with his tail tucked between his legs.

you huff at the realization that the mad man didn’t even apologize to you. what a fucking prick.

“you doin’ alright there, baby?” simon asks, pulling you to him. he settles on an empty bar stool – you are sure those were filled just minutes ago… – and tugs you so that you are standing between his legs.

he cups your cheeks, thumbs tracing lines just underneath your eyes, and it makes you drag a shaky inhale.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i should’ve accompanied you.” simon sounds distressed, his eyes furrowed in the intensity of his worry.

you coo at him, it’s your turn to cup his jaw this time. “i’m alright, si. i promise.”

he shifts his eyes between yours, searching for anything besides the truth, and he folds himself into you when he sees that you mean it. you laugh, patting at his head, wishing that he doesn’t have his balaclava so you can play with his hair, before turning to the bartender who, in the sudden absence of customers by the counter, is watching you two with a pinched smile.

“thank you again,” you tell him and he grunts, nodding. simon straightens up and groans as he stands, his big body unaccustomed to the tiny bar stools.

“yeah,” he says, addressing the bartender. “thanks for bein’ here for my girl, alex.”

the bartender – alex – just waves his hand around in dismissal. “it’s nothin’, really. now go away, i want customers.”

simon and alex laugh, sharing an inside joke, and you swivel your head around in confusion because now that alex had mentioned it, where did everyone go? and why are they all huddled together, far from the bar?

simon closes his hand on your wrist and pulls. you barely manage a goodbye to alex who waves at you in reply.

…alex?

“wait. that’s alex?”

best believe that simon has connections anywhere he goes. if not for himself, it’s for his girl!!!

me, shamefully staring at the word count (1.8k) of what should’ve been a drabble: well now…

[yeyinde]

ghoapxreader in the baby trapping series IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️

i think i've exhausted the whole "tampering with contraceptives" thing to death by now so i would probably do something different with them. like a surrogate situation or something, but awful lmao

maybe down on her luck reader is in desperate need of cash, and these two men swoop in to save you from this horrible pit you've fallen into.

you need money. they need a baby.

simple, right?

except the simplicity falls apart when they blatantly tell you they want a natural insemination—as in, a threesome.

multiple, the pretty Scot tells you. after all, it has tae take, hen.

(and this is the part where you should have run. the moment when you'd be screaming at the television at the hapless protagonist as they walk mindlessly into danger despite the warning signs hanging overhead. but like the oblivious hero, you're too blinded by pretty, gleaming white to realise that the thing you're marveling over is a maw. cracked open wide and full of jagged, deadly teeth rearing up to sink inside of you.

but the problem with making shady deals when you're desperate is that no one really bothers to read the fine print, do they? and by the time you see past their crooked charm, you're waving your child off as they skip up the stairs to school, standing like a prisoner between them as they lean down and ask if you're ready for another—)

but that comes later.

what comes first is message on Craiglist.

one that you spend less time considering it than you should have. desperation, you find, clouds your judgement. blots out common sense. makes you susceptible to manipulation. and oh, how susceptible you are. despite priding yourself on your common sense and keen self-awareness, the overarching issues hanging over your head like an idling guillotine seem to erase that instructive need for self-preservation.

so, when the message itself pops up, you're already primed for making bad choices. ones out of malformed desperation. the barrage of texts from your landlord demanding rent, the ones sent to your family in moments of dire need asking for fruitless aid that will never come in time if the read receipts mean anything at all. the package from HR apologising for the inconvenience, but this was, regrettably, the only feasible option for the company at present, and too bad you didn't sign up for that union, huh? student loans. credit cards.

the measureable calamity of your life manifests itself in the shape of a black cloud hanging onto your aching shoulder, wrapping long, inkstained fingers around your jugular as it hisses the insurmountable figure needed to climb out of this pit in your ear.

sleepless, of course, hasn't helped.

and in that bog you can't swim through, their offer sounds far more appealing than it should.

let's meet up somewhere, comes the next message at half past three in the morning as you talk yourself in (and out) of this mess. talk about things more.

what else are you supposed to do?

job hunting sites mock you with their generic emails, thanking you for applying, and saying they'll reach out within a few business days for an interview if you're a good fit. ones sent off weeks ago. hundreds of them to no avail. it's almost like you're being plagued. blacklisted from the city.

even the fast food chain down the street refused your application when you sent it in, and the help wanted sign has been taped on the drive-thru window since you were sixteen.

it all pushes you closer and closer to making stupid choices, like replying with a simple (nervous, shaky, bile-tinged) sure to the message they sent. i'm down—

(—and drowning)

but you're smart enough to know better, so you act like it, too.

ping your location to your friends. tell them where you're going. clutch your keys so tightly in your fist that your knuckles just out through thin skin. layers upon layers of safety measures glimpsed through the various articles about how to stay alive.

but all the tremulous air is siphoned from your lungs when you see them for the first time.

something magnetic thrums through your chest. copper sutures running lines from their skin to yours until touching just seems like the most natural thing in the world. and you suppose it is when the pretty Scot folds you into a tight hug, cinching you close to his chest as if he's known you his whole life instead of just several seconds.

he's a thing of beauty. chiselled from marble, almost; David made human when he runs his tanned hand through the tumble of uneven hair along his crown. eyes the same varicoloured palette of a boscage in autumn framed in the setting sun's golden halo.

there's a distinct ruggedness about his beauty, too. one that reminds of you a lion's mane. the sleek fur of a stallion. pretty in a wild way. and as his eyes list towards you again and again, like he can't quite manage his fill of staring at you, taking you in, you think about that wildness again. the hunger in his eyes so similiar to the desperation of a predator fattening up for the encroaching chill of winter. it makes you shiver, but you can't look away

(because you know what's waiting for you when you do)

and when you finally pluck up the courage to glance at the shape devouring the light with his intimidating bulk, you come to quick realisation that if Johnny is the personification of an autumn evening, then the man standing next to him is the tried and true testament that bad things happen after dark.

he's a strange figure, one who veers almost comically into the uncanny valley with his hood pulled over the plain, black ballcap hanging low over his brow. a balaclava covering every inch of his face with the exception of a small, ovaled hole for his eyes. remnants of something ashy smear into the corners, running up the crooked bend of his nose.

he doesn't look like a real man—not with those liquid, haunting eyes—but at the same time, there's something preternaturally human about him. a stereotypical sense of masculinity—just one warped around the edges.

with his worn jeans pulled tight over thick, bulging thighs, and the silver zipper of his hoodie resting at the base of his throat, you could easily think he was just another man in the crowd, but it's off. a glitch. a skip.

like mistaking a coat rack for a man in the dead of night.

eerie.

dangerous.

if the man beside him is playfully carnivorous, a basking lion rolling onto his belly at the zoo, separated by thick glass, then he (Simon, Johnny supplies readily when the silence lingers; Simon Riley), Simon, is what it feels like to be followed home at night.

but—

there's something about fear and desire that are almost inseparable when broken down into a physiological response.

and when he steps up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body soaking into the drying sweat on your back, you liken the way your heart climbs up your throat to same as it would seeing a dorsal fin cutting above the waves in open water.

desire, you think, and then catching the white-hot burn of the stare, you add, in a thin whisper: fear.

when they sit you down, and begin to spin a story about how they just want a baby—no strings attached—you stay seated in the chair even as an itch in the back of your head starts, nails scraping at your skull.

their reluctance toward traditional methods makes sense when they explain that with their lifestyle, it's impossible—or the Scottish man does; the other one with a marbled skin of thick, ugly scars on his hands just stares, pinning you down with the weight of his gaze—and this arrangement is the only way they'll get the baby they've been hoping for.

and even though the scratching in your head sounds suspiciously like why you and run, you eat the food they bought for you in the fancy restaurant where appetisers start at $30, and a glass of water is priced at $6. volcanic spring water, the waiter explains as he pours it from a marbled glass pitcher.

you haven't eaten a real meal that wasn't microwavable or cup noodles in weeks.

maybe that's why you find yourself thinking why not instead of no.

they're attractive men. it's not the worst situation you could have found yourself in, even if the idea of parenthood—however brief it's supposed to be—has bile clawing up the back of your throat, and the bones housing your trembling heart feeling laden, heavy like iron, and starts to cinch your chest shut each day, squeezing tighter, and tighter, and—

they drop off the first the installment to you the moment your doctor starts to talk about boerhaave syndrome, as if they know the doubts that plague your head when they leave your apartment and the silence starts to mock you.

and that leads you here.

guilt for their situation. desperation over your own. an overarching need to please. it's all a dangerous cocktail that douses over rationality until you're nodding along, accepting their words as gospel until sleeping with them—multiple times—doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

until it happens. until you have Johnny and Simon actively working to knock you up. a marathon of intense sex with the single-minded goal of putting their baby in you.

Johnny drooling all over you as he ruts between your thighs, mindlessly driving himself into a frenzy as he slurres out his desires in an incomprehensible mess of English and Gaelic and animalistic grunts. barely pulling out in time before Simon is pressing your knee down to the mattress, cooing mockingly at the mess his boy made of you. cruelly taking bets as he slides into your sore, aching cunt about who will take first. his or Johnny's? and who do you want, birdie? who's baby do you want first?

fingers always shoving inside to cap the overflow when they exhaust themselves in a liquid-limbed stupor, barely conscious as you tapped out some three, four rounds ago. unable to keep your eyes open any longer as they both came to the same conclusion that cumming inside of you at the same time was the quickest way to knock you up together. ain't he a romantic, birdie?

and it's probably for the best that you passed out before it happened, drooling on Simon's scarred shoulder as he gripped the cheeks of your ass, pulling you wide open as Johnny shuffled forward between his spread legs, eyes riveted to the spot where Simon's cock split you open. the ache you felt the next morning, coming to on a broad chest with fingers stuffed inside of you—shush, shush, just keeping you nice an' plugged, sweetheart—was almost unbearable.

you expected them to clear out after getting what they want, but they stay. tend to you carefully like you're made of fine china.

or—Johnny does. bundles you up in his arms before setting off towards the bath, finally letting you wash the sticky, flaking grime from your skin, some awful mixture of drying cum, spit, and sweat, groaning in your ear as he pulls you to his damp, hairy chest about how sweet you are for them. how they're going to take care of you.

Simon caters to other things. packs your bags as Johnny scrubs thick fingers over your shoulders, pausing to grasp a sore, tender breast in his palm, hefting the weight up as he feverishly mutters about how hot it'll be to watch you feed their baby. an' maybe you'll let him have a little taste, too—

and when you finally emerge from the bath, sorer between the thighs than you were when you woke up, another mess pooling in the gusset of the panties he pulled up your legs, Simon's waiting, eyes riveted to your belly. staring at it with so much hunger, a cold sweat breaks out along the nape of your neck.

in the grand scheme of things, the threesome is the easy part. the hard part comes when they turn the arrangement into a prison, locking the shackles around your wrists when the pregnancy test comes back positive a few weeks later.

they're only doing what's best for their baby, they say, when they move you out of your apartment and into theirs. the cut lease was the only way to do it, Johnny says, shrugging. why make you pay for something you aren't using anymore?

and maybe if your head was thickened with a fog, you'd have questioned the phrasing, but as it stands, pregnancy, even as early as this one, adles you. leaves you a syrupy mess of emotions that they take turns exploiting. aren't you so lonely all by yourself, hen? don' ye want a family?

aren't they good enough for you?

it's less subliminal messaging and more overt coersion. what are you going to do after this? where will you go with your lease cut? and when the funds run dry? what then?

gonna find another couple to knock you up? Simon hisses, mangled hands mauling your belly, pinching and squeezing the flesh as if he could feel the fragile box their happiness is housed inside. should jus' stay with us if that's the case, birdie.

but it's all so sweet, in its own way—

(—sweet like a parasite nesting inside of it's host.

but at least you'll never be lonely.)

they stand by the fact that they're looking out for you. that they care. that they can't do much else but idle and watch your body evolve into something new (an' magnificent, Johnny breathes, kissing this unfamiliar shape you call home) and it grates at them because they're not used to feeling so useless, so can't you just let them do this for you? take care of you in all the ways they see fit? like cutting your lease and giving you a better place to stay. handing in your resignation from that shitty nine to five that wore you down to the bone. culling out the annoyances in your life—the friends and family—who kick up needless fits over your wellbeing, and just stress you out more than you need to be.

they're not good enough for you, is what Simon says when you ask why he blocked them from your phone, Johnny hovering by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. barring the exits, you'll realise later. but what comes first is fear, is anger, is—

happiness. maybe. or some broken, fragile facsimile of it. a subpar humuliculus masquerading around as if it was realised flesh and bone.

"oh," you say, and think you should be touched by his care, his concern, and so you are. shape this emotion from the sludge that pools at the bottom of your chest, running fingers through the muck to find pieces of gold. and then: "thank you, Simon."

it's sweet. or it could have been if it didn't spiral out of your control when they systematically dismantle your entire life until all you're left with is loose sediment slipping through your fingers. the foundation itself soften clay they shape into the image they've been after with the whole time: you.

(or more specifically, a momma for their baby.)

and when they ask you, at the end of this thin, fraying tether, if you want to be with them—an equal, a mother—and be a mother again for them, there's nothing else you could say except yes.

nothing because they made it so.

[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.

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

☼ ao3 link | extended authors note | fics for gaza

☼ wc ; 16.4k / 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

as mentioned above, there is a scene in this part of the fic that has reader experiencing their first heat as a minor omega during their heat.

they are being sexually harassed underage. if you find this content may be too triggering to you - the scene starts at the the [ THIRTEEN ] subheader and ends indicated with ***.

☼ synopsis ; you can't decide on how you feel about alphas, but your resentment or discomfort around them grows stronger over time as an omega who presented particularly young

maybe that's why you feel so devastated upon hearing the news that bachira, your childhood best friend, had been hiding his alpha status from you your whole life.

PART ONE: MAY THE BRIDGES I HAVE BURNED..

[ NINE]  

A car speeds past you when you turn the corner. Too fast, you watch it skid to a stop at a red light and feel your face grow flush. You tuck your chin into the collar of your coat, cold numbing your senses.  

The mailman is at your door by the time you walk home. He smiles courteously and hands you the mail directly when you approach your front gate. You bow to him politely before taking it, the cold making your eyes water.  

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” He says. Nakamura oji-chan has been running mail to this route since you were a little baby. Mama said he has a grandchild now so he works less hours. You’re glad to see him. “You’ve grown so big. What year are you in now?”  

You hold up four fingers. “Fourth year. I’m nine,”  

“You’re growing up well, then huh? That’s good.”  

You’re not tall enough to reach the kitchen cabinets at the highest height and still losing baby teeth but other than that you think it’s pretty okay, so you nod. He laughs before turning to leave, and you make sure to stand in front of the door before he goes to be polite. 

You shuffle through the mail as you walk inside. Warm air makes your face tingle. There’s two letters for you today. They’re addressed to your parents, but they’ve got your name on them so you think it’s okay to call them yours. One letter is from the hospital, but there’s another one too.  

You don’t know what it is. It’s in a separate black envelope with a raised seal along and government postage. There’s some stuff for nii-chan and mama - plus some coupons that papa gets from a subscription service.  

You announce yourself loudly once you’ve looked through it all. Only papa’s brown shoes are in the rack which means he’s the only one home.  

 Slipping your shoes off, you slide your feet into brand new Doraemon slippers and prop your bag up against the couch in the living room before finally hanging up your coat. Your tummy rumbles after you regain feeling in your fingers, and you decide the nap can be pushed back till after snack time making your way towards the kitchen.  

You make sure to take the mail with you. Mama always tell you to leave it on the counter so she can take a look when she’s home. You’re good at remembering this.  

Papa is working at the dining table when you come in. He works on a fancy computer from home some days. He smiles when he sees you, bright eyes pointed toward you. You decide to hand him the mail directly.  

“Hey, sweetie.” His smile is soft. Ripe oranges sit for you on the counter, cut evenly on your favorite plate. Papa nudges them towards you with a smile. Quickly, you run to wash your hands and sit adjacent to him upon return. You start snacking on your oranges, wondering if he sliced them for you or just to eat. You sit folded up in the dining room chair as papa pats your head per routine. “How was school?”  

You look down. “It was okay. We learned about praying mantis bugs. My friends thought they were scary but I thought they were cool, at least a little…” 

Papa sits and waits for you to say more expectantly. You shrug, unable to think of anything more to say.  

“They are, aren’t they? They’re really important to our eco-system.” Papa says. You nod. He starts to explain more to you about praying mantis bugs and you do your best to listen even as you feel your eyelids start to droop. You get sleepy early in winter because it’s dark so fast.  

Even though you’re not listening too closely, you notice papa stops talking half-way through a sentence. You peek at him through your lashes. He’s holding the special envelope from before. Papa is very quiet when he reads it.  

“What’re you reading?”  

His eyes go wide. You wonder if papa is also tired, since he seems so surprised you’re there. His brows are furrow - putting the letter face down on the dining room table. He’s silent for a long time, though you don’t fuss to ask again. 

“We got some important news in the mail,” Papa says quietly. He seems a little different somehow. “We’ll sit down when and talk about it when mama gets home, okay?”  

“Am I in trouble?”  

He smiles at you like normal this time but he still seems a little sad. “Not at all sweetheart. It’s just an important talk so I think we should be all together. Is that okay?”  

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You tell him, looking down at your lap trying to figure out what to say so he stops seeming sad. “It’ll be okay, papa.”  

Briefly surprised, he smiles again, using his hand on your face to pull you close to him wet kiss on your temple that you take in stride. You’re glad he seems to feel better. 

“That’s right, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”  

_ 

When mama comes home, her and papa sit and talk for a long time in the kitchen. They send you to nii-chans room. Predictably, he turns you away when you knock on his door and goes down to complain to your parents. You think that whatever happened must be more serious than you thought, since he comes back up and lets you sit in his room without complain upon return. 

 Nii-chan rarely invites you to do things with him by yourself, so you’re surprised when he invites you to his lap so you can watch him play games.  

Mama always says he’s just going through a phase when he’s being mean. You think that makes sense. You’re happy when he’s nice, though.  

After a while, papa comes to get you. Him and nii-chan talk in whispers about something and take not-so-subtle glances.  

Papa starts to explain a little to you as you go down stairs, holding his hand. He squeezes it tighter than normal. 

“Do you know what an omega is, sweetheart?”  

 You nod. You’ve got a vague understanding at least. Nii-chan is an alpha, papa is an omega and mama is a beta. It was hard for mama and papa to have you, so they consider you both miracles.  

“Well, today, we got news about what you are,” Papa says. He tries to smile. “And you’re an omega like me.’ 

“Oh,” You say. You look up at him as you walk down the stairs. “Is that bad?”  

He shakes his head when you ask, but strangely doesn’t end up saying no directly.  

__  

After you find out you’re an omega, nii-chan walks you to school for a few weeks.  

You find this to be very strange for several reasons.  

For one, nii-chan doesn’t really like school and he doesn’t seem to like spending time with you either. He started going this year, you think - something mama had said about getting his life sorted. Either way, he clearly doesn’t want to be going at all.  

So, it doesn’t make sense when he starts accompanying you even a little. 

“I can walk to school by myself,” You say, not really meaning anything by it. He stares down at you. You aren’t sure why he’s so mad. Nii-chan always seems a litle bit mad at everything. You wonder if all alphas are like that.  

“Don’t be annoying,” He says, harsh. You bite your tongue and turn your gaze to the sidewalk under your feet.  

“I’m not being annoying,” You clutch the straps of your bag, because you’re not. He’s the one who suddenly decided to walk you, which makes him the more annoying one. Plus, he’s always causing trouble at home anyway, not you. 

“Didn’t they explain to you that you’re an omega?”  

You look up at him confused wondering why it matters. He stares at you for a long time, and even gets angry again before scratching the back of his neck. His hand comes down to the top of your head and you flinch, expecting him to mess your hair up but he pats it instead.  

“Stupid brat,” He sighs after that. You huff but try not to let it show. “Worry about yourself and shut up.”  

__  

[ TEN ] 

 There’s a playground near your house that’s a few minutes walk. It has a rusty swing set but a nice slide. Most importantly, there’s a patch of concrete you can jump rope and draw on. You like going there most of all with Miki-chan. Not today though. Miki-chan is out of town to visit her granny in Osaka. 

Nii-chan offered to take you but you usually refuse him. It’s not to be mean, but just because doing things with nii-chan always makes you a little sad.  

He’s moved from home now, but you still feel weird when you see him since he hasn’t liked you all this time. Mama tells you not to hold it against him - and that you’ll understand him better when you’re older. You hope that’s true. You try not to hold it against him.  

But it doesn’t mean you want him with you at the park.  

(You feel especially dejected when nii-chan acts cold to you but you can’t be sure why. Papa says it probably has something to do with your hormones, since nii-chan is an alpha. Something about packbonding. You don’t quite get it.  

It’s starting to feel like every problem you have is because of being an omega, but you try to keep that thought to yourself so you don’t make papa sad.)  

You bring your jump ropes and chalk along with you. The sky is half-blue, half-grey. You wonder if it might rain on your way there or if it’ll be blue and warm all over by then. You like the rain, but you’d prefer sunshine today so you can draw with chalk.  

You think of things to do. You’ll sit on the swings first then jump rope, thenn draw. Or maybe it will rain and you’ll have to run home. You hope you didn’t jinx yourself.  

Your neighborhood is small so you know the names and faces of all the kids there. Even the little ones who are in the grades beneath yours. Mama tells you it’s important to know your neighbors. You aren’t really trying to remember for that reason, though. It’s more like it bugs you not to know. You’re always like that.  

Papa uses the word meticulous to describe you. Meh-tick-you-lus. It’s easy to say but hard to spell. 

 (Nii-chan says you’re just acting like an omega when you do things like that. This makes your parents upset, especially papa. You never take nii-chan seriously when he complains though. He complains about everything.)   

When you arrive at the playground, there’s a boy on the grass playing with a soccer ball by himself. You’ve never seen him before. He’s got big wide-eyes and a shock of yellow hair underneath which is super cool. His hair is long, just a little shorter than yours and he even has bangs. You wonder if he’s an omega too, since you’ve only seen omega boys be that pretty.  

Your heart beat fasts. It’d be nice to make a new friend, though you’re a bit unsure what to say. You’re a little nervous to approach him but you reason it’d be stranger not to.  

“Hi,” 

The boy stops playing with his ball, doing a trick to kick it up into his hands. He’s cool. Or at least very interesting. His eyes are bright, dark brown with a touch of yellow like his hair. You wonder if grows like that or if he’s allowed to dye it. He stares at you for a long time wordlessly. You shift your weight on your feet. 

“Hi,” He says back.  

You smile.  

“What’s your name?”  

“Bachira,”  

He asks for yours and return and you give it to him.  

“How old are you?”  

“I’m ten,”  

“Really? Me too,”  

“Do you know how to play soccer?”  

You shake your head. “My nii-chan plays it sometimes at his school, but I dunno how. I prefer jump rope. I can do some tricks with a jump rope.”  

He lights up when you mention your nii-chan plays soccer, eager to ask you about it. “Is he good at it?”  

“I think so,” You reply honestly. You ended up going to a lot of games when you were little. He used to practice lots in your backyard too and stayed after school. The memory makes you a little sad “He wanted to play it more but he got hurt. We went to a lot of matches when I was a baby. He has some trophies and stuff.”  

“That’s so cool,” Bachira gushes. You shrug because you don’t really feel like agreeing. “Do you think he would play soccer with me?”  

You shake your head dejectedly, eyes cast to the ground. “Probably not. He barely plays with me so I don’t think he’d play with you.”  

You feel a little bad telling him that given he seems so excited, but it’s true. Soccer or not. It’d also be a little unfair if he played with Bachira, you think. Bachira visibly deflates.  

“Oh,”  

“It’s okay. I don’t think I’d be good at soccer but you can tell me about it.” You say, because Bachira seems fun to be around. He doesn’t seem interested but you go on. “The thing you did with your ball earlier was cool.”  

He lights up again and you smile softly. “Really? I know a lot of other tricks, too. I’ll show them to you!”  

You nod. “Okay. I’m gonna draw on the concrete while you play.”  

You sit on the nearby patch of concrete and set your jump rope besides you as you open up your box of chalk - all brand new. You came in deciding to draw a cat or bunny, but decide to draw a soccer ball as a peace offering to your new companion.  

“Okay! But you have to look up when I tell you or you’ll miss my tricks.”  

“Sure,” You tell him.  

As soon as you sit down down to draw, Bachira starts talking a mile a minute about soccer. He took your words to heart it seems like. You think he must really like soccer, maybe even more than you like jump rope and you really like jump rope. But you don’t mind listening to Bachira talk. He kind of reminds you of Miki-chan, who also talks a lot. It’s good since you prefer not to talk much.  

“So the tricks and cool stuff you do with your feet is called dribbling?” 

He brightens at the fact you put it together without him saying “Yeah!” following it up with “You’re really nice.”  

Your brows raise in surprise as you shake your head. Embarrassed, you direct your gaze down towards your lap.  

“Not really. I’m just normal.”  

He doesn’t say anything else, just grins as he keeps going. You decide to keep drawing instead of talking, listening to Bachira ramble. He tells you to draw for a while he practices his tricks, so he can show you the best ones and you agree without any hassle.  

You look through your plastic box of chalk, smiling as you choose a color. You decide to draw with dandelion yellow.  

__  

Bachira brings you home to meet his mom after he runs out of tricks to show you.  

On the way there, he tells you more about her and himself. She’s his only parent, and she makes art so he thinks you’d like meeting her. Mama usually tells you not to follow strangers, but Bachira doesn’t feel like a stranger. He’s your friend and you find you really like him.  

When you get there, Bachira’s mom seems very happy to meet you. She’s pretty and smells like paint. She asks you if you know your parents numbers, since they might be worried about you disappearing and you give it to her, even though you know you’ll get scolded.  

It takes mama and papa twenty minutes to come over. Mama scolds you about doing something dangerous by yourself. You tell her it wasn’t dangerous because you were with Bachira and you really like Bachira.  

They don’t scold you again after you say it. 

__  

(Bachira becomes apart of your daily life as easy as breathing. Despite going to different schools, you always walk to and from school together after meeting. You’re close friends, maybe even closer than you and Miki-chan who you’ve known since you were a baby.  

Bachira always comes to pick you up anyway, and you walk home from school together every single day. He always has one hundred things to tell you but you like to listen to each and every one. You like how much Bachira has to say about everything.  

On the way home, you play rock-paper-scissors on who’s house to go to. You like it best when Bachira comes over, but if nii-chan is home, you normally go over to his. Sometimes, you wish you went to the same school. Being with Bachira is always fun.  

It’d be nice if you could be together all the time. You think if you were always with him, you’d never be bored. You wonder if it’s too much to hope Bachira feels the same. ) 

__ 

“So, you’re an omega?”  

Bachira and you are playing in the yard today. Your room is getting renovated. According to otou-san, it should’ve been done a while ago to accommodate your nests but it’s getting done now instead. You’re in the backyard with a book, staring up at him as he joins you under the shade. It’s the end of summer break and everything is too hot.  

You look at him. “Uh-huh. Otou-san is too.”  

He stares at you for a long time before joining you in the grass. You feel weirdly self-conscious of the space he occupies next to you. You’ll be eleven soon enough. Bachira drapes his head in your lap as you sit, staring up at you. You don’t bother moving him. He’s always like that.  

He puts his hands up and shades his face from the sun. His eyes glow yellow gold just like always.  

“Does that mean you like alphas?”  

The question is embarrassing somehow. Makes you feel weird because you can’t answer right away. You cast your gaze away and shrug, pretending to read your book but finding it hard to focus with Bachira’s eyes on you.  

You read in a book that alpha and omegas fall in love most naturally. Sometimes they like betas. But you’ve always felt sure you like omegas, and you don’t want to lie to Bachira so you don’t.  

“I don’t know,” You say truthfully. “I’m supposed too,”  

“But do you?”  

You can’t answer him right away. You scrunch your nose and think of nii-san, the only alpha you know personally. The idea of dating someone with any similarities to him troubles you, even though you know he’s not a bad guy. You shake your head.  

“I don’t know. Alphas are too much,” You say after some time. That feels like the right choice. Sometimes, you see older kids and alphas and they all feel that way. “And they’re scary.”  

“Then what about omegas?”  

That feels easy to answer. Bachira stares at you intently and you flush, turning away and covering your face with your hand. “I like them…they’re pretty and smell nice.”  

“Hm,” Bachira says. His expression is hard to read. You make a face at him, head tilted asking the same thing. “I think I might like alphas. I dunno though. I don’t know what I am,”  

A pang of disappointment makes your chest ache but you bury it and smile at him. Just barely, corners of your lips lightly upturned. “That means we’re opposite.”  

“But in a way it means we fit together right?” Bachira says, same as usual. Expectant. Content. Like it’s not a big deal at all. You nod and cast your gaze down to your lap again.  

“Yeah. Right.”  

__  

[ ELEVEN ]  

Fifth year students have special lessons for secondary sexes, before a secondary health examination.  

In your fourth year, you learned about the characteristics of your primary sex which is most important for betas. Most people are betas, so you guess it makes sense they spend so much more time about it. Still, it’s a little surprising how little your teacher really discusses…anything at all.  

You try to pay attention to the lesson but keep tuning out, finding it boring and most of all - not very useful. Otou-san had this conversation with you already. It’s not anything new.  

You don’t mean to sound like a know-it-all of course, but with the way otou-san quizzes you on it, you’re pretty sure you know more than most of your classmates and maybe even your teacher. 

You find your teacher leaves out a lot of important details about alphas and omegas, though you don’t feel you can or should correct her. During your lesson, you start to understand why Otou-san insisted on making you learn at home.  

Reflecting on it, you think being an omega is a hassle. Sometimes it seems scary. Most times though, it just feels inconvenient. When people find it out about you, they always act like they know you. But they only know you’re an omega, so you doubt that’s true.  

 Your first heat hasn’t come yet since you’re on lots of medicines but you get all the same growing pains. New, tiny fangs are already forming in your mouth and your scent is stronger than most kids your age. Your body is already changing, growing and you have to get more check-ups than other people.  

 Okaa-san says that’s normal. That you’re normal. But it doesn’t really feel that way. You notice otou-san never uses the word normal, only says that you’re perfectly healthy. 

 You wonder if it’s something so strange that you’re teacher can’t discuss it. If your disposition is something so offputting. Omega’s are uncommon but not unheard of, right? So why does everyone seem so hush-hush?  

You don’t know how to explain the feeling. It’s lonely. People know you’re an omega, but you don’t even know what that means. Don’t know what it means to feel like an omega either. But supposedly it dictates so much of your life.  

You keep yourself from sighing as to not disturb your class. The led of your pencil snaps from pressure as you write in your work-book.  

__  

[ TWELVE ]  

You return to the classroom early after health examinations.  

It’s the start of the sixth year of your elementary. Most people are finding out their secondary sex for the first time today, but since you already know yours - you’re given a pass to go back and read quietly in the classroom until it’s over. Some people have already developed with strong, obvious scents but getting the official results require a medical check up.  

You want to linger a little more so you can talk with all of your classmates but your P.E. teacher shoos you out of the room before long.  

After you change out of your gym clothes and back into your uniform, you traverse down the hall and take the long way back. It’s April. The sun is out, peeking through the leaves as warm shades of spring bloom outside your schools windows.  

The hallway is unusually quiet. You try to keep your steps light so the hall monitor doesn’t write you up for making noise and causing a disturbance.  

You haven’t been able to shake the strange feeling since morning. Such an important day, met with anticipation - but you exist entirely outside of it. You almost feel noting towards it at all.  

You’ve known you were an omega for nearly three years now and you’ve already heard rumors about you in relation.  

It is isn’t all that important to you. But it is, at the same time since it seems important to other people.  

Maybe it’s because you already know yours, but it makes you kind of uncomfortable to hear how your classmates talk about it.  

You’ve never liked talking about being an omega, even though it’s not a secret. You pretend not to hear them when you’re in earshot but you always do.  

Omegas are weaker, more annoying, too emotional. The only thing they have is attracting alphas, and most people want an alpha to take care of them. Alphas are bound to be successful, and they’re good at sports. It’s great that they have easier chances of seducing them and betas, too. They’re easy and weak so naturally an alpha will want to take care of them.  

You’re used to hearing it, and rarely bother to correct them no matter how wrong they are. Sometimes, you want to point out to them you’re one of those things at all - but then, you wonder if that makes you weak and emotional so you never do. You’re not weak, nor annoying, and you rarely show your feelings to anyone.  

You can’t make sense of whats expected of you and why your classmates laugh you off when you mention you like omegas, either. You’ve always preferred omegas and their company. They’re comfortable, understanding, easy to be with and smell nice.  

There’s something exhausting about the idea you need to be with an alpha. All of it is tiresome. You can’t help but get the impression that from here on, it’ll only get harder to deal with and you don’t want that. You don’t want it to matter. You just want to be yourself.  

Lost in thought, you arrive at the classroom. One of your friends seems to have arrived at the same time. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her.  

Akemi-chan is one of your good friends. She’s beautiful. She has long, straight hair and cut-across bangs and always smiles. There’s a mole under her eye and her scent is ripe and summery like peaches. She smiles when she sees you.  

She’s so pretty and she stands to close to you - an arm around your waist with a comfortable laugh.  

“Guess what!”  

“Did you find out your secondary sex?”  

She grins, brightening several degrees. “I’m an omega. And,” Her voice drops suddenly. “Chiyo-san is an alpha!”  

“Ah,” Your voice drops.“Did you like Chiyo-san?”  

She nods. “Now that I know she’s an alpha, I like her more, I guess?” 

You try not to look sad, and try to quiet your heartbeat at the way she shows you affection she wouldn’t had you not both been omegas. She doesn’t pull away from you despite knowing you like omegas, so you still feel grateful. Akemi draws her cheek against yours gently. Scents you in the way friends do with her wrists.  

You nod listen to her. The listless melancholy of whats forward draws your attention outside.  

You notice storm clouds coming in as Akemi looks alongside you. It feels different.  

It feels a little too early in spring for such stormy rain.  

__  

“I didn’t get the results of my secondary sex exam,”  

You’re on your way home back from school when Bachira blurts this out to you. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, turning to look at him so you can understand his feelings better. Given how quiet Bachira’s been today - you figured something was wrong.  

You look at him, unsure of what to make of it.  

“Does that bother you?”  

Your question surprises him in return. It’s not unheard for people to present later. It manifests in everyone eventually, even betas. You don’t remember all the terminology though it has something to do with a specific hormone.  

Bachira thinks on your question before looking down at his shoes. He shrugs. “Mm. Dunno. Guess it just makes me feel even more different.”  

You think about what Bachira seems to go through at school and feel your heart tug. That makes sense you think.  

You shake your head, with new and sudden resolve. “I think it’s fine. It kinda makes sense. I got mine early so you get yours late. We’re always like that, right?”  

You hope the attempt to comfort him reaches him. When you look over and see him smiling, you feel unimaginable relief. The world feels more colorful when Bachira smiles. He pauses in the middle of the street, throwing an arm around your neck with a grin that feels like himself again. 

“Yeah. Right.”  

__  

[ THIRTEEN ]  

You can’t tell it’s your heat right away.  

 A fever breaks along your skin in a cramped train car. sweat clinging to your skin underneath your middle school uniform, a heat rash making your whole body itch. The noise around you becomes static, cottony as your heart starts thudding against your ribs.  

Your ears are ringing. Time slows down around you as the speed of the subway seems to double underneath your feet. Your knees buckle as you try and hold yourself upright as the intense and unfamilar feeling of desire violates your senses. Too intense for your body. It doesn’t feel like you. You’re not in your right mind.  

 It’s too early. Most people’s heats don’t come for another year or two at least. You feel so unlucky as the pain flares, mixed with something burning between your legs.  

You try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You take the same train home every single day at the same time. Plenty of students take it, but clubs keep you later than most. 

Bachira often comes with you just like he has today, so you focus on him. His middle school is a short-distance from yours so you try and walk home together when you can. A small promise that means the world to you. If you can’t go the full way, you always meet up at the intersection and walk the short distance together instead.   

You focus on Bachira as he stands next to you. He’s watching a game of soccer on his new phone, turned sideways with a single headphone in. You watch it over his shoulder. You try too. Your skin scorches, hot like something crash-landing through the atmosphere as a tension grows between your legs. Sweat breaks out around your collar and the small of your spine. You feel out of your body - floating just outside of it. Your neck throbs, scent glands suddenly aching. Both wrist and neck, all of you—aching.  

You can barely make any sense of your surroundings anymore. Your breathing is erratic as you grip onto the metal pole tight and try to make sense of your surroundings. You want to hold out until you can get to a stall. You’ve had a plan for this for as long as you can remember.  

You just need to keep it together until the train stops.  

There’s a man behind you. You don’t notice him until you do. You’re still wearing your uniform - short skirt rolled up to combat the heat of the season. A calloused hand reaches underneath the fabric. You think it’s an accident until it sticks between your inner thigh. It slides up slowly, getting closer to where it shouldn’t be. Your breath hitches. You shiver. Your body is hot.  

“Are you an omega?” An older man, the one behind you murmurs. His voice is crass, grating and dark against your skin. Your stomach twists with fear as your gaze freezes you into place. Unable to find your voice as he touches you, you try not to recoil. Disgusted at your body reacts to the involuntary arousal that spikes in result of it. He’s an alpha. The acrid, overbearing nausea of an alphas scent drives itself into your center like a stake. You hate it so much it’s unbearable but every is so hot.  

You have no control. Over anything. You’re terrified and barely there.  

Fear makes you jump. Your conscious mind slowly loses its grip as you feel your skin dampen with increasing heat, skull throbbing. Your heat is coming and it’s coming fast. You breathe heavily in a pant, trying to ignore the sensation. Trying to ignore everything, just to drown out the oppressive scent of alpha invading your lungs as you tuck your chin.  

“You’re a little young to be presenting like this. Having your heat on a train like this,” His voice weighs down on you oppresively. Your heart is so loud, clamoring noisily behind your ears as tears prick at your eyes. His hands go further and further and you flinch. Brushing where you don’t want to be touched you jolt.  

our jolting makes Bachira look up from his phone.  

“Are you trying to tempt an alpha?” 

You’re not very conscious. You’re disgusted. You know this is normal but it feels wrong. You feel wrong. The horror is grounding in it’s own right. Fog clouds your mind, makes your senses sharp. You feel split at the seams. Fighting with your own consciousness, you can’t think of anything except trying to suppress your instincts. But it’s painful, so painful - and something sticky is running down your legs. It’s not you, it’s your body. It’s violating.  

Your instincts want an alpha. Your body wants something you can’t understand to the point it aches inside of you, aches between your legs and makes you want to throw up. 

Before the man behind you can get any further, your shaken awake by the sound of him practically shrieking. Bachira appears in the corners of your vision.  

You’ve never seen him so angry.  

You can see his hand reaching behind you. Your eyes gloss over as you stare at Bachira. The hand touching you is gone and you feel immediate comfort. You ground yourself in the warmth of his eyes. You try to find his face amidst your tears. 

“Bachira-kun,” Your voice is a whimper. You tuck your head against his shoulder. “I’m scared, I’m so scared, it hurts,”  

He stiffens and then his voice comes. It’s soothing, sounds just like him. High and soft. He hums a lullaby to you like nothings wrong. When his hand rests on your lower back, it doesn’t make you feel like crawling out of your own skin.  

“It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s safe. You’re safe. I’ll protect you, promise.”  

It’s weird to see him this calm. The loud Bachira you know is never so poised, but he holds you steady. You whimper as he pushes you against his scent glands. He smells sweet. You huff it involuntarily. Bachira doesn’t tell you to stop.  

When the train comes to a slow, you let him move you through the station and take you to the bathroom. Your knees are weak. He’s not the type to worry but you’ve made him so concerned.  

He opens a stall and sets you gently on the toilet. The cool linoleum sobers you enough to look at Bachira. His worry, his concern, his care. You whimper.  

“Hug me,” You practically beg. He hesitates, clicking himself into the stall alongside you as you let yourself drape around his waist. It’s not very different from how you usually are, is it? Bachira is always so affectionate, yet it feels so different.  

 He rubs the scent glands on his wrist on your neck.  

Above you, Bachira is on his phone. Your brain is too hazy to make the details, but you think you hear your fathers voice on the other side of the line.  

“Ji-chan will be here soon,” Bachira says. You clutch the back of Bachira’s uniform. It’s the first time he’s ever felt so broad. “Don’t worry.”  

“Meguru. Thank you,” You say in a half-sob.  

“Anytime,” He says, his voice small and high and so familiar. “I’ll always protect you. Promise. No alpha will touch you again.” 

*** 

__  

The reality of your first heat should be what you expect. You know these things happen. Otou-san has told you to be cautious everywhere you go for the last four years without fail. 

 But when it happens to you, it’s the first time you feel resentful about your secondary sex. Anger towards your body first, for not being able to control itself. Angry at the world next, for making you feel as if it’s your fault.  

You grow averse to alphas in the after math. You try not to be. You try not to let your discomfort show and try not to become the sort of person who makes judgements on secondary sex  - but for a long time, just the thought of being around them makes your bones chill.  

The only thing that keeps you from being all negative is Bachira. His anger for you when discussing that day is enough to ease the burden. Bachira bears your hurt like its his.  

You start calling Bachira, Meguru when you call him after he stays with you during your heat. It’s the last bridge of closeness to cross - the last barrier between you. He calls you by your first name too, sometimes a nickname if the mood suits him.  

You find yourself so thankful to be his friend some days it makes you want to cry.  

You find yourself even more grateful when he tells you he’s an omega. It comforts you. You think, he’s too good to be an alpha and too goo to be with one but you never tell him. It’ll happens someday and you think you’ll be sad.  

But for now, you’re happy being by his side a little while longer.  

__  

[ FOURTEEN ] 

Miki-chan invites you to celebrate her fourteenth birthday with a visit to the mall.  

There’s a huge mall a little over half an hour away from Chiba that she’s been dying to visit since forever agp. Her nee-san takes all of you in her nice car, even letting you spend money on her card within reason. She’s a lot older than all of you, twice your age with a big girl job in Tokyo. She’s stylish and kind and always has fun nail designs because she works for a famous fashion magazine.  

Otou-san has also given you an excessive amount of pocket money after you told him about your day-trip. You really weren’t planning on getting anything, but you’re glad to have something in case Bachira wants to make a purchase.  

You’re stopped in for frozen yogurt, following Bachira as Miki-chan and another mutual friend, Sasaki-san wait for you to come up front. You watch amusedly as Bachira piles his frozen yogurt with more toppings. You’re pretty sure he’s not even going to finish it.  

You peer at his cup from over his shoulder, watching him pile gummy bears onto his already loaded cup of frozen yogurt, wrinkling your nose in distaste.  

“What flavor of froyo did you get this time?”  

“Sea salt chocolate. For balance,” He says, dead seriously.  

You smile involuntarily before brushing past him, spooning yogurt chips into your own cup. You get different things depending on your mood but always keep it simple. Since it’s hot and humid, you’re getting a coconut flavor with shaving, yogurt chips, fruit and strawberry sauce and sprinkles for good measure.  

“You’re too much,” You move past him and wait for him to finish up at the counter. “But if you’re happy,”  

“I’m always very happy. I have no place for sadness!” Bachira replies.  

You give him another crooked smile, turning to where Miki and Sasaki are chatting.  

“I’ll pay for Meguru-kun,” You announce. His frown is instant. 

“Eh? No way, I brought money though? That’s why I put so much stuff,”  

He’s pouting. You wonder if all omega boys are that cute naturally or if it’s just Bachira.   

“Buy something with it later.”  

He pouts, swallowing his complaint as he knows it’ll fall on deaf ears.  

“Fine,” He huffs, placing his alongside yours on the weight. The cashier gives you two a knowing smile that you miss as she rings up, sticking a color-changing spoon in each before passing it back along with your change. “I’ll get you back for this.”  

You don’t say anything as you watch the weight counter.  

“Over one thousand yen…. you’re such a glutton,”  

“I’ll split it with you as thanks,”  

You make a face of disgust that makes him cackle as you both sit down and join your other friends. Bachira drags his chair to sit as close to you as possible, fully inserting himself into your personal space per usual. You eat a spoonful of your frozen yogurt, unconcerned. Sasaki stares at you for a bit. Your eyes meet and you tilt your head in confusion but she turns away.  

“Miki-chan, is there anything else you want to look for?”  

“New shoes, maybe.” 

You glance at her then shake your head. “Pick something else.”  

“…Okay. Thank you in advance, I guess,” Miki-says with a laugh. You smile a little.  

You look over at Bachira who’s very enraptured in his fro-yo.. You lick your thumb as reach over and wipe the corners of his mouth - stained with chocolate.  

“You eat like a kid,” Fondness unmistakable in your voice.  

He shakes his head sagely. “Eating something delicious is supposed to make you eat like a kid, you know? And we are kids. This is what it means to be free citizens of the world! Of this great nation!”  

“Uh-huh. I’ll take your word for it, but clean your mouth at least.”  

Bachira looks at you with smeared mess of chocolate, worsened by another sugary bite. “Why should I worry about it when you’re here to do it for me?”  

You give him flat look. Despite yourself though, you use a napkin from the middle of the table to wipe his mouth off. Miki scoffs at you both.  

“If you’re too spoiled, she’ll get sick of you,” Miki-chan says bitterly.  

“She’d never get sick of me. You on the other hand,”  

You shake your head as the two of them hiss at each other. You’ve been friends for years and they still argue. It’s hard to say they’re oil and water. If anything, they’re so similar it baffles you why they don’t get along better then they do you. After a minute of glaring, she  sighs and goes back to thinking of her shopping trip.  

“Well if shoe’s are out of the question, maybe some new earrings. Oh! And we should get you some makeup you can wear at school.”  

You shake your head. “I told you I’m not interested.”  

“You’re wasting your beautiful omega looks. I won’t allow it,” Miki pouts at you even as you shake your head. “I promise it’ll be easy stuff. I just think it would look nice on you.”  

Bachira doesn’t even look up. “You’re pretty the way you are.”  

“Don’t say something that embarrassing,”  

“It’s not embarrassing if it’s true,” He voices, sing-songy. His insistence only worsens your frown.  

Sasaki glances between you again, you think. It’s too brief for you to catch but the weight of it lingers even when she pulls her gaze.  

“Please? Just a little? I’m buying it for you so it’s fine right.”   

“I know you said you want to practice on me but it’s not just that, right?”  

Miki smiles at you, coy. “Eh… maybe? I want to max your potential more like. You’re not seeing my exquisite vision but I will make you.”  

You shake your head, and sigh - pretending to be more troubled than you are. “Fine. We’ll go after. I want to go to another store too. For stationary,”  

“You’re too much of a bookworm. Boring. Nerd!” Bachira says automatically. 

“The one time we agree on something,” Miki replies.  

You frown at both of them. “It’s important that the world has boring people. How else would we have laws?”  

“Even you thinking about laws is so boring,” 

You shake your head, displeased.  

Conversation flows more steadily between you, Miki and Sasaki. Bachira tunes out, draping himself all over you once he’s done eating. He fidgets with your hands, resting his head on your shoulder. You adjust so you can eat while letting him.  

“Pee,” Bachira announces abruptly. He stands up, arms over his head as his shirt slides over his belly, exposing skin. “Need to pee really bad. Pee time,”  

“Do you want me to come with you?” You ask.  

He looks down at you and smiles widely before shaking his head. “Mm, no. I’ll be fine. I can do it by myself. I’m no longer a kid!”  

You give him a raise brow in reply to say can you? that makes him stick his tongue out. You chuckle at that. “Go pee then. Don’t get lost.”  

“Yes, ma’am!”  

Bachira does a salute before scurrying off to find the closest bathroom. Sure that’ll occupy his time, you smile to yourself as take a spoonfuls of your melty frozen yogurt - careful not to spill any as you put in your mouth and go back to conversation.  

Sorry about that. What were you saying, Sasaki-san?”  

She stares at you for a long time. “Are you two… like… together?”  

You blink.  

“Sorry?”  

“You and him,” Sasaki reiterates. Besides her, Miki snorts.  

“What a good question,”  

You shoot her a unimpressed look. “Ignore her. No, we’re not.”  

“What?” Sasaki says. The genuine disbelief shocks you a little. You’re used to Miki teasing you but not this. “Seriously? Even though he’s like that?”  

“Oh, what? Like touchy?” You reply, starting to understand. Miki interrupts you.  

“Don’t bother, Sasaki. It’s a lose cause.” She shakes her head.  

“Again. Ignore her,” You emphasize, shooting her a glare. “Anyway no. We’re just childhood friends and he’s always been sort of clingy like that.”  

“With everyone?” Sasaki says pointedly. “Or is it just because it’s you…?”  

You pause.  

You’ve never… considered that. You rarely have time to feel overly conscious about what Bachira does or doesn’t do with you. In the first place, he’s not the sort of person that’s easy to predict. He’s got more quirks than you can keep track of but all of it is Bachira. It makes no sense to question his idiosyncrasies this far in. There’s nothing he could do to make you think of him differently. Bachira doesn’t have many friends outside of you to begin with.  

 You blink a few times, considering it. “No, I’m…sure it’s just with anyone he feels very close too,”  

“But to that extent? He was letting off his—“  

Miki shoots her a look and shakes her head. You catch it but find yourself unable to ask, lost in thought. Too hung up on what feels like the edge of an epiphany.  

There’s a long bout of silence until you shake your head.  

 Even if it’s only you, it doesn’t make a huge difference. 

“Bachira is only interested in alphas,” You reply, remembering. Sasaki seems surprised by that for some strange reason. “It really doesn’t mean anything,” 

Before long, Bachira returns to the table. He takes as long as you predicted, but you find you’re a little relieved to see him acting the same. He drops down and places his chin on your head, waiting for you to look up at him.  

“Didja miss me?”  

A sweet, familiar scent. A soft, high voice. A wild look. You look up at him, reassured by your own reminder of his sexuality. You grin mischievously.  

“Not at all,” You say with fake nonchalance. He gasps.  

“Rude!”  

Yes, it’s fine. Still the same old Bachira.  

__  

[ FIFTEEN ]  

“Oh,” You can’t mask the surprise in your voice as your older brother sits at the dining room table. “Nii-san.”  

Your oldest brother has recently started at a real office job. It’s closer to your childhood home then his apartment, so some nights if he’s too exhausted - he’ll drop in and sleep in his old room. It’s rare you come across him though, since he’s usually home and asleep as soon as it’s night time.  

He must’ve come from the office. He’s still wearing his dress shirt and tie, though he has the suit jacket he wears to the office laid over the back of a dining room chair. You try to get used to him looking like that, but the version of him most strongly in your head is all the years he spent as a delinquent.  

His straightened out appearance is unusual for you no matter how often you come across it now. You mostly keep in touch through socials and sparse texts, and he sometimes calls you. His hair is dyed a natural color now and he only has his piercings in on days off. The few tattoos he used to show off are now well hidden under his clothes.  

But his manor and demeanor are largely the same when he’s relaxed. The way he spreads out when he sits makes him look like the average delinquent. The familiarity of it is comfortable albeit funny.  

“You’re home late,”  

“I had student council,”  

He taps his fingers against the table, a silent gesture for you to sit.  

“You’re in student council? Since when?”  

You shrug, setting your bag down to join him in the kitchen. “Since school started. I was roped into it,”  

“Then are you in other clubs?”  

“I’m in a volunteering club. We help the elderly and read with younger classes and help out around school.”  

He pinches the bridge of his nose, tipping his head back. “We’re complete opposites somehow…” 

You purse your lips, faintly amused as you open your fridge up. There’s more pudding then when you left in the morning, but you decide against asking as you take one and open a drawer for a spoon. “You were already skipping class and stuff by then, right? I remembered because you and kaa-san used to argue while I was doing homework.”  

“You heard all of that?”  

You open the plastic peel off lid and dip into the flan-like texture, nodding indifferently as you sit in the dining room chair across from him. “Uh-huh. Kinda hard not too.”  

“It didn’t scare you?” 

“Nah,” You tilt your head. “You glaring at me whenever you saw me did though. A little.”  

His eyes go wide before sighing. “Sorry. I was a knucklehead back then.”  

“It was fine. It made me a bit sad but I’m fine now. And I hope you don’t hate me any more?”  

He gives you a half-hearted laugh, still feeling guilty. You’re mostly teasing. Nii-san has only grown increasingly over protective, though you still don’t know what he’s thinking. He also gives you allowance now, which is nice.  

He leans back. “Nah, course not. How could I hate such a good kid?” 

He reaches over to pet your head as you eat your pudding, giving you a smile you can’t really read. “Your birthday is soon right?” 

“Uh-huh.”  

“Got any plans?”  

“I’ll probably drag Meguru-kun around to the bookstore.”  

He makes a face at you. “That brat,”  

“Don’t call him that.” You frowb. “I don’t get why you hate him so much anyway.”  

“Because he’s always hanging around you and he’s—“ He shakes his fist aimlessly, unable to find the words. They’ve had arguments with each other for as long as you can remember. “Whatever. Fine. Just. Don’t marry him,”  

“He likes alphas,” You say with ease. He looks at you incredulous, before shaking his head.  

“Sure. Even if that changes don’t marry him. Don’t date him either. Settle down with someone nice,”  

“No offense, nii-san but that’s not really a lecture I wanna hear from you,”  

“See? He’s already rubbing off on you.”  

__ 

“Huh? The two of you already broke up?”  

Bachira lays on your bed on his stomach while you sit at your desk, his legs swinging up in the air. Predictably, he’s watching videos about dribbling on his phone.  

You haven’t seen him in a few days but it makes sense that he wouldn’t have heard about it. Your relationship with Inoue wasn’t very public to begin with, at least not on her end. Aside from that, you always got the impression that things would turn out this way.  

You’re sure that your own pessimism and detachment is part of the reason. 

You busy yourself with the derivatives taunting you on your graphing paper, making an affirmative noise. “A couple of days ago,”  

“Ehhh? Wasn’t she totally clingy with you, though?”  

You shrug indifferently. 

Inoue-san was the only other omega in your grade who likes other omegas. There’s rumours about Suzuki-kun who’s a second year and some other third years you don’t really know. Of them, Inoue was the only one you knew personally. You sit next to each other in class and joined the same clubs coincidentally.  

A conversation in the club room making flyers devolved into one about secondary sexes and sexuality. Eventually, you landed on the topic of being an omega. You commiserated about it then, shared some words of camaraderie about the social woes of being the perceived weaker sex and became a little more comfortable with each other. You aren’t sure what thread of conversation exactly led to the talk of you both mutually preferring omegas.  

Inoue-san confessed too, that unlike you who couldn’t figure out what you felt towards alphas, she knew with some certainty she didn’t like them at all.  

Another few weeks of friendship and the steadily closing distance between you, one thing led to another. Inoue-san confessed to you first in a sort of abrupt and out of the blue way. It was a semi-impulsive decision to date her, but you thought she was pretty and nice. A puppy crush worth something, a youthful love affair.  

So after summer break, the two of you started dating.  

It was a short lived relationship. A break in routine. You dated for three months and broke up just this last week. The first month of your relationship was nice. You ate lunch together and texted a lot. The second month you went on dates. The third month had been fine for a little before everything seemed to rip at the seams and fall apart.  

Inoue-san was nice to be with when you were alone. In the sanctity of storage rooms or her childhood bedroom - where there were no eyes to leer at either of you, she was everything you liked about being with an omegas. Soft skin, pretty eyes, an intoxicating scent that made your brain go alight when you touched her. She was comfortable to be with during your pre-heat, easy to touch and hold and caress.  

It made sense to be with her in the way you always thought it would.  

Fundamental differences in your feelings about being omegas in a relationship would appear sooner rather than later though. You’re sympathetic, which is why you don’t think you’re as hurt as you should be. 

“I kinda knew. In the back of my mind, I guess,” You click the end of your pencil to push out more led, scribbling out some more numbers. “She always avoided crowds. Seemed paranoid about people finding out in general. So I thought it might be something like that.”  

“You don’t seem very sad,” Bachira points out. You give him an amused smile from the corner of your eye.  

“What kind of best friend would want me to be sad?”  

“Nooo,” He whines at you, tossing a stuffed toy at you that you reflexively duck a way from. “I was just worried about you, jeez. Plus, I didn’t really like her, you know?”  

There’s no way you couldn’t have known. Bachira being hesitant towards people in your life isn’t anything new. He’s never been fond of any new friends you’ve made, always openly jealous and always asking for assurance that he’s still your number one. Sometimes he’d go as far as doing it in front of them, which you reprimanded him for.  

Sometimes.  

You roll your eyes. “Oh I know,”  

He grins. “I was being so nice this time,” He pouts, rolling onto his back with his arms crossed over his chest. He turns his face to your bedroom wall instead of you. “You should praise me. I wasn’t even mean to her face! Not once,”  

“Pfft,” You laugh behind your hands. “Yeah, good job. Still, I didn’t think Inoue-san was that bad. She didn’t do anything to me,”  

“She was ashamed of you,” Bachira says. It’s weird. A strangely serious sentiment that makes your eyes go wide.  

“Not of me,” You correct. “Of us, maybe. I think she was being sincere when she said she liked me but I mean. I get it. It’s not something I go around telling people either, though I’ve been out for a while,”  

There’s some impulse he bites down. It’s not like you’re defending her, but Bachira takes it as such and takes it personally as he does most things. You give him a small smile as you notice, so attuned to his moods. Even his petulance doesn’t shake you. Selfishness comes as naturally to Bachira as breathing.  

“I wouldn’t be ashamed to be with you in public,” He bites his tongue again and you want to ask what could be on his mind. He’s intending the words to be lighthearted, but there’s weight there. You aren’t sure how you’re meant to hold it. “If were ever to fall madly in love with each other, I would tell the entire world.”  

You try not to let it mean anything. The numbers on your page blur together so much you have to start a problem over. It takes you a second to pull the shake out of your voice.  

“If you like something, don’t you usually tell the whole world anyway?” You say sardonically. Bachira frowns, huffs, turns his head away. His ears are pink.  

“Yeah,” He says back and leaves it there. “Usually keeping it in makes me feel like I’m gonna explode into a million little pieces. Bleh,”  

He slumps back onto one side of your bed and keeps watching his game. The sound of your pencil scratching along the paper makes up for the empty space.  

__  

[ SIXTEEN ] 

On the field, Bachira shines brighter than any star in the night-sky.  

You’re the only one here for todays game. His mom usually comes to whichever one she can, but she has an important exhibition on the other side of the country today. Bachira didn’t show any disappointment about it. You’re not sure how he feels but you doubt it affected too much.  

When it comes to soccer, he becomes completely single-minded.  

The soccer Bachira plays is a reflection of him. Golden yellow and free, like a shade only he can color with, that touches everything and makes it shine in its path.  

The Bachira you know—the Meguru you’ve known your whole life is different when it comes to soccer. Soccer is the precedence of his entire existence. For Bachira, who enjoys being completely and entirely uninhibited, there’s nothing as freeing as the square PVC frames of a net.  

He splits his life in two ways. Soccer and everything else.  

The field are still mildly damp today. It lingers in the air, cooling on your skin as you watch him from the stands in utter awe. Rays of light spill through gaps in the thick clouds over head, shining down on the field and making each move vibrant.  

The game goes on around you bustling endlessly. Noise from all sides. Whether that be in the stands with people talking amongst themselves, the shouting of coaches, or the players talking to one another. It’s loud all around, blurry movements of team mates passing the fall back and forth make up the scene. Guarding and passing, taking each other into consideration as all team sports encourage.  

The soccer that Bachira plays is different from the soccer everyone else plays on the field. Selfish, ego-centric, enigmatic - you find that you can’t take a single breath or you might miss something. It’s antithetical how team sports are played. Eye-catching and flashy as he dribbles the ball along with his feet in a movement like a dance.  

He’s mesmerizing. Despite all the things happening around you all at once, your gaze is fixated completely and utterly on Bachira. So bright it outshines everything else, everyone else, without feeling apologetic. Without reason or rhyme, without strategy. A soccer that demands to be seen.  

This is a game with many players, but to you - it is simply the stage in which Bachira shows off his talent in it’s rawest form. Even in a place not well suited for it, Bachira shines. You’ve never seen anything so brilliant. It’s been years since you last attended a game and seen this applied version of himself.  

It’s the first time Bachira has ever felt so close while feeling so far. It’s the first time you can’t hide from him, pinned underneath the honey-viscous weight of his presence.  

He dribbles the ball between his feet and kicks hard into center stage, scores a goal so beautifully unpredictable the whole crowd roars in cheers and Bachira laughs like he’s delighted.  

You love Bachira. You realize this as he stands like a center piece in the field.  

Like the moon loves the sun. Like the sand loves the tide. Like shadows love light. Bachira is more beautiful playing soccer than you’ve ever seen him, and it occurs to you it’s taken you sixteen years to find this out.  

He’s so beautiful you can’t tear yourself away. Can’t run from the realization.  

His eyes find yours in the crowds of people, elated with his brows raised. You can practically hear him where he stands, lips curled around the words. Did you see that? Did you see the goal I made?  

You break the neutrality of your face and grin wide, uncharacteristic as you chant his name. “Go, Meguru!”  

Bachira laughs again as the game goes on. Your shining star, your ego-centric sun. Your heart is beating loud enough to crush your ribs.  

What an incredible view.  

__  

(Namikaze highschool wins that round of their inter-high bracket. The team goes to celebrate. They never invite Bachira.  

Today, though, Bachira has you. After the game, Bachira wraps you in a hug so tight it could break you. You wonder when he got so strong. His scent, overwhelming and sweet, mixes with the scent of sweat and deodorant. You like it. You hug like that for a while, suddenly aware of your lack of proximity.  

A comment Sasaki-san made about you two years ago pops back into your head but you still don’t think to let him go.  

After he showers and changes back into his usual attire, you and Bachira walk to the 7/11 around the corner of his house.  

You sit on the curb, legs out stretched. The sun is in full bloom, sky painted an pastel orange melting into pinks and blues. You hand Bachira his soda water from your bag, and split the melon flavored popsicle you bought in two halves.  

You give him the bigger half. Unusually, it’s very quiet between you two.  

“I’m going to become the best striker in the world,” He says. A repeat of a dream you’ve heard before, but said with amazing conviction. You look at him for a long time. Wet hair and brown eyes. You tuck a piece of hair behind his ear to look at him better then smile.  

“I know you are,”  

His grin brightens. “Right! Right, so when that happens,” His voice drops, feather soft. “When it happens, make sure you’re watching me. Don’t look away or you’ll miss it. ‘Kay? You gotta promise.”  

He holds out his pinky for you. Were his hands always so calloused? Were they always so big, you wonder. You look at Bachira and suddenly he seems so much older. You nod your head.  

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Meguru.” ) 

__  

[ SEVENTEEN ] 

“Come over,” Bachira demands on the other side of the line. His voice is nearly a screech. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him so excited in your entire life and that is saying a whole lot. “Come over, now. Like right now! You have too, you absolutely must,”  

You pull your bag up on your shoulders as you pull the phone away from your ears. “Jeez, jeez - alright. I just got back from my supplementary lessons, so give me a second.”  

“Are you on the street in front of my house?”  

“Huh? Yeah, I am.”  

The phone line cuts off, going completely silent as you stare at your phone in a mix of confusion and disbelief. Your fingers hover over the call back icon for a second before a tremendously loud shout and even louder footsteps sound in your ears. 

You’re too surprised to laugh as Bachira comes barreling towards you in minutes flat. You steel yourself preparing to catch him if he lands face-first, but he manages to pull back in record speed skidding to a halt. You blink at him rapidly. He feels like an illusion.  

“You ran here,”  

“Yes. I did. Because,” He grabs both of your hands and starts to tug you into some kind of spinning dance in the middle of the sidewalk. “I. Have. News!”  

“News? What about?”  

His eyes widen and shine brilliantly. “Bluelock!”  

__  

The act of disappearing requires a lot more work than you could’ve imagined.  

You’re being dramatic. Bachira isn’t disappearing. Not forever, at least. He’s just going away for a while, abruptly doing the thing that he would’ve done regardless because it’s not like he can become the best striker in the world in Japan alone. It’s something that was bound to happen eventually.  

And, it’s not like you didn’t get any warning. The letter came months beforehand. Bachira was set to leave towards the end of November, which meant he about a month to prepare. Which means you’ve had about a month to be with him.  

It’s not a big deal. You have other friends. Other people. It’s good that Bachira is going to be in a place that he can play the soccer he’s always dreamed. Even as his best friend, there’s some things you can’t do for him. It’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him, which is saying more than you ever could.  

Rationally, you know there’s nothing to worry about. Emotionally, you’ve found out that you rely on Bachira more than you thought. Even the thought of him leaving temporarily is making your heart wrench. You’ve asked him a million questions.  

It’s not like you to be so anxious about anything. You ere on the side of calm. But it’s Bachira. Your Meguru, so you can’t help but worry.  

Bachira, dense as he is about other people, sympathizes with your concerns without asking and doesn’t get mad when you answer. It’s easy for you to forget that he understands you in his own way. 

 Bachira depends on you because he cares about you and you take care of Bachira because you are about him. It fulfills a mutual sense of purpose.  

This is a normal part of growing up. You’ve been repeating it to yourself constantly. It’s not like you won’t see him ever again. You’ll see him afterwards, at least for a little while. You won’t be able to call or text him while he’s in the facility but that’s not forever. And even while he’s in there, he wants to hear about your boring life. So he says, anyways.  

Rationally, you know it’s fine. Emotionally, you’re growing a keen sense of awareness about this being the end of your so-called youth. It’s not you’re adults, but you’re not kids either. You’re going to be eighteen next year. You have to think about entrance exams. You have to think about life and where Bachira will go without you.  

Time is passing by you whenever you hesitate. Eventually, it’ll catch up to you and Bachira will be somewhere so far out of your reach. There’s no one you can think of more perfect for center stage. No one’s soccer will every shine as brilliantly as Bachira’s.  

But it’s lonely. In it’s own right. To think about how far he’ll go. He’ll dribble himself to the ends of the Earth eventually.  

At least for another week though, he’s within your reach. You have so many pictures together in your room per his request over the last few years, but looking at him now you kind of wish you had more.  

“Aren’t you wanting to practice?”  

“Ehh?” He frowns. “I can practice later. But I can’t be in your room all the time you know. I want to burn it into my brain. I thought we should do something special to commemorate but I couldn’t figure anything out.”  

You hum. A thought strikes you. It’s incredibly out of character, but maybe that’s why it does. “We could drink together.”  

Bachira laughs at first, definitely assuming it was a joke. When he realizes you’re dead serious though, he gasps, scandalized. Your lips quirk up at the corners.  

“Who are you? An impostor? A shadow clone?” Bachira grabs your shoulders and shakes you lightly. “What did you do with my uptight best friend?!”  

You laugh helplessly. “Don’t act like that. I just know where my parents keep bottles of shochu cold in the basement and thought maybe. I’ve never touched it before. It’s the weekend right? So if we get too drunk, you can sleep here.”  

Bachira dramatically places a hand over his mouth in shock. “Have you really been replaced by alien clones…I can’t believe my ears.”  

You shake your head. “Do you want to drink together or not?”  

“Ehhhh?? Of course I do!” Bachira says, absolutely enthused at the idea. “We should get so drunk together.”  

You consider it. “My parents are visiting relatives. I guess I can text and see if nii-san is coming home.”  

“Are you saying it’s okay to get drunk if he isn’t planning on coming?”  

You nod. “He’d probably be easy on me but I don’t want him to lecture you,”  

Bachira squishes his face to yours, rubbing his cheek on yours with unabashed affection. You try not to laugh. You can feel him so close, smell him so close it makes you a little dizzy. Bachira doesn’t let out his scent more than necessary, but he is now just barely - scent glands brushing against your skin.  

He smells sweet, but in a strange way. It was comforting and familiar. A little unusual for an omega given how strong it was but it’s not like Bachira is very usual in general.  

It’s a little intimate for friends, but it’s Bachira and who knows when you’d see him next. You let him do as he pleases.  

“Hurry and text your brother,” Bachira huffs, then brightens back up again. “Then lets drink! Yay!” 

__ 

You bring the bottles of shochu back up to your bedroom as a pre-caution. Nii-san is is a couple hours away for a work trip, but you can’t get over the lingering paranoia of him appearing back home and trying to fight Bachira as a result so you figure it’s probably better to drink in your room.  

You bring two glasses up with you along with juice and soda water, unsure about the taste. Bachira likes soda water as is so maybe he can use it as a chaser.  

You sit across from each other at the small table close to the floor in the middle of your room. It took a while to get the bottles open.  

You’ve smelled it before but it’s a little weird having it available to drink. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking with me. Underage. You, of all people.”  

You pour a little shochu into each of your cups with a roll of your eyes. You’ll save the mix-ins for later, but you’re interested in tasting it on its own. You’re sure your parents have other stuff too, sake, beer and wine but you don’t know where they keep it. You read the labels of the bottle before drinking it.  

You brush past what Bachira has said. “Fourty-three percent seems like a lot.”  

“That’s basically half right? Doesn’t that mean this is gonna make us super drunk? Ohh, think I’m gonna throw up in your room? I haven’t done that since we were ten!”  

“Please don’t throw up in my room.” You say, shaking your head. “I don’t know actually. It seems like a lot. Guess we’ll just have to drink and see.”  

You shrug. You pick up your glass, signaling Bachira to do the same. He lets out a loud kanpai as you do, making you laugh a little as you bring the glass up to your lips. The scent itself sort of burns, you can’t imagine what drinking it is gonna be like.  

You watch aghast as Bachira knocks the entire glass back and nearly hacks up his lungs coughing. His eyes are wet when he recovers with a fit of laughter that he can’t seem to get control of.  

“Ahhh, it burns! It burns so much and it tastes weird. But it was easier to drink at once.” He says dramatically laughing, nearly retching in the process.  

You stare at him in disbelief before taking a sip of your own drink refusing to partake in the same foolishness. He’s right that it burns. You always heard that but feeling the acidity in your mouth is different. It feels like all the moisture from your mouth is going along with it. You try it a few more times in short sips.  

Are you some sort of masochist?  

“I kind of…” You blink. Your eyes water as you look up at Bachira. “I kind of like it…?”  

Bachira takes the bottle into his own hands that time and pours more of it straight into your glass and less into his. You’re sitting but you feel woozy. He pours soda and juice along his own before picking it up again, smiling with a friendly cheers.  

__ 

Hours pass.  

You and Bachira drink two entire bottles and talk to each other about nothing in particular. Mostly, it’s Bachira telling you how excited he is to go to Bluelock and you listening. You like listening to him. You love his voice.  

You’re not sure when exactly the distance between you had disappeared entirely. You’re used to Bachira. To his body heat, to his presence, to his weight. You know how to carry him. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the drawn out feeling of loneliness making you feel self-conscious.  

You don’t know what it is exactly. But there’s something about him at this proximity you’re having a hard time with. Wrapped up together, tangled on your bedroom floor while you both reek of liquor. He smells like burnt honey and he’s… handsome. More than he is pretty, you think. Still pretty though too.  

He’s so unusual in every way. Your love for him sort of simmers underneath you in a pleasant but difficult way. You blink. Your eyes are bleary. He talks so much, but it’s the first time you really think about kissing him. The first time you wonder about how it feels.   

You’re staring. Bachira pauses halfway as you’re tucked against him and stares back, mouth curled into familiar chesire grin. He drops his voice down to a whisper.  

“What?” He says. He’s being teasing. He does that occasionally.  

“Nothing,” You say and want to shut your eyes. “Keep talking. ‘s fine.”  

“It’s not nothing,” He whines petulantly. “You’re not listeninggggg,”  

“Sorry.”  

He hugs you, an arm slipping under you and squeezing you. Was he always so strong? You figured his legs might be but there’s muscle in his arms too. ���I’m not actually mad, dummy.”  

“I was sorry, though.” A beat of silence. A heartbeat. “I’m gonna miss you.”  

“Really?”  

You look at him incredulous. “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”  

“You’re hard to read sometimes! Even for me.”  

You decide not to apologize again. Bachira would complain. You desperately want to tell him you love him. They’re the only words on you mind. But even this wasted, you can’t bring yourself to do something that pointless.  

“You’re the most important person in my entire life,” You opt for instead. “And I hope you find someone who can play the kind of soccer that’s fun for you.”  

Another minute of silence passes before you hear the familiar huff of Bachira crying. He cries often but he hasn’t done it in front of you for quite some time. He tucks himself against your neck and shoulder, shifting to press against your scent glands.  

“I was doing a good job not trying before this,” He mutters. You rub his back soothingly, smiling a bit. “Gosh…don’t be so sappy like that randomly. It’s bad for my heart!”  

Your own throat feels thick but you keep it down. Manage to swallow the tears away. You want to tell him so badly it’s making it hard to breathe.  

Bachira looks up after a while. You do him the courtesy of wiping his tears away with your thumb, brushing them away from his face.  

You don’t realize how close your faces have gotten until you nearly brush against his nose.  

You think the alcohol is making you hallucinate when you feel a kiss.  

Your eyes are still open for it. It’s not clumsy but it’s not smooth either. You blink. And you feel it again, and it lingers a little longer until you close your eyes and kiss back.  

You kiss him so hard it feels like you forget how to breathe.  

__ 

You don’t talk about it.  

When Bachira wakes up the next day thoroughly hung-over and much in the same condition, treating you exactly the same - you assume he’s forgotten about it unlike you. You try not to let it weigh on you by writing it off as one of Bachira’s many quirks. Maybe you’ve gotten practice at repressing your emotions better than you thought since it works perfectly.  

The week passes by easily. At the end of it, you see Bachira off along with his mom and the rest of your family who insisted on waving him off. The thought of not knowing the next time you’ll see him is painful but you manage it with the feeling you’ll see him eventually.  

Though you don’t know how long it’ll be.  

__  

The next time you see Bachira’s face is on T.V.  

It’s the first time you’ve ever sat in your living room to watch a game of soccer. You had wanted to attend, but tickets had only been alloted for family. You settled on watching at home, though Bachira’s mom had promised she would relay any messages she could from Bachira to you through text and otherwise.  

You’ve never been into soccer. Despite your many years spent along side it for one reason or another, the sport itself has rarely ever been of any interest. You’re sure this is partly to blame on the fact you are hilariously unathletic albeit perfectly healthy.  

When the U-2o match gets announced and you hear Bluelock will be playing, your ears perk up like a dog. You’re glad Bachira isn’t around to see how you announce to your entire house and tell them the T.V. and living room will be totally occupied during the duration of the match. You invite Miki-chan who pretends to want to refuse but comes over to watch anyway. Your nii-san joins you, which isn’t a surprise since he liked soccer to begin with.  

You know whats happening well enough since you’ve had it explained to you hundreds of times.  

You see several people on the screen during the match. Bachira’s team mates. Team mates he gets along with. There’s another player named Isagi on the field and him and Bachira have such tangible chemistry you feel a little jealous watching them.  

In the short few months Bachira has been away at Bluelock, you can see how he’s changed. How much his soccer has transformed and improved in so little time.  

Most of all, you can tell that Bachira is having the best time of his entire life. You can deal with the mild envy if only he gets to be that happy forever. 

The U-20 games end in a victory for the Bluelock team and several interesting characters appearing. That guy, Isagi, announces to the world that he’s going to be the one to lead the team to victory. You think to yourself that you understand exactly why Bachira likes him.  

The next time you see Bachira in person is not long after that. Apparently as a reward for their win, they’d been granted two weeks of free time.  

It was only a few months, but it’s easy to tell how much Bachira has changed. It was all over him. He carried himself with more confidence, more electricity, more buzz.  

He was still himself while being completely unrecognizable at the same time.  

You were happy Bachira was happy, elated to hear all about his life and new friends. You couldn’t keep track of all of it, but you’ve been spending the last few days attached at the hip now that he was back in your hometown.  

He’d had another day to visit friends already out in Shibuya that you couldn’t attend. Not that you really wanted too. You were happy he extended the invite but being around that many athletes and no doubt many alphas sounded like a nightmare.  

 You figured he would have another day or two like that as is, so when he texts you again that he’ll be meeting with some Bluelock friends, you’re content to let him go and not tag along despite yourself. As much some whiny part of you wanted to monopolize him completely (an omega part of you, you can admit) you feel it’s more important for Bachira to nurture his newer relationships on his own.  

And again, being around that many alpha athlete teenage boys is mildly nightmarish to you in particular.  

So you invited Sasaki to the mall to talk about this and that to keep your time occupied.  She’d started dating some guy at school and you have yet to know the details.  

You weren’t expecting to run into Bachira with his friends at the same mall.  

You catch Bachira’s eye from across the way in the middle of the mall, along with a group of boys you know to be his new team mates. You honestly think it’d be better to avoid them for now. Not that you’re not happy to see Bachira, but there’s no way this won’t be incredibly awkward for you. 

Sasaki nudges you though, not caring in the slightest at your visible distress. “Isn’t that Bachira-kun?”  

“Yes,” You hiss, trying not to be obvious. “Let’s go the other way.”  

“Huh? Why?”  

“Because—“ 

You turn around to leave but don’t really get a chance as you hear a voice shout your name.  

You flinch as you turn around. Sasaki gives you an amused look that you elbow her for immediately, feeling yourself jolt. After she makes fun of you, she holds your hand with an affirming squeeze and comforts you in a way only betas can - a soft citrus scent washing over you. You squeeze her hand back sighing, thankful as the group of boys stalk over to you.  

Bachira runs more than he walks, skidding to a halt in front of you. “Ehhh? What are you doing here?”  

“Came to gossip and walk around with Sasaki-chan,” You say with a shrug, pointedly ignoring the three pairs of eyes on you as you talk. “And buy books.”  

“I thought you said you couldn’t come,” Bachira pouts at you, giving you a pointed look. You smile lightly.  

“I didn’t say that,” You reply softly. “I didn’t want to intrude, that’s all.”  

“You’re not intruding! Even if you were, I wouldn’t really care.”  

“But you should,” You insist, shaking your head. You turn to his friends, getting a better look at them. Two alphas and one beta if your nose is right. You look at them apologetically. “Sorry about interrupting your outing.”  

The one of them with pink hair and the prettiest features you’ve ever seen talks first. You’re sure people mistake him for an omega, but his scent is too alpha like for that to be the case. It’s strong enough and distinct enough for you to identify from this distance. “Not at all. I’m Chigiri. This is Nagi,” He says, introducing the other alpha next to him. “And I figure you already know of Isagi,”  

You smile a little at that. “Ah, yeah. I do, actually.” You glance at Isagi. He’s a beta in the way he feels like the pinnacle of peace and safety off the field. It’s a little funny how different he seems. They all seem, really.  

“Stop getting so buddy-buddy with them,” Bachira bemoans. You frown at him.  

“Sorry about him,” You introduce your name first, then Sasaki. “We’re all childhood friends. It’s nice to meet all of you. Sorry to disturb your day off.”  

“You’re not disturbing us,” Isagi says serenely. You think he seems a touch smug but can’t tell if you’re imagining it. 

“You’re welcome to hang out,” Chigiri says next. He and Isagi share an unreadable but obviously conspiratorial look. Your eyes widen at the offer, shaking your head with your hands up.  

“Ah. No, we don’t want to intrude seriously.”  

“Why are you deciding for me?” Sasaki cuts in, making you shoot her a very sharp glare. “Shouldn’t you at least ask?”  

“You’re not intruding,” Chigiri assures, an incredibly disarming smile on his face. “We’d be bound to see each other again if we’re both here anyways. May as well, right?”  

You feel yourself sink, glancing at a very Bachira and thinking of the complaints you’re going to receive as soon as the two of you are alone. Your shoulders slump as you reluctantly smile, lips pressed into a flat line. 

‘That’s true. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then alright.  

__  

For alphas, you think Bachira’s friends are pretty nice.  

Nagi barely speaks, but he’s weirdly been engaged in conversation for the entire duration of you knowing him. He’s got the imposing looks and vibe of an alpha but precisely none of the aggression - at least from where you’re standing. He’s been considerate of you in his own way, especially after Bachira had announced the general discomfort you had felt towards alphas over all.  

Chigiri is similarly nice. You can tell he grew up around omegas and are not surprised at all when he informs you he has omega sisters in his house. He’s extremely friendly for an alpha, and you’re sure another omega would be foaming at the mouth at how polite he is.  

Of his friends though, you still take preference to Isagi. He is a beta through and through. Adaptable, friendly, easy going while having a sort of snark you find incredibly entertaining. Him and Bachira get along like a house on fire, but not in way that’s entire negative. You do feel a little envious seeing how close they’ve gotten in such a short period of time, but you’re mostly happy for him. Their bond is obviously special.  

The rest of your group left a few moments ago, leaving you and Isagi to a much bedgrudging Bachira. You’d gotten food from the food court but it wouldn’t require so many people to go wait so you and Isagi have been securing a spot. You aren’t sure how to be alone with him, never been all that good with strangers.  

Isagi is good at making conversation though, so you haven’t had to do much leg work.  

You end up at the topic of Bluelock and Isagi practically beams at the chance to talk about it. It’s kind of cute in it’s own right. You know some stuff about it, but the logistics have been lost on you. Bachira tends to talk about these things more with onomatopoeias than with words. 

You fiddle with something on the end of your bag as you engage in conversation. 

“How does the facility manage like… having omegas and stuff in there?” You wonder. You voiced the concern to Bachira before leaving too but he had assured you it’d be fine. You kind of feel nosy asking.  

Isagi shoots you a confused look. “Hm? Bluelock doesn’t have any omegas. It sucks but they considered it too high risk so only betas and alphas were admitted.”  

Your turn to look confused. “Sorry? But Bachira is enrolled in it no…?”  

Isagi stares at you. “Uh,” He scratches the back of his neck. “Bachira is an alpha, though? Like, a pretty strong one too. It’s hard to tell from his scent from what I hear but he’s prescribed the really high dose medications that the other alphas take. Part of the rut management and everything.”  

You blink.  

“…That’s…” And then you look up, completely unsure of what to say. “..Are you sure? Like… really sure?” 

Isagi looks at you sympathetically. His voice is soft and comforting. “Yeah. I’m sure. Sorry,”  

You shake your head. “No it’s,” You feel your eyes start to well up, chest feeling especially tight. “It’s okay. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”  

“You’re a nice girl, huh?” Isagi says, voice tender and easily sensing your sudden distress. It makes your lip wobble. You want to cry into a strangers arms even though you absolutely can’t. “I’ll scold him for you.”  

You give him a thankful look. “I’m gonna uh,” You swallow. “Go to the bathroom. When Sasaki comes back tell her to text me. And Bachira, uhm. I guess just tell him I went home.”  

Isagi smiles. “Sure.”  

You thank him again picking up your few things hastily and bolting in the opposite direction.  

You don’t really know what you’re supposed to do or how you’re so suppose to receive the information. It’s not a sense of betrayal you feel welling up inside of you, but something closer to  a sudden deep remorse and regret. And so much shock you can barely make sense of anything. You feel the sorry in your bones, and you feel the paved memories of your entire lifetime begging to shake under your feet.  

Bachira is still Bachira. 

But he’s an alpha. An alpha who likes other alphas, in the same way you’re an omega who likes other omegas. He’s like you. You shared this your entire life, but you never knew not once. You didn’t even have any idea.  

What kind of friend does that make you? What kind of friend have you been to him all this time? Was it bad enough that he couldn’t share it? When you’ve depended on him so much?  

You don’t know how you end up in a bathroom. It’s in such a far away part of the mall. You feel out of body, moving on autopilot as you shuffle into the empty stall and sit on the toliet with your bag and your things.  

You’re reminded of your first heat on the train back from middle school. An old memory but not old enough you easily forget. Hesitance turned to frustration and disgust towards alphas. You’d avoided after that for years and still do now. Was it then?  

Despondent, you aren’t sure what to do with yourself. The echo of stalls, the noise of people loudly outside, the forceful beat of your heart. A reminder that you’re really living through this realization so late. It’s weird. It hurts so much you can barely think through your thoughts and come upon any answers on how to go on.  

It’s not hard to understand why. Bachira is selfish but he’s also loyal. You’re sure that sometime ago, to protect the vulnerable version of you who was already so distrusting of alphas, Bachira had kept it from you as to break your perception any further. You can’t blame him for that, especially when that distrust towards alphas yet to dissolve completely. Of course he wouldn’t be comfortable telling you.  

You can’t bring yourself to hate him over it and never would. You’d spend the rest of your life trying to unglue the fused parts of yourself with him, the memories and you’d never see the end of it if you attempted.  

What hurts you is that he never told you. Not ever. Not even when you voiced your worries about his heats in Bluelock. Not even as you drank together. Not even when he kissed you. 

Was he never going to tell you? 

Did he never trust you enough to tell you? 

That hurts most. You only have yourself to blame. The thought makes your heart wrench. Your eyes water as you focus in on the ground and try to breathe. 

The door of the bathroom itself opens and shuts all of a sudden, familiar footfall making hundreds of alarm bells go off at once. You already know it’s Bachira, but for the first time you don’t know what you’re meant to say to him. The feeling is so complex you can barely put it in words for yourself. How were you meant to face him?  

“Meguru,”  

You can hear him whimper on the other side of the stall door, fists hitting it in a dull thud.  

“I’m sorry,” He’s crying. You want to open the door and comfort him so badly but shame stops you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry - it’s all my fault. Don’t hate me, please don’t hate me.”  

You hate hearing him cry. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to keep your voice steady. “I don’t hate you at all.”  

“You’re lying. You won’t even open the door to look at me.”  

“I just can’t,” You say, not really know how else to explain it. “But nothing could make me hate you.”  

“But you hate alphas, don’t you? You’re uncomfortable with me now. We can’t be close anymore, right?”  

You don’t say anything to that. You want to deny it. You want to tell him nothing could make you want to stop being his friend.  

But then, you remember that Bachira is destined for unimaginable greatness. Bright like the sun and even more interesting, more talented, more cool than you could ever be. He’s an alpha to boot. You think of the future of your life and how you’ve always pictured it to be quiet and functional, because that’s who you’ve always been. Bachira is—was a star crash landing in your life, anyhow. You think of all of that, along with everything else - and all the ways you’ve betrayed him unintentionally.  

You’ve used up all of your luck. Inevitably. Eventually, it was always going to end with a gradually forming distance. You knew that before he left just like you know it now. And nows as good a time as any to put it to rest.  

“Meguru,” He’s your first friend. You’re sure that’s why he’s so shaken up. Distance would be better. “You have to focus on becoming the best in the world, right? I’ll uh,” You try to breathe. “I’ll be watching from a distance no matter what,”  

“Please don’t leave me,” He whimpers. You wince.  

“It’s not like that. There’s a lot of people who are beside you now.” You say warily, trying to comfort him. If you were a more selfish person, you would want to be friends. You love Bachira. You’ve loved him your entire life. You probably always will. But you think if he’s had to keep this secret from you so long - you don’t deserve any of that. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine,” 

Without me. You’ll be fine without me. You want to tell him that, but can’t bring yourself to say it.  

You won’t be, you don’t think. Not for a while. But this is the least you can do for your relationship. For your best friend who you haven’t paid enough attention too.  

“I’ll stay with you until you stop crying,” You offer. “And when your eyes aren’t red, we can both just go home. Okay?” 

Bachira sniffles on the other side of the door and doesn’t reply. 

__  

[ EIGHTEEN ] 

On your eighteenth birthday, Bachira’s mom calls you at midnight.  

Yu-san is like a third parent to you, so you pick regardless for the reason she calls. She sounds relieved when you answer despite the sleep in your voice. You’re up late studying for your driving license exam which you’ll finally be eligible to take starting now.  

“Ah. Hello?”  

“Hey, kid. Thanks for picking my call,” She sounds like she’s doing something. It’s a Sunday so she’s probably painting. “Don’t sound too confused. I just called to wish you happy birthday. Meguru always called you at midnight, didn’t he?”  

You look down at the papers on your desk, twirling pen in fingers. “Yeah, he did.”  

“You two still aren’t talking, right? But knowing Meguru, he’ll feel sad later on when he realizes he didn’t wish you because he was upset,” She hums, nonplussed. You smile a little. Yu-san is just like that, you think. Even after being aware of you and Bachira’s fights, the way she’s treated you hasn’t changed. “So I thought I’d do in his place.”  

“It’s alright, Yu-san. But thank you,”  

“Of course,” She says. You hear the faucet running and the familiar clicking of paint brushes on the other side of the line. “Come over when you have some time. I brought ingredients for your favorite. We can go pick up a cake together, too. I bet you’re too busy studying and forgot to make plans, right?”  

You flush. “…I did.”  

She laughs good-naturedly. “Right? I thought so. I know it’s just you in the house, but feel free to invite Sasaki and Miki-chan, alright? And don’t stay up too late studying.”  

You feel tears well up in the corners of your eyes. “Thank you for always taking care of me, Yu-obasan,”  

“Oh, don’t be silly. That’s a given right?”  

“Right,” You sniffle. “But still, thanks.”  

“Of course. Oh! And, happy birthday.”  

[sunny44]

You’re perfect

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Wife!mom!reader

Warnings: English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Summary: you’re insecure about your body after giving birth to the twins but Max assures you that you’re perfect.

I stood in front of the bedroom mirror, observing my reflection. My eyes were fixed on the changes in my body after giving birth to the twins. Mason and Maxine are some of the best things that have happened in my life, but I couldn't help but notice that the skin on my abdomen, which used to be firm, now had soft stretch marks.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair, trying to convince myself that everything was okay.

I could hear the sound of my husband and the babies laughing in the room at the end of the hallway, and it made me smile for a moment. He was a wonderful and loving father, and the sight of Max with our children always warmed my heart. It seemed like he was made to be a dad.

However, lately, I had been feeling increasingly insecure about my appearance, especially with the transformations that pregnancy had caused.

"Max, can you come here for a minute?" I called, my voice trembling, revealing a bit of the anguish I felt.

"Of course, love! I'm coming!" he replied cheerfully. "I'll just put the babies in the playpen and I'll be right there."

When Max entered the room, I was still standing in front of the mirror. He noticed the worried expression on my face and approached me gently, hugging me from behind.

"What happened, Y/N?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I... I just can't stop feeling insecure about my body. Everything has changed so much after the twins."

Max frowned, confused.

"Insecure? Love, you look amazing. You gave birth to two healthy and beautiful babies. That's an incredible achievement."

I looked away, tears beginning to form in my eyes.

"I know, but... my body is not the same anymore. The marks, the skin... I don't feel beautiful."

Max gently took my face in his hands, forcing me to look into the same eyes the babies had.

"Y/N, you made me a father. There is nothing sexier and more beautiful than that. Every mark on your body tells the story of our children. And to me, that's the most incredible thing in the world." I smiled shyly, touched by his words.

"Do you really think so?"

"I am absolutely sure of it," he replied with conviction. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and those marks only enhance the beauty you already have."

I let out a soft laugh, wiping away the tears.

"You always know what to say to make me feel better." Max smiled back, caressing my cheek.

"Because it's true. Now, let's go to their room and enjoy some time with Mason and Maxine. They are lucky to have such a wonderful mother like you."

He took my hand, and we went to their room and found the twins happily playing in the playpen. Maxine was holding a stuffed toy, while Mason was trying to grab the toy from his sister's hands. I couldn't help but laugh at the adorable scene and joined them on the floor.

"Are you having fun, huh?" I said, picking Mason up. He let out a giggle and grabbed my hair, pulling it lightly.

Max sat next to me on the floor, picking up Maxine.

"They're growing so fast. I can hardly believe it's been a few months since they were born."

"I know," Y/N agreed, watching Mason with affection. "They bring so much joy into our lives." Maxine started to babble, and Max smiled, gently rocking her.

"And they are the proof of our love. Every day with them is a gift."

I couldn't help but feel a sense of love for him. The insecurities I had would still take time to get used to but had already begun to dissipate as I watched them. Max had always been by my side, offering unconditional support and affection.

Later that night, after the twins had fallen asleep, Max and I snuggled up on the couch, enjoying a moment of tranquility together.

Max wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer.

"I was thinking," Max began, "we should do something special to celebrate next month. Something just for the two of us." I looked up, curious.

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about a quick trip? We can leave the twins with my mom for a few days and take some time just for us. It would be good to relax and reconnect."

I smiled, excited about the idea.

"That sounds wonderful, Max. I would love to spend some time alone with you." He kissed the top of my head, seemingly pleased with my reaction.

"Then it's settled. I'll make all the arrangements."

The following days passed quickly, with Max and me planning our little escape from reality. When the day of the trip finally arrived, we left the twins with Max's mother, who was more than happy to take care of her grandchildren.

At the airport, moments before boarding the plane, I turned to him with a smile on my face.

"I really appreciate everything you do for us, Max. You make me feel special every day." He held my hands, intertwining our fingers.

"I do it because you are special, Y/N. And I never want you to forget that."

As the plane took off, I looked out the window, feeling an inner peace. Max's words echoed in my mind, reminding me that our love was strong enough to overcome any insecurity. And I knew that with Max by my side, I could face any challenge and that together, we would create a life full of love and happiness.

And so, in the comfort of Max's embrace, I thanked him for being such a special person, whom I could not only call my husband but also the father of our babies.

Bonus scene!

Max Verstappen instagram stories

“They’re just perfect”

[yan-randomfandom]

P!Yandere!Pines Family x GN!Teenager!Reader

[PLATONIC] a continuation to this! decided to just make them all yanderes cuz y not lol errmm just subtle ykwim... i'm not proofreading all this so just have my draft

warnings: staring, violence, alcoholics, abuse, blood, implied murder. woah intense

❤️‍🔥

"Then I saved Ford by slicing its eye! You should have seen it!"

You laughed, settling down from your dramatic gestures that you've been making throughout the entire dinner. The entire Pines family watched you in awe, especially Dipper and Mabel, easily captivated by your personality and story.

"Yes, well, they certainly saved my life," Ford chuckled as he fed himself a spoonful of food.

"You have to stop lettin' kids save your life so much," Stan scoffed.

Dipper grabbed a book out of nowhere, clicking his pen in preparation—

"No writing at the dinner table! We talked about this!" Stan called out, earning a sheepish smile from Dipper who immediately drops the book on the ground.

"But what did the monster look like?" Dipper stammered, eventually turning to you with a curious look on his face. He looked eager to learn more. That's what you can tell anyway, if you remove his reddened face, which is most likely from embarrassment.

Mabel, who sat across from you, leaned towards you with the biggest smile on her lips. You grinned back to return her energy. "Bet it was super gross! Was there a lot of blood?! Blaarrrgghhh!!!"

"No gross sounds at the table, pumpkin!" Even Stanley felt like he's tired of his own voice. This is him trying his best to not let you be uncomfortable. Well, he supposed you and his brother brought up the story in the first place.

Speaking of, why were you even here? Ford came back in the mystery shack after missing for a day, only to bring a random teen with him. It's a good thing he cooked extra since he thought Soos was coming over.

But he needed answers fast.

"Ford," Stan whispered firmly, catching his brother's attention. Tilting his head, he tried to signal him to move out, but someone interrupted them before they could do anything.

"Hey! No sneaking out the dinner table!" Mabel exclaimed, pointing a fork at her grunkles.

Stanley stood up and Ford followed his actions. They were already heading out the door with Stan holding his twin's wrist. "Well, sweetheart, VERY REASONABLE EXCUSE!"

As soon as they were out of sight, you and the other kids exchanged looks.

"He did say it's reasonable."

"Yeah, I can live with that."

... You snorted. "You guys are a funny bunch. He literally said the excuse, and you let him go just like that? You must trust each other a lot."

"You have no idea, stranger, you have no idea," Mabel laughed. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

💥

Meanwhile, deep inside the mystery shack, where they were sure there'd be no eavesdropping happening...

"You let the kid stay here without telling their parents?!"

Stanley was freaking out. Yet, he really shouldn't be surprised Ford would do this. Ironically, poindexter would even criticize his behavior, his grunkle methods! How ridiculous is this whole thing, huh?!

"It's more complicated than that! Look, I know this sounds bad—"

"It does!" Stan yelped, his hands clenching. "Their parents must be so worried! And we can't just let them—"

"No, no, Stanley, walk with me here," Ford said, placing his hands on his brother's shoulders. "It's their parents that are the problem."

A few deep breaths from Stan. Alright, okay. This is making more sense now.

"We'll take them to their house first thing in the morning," Ford explained. "Let's see what we'll do from there."

🔥

"I hope my drawing isn't too bad," you chuckled, giving the journal back to Dipper. His eyes skimmed over your illustration of the monster you killed. "It doesn't match yours and Mabel, but..."

"Are you kidding?! It's perfect! Thank you!" Dipper beamed, writing more notes down the rest of the page.

From above, Mabel had her legs folded over the ceiling wood of the house. You looked up and made eye contact, as much as you can anyway. She's upside down.

"Hi! How old are you again?"

How did she even get up there, you wonder. You glanced around, smiling when you realized, and worked your way up.

They stared at you in awe when you climbed right next to Mabel's side. Now you're hanging upside down too. "Cool tricks, Mabel. Hope you don't mind me copying you?"

She doesn't respond, starstrucked. Glancing at Dipper, his jaw was also on the floor.

"Uhhh," you awkwardly smiled, "But I just turned sixteen! You guys are turning thirteen, right?"

"You're the coolest," Mabel whispered, dragging a hand across your face. Okay. That's a bit weird, but it's welcome.

"Thanks," you grinned, manually removing her hand from your face. You looked down at Dipper again. "Hey, Dipper, what time is it?"

He scrambled around and grabbed a watch from somewhere. "Uh, nine o' clock."

"Nine?!" your sudden outburst caused you to fall to the carpet, a pained groan leaving your lips. At least you managed to drop skillfully. "Oh, that hurt."

"Are you okay?!" Dipper rushed to your side, offering a comforting hand on your back.

"Yeah, I just," you paused. "It's nine already? My parents are gonna kill me, man. I gotta go home."

"What!!"

Mabel also dropped down from her outburst, but her landing isn't painful as yours, because you caught her in time. She gazed at you from your arms, stars forming in her eyes.

"Woah. You have fast reflexes!" she squealed as you gently put her down.

Dipper shook his head. "But you can't go home this late at night. Didn't you say you're from outside of Gravity Falls?"

You crossed your arms, pondering. "Yeah, but... Okay, wait, where's Ford?"

Footsteps followed your words. All of you turned to the doorway, seeing the older set of Pines twins. It's kind of amazing, really, you rarely saw twins and this family has two pairs.

"Oh, there you are!" you grinned, walking over to him. Ford blinked at you. "I'm sorry, dude, but I think I overstayed my welcome. I'll go ahead and—"

"Eh, nah," Stanley chimed in, earning your attention, "It's too dark for ya to go out. Let's take you home tomorrow, yeah?"

"But-"

"No butts, they're for sitting," he continued, gently pushing you down on his recliner. You sat down, albeit confused. "Think of it as a sleepover. That's fun, right kids?"

Mabel skipped to your view, an eager grin on her face. "Yeah! We can paint your nails and everything!"

"While I'll show you more of the journals," Dipper beamed, showing one of them to you.

Their ideas were nice, it truly was, but the circumstances are concerning. You couldn't help the frown forming on your lips. They all noticed.

Ford stepped in between them, kneeling and offering you a smile. "Don't worry, kiddo. We'll take good care of you 'til morning. I'm sure your parents will understand."

"I guess I can't really do anything about it," you muttered, eventually accepting the situation. You stood up with a grin. "Okay! Who wants to be unaware of me stealing cool stuff here?!"

"I do!" Mabel screamed, only to pause. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," Stan squinted, "What?"

You hummed, suddenly behind him, and stared at Stanley's wallet. Ford shook his head at you. "You have a very alarming number of IDs. Is this normal? Then again, you're old."

A laugh left Stan as he took back his wallet from you. "Oh, you got some gift, kid. Didn't even hear or feel you take it!"

"I can teach you," you smiled.

"Please don't," Dipper groaned.

"No need," Stan snorted. "We can pickpocket the whole world together!'

🌬️

"This journal is amazing! And Ford wrote this? Seriously, no wonder why he was so smart!"

You flipped the book page by page, your jaw dropped the whole time. Sure, a while ago, you saw one page, but only because Dipper told you to draw on it. You didn't expect a whole research surrounding Gravity Falls!

"Interesting enough for you to visit Gravity Falls more often?" Dipper chuckled as he watched you.

"Woah," you smiled, "You like my company that much, Dipper? Don't you have any friends here— oh shoot, wait, I didn't mean—"

A ghost of a frown spread through his face. Why did you have to ask that?! You were just projecting if you had to be honest, but still!!!

"Sorry, that was insensitive," you blurted, closing the book and focusing all your attention on him. "I only said that because I feel that way. I know, that's pretty lame."

He looked surprised. "Really? But you're so cool?"

"Some people think I'm weird is all. But thanks for finding me cool, Dip," you laughed, glancing at Mabel who was snoring. "I find you and your sister cool too. A lot, actually. So it's nice to know you both like me."

Dipper sniffed. "Man. Ditto."

You grabbed a blanket and placed it over Mabel's body, making sure she's covered head to toe. She snuggled up to it unconsciously.

"Welp, bed time," you murmured, reaching for another one. You stretched the blanket, letting Dipper be able to invite himself in. "Come on."

He happily accepted, nestling his head next to your shoulder. Mabel followed him, her head tilting to your chest.

You slept, content.

🌪️

You woke up, disturbed.

The first thing you saw after sleeping is Dipper and Mabel staring at you in silence. As soon as you noticed them, they scrambled away from you and tried to act natural.

Yet, you couldn't forget the small glimpse of their faces. Wide-eyed, a bit of judgment, but most of all, solemn.

Before you could question them, Dipper yelled, "Grunkles! They're awake!"

You winced from the volume of his voice, having just woken up. He immediately apologized to you, but it's all good.

"Visit us again soon! Byeee!"

The next thing you know, you're in the backseat of a car with Stanley next to you. He was pouting, arms crossed.

"This is literally my car. I can't believe it! You won't even let me drive my own car?" he sneered at Ford who sat on the driver's seat.

Ford rolled his eyes. "I can't have you get in trouble by driving again. Think of the kid."

While driving to your address is certainly much faster than walking, it still took a while. You managed to fall asleep, tilting your head on Stan's shoulder. It seemed that you're not alone in being unconscious, because he snored loudly.

Glancing at the mirror, Ford simply exhaled.

You're here.

He parked in front of your house.

Ford nudged Stan awake, who poked you awake next.

You stood up drowsily, holding Stan's hand while walking up to your house. Ford took the lead and knocked on your front door.

To both grunkles' disappointment, things get messy.

Both your parents, drunk, loudly told them off and took you away roughly from Stan. Tears leaked out of your eyes, saying countless apologies to the Pines twins and your parents.

Without much of a fight, Ford forcibly grabbed you back, carrying your body with one arm. He looked at Stan who placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Psst, I'll handle this," Stanley murmured in the midst of your father yapping nonsense. Maybe the professional con-man can knock some sense into your deadbeat parents.

Ford took you back to the car. You sobbed relentlessly, whispering the most saddening things he wished to unhear. He hugged you tightly, muttering sweet nothings until you fell asleep.

After a long while, Stan finally came back.

His eyes were wide. He was shaking.

"I didn't mean to. They started it—I had no choice!"

Gazing down, Ford realized Stan's hands were covered in blood. He swallowed the thickness in his throat.

"...I'll help you clean it up."

[heartpiratedrabbles]

His Hat

Prompt: Courtesy of @tsunderedonut: Imagine Law putting his hat on his shy, vulnerable S/O that's riding him for the first time.

NSFW

Trafalgar Law X Reader

You have confidence. You’re courageous. You weren’t self-conscience at all. When it came to your job. Being a mechanic for the Polar Tang was like a dream job for you. You stayed in the boiler room watching levels go up and down and you knew exactly how to fix any leaks or breaks that came about. You were ecstatic when the Surgeon of Death came to your shore so long-ago needing repairs and just so happened to see you’re value onboard the ship after fixing everything, eagerly packing your bags to join the crew.

           You were not, however, prepared for love. Despite being on the world for over 2 decades, you had only gone on one hap-hazard date that your friend had set you up on, and needless to say it ended up awful. The man flirted with your roommate right in front of you, and despite your naivety, even you knew what he was doing. Plus, with a few undesirable stalkers here and there, you decided dating wasn’t for you. And so, your short, non-existing love life had come to an end.

         That is until you joined the Heart Pirates. After getting to know everyone on board you realized your feelings for your captain burned like a wild fire. It was dangerous and weird, being completely new territory compared to what you have felt before. At first you had thought it was some ship-madness, you were warned by your captain/doctor when you arrived that it could take a while to get use to life on a submarine, even more so when they rarely surfaced. But as you went about your duties and getting to know the crew, you realized that your heart never beat that fast around the others, even so you tried to deny such feelings.

         You got close to Penguin as he often came to the boiler room for menial tasks and found more out about, your captain. Despite his cold, non-caring demeanor, he always made sure everyone was alright. And although he didn’t show it, he did enjoy the antics played by the crew. Although he demanded his alone time, he was just as often to be found in the rec-room watching as others drank or played a game. Penguin also clued you in that once a month Law joined in on any game of the crews picking to stay connected.

         And it wasn’t until you were drinking alongside Penguin, that he confronted you, “So you like Law huh?” He chattered out after taking a swig of his glass. You choked on what you were drinking, nearly spitting it out at his words, your face turning the brightest shade of red he had ever seen. “Jeez, blush any harder and the rest of your body won’t have any blood,” He had laughed out at your reaction.

         “What?!?” You practically yelled at him, you felt your body stiffen at the thought and you could hear Shachi in the background ask if Penguin was bullying you. “I don’t like anyone. Never have,” You tried to reason taking the last swig of your drink, you didn’t know the feelings of love. The uncomfortable, painful feelings of unrequited love that made you dumb in the mind and weak in your knees, stomach slightly queasy at the thought of someone.

         “Please, you only pay attention to my ramblings when I’m talking about him. No need to be shy Y/N,” Penguin grinned out before reaching over to fill your glass up again, “Just relax. Feelings aren’t going to hurt you.” You looked around to see if anyone else was listening in but other than Shachi glancing at you two from across the room, everyone else seemed occupied.

         The thought of sharing your life with someone, with Law of all people, everything from the simple hand holding to the fantasies of sharing a bed, going on small dates and being marked in one way or another. You shake your head violently to get rid of such things before downing your entire glass. “There’s no way Penguin.” You squeaked out not making eye contact with him.

         “Denile will get you no where Y/N. Just accept it, I didn’t realize you were such a virgin when it came to matters of the heart,” He laughed at your misery, and how your eyes fixed on a portion of the table in front of you.

         “I don’t have feelings Penguin! Feelings are messy squishy things that don’t make sense. I’m not stupid enough to let something I can’t control distract me from my life,” You pipe out quickly, grabbing the bottle from the man’s hands to take another swig. He smirked at you, unconvinced of your words, “Just because I sometimes think about him doesn’t mean anything!” You immediately stop, eyes wide as you look at Penguin, whose smirk has turned into a full toothed grin.

         “You’re right! Feelings don’t make sense. But you can’t stop them from happening,” He gleefully said, “Excuse me one second.” You watch as he stood up, “You owe me 20 Berries Shachi!” He yelled across the room while walking over to the grumbling crewmember.

         You slam your head against the table with a ‘thud’. Feelings. Sure, you imagined how it would feel like to have the captain by your side, to be able to capture his eyes and keep him for yourself. You held your breathe at such thoughts, that could never happen. Hiding your face in your arms, you heard Penguin return to his seat but you couldn’t look at him.

         Over the next couple of weeks, the pair would make quips and remarks of your crush if you were alone with them, instantly making you freeze like an ice cube. The prodding from them had made your feelings all the more evident to yourself and it had made it harder and harder to bury such fuzzy emotions. You weren’t the most social of person, but now you found it harder than ever to talk to anyone, the embarrassment and fear of them finding out about your unrequited feelings being too much for you to bear. The only time you’d be able to speak confidently is if it was about work, it was easy to avoid emotions when you had to think in facts and bury them with work.

         That is, until you noticed a particularly important part starting to show signs of breaking. Best to take care of it now than be in trouble later, you headed to your Captains office for approval to buy the new part. He hadn’t been expecting you but happily let you into his quiet office. You stood in front of his desk explaining the issue and how it’d be better to replace it now and he seemed to agree.

         But as you turned to leave, he called out, “Y/N-ya,” you stopped in your tracks. Had one of your maintenance reports not been up to par? You’re back still turned to him your mind was reeling at what you could have messed up but you were certain there was no way you would turn in half-assed work. And then, your mind suddenly stopped. Realizing where you were, who you were talking to. Your heart beating faster, cheeks turning slightly red. “I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me recently,” Law’s voice rang out in the room, his smooth deep voice, addressing you and not something to do with your job. “Did I do something wrong?”

         You pick your head up slightly at the last sentence, snapping around to face him head on, frantically trying to reassure that it has nothing to do with him, “I just haven’t been feeling well-“ You quickly pipe out not thinking of anything else as you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

         Law perks up at your sudden excuse, immediately standing up, taking long strides to get to you quickly. A hand immediately going to your forehead, freezing at the sudden contact you feel your cheeks burn up, “You do seem to have a fever,” He muttered to himself before activating his powers to transport the both of you to the med bay. “Sit down real quick,” He demanded as he went to grab a stethoscope.

         It was hard to breathe. Here you were with a stupid school-girl crush, making your Captain worried over nothing. Yet you couldn’t quite seem to find the right words, trying to push off your illness as a quick thing that’d be gone soon. But Law would hear none of it. Quickly he listened to your heart, asking you to breathe in and out as you whine out that it’s truly nothing. It’s not until he places a hand on your back to keep you from shying away that he realized your heart beating faster at his own touch.

         He quickly glanced up at your face, that you were desperately trying to hide from him by staring at the far corner away from him. “Are you truly unwell Y/N-ya?” He firmly asked, demanding a truthful answer.

         And just like that your Captain found out your feelings for him. You rushed to your room the second you felt his touch leave you to ignore the rejection you refused to hear. And it wasn’t until the next day that Law had come to find you of his own accord, asking you out on a date the next time they reached land.

~~~

         That was months ago, 6 months to be precise. And ever since you had been dating the man in front of you. You still couldn’t believe it, it felt unreal. “It seems like your mind is elsewhere love,” He leaned up to give you a peck on the lips, gently taking your hands in his.

         You had decided to try and be forward yourself this time round, and couldn’t help but feeling like backing out now. You had certainly had sex before but it was never like this, not when the lights were still on, not when you could see his reactions. The simple fact sending your head reeling at how hot Law was underneath you.

         You had lured him back to his room, claiming you needed to talk to him. You had been slightly jealous of how he was talking to a bar maiden on land and immediately confronted him, only now losing your nerve. The second he stepped into the room you had slammed the door shut and pushed him on the bed, straddling him before you were going to ride him. But the second you got on top of him your mind started working again. This was also the first time you were truly on top of him, looking down at him, seeing how he stared back up at you with heat in his eyes. You cheeks become more red as you avoid his gaze.

         “What were you going to do now that we’re alone?” Law smirks while looking at you, no doubt enjoying how flustered you looked. He gripped your hips before jutting his own up into you. You fall forward, the movement snapping you out of your daze.

         “I. I was,” You try to stutter out as he lifts your shirt up, and you let him rip it off you, his eyes staring right into you. You look down slightly, still avoiding eye contact, “I was gonna remind you that your mine.” You whisper, embarrassed at the thought now.

         Law gleefully shifts, taking off his own shirt in the process, “And how were you going to do that?” He urges you to continue. Law enjoyed watching how flustered you could get, despite dating for a decent amount of time you still couldn’t control yourself in situations where he’s giving you all his attention. Looking down at him, you quickly cover his eyes with one of your hands.

         “No looking,” You whine out as you start to get off him, “You have to give me a second.” Law chuckles a bit but goes to move his hat, which had fallen a couple inches away when you pushed him, over his eyes, assuring you he won’t take a peek. After a quick second of making sure he can’t see you, you stand up fully.

         You look at the man in front of you before turning around, taking off your pants quickly, glancing over your shoulder just to be sure. Law decides humming will distract him in this situation. Frustrated at your playful boyfriend, you get to work on his pants, him lifting his hips slightly to help you undress him. His cock springing up as you release it from its cloth prison.

         Law lets you widen his legs as you kneel between them, stopping just inches away from his dick. You see movement from the corner of your eye and snap your head back up, “No peeking!” You yell out more embarrassed at your own actions than anything else. Law puts his arm back down, deciding to keep quiet for the time being.

         You take one more deep breath before you wrap your lips around him. Slowly bobbing your head up and down, covering his member in saliva. The salty taste of his precum making you go insane with desire. Your slow pacing doesn’t seem up to Law’s standards as he bucks his hips forward, making you gag in the process. You place both your hands on his hips to try and control your boyfriend, and while he didn’t stop entirely from pumping his hips towards your head, he was a little gentler.

         “Fuck Y/N-ya,” Law groaned out when you sat up, leaving his cock wanting for more. You looked up to make sure he still couldn’t see you and sighed when you saw the hat still in place. Readjusting yourself to now be sitting on him again you could hear him take a sharp breath. His throbbing cock in one hand, aiming it towards your entrance as you sink down on him slowly. It felt completely different than normal. You were in control, and every inch was touching you in places you didn’t think was possible. The pleasure already overwhelming.

         You try to hold in your own moan as you sink lower, feeling impossibly full as he bottoms out in you. You sit there for a second, hands on Law’s abs to steady yourself, holding your breath at this new pleasure you’ve discovered before grinding your hips, feeling him deep inside you. You finally remember to breathe after Law decides to thrust up into you, falling forward on his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pinning you to him. You gasp for air, moaning his name as he sets a brutal pace.

         “L-Law,” You moan out in frustration and you look up to see him shift his head to peek out from under the hat, with an absolutely devilish grin on his face.

He places a kiss on your forehead, “Yes love?” He thrusts into you again and you wiggle one of your arms free, prying yourself out of his arms to sit back up. Only to be met with another wave of pleasure at the different angle. You mind becoming empty of most thoughts as you hear the man below you chuckle. He reaches up taking his hat and placing it on your head, caressing your body before landing both his hands on your hips. You gasp a bit as he holds you down slightly, feeling him twitching inside you.

With some encouragement from his large hands, you start to ride Law like there’s no tomorrow. Barely being able to breathe yourself as he hits every sensitive part of you. Every now and then stopping to feel how full you feel with him in you. Tears brimming your eyes as your mind is flooded with pleasure and lust.

Laws eyes devour you, savoring every inch as he watches you bounce on him. Your head lulled back and forth; mouth hung open as you scream his name. His hat would be covering your eyes if you hadn’t been continuously pushing it up before going back to steadying yourself on him. The sight before him being a drug he never knew he was addicted too until you had come around. He feels you twitch around him and he stops his own thrusts, gripping your hips to stop you from moving any further.

“Law!” you scream out at the lack of movement, grinding your hips for any friction. He smirks up at you, not responding, watching as you desperately try to bounce despite not being able too. Law slowly raises his hips, holding your hips in the same spot, reaching deeper than before and it begins to feel like it too much. You cry trying to squirm, move, anything to help relieve the pressure that was making you insane. “Please Law,” you beg him to do something.

You can barely see his face underneath you, the hat falling over your eyes, but you’re certain Law has a smirk on his face as he ignores your pleads. Gasping for air you finally fall forward, gripping your boyfriends’ shoulders, “It’s too much- Please Law,” You beg into his chest trying to move even an inch over feeling how deep he is. How you can still feel him twitch slightly inside of you at every moan and plead. Making your mind numb from the overwhelming pleasure and pressure building up.

After a quick second, Law lifts your chin with one of his hands, the other still firmly planted on your hip, “You’re adorable Y/N-ya.” Law whispers it while staring right into your tear stained eyes, kissing you gently before suddenly flipping you over so that you are now on your back. How he stayed inside of you was a mystery but the feeling drove you insane as he hooking both your legs over his shoulders, pounding into you fast and hard.

You try to grip the bed underneath you to stabilize yourself before you looked up to see how Law was looking at you. The insatiable devil in front of you looking directly at all the faces you made as you continued to moan his name. The realization of what he was doing, angling every now and then and licking his lips as you twisted about, he loved watching you. You quickly grab the brim of his hat, pulling it over your face to avoid his gaze.

This brought about 2 different things in this intense moment. One was the immense and heavenly smell of Law’s hair, the shampoo he used that drove you crazy while you played with his hair, and the second being Law leaning forward, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he continued to ruin you. Crying out as he stole your lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth while adjusting his hat to be properly on your head. “Don’t hide from me,” He growled out in desire before recapturing your lips.

You move your hands to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss while one hand rakes its way through his hair and the other digging your nails into his back. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly and you tugged at his hair to release your lips, “Law please. I want you to cum~”  

He leans down to leave marks on your neck as you scream out his name, “Are you ready?” He asks one last time into your ears and you can barely reply to him as pleasure is overfilling you. Law quickly following suit, slowing down only after you felt him fill you. The both of you stay there for a second, catching your breaths.

Law’s the first one to move, slowly pulling out and gently putting your legs down, knowing how they were numb at this point. You groan at soreness from being empty but can feel his seed slipping out of you. “This is dangerous,” Law smiles at you from his standing position as you stare at him, still on cloud nine.

“What is?” You mutter out, looking at him from half-lidded eyes.

He leans down close to you, giving a gentle kiss before peppering them down your neck to your collarbone, “You only wearing my hat. It’s absolutely hypnotic.” He breathes into your neck with lust still in his voice.

[soobnny]

dating him | seo changbin

❝ everyone pay attention…. i love my girlfriend ❞

chan | lee know | CHANGBIN | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

okay hear me out

hear me out …..

seo changbin biggest kisser 🙁🙁🙁

i can just imagine him kissing u all the time

every chance he gets

forehead, chin, neck, cheeks, forehead, lips, WHEREVER.

nowhere is safe

he just thinks u are so beautiful

also just a hunch but he probably is a big thigh kisser i feel like he loves thighs !!!!!

have fun thinking about that

changbin is giving me best friends to lovers type beat

either that or strangers to lovers with a miscommunication twist

picture him accidentally getting ur food order cos u got the exact same thing

and the waiter’s like .. “are u (name)?”

he’s confused at first bc huh no i’m changbin

and then u come over

AND NOW HE IS SO EMBARRASSED

this is embarrassing

this had to happen to him in front of a pretty girl … you … why

that’s the beginning of ur love story

wait i just suddenly thought of something

OK SO here’s an alternative meet cute

you

well…

you can’t park for the life of u

and he’s next in line to u

so he helps u 😭😭😭

like gets out of his car and parks it for u

u offer coffee as thank you

who was he to say no

ANYWAYS fast forward to the present

i feel like ur dates are either dinner cruises or dollar dates

like either extremely expensive

or cute, fun, and cheap

it depends on his mood or the event

he loves spoiling u tho

mention one thing u want and he probably already bought it for u

he just knows u that well

either that or he’s rushing to buy it immediately

OKAY NOW

here are some of the things he does for u

changbin special #1 —> opens all ur jars for u

having a hard time opening ur bottle of water? no worries

changbin to the rescue

want a pickle out of that jar? he’s already grabbing it and opening it for u

u will never touch a jar in ur life anymore

changbin special #2 —> shares his food w u

i feel like food can be one of his love languages

he just wants to be sure u’re eating well and good when you’re with him

PLUS i just watched their interview where the members say he doesn’t share

but with you he does ok !!!!! with u he does

he’d share anything with u 🥹🥹🥹🥹

changbin special #3 —> “saw this and thought of u” text messages

and it’s the cutest things ever

or the most random things

no in between

it’s a coin on the floor or a little squirrel

speaking of texts

he’s the type to spam u with cute messages and emojis

i miss you baby 🥰🥰🥰💗💓💝💘💖💕💕🩷❤️❤️💞💓💞💗💕💘💝💝💖😍😘😘😘🥰😍🥰🥵

changbin special #4 —> piggyback rides

u will never ever have to worry about being tired bc changbin is there to the rescue

he loves it too bc he gets to have u close and he can also hold ur thighs

changbin thigh obsession agenda

he loves running with u behind him

honestly i can def see him as playful at times

but not too fast

he couldn’t risk making u fall

one time it happened and he doesn’t think he could ever forgive himself after seeing the TINIEST scar on ur knee

cleans it up for you and everything

moving on

now here are some of his favorite things to do WITH you

he loves when u guys r just chilling and he has u on his lap

if he could, he would keep u there 24/7

would be the type to pull u on his lap during movie night with the boys

EVEN THO THE COUCH ISN’T EVEN FULL

cue playful vomit noises by the boys

he couldn’t care less

at the end of the day, it’s HIM who has YOU on his LAP

so who’s rly winning

he also loves doing chores to ur favorite songs

mini dance breaks in between

he’d use the broom as his mic

now you have a personal concert from the boy

loves doing girly pop songs

yes he’s singing that boy is mine by ariana grande

yes he’s also doing the tiktok choreography

and YES HE’S ABSOLUTELY EATING IT UP

yes btw, he would film tiktoks with u

you’d send him a like and he’s just down every single time

you’d even catch him trying to memorize the choreo on his free time

u know that yeah glo tiktok .. yup he’s rapping

just ANYTHING with u

and ofc how could i ever leave out gym dates

the first time u accepted to go to the gym with him, he was convinced he could die right there

he would die a happy man

he’s happy u’re sharing his passion w him

(even more if u aren’t rly a gym person before him so he appreciates it even more)

HEART EYES when he sees u in ur gym fit

buys u everything

all the outfits and whatever u need

becomes protective at the gym

but he does everything for u

cleans the equipment before u use it

spots for u and things like that

anything for u

princess treatment fr

side eye at the guys looking at u

u would suddenly feel a figure behind u

don’t worry, it’s just changbin trying to show everyone that he’s the lucky guy that got u

he’s quite ltrly ur watermark

he also loves that cliche push up thing where u’re underneath him and he kisses u everytime he goes down

oh did i tell u he has one of those ‘i ❤️ my gf” shirts

and he LOVES wearing them in public

he’s so cheeky with it

hmmmmm what else

OH he rly enjoys making silly faces at each other from across the room

he always makes u laugh

and smthn i see happening is him trying to do legos with u but he rage quits

changbin also gives me healthy communicator

but like

u have to give him a bit of space first

he can get angry so the moment he does, he asks u for a moment

cos i feel that he’s easy to upset

when he’s sure he won’t take it out on u

and when he’s sure he’s a bit more level headed

he’ll ask if u two can finally talk abt it

good job changbin

anyways

at the end of the day

the boys are sick of u two

they know everything about u

PLUS he always has a stupid smile on his face whenever he talks about u

I LOVE LOVE !!!!!

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[tastesousweet]

Can we get a toxic!babydaddy Matt fic like I’m craving something about my man like it’s been days and I haven’t eaten

⭒ blurb : toxic!bd matt who . . .

toxic!babydaddy matt x poc!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, dad!matt (i understand if u don’t fw it), idk what else :P

mickey speaks: this is kinda different for me so ty for the req!! ik this is just a little headcannon set but i hope you luv this anon 💐

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . brings some girl he’s been “hanging out with” to your daughter’s third birthday party just to piss you off

he’d then get mad when you ignore him and his “friend” the entire party…

he’d come up to you as you watch your daughter play on the decorated playground from afar, “the fuck you bein’ petty for, y/n? i thought we were cool with seeing other people?”

“well i just think it’s rude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else. i don’t care who she is or what you two do it’s annoying from a planning perspective.”

“that’s my bad… you look good though,” he’d glance around for a second before coming behind you and hooking his arm on your neck.

he’d whisper in your ear while you both stare out at your lively daughter, “can’t believe she’s so big now… lookin’ just like her pretty mama.”

you’d roll your eyes and shoulder matt off of you, “matt, go fuck on the bitch you brought here. and stop saying shit like that to me.”

“jesus- watch your language there’s kids everywhere, y/n.”

you blankly stare at him and his cocky smirk that just aggravates you to pieces, “go awayyy, matt.” you whine out and pinch your eyes with a sigh.

and he laughs because everything’s a fucking joke to him.

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . your friends hate but you will always have a soft spot for, he is your daughter’s father after all

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . sends hundreds of roses to your doorstep for mother’s day

when you text him a picture of the ridiculous bouquets with a “????” he immediately facetimes you, “for the best mama in the whole world. you like ‘em?”

you shake your head and hide a smirk beneath your hand to scold him, “you do too much, matt.”

“uh huh i knew you’d say that…” he’d then ask to see his favorite girl, “now where’s my baby at?”

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can’t mind his business to save his life. he’s always asking you questions about your personal life; and you always shut him down

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can sometimes be a little too desirable when he drops your daughter off at your place (dressed nicely, smelling good, eyes bright yet droopingly eye-fucking you, etc), leading you to invite him in for a glass of wine or two

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . you sometimes find in your bed again when you feel particularly lonely and nostalgic

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . loves the few times he gets to to wake up to his daughter pulling on his hand and you by his side, fast asleep

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . tends to start arguments from the smallest things to get you to talk to him longer than you need to

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . will always put effort into being a great father (which you respect) despite never putting that same effort into your relationship

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . makes sure you’ll never forget he loved you first and is connected to you far deeper than any other man ever could be

[lushxboba]

The Emperors Prize

Emperor Geta X Peasant!Reader

Word Count: 2k

TW// 18+ ONLY (minors be gone), mentions of family members death, mentions of murder, spitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, thigh riding, if i missed anything let me know !!

A/N: i haven’t written in months so be gentle with me pls 🙏🏽

It’d been the longest year of your life. Ever since Emperor Geta took over after his father died, your whole life had been turned upside down. Your father died the year prior, finally succumbing to his disease after being refused medical care by the kingdom. And your brother was left to do the only thing he felt was right to take care of your family. Train to be a gladiator. Perform in front of the Emperor and all of Rome to fight for his families survival. Only to not survive himself. Leaving you to take care of your little sister and sickly mother all to yourself.

Of course you blamed the only person you felt was responsible. Geta. He killed your father. He killed your brother. You wouldn’t let him take the last of what you had. So you did what you needed to survive, and stayed far away from his tyrants.

You’d heard of his army walking the markets day to day, blending in with the rest of peasants just to try and find someone stealing. They would take them to the temple and cut their hands off, cut their tongue out, maybe even behead them then and there. But you were smarter than those people. And faster. You had to be.

Before your father died, he always told you that your speed would be your superpower to survive Getas reign. You’d never have to face the torment of being in the arena and using your strength against your neighbors, but you could use your speed against his tyrants.

You spent days running in the slums, back and forth until you couldn’t breathe again. Or until you felt like you could’ve lost them. You knew you were ready for anything. Considering you did steal food to survive, you had to be.

You never thought you’d get caught. You’d been doing it for months now, and it seemed that only the elderly were the ones being dragged back to the kingdom. Call it population control if you will. But your time was surely coming to an end, and you could feel it.

You took your weekly walk down to the market, keeping your hood up and frequently looking out for suspicious vendors and customers. You’d seen people dragged away enough to know what they’d look like. They weren’t very good at disguising themselves. To you at least.

You tried to go to different stands each week so they wouldn’t catch on to you. You found a nice fruit stand with more colorful berries than you’d ever seen in your life.

You approached the stand as you practiced your distraction tactic in your head. You took a look around the stand, asking the man about how much he gets each week to sell, making him turn around to look in his inventory, giving you the perfect chance to quickly shove pints and pints of fruit in your bag.

Before he could turn back around, you were gone. Quickly walking through the market fast enough to be out of his eyesight but not fast enough to cause a scene.

You’d made it halfway down the road, just long enough to think you’d gotten away with it until you felt two pairs of hands gripping on each of your arms tightly.

“Little girl thought she got away, huh?” A deep voice husks behind your ear. You don’t fight it. No point in fighting when they’ve already made up their mind. And they are clearly much stronger than you.

You just roll your eyes as you let them walk you towards the kingdom. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you as they practically carry you towards the kingdom, but you pay them no mind. Your father always told you there was no reason to fight.

Once you reach the castle, the anger in you bubbles more and more. Knowing two people you loved died here made you want to rip the ugly brown wallpaper off of the walls and break down the pillars.

The men carry you up the steps to a large room bolted down with a big gold chain. You don’t even bother being nervous or anxious about what’s behind that door. You know your fate is decided the second your name is mentioned to the emperor.

One of the men unlock the chain while the other holds your arm even tighter. You’ve made no signs of struggle so you don’t exactly understand why they have to bruise your arm in the process. The door opens to reveal a long hallway, covered with a red and gold carpet leading to a throne. You’d recognize that throne anywhere. Along with the man who sits on it.

The walk down the runway seems like hours, as the man you despise most in this world stares you down with his wide brown eyes.

“You’re dismissed.” He says in a dark tone. The two men let go of your arms and bow before Geta before turning and leaving the room. Bolting the door down once again behind you.

“Most people bow when they see me.” He says, his legs and arms spread comfortably on the soft throne paid for by his slaves.

“I’m not most people.” You stand tall in front of him, keeping eye contact. “...your highness.” You smirk before playfully bending your knee and bowing in front of him.

Geta scoffs before standing up from his throne, slowly making his way towards you. “You look familiar.” His breath lingers down your skin as he circles around your body, his arms behind his back.

“You killed my father… and my brother.” You can see the gears click in his mind as he stops right in front of you. He places his hand roughly under your chin making you shiver. He forcefully turns your head both ways before nodding. “Caius’ daughter. How could I forget those innocent eyes?”

Your breathing gets heavier as you remember everything this man has put your family through. You spit on his cheek, making him quickly shuffle back. He chuckles under his breath, looking up at you as he wipes your saliva off of his face. “I should have you hung for that alone.”

“You’re going to kill me anyways. What else do I have to lose?” You get down on your knees, placing your hands behind your back as you ready yourself for the knife that is knowingly going to come to your neck.

“Who ever said anything about killing you? I surely didn’t.” He steps closer to you, leaning down to place his hand under your chin once again, this time softer. “Who could kill such a pretty little whore like you?” He lifts your head up to look at him, smirking as your eyes meet his once again.

He roughly pushed your head away as he steps back, slowly untying his robe. “I’ve already done enough damage to you, don’t you think?” He smirks, dropping his robe to reveal his extremely toned naked body. His cock jumps up to his stomach in anticipation, and as much as you hate him, you can’t take your eyes off of it. “In return for letting you live, I say you do a little something for me, don’t you think?” He spits in his hand, moving it down to stroke his cock as you watch on your knees. “You’re already in the position… it’s only fair.”

He moves back to his throne, sitting with his legs spread as he continues to stroke himself. Your mouth salivates at the image alone. You get up from your knees, slowly walking towards him until you’re standing in between his legs.

“I’d rather die than do anything to serve you.” You spit on him once again. Before you can turn around, he grabs you by the wrists and pulls you down on to your knees, holding your hair in one hand so you can’t move.

“This wasn’t an option.” He grabs his cock with his other hand, tapping it on your cheek before roughly shoving it into your mouth. You can’t help but moan the second you taste his salty seed lingering out the tip. “The good girl likes it, too.” He chuckles.

You look up at him with fire in your eyes, slowly bobbing your head up and down his hard member. You keep your arms behind your back and let him take control. That is all he wants after all. You watch as he throws his back in pleasure, moaning loud enough you’re sure the rest of the kingdom can hear you.

He grips your hair tighter with each movement of your mouth, pulling you every which way he wants you to go. “Your mouth is so wet and tight. Can’t wait to see what that perfect cunt feels like.”

You quickly pull off of him, removing one of your hands from your back to stroke him. “You never said anything about fucking me.”

“Oh, but I just did.” He smirks, leaning down to grab your hips and pull you into his lap. “You thought you were going to get away without me feeling your cunt wrapped around my cock?” He grinds into you, his hands roaming up and down your sides. You can’t help but to grind with him, moaning into his hair as he attaches his mouth to your neck.

His hand reaches down to lift up your skirt, revealing no underwear underneath. He moans into your neck as his fingers trace along your wet slit. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closer to you as you grind your pussy along his hand.

You reach down to palm his cock, making him moan even louder if that was possible. “Need to feel you already.” He whines as he pulls your shirt up, his mouth immediately sucking on your nipples.

You grab his cock and run the tip along your slit, smirking as you tease him. “Never thought I’d have the Emperor of Rome begging me to fuck him.” You laugh, still riding the tip of his cock.

He growls, grabbing his cock and quickly thrusting up into you. You gasp loudly, gripping his neck tighter than before. He wraps his arms around your back, thrusting into you hard. You match his movements with the bounce of your own hips, leaving both of you a moaning mess.

You can feel your own arousal leaking out and coating both of your thighs. The sounds emitting from this room were obscene, and you just hoped the Gods would forgive you.

You roll your hips faster against him as you feel the familiar coil burn in your stomach quickly. His cock twitches inside of you, making your ego bigger than it already was coming into this room.

“You’re going to cum.” You say breathily, gripping him by his hair to make him look at you. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks in your eyes with his mouth open as he thrusts into you one last time. His hands grip your hips tightly as you feel him dripping out of you. The feeling is enough to make you shake as you reach your own high.

You hold him by his hair tightly, your hips still slowly rolling against his as your both catch your breath. It doesn’t take long for him to remove you from his lap. He grips your hips and swiftly places you back on your feet.

“You may be dismissed now.” He says quietly, clearing his throat as he looks down at his feet.

“Nothing to clean me up at least?” You respond, looking at him even though he isn’t doing the same.

“You’re a peasant. You walk around dirty anyways.” He scoffs.

You walk close to him, lifting your skirt and placing a leg on either side of his thigh. You slide yourself down his thigh until it’s coated in your juices before hopping off.

You fix your skirt, smoothing it out as you smirk up at him. “Your highness.” You bow, pulling your skirt out each way before turning around and walking yourself out. Leaving Geta speechless… for now.

[satorusugurugurl]

Toji as a bodyguard

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Bodyguard!Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stage right, performance, anxiety, stalking, panic attacks, language mentions of gun, (eventual smut)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: this request is amazing!! It got my brain worms going! Once again, this will be a multi part series, I’m looking at a total of four parts as I have already planned down the whole story. I’m sorry for the lack of content, it’s been a rough few days and I just decided to take some time for myself! But I do have about four stories almost done so you can expect updates for the rest of the week! Love you all!! (Readers' stage persona is highly inspired by several artists! 😊)

Part Two Part Three Part Four

Performance anxiety is defined as an excessive feeling of fear related to being able to perform well. Symptoms of performance anxiety include pulse racing, rapid breathing, dry mouth, and throat tightness. Dealing with performance anxiety when you're a rising star is brutal, and you begin to regret all your life choices. You aren't sure if you want this to be your life. You were attending nursing school, but your sister posted a video of you singing online. Reading all the sweet comments was fun initially, but it's funny how fast things change.

One second, you were posting a few videos of you singing, and the next thing you knew, you had a record deal, your songs were on the radio, and you were performing at concerts. All in the span of six months. The attention was overwhelming, and, at times, your anxiety even worse. But the more you performed, the more you were able to bury the stage fright down, masking the fear with a persona you made until you were home in your apartment. In the confines of your home, you could cry and tremble; dealing with those attacks was something you’d gotten used to.

But your stalker was a whole new fucked up mess you never dreamed about dealing with.

It had started as nothing more than a couple of love letters that turned into more descriptive letters detailing information about your personal life you had never told anyone. Anytime you saw a letter come in with ‘M’ written on the front and dark gray ink, your stomach twisted. You at first thought you would be okay. You could handle something like this. This was the kind of thing that came along with the territory of being famous.

That was until a bouquet of roses was dropped off at your door in your guarded apartment building. That whole situation sent you into a full-blown panic attack. You left your apartment and went to stay with your friends. That incident caused your manager to contact Kong Security Services and hire you as a bodyguard. One, you were anxiously waiting to meet as you sat in your dressing room before your show.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Nanako, your makeup artist, assured you as she fixed your blush. “Geto said this agency is the best in the business.”

You shot her a skeptical look while her twin sister fixed your hair. “Are you just saying that because your dad’s are my managers, and they told you to say that?” When both twins had ceased their movements in obvious shock at your to-the-point accusation.

“W-What—?”

“No, never!”

“Uh-huh—I don’t believe a word either of you are saying right now.”

Nanako steps back, looks you over, and bites her lip. “They really are the best, whether or not we get to go out for Boba after this. It’s not like sweet milk tea is on the line if we don’t ease your nerves.” Just as your sweet young makeup artist finishes, the door to your dressing, eyes darting towards the door as it swings further open. Suguru and his husband, Satoru, enter, displaying their matching black-and-white wedding rings. They were the best management company in the world, the power couple of Tokyo. Satoru, who was in charge of your social media accounts, types viciously on his phone while Suguru grins up at a man walking in with them.

If you could even call him a man.

A fucking mountain of muscle is a more appropriate way of describing him. He’s tall, has dark hair and navy blue eyes, and he’s fit. The mountain wore a tailored jacket and white button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes leave Geto’s for a minute to watch you sinking further in your chair, his pink tongue running over the scar down the corner of the right side of his mouth.

“Hun, this is Fushiguro Toji,” Suguru announced before glancing at his phone. “He’s your bodyguard and will be with you everywhere you go.”

“E-Everywhere?”

“Yes, to rehearsals, your shows, meet-and-greets, he’ll even escort you home.” Your eyes rammed back over to the mountain of a man standing off to the side. When you have time off, or he needs a day away, his work partner Tsukumo Yuki will take over for him.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching, a subtle action your new bodyguard noticed immediately as you dug your fingers into your skirt. It was part of Toji‘s job to see behaviors and be observant. He could tell you were on edge from how your fingers twitched to how your pulse raced in your neck. His handler, Shiu, had warned him that you were an anxious mess after finding out about your stalker. But this anxiety didn’t come from just having a stalker. This anxiety was deeply rooted in you. It was probably something you had suffered with for years.

Without being told, Toji stepped forward, kneeling before you, giving you a gentle smile like a father would give a frightened child. He had to put your nerves at ease to let you know you would be okay. “I know you’re scared, but I can assure you that I am very skilled. You won’t even notice I’m around.” You weren’t sure about that. How could you not notice the handsome man who would always be around you?

“Right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome--”

“Ugh! We gotta get going; they expect you on stage in five minutes.”

“I-I s-shou—” you stuttered as the performing anxiety began to root itself into your already anxious demeanor.

“Yep, let’s get going.” Toji stood motioning towards the door of the dressing room. “After you, Miss.”

Being a bodyguard and a security escort for so long had allowed Toji to pick up on specific cues from people, like how their eyes moved around the room or how their body language told him what they were feeling. The way your fingers were twitching, he knew you were nervous and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was stage fright or something to do with your stalker.

Regardless of whether you wanted to go up there, it didn’t change the fact that thousands of people were already waiting for you to perform. As you both walked down the hall, Tojo noticed you took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, and as you turned the corner, you put on a huge smile. The way you put in a mask so fast nearly sent Toji stumbling back. He was usually prepared for the unexpected, but seeing this scared, shaking woman shift into a bubbly pop star rocked him back.

Everyone you encountered smiled wide at your perky voice and demeanor. You truly lit up the whole room. “Alright, guys! Thank you for all your hard prep! Now, let’s have a great show tonight!” You were handed a jeweled microphone and placed on a platform to lift you to the main stage, but before you gripped the handles to steady yourself, Toji grabbed your hand. “Oh, Fushiguro?”

“I'll be on the side, watching you. If you need me or notice something's off, you should give me a sign.”

“A sign? Like a signal?”

“Yeah, something easy and inconspicuous.”

You thought for a second, that perky look still on your face, but Toji could see the anxiety behind your eyes. “Well, I wink a lot during my shows and throw a heart sign up.” Toji hummed, pursing his lips together.

“Well, if you don't want to alarm your fans, how about this.” he took your hand, putting your middle and ring finger down. Your thumb, pinky, and pointer finger were left extended.

“Oh, the sign for ‘I love you’!”

“Only use this if you need me on stage. Otherwise, do what you normally do, but know I’ll be right there if you need me.”

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes, which probably would go unnoticed by many different people, but it was one that he could see clearly as day. “Right, thank you, Fushiguro.” Your new bodyguard looked at you as he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Toji, just call me Toji. There is no need for formalities. Have a good show, Miss.”

“R-Right, thank you, Toji.”

Your new bodyguard watched as the platform began to lift, taking you up to the stage where fans were screaming your name. Taking a deep breath before smiling, your bodyguard watched you reach the top before the band blaring music as you began singing into your microphone. The beat of the music rang in his ears; Toji ran for the stairs that led him to the stage, where he could watch you from the side.

There, Toji found your managers standing on the sidelines, watching you. Upon looking at you, he met a woman who looked nothing like the girl he had just spoken to moments before. You danced, sang, smiled, and winked at the crowd. Multicolored lights flashed as fog from the fog machine flooded the stage, and the backup dancers moved in sync with each other. I think this is poor, who was shaking upon meeting him.

“Yeah, crazy to see her shift, isn’t it?” Geto asked before pulling his phone out and snapping a few photos of you as you sang. “She’s like a different person.”

“Like? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Geto, but that woman is a completely different person. Why the fuck is she masking?”

The white-haired man glared at Toji, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not masking; it's called a stage persona.” The annoyance was clear in the other man’s voice, a tone that crawled its way under his skin.

“Look, buddy, keep your terms to yourself. I don't care about the different terms. All I know is that woman—” he jabbed his thumb in your direction as you twirled around the stage. “is masking; that’s not who she is.”

“You don’t know a lot about the entertainment industry. This is something that a lot of celebrities do. It’s completely normal, and she knows that. That’s how she adapted so fast.”

Toji wasn’t sure if that was the case. He had seen you firsthand, shaking in your dressing room. To see you change drastically for the sake of a show? Toji could see why you would be nervous to go up on stage. There had to be a fear of your mask slipping, revealing your true persona to the world.

But Satoru was right; Toji’s job was to protect and ensure you were safe. It wasn’t his place to judge how you lived or worked your career. In the end, you were just like all the other popstar divas and clients he had had before. Rich people with too much money to throw around and fame led them to believe that they were in danger all the time, which is how he managed to keep a steady income for himself and his kids as long as they were rich snobs like you, Tojo was guaranteed to have a job.

Instead of continuing to argue with your overzealous manager, Toji crossed both arms over his chest and watched you closely. The sooner the show was over, the sooner he could get you back to your apartment, where he could call to check on Megumi. He just wanted to relax, and for all he knew, you and your managers were overreacting to this so-called stalker you had. If anything, this might’ve been some cruel prank; receiving a note to roses wasn’t that big of a deal, and this was way too easy for as much as he was getting paid, so he wasn’t going to bitch about it.

What he did want to bitch about was how fucking long your show went on for. Performed for about two hours straight, only taking breaks to change costumes throughout the performance. It was in those moments when you were changing that your mask slipped. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and how you wanted to do nothing more than take a break. But as fast as that mask slipped, you had it back on instantly. When one costume was off, and the other slipped on, you were back on stage to sing the next song.

After about two hours and thirty minutes of this bullshit, you gave a final bow and blew kisses out at the crowd of strangers who were cheering your name. While the two hours he got to stand up to the side and watch you perform was easy, he only had to look for your signal if you needed help; getting you out of the arena safely was a whole different story. Everything moved so fast The second you stepped off that stage and towards your bodyguard.

After every show, the goal was the same: get changed as fast as possible, collect your stuff, which Nanako and Mimiko had already packed, and get in your limo before the crowd started heading towards your exit. Toji gently placed his hand on the small of your back, ushering you through the maze of halls that led you back to the dressing room, where, just like you knew, the girls had packed all your stuff.

“You got five minutes to change,” Suguru announced as Satoru snickered behind his husband. “Thanks to Satoru, you’re trending again for your newest song.”

Toji could see the minutey, perky personality shift into your more anxious state. You frowned, literally frowned, at the news. Most people would be jumping over the moon to hear it. Seeing such an ungrateful expression on your face had Toji resist the urge to roll his eyes into his skull.

Spoiled little brats, you rich folks were all the same.

“Did you make sure to tag the—“

“Are you insinuating that I don’t know who to tag or which hashtags to use? Babes, I've got you covered. When have I ever let you down?”

“Never.”

“Right, so let the best PR manager handle this.”

Toji sighed, glancing towards his watch. “Two minutes,” he announced to the room of people bouncing off the walls and collecting items to clean up the green room. How could your managers be talking about more brand deals at a time like this? Brand deals were bullshit, but knowing how popular you were with the teenagers and you probably had some make-up deal or some other shit that would make you all the richer, you had to make sure the right people were tagged so you continued to be sponsored. But there was a time and place for that, and now wasn't the right time!

“I know you're the best Satoru, but I still wanna make sure the word gets out there.” You stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in black leggings and a simple T-shirt. Completely different from the baby doll dresses you were wearing on stage. “It’s imperative—”

“I know. I’ve already posted it. Everyone’s been tagged accordingly, and the hashtags are in place. You’ll get lots of people to see this, trust me.”

You were slipping on your baseball cap and sunglasses when Toji’s large hand gently grabbed you by the shoulder. “We gotta get going,” you sighed before nodding, waving off your team, and falling Toji down the hall to where your car awaited you.

Thanks to your quick change, nobody was waiting for you outside, making your getaway from the arena smooth as butter. You just wished you felt as calm as your exit from the bustling stage had been. You were beginning to regret going back to your apartment. You hadn’t been back there since the roses were delivered to your door. Going back was going to be difficult, leaving your stomach swarming with anxiety. But at least you had a big mountain of a man to protect you if, god forbid, you needed help.

The entire ride back to your apartment complex was thankfully quiet. Toji sat on the other side of you, staring out the window, not making any conversation, which was a blessing. Not only was your throat sore from the amount of singing you had done, but the idea of sitting through a conversation run solely by small talk was almost as bad as your performance anxiety. Sitting in the back of the car, leaning your head against the window without worrying about smiling or acting perfect in front of strangers, was a breath of fresh air.

Being alone with your bodyguard made you feel like you could let your walls come down for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling you might as well get used to. He would be around most of the time, so instead of adorning the perfect, pretty mask you always wore, you could be the introverted true version of yourself. Knowing that you could relax, you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to doze off as the car smoothly headed down the freeway.

If only your dreams were smooth and calm like the car ride. Your dreams were filled with mysterious notes and roses you had once loved. They circled you, drowning you in paper and petals as a roaring crowd rang through your ears. You could fight against the tidal waves, but instead, you let them wash over you, allowing yourself to be crushed by the unbearable weight of being a star at times.

Nursing school wasn’t easy, but at least when you were in school, you didn’t have to worry about a mysterious bouquet showing up on your apartment doorstep or sneaking out to avoid getting seen and swarmed by your fans. Your biggest concern in school was getting good grades and doing everything possible to get your degree. The only things you had to worry about were study dates and pop quizzes, not ominous letters that made you fearful for your safety.

These nightmares were so vivid that you wished your family had heard you singing online. Was it too much to ask for a normal everyday life where you weren't constantly stressed?

You sighed, looking up at the lingering rays of light that slowly began to peek through. More envelopes and roses piled on the cocoon you were stuck in. Perhaps there was no going back. This might very well be the rest of your life. Just as you were shutting your eyes to the casket you were being buried in, a hand reached out from the top of the mountain of dread and anxiety you lived with, reaching for you.

You couldn’t make out who was reaching out to you, but you were sure they just wanted to help you. Without hesitation, you reached for that hand, brushing over their fingertips. Just when they clasped your hand to pull you out of the burial ground, you were jn. You gasped as someone shook you, waking you from the dream.

You sat up quickly, shaking as you met Tojo’s navy blue eyes. He was frowning, motioning towards the rolled-down window, and Ijichi, head of security for your building, leaned in, giving you a weak smile. With a quick rub to both your eyes, you placed your mask back on, going from the sleep-deprived woman you were transforming into the perky popstar everybody knew and loved.

“Ijichi! Hi!”

“Hi yourself, glad to have you back.”

Toji could see how your shoulders stiffened when you mentioned being back. “Oh, yep! It's good to be back.” Toji could see through your facade, while Ijichi was blind to it.

“I just wanted to let you know that we added more cameras to the building, and my security post will be far stricter with deliveries and anything else from this point on. We want you to feel safe here, and I’m sorry we failed to do that in the first place.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault! Plus, I feel a lot better now that I have Fushiguro!” The man with glasses peered into the car, waving at your bodyguard whose face remained stoic, not returning the gesture. “Okay, uhm Ijichi, Toji; Toji Ijichi.”

No pleasantries were exchanged, not at all. The only thing Toji managed to do was give him a nod before focusing his attention back on the massive building and making a mental note to ask for access to the cameras. That way, he could keep an eye on you and ensure nobody was hanging around who wasn't supposed to be there. Those thoughts Toji was lost in made it a tranquil ride up the elevator to your apartment. He was leaving you feeling even more anxious. Usually, being around someone quiet never bothered you; you felt so relaxed around that person, but Toji’s cold demeanor and attitude toward your friend made you irritable.

“So, uhm, are you going to be that cold and standoffish every time you meet somebody I know?” You asked, finally allowing your heart mind to win over your mind.

“Huh?”

His dark gaze had you swallowing the lump suddenly in your throat. “I wanted to ask if this is going to be normal, you being—.”

“Oh, I am so sorry little star; I wasn't aware I needed to wear a fake ass mask around people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, and unfortunately, unlike you, I like wearing my face. I don’t have to be someone I’m not to get people to like me. Because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if anybody likes me.”

“I don't eit—”

Toji scoffed, leaning against the elevator wall and shaking his head at your words. “Oh, please. You’re just like every other client I’ve had. All you care about is money, your appearance, and what sponsor deals you get.” His words made your blood begin to boil.

“You’ve barely known me for a couple of hours, and you think you know who I am?”

“Oooh yeah, you're some small-town girl that made it big. And instead of showing the world who you really are, you put on this fucking mask, one that hides the true you from the prying eyes of the world. You care only about ticket sales, making your fans happy, and sponsorships like the one you were talking about with your manager not even thirty minutes ago. So yeah, I’m sure I got a good idea of who you are. It’s my job to read people..”

This was the best security in the business; bodyguard your manager had set you up with? Ha! Yeah, right, this man was nothing more than a dickhead that had a lot of opinions that were far from true?!

You laughed, pushing yourself away from the wall to stand in front of the doors before him. “That's the great thing about wearing a mask around people I don’t fucking know. They get to see the real me, but I get to see people for who they truly are.” Toji opened his mouth to continue arguing with you, but only for you to quickly shut him down, holding a hand up before you. “You were right about a couple things; I do put on a mask, I love my fans, but I could give a damn about sponsorships.” Toji pushed himself off the wall, towering over you, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his evident anger.

“Oh, you suddenly don’t give a damn about sponsorships? I just heard you talking to your manager about one.”

“You don’t know anything about me! That whole conversation had nothing to do with this sponsorship!”

Tojo tilted his head back with a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. You don’t care about your amazing condo or all the money you’re making; you don’t care about those so-called nonexistent sponsorship deals.” The elevator rattled like the lid to the rage threatening to explode.

“Alright, yes, I do live in a nice apartment, one with security that sucks, but it’s still home. But for your information, I don’t do this for the money. You don’t know what I have planned on doing with my life, so I don’t want to hear you make assumptions about me! The conversation you so rudely eavesdropped on had nothing to do with a sponsorship deal but a massive donation I’m making to the local Children’s Hospital. The same hospital is well renowned for helping unfortunate children. So yeah, that whole conversation you listened to was me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because the hospital inspired the song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves.”

Your rant was unexpected. Toji had never had one of his clients talk to him like that; strangely, he liked it.

“And another thi—”

The doors to the elevator slowly slid open with a ding as you reached your apartment. Usually, your automatic lights would be on in the living room and kitchen, leading upstairs. But as the doors opened, no lights illuminated your bodyguard's face. You knew something was wrong, and just before Toy could look over your shoulder into the apartment,Toji’s hand quickly covered your eyes. He pulled you into his chest, and he listened in as he smashed on the lobby button on the button panel.

“Toji!?” You asked, placing your hands on top of his. “What is it?! Is something wrong? Let me see!”

Toji shook his head as if you could see his reaction, his hand reaching for the gun at the holster on his side as the door slowly shut. There was no way in hell you were going to see what was behind the door. Because he knew if you were to see what had happened in your apartment, you would never be the same. As the elevator slowly began to descend, Toji realized that he had been wrong about your stalker. It wasn’t some harmless joke.

This was fucking serious.

(TBC)

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