#on top of the more obvious bisexuality

[cellarspider]

please please share a Pic of the stuffed tarantula and monster dog please

Tarantula, with Piglet for scale

I spoke a lie in the tags, this discontinued Folkmanis hand puppet whose design is actually closer to a Mexican redleg tarantula, not redknee.

And yes, this is a hand puppet. It has a hand slot on the bottom side, and finger holes in six out of eight legs, plus the pedipalps. I have no idea how you're supposed to puppet all of them, even with very thin, long hands I have trouble doing it.

In defiance of taxonomy, its name is Rekku-chan, because I was once a weeb who defiantly decided to love brown recluse spiders, after I became obsessed with the comicbook MMO City of Villains and its excellent spider aesthetic.

[pedroscowgirl]

buttons

Emily Prentiss x fem!bau reader

Pics are for aesthetic purposes only and is not an indication of what reader looks like! and these pics don't belong to me

Warnings: smut! minors dni!!

semi public sex? fingering, squirting, age gap(reader is in her twenties) , use of 'mommy', lmk if i forgot something!

summary: you and Emily are on a mission in a club and she can't keep herself from touching you x

wc: 2.8k

A/n: idk why but i was listening to 'buttons' from the pussycatdolls and had to think of her so enjoy! also this is actually my first time ever writing a smut with a woman and idk why cuz i've been bisexual for years

The club is pulsing with energy, neon lights casting vibrant shades across the room. The music is loud, drowning out any casual conversation, and bodies are moving on the dance floor in sync with the beat. You're here on assignment, undercover as Emily's partner. The two of you have been tasked with observing a target—a high-level suspect mingling among the crowd. Morgan is across the room, keeping a close eye on things from a distance, but it's Emily's attention that's making your pulse quicken.

Emily leans casually against the high-top table, her drink untouched in front of her. She’s wearing a sleek black dress that clings to her in all the right places, and the confidence she radiates is undeniable. Her dark eyes flicker over to you, and she arches a brow, a small smirk playing on her lips as she notices the way you can’t help but keep stealing glances.

"Keep your head in the game," she murmurs, but there’s a teasing edge to her tone. She steps closer, her body brushing lightly against yours. To anyone watching, it would look like a casual move, nothing out of the ordinary, just two women at a bar—but you can feel the tension between you crackling in the air. The heat of her body so close to yours is intoxicating, and the mission suddenly feels much more complicated.

Her hand rests on the table, fingers casually tapping to the rhythm of the music, but you feel her other hand brush subtly against your lower back, pulling you ever so slightly closer. Her knee presses gently between your legs under the table, the movement subtle, but unmistakable. Your breath hitches for a moment, but you try to keep your face composed, knowing that Morgan is watching from across the room.

"Act normal, sweetheart," Emily whispers, her voice low, just for you. There’s a glint of mischief in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth curves into a wicked smile.

You shift in place, trying to focus on the mission, but the sensation of her knee between your legs sends a shiver down your spine. Her touch is just enough to drive you wild, but not enough to be obvious to anyone else. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your body is reacting to her nearness, to the teasing pressure of her leg against you.

"Emily," you whisper, barely able to find your voice. You glance over at Morgan, who seems oblivious to what’s happening, still scanning the crowd for your target.

"What?" she asks, feigning innocence as she leans in closer, her lips just brushing the shell of your ear. "You seem a little distracted."

You stifle a smile, your heart racing. "You know exactly what you’re doing."

Her chuckle is soft, and she moves her leg just a fraction, enough to make you squirm against the pressure. "Focus," she purrs, her lips so close to your ear that her breath sends a shiver through you. "We’re here for the mission, remember?"

But it’s hard to focus on anything else when her touch is driving you to the edge of distraction. The weight of her presence, the warmth of her body so close to yours—it’s all you can think about. You’re hyper-aware of everything, the way her fingers now lightly trail down your arm, the subtle way her body shifts ever so slightly closer to yours, the way her knee presses into you in time with the music.

The target appears at the edge of your vision, and you snap back to attention, trying to focus on anything other than the throbbing heat between your legs. You nod subtly in his direction, signaling to Emily that the target is on the move. But even as the two of you start to follow him through the crowd, the tension between you remains, simmering just below the surface.

Emily’s hand slips to the small of your back as you walk, guiding you through the throng of people, her touch steady and reassuring, though there’s a lingering intimacy that makes your pulse quicken. You can still feel the ghost of her knee between your legs, the way she teased you when you were supposed to be focusing on the mission.

As you both weave through the crowd, you steal a glance at Emily, and she catches your eye. Her smile is small but knowing, as if she can read every thought running through your mind. "After this," she murmurs, leaning in close so that only you can hear, "maybe we’ll finish what we started."

Your heart skips a beat at the promise in her words, but you quickly force yourself to focus. You can’t let your guard down now, not when the target is so close. But the thought of what might happen after the mission ends is enough to keep your blood racing.

For now, though, you push those thoughts aside. You and Emily fall back into step, the professional edge returning to your demeanour as you move together, both of you focused on the task at hand. Still, the undercurrent of desire simmers between you.

The night after the mission feels like a blur. You and Emily make it back to the BAU, your bodies still buzzing from the adrenaline of the assignment, and from the charged moments between the two of you. Everyone is packing up, heading home after a long day. You’re still wearing the outfit you had on during the mission, a white blouse and a skirt that clings to your figure. Emily, still in her sleek black dress, looks as poised and composed as ever, though there's a glimmer in her eyes that tells you she’s not done with you yet.

As the last of your colleagues trickle out, Emily stays back. Her gaze lingers on you as she leans casually against her desk, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You feel the weight of her stare, heat pooling in your stomach, and a blush creeps up your neck as you realize you’re completely alone with her now.

You start to gather your things, but before you can finish, Emily takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps. The room is quiet now, save for the soft hum of the lights overhead. You can feel the tension crackling between you, and before you know it, she’s right in front of you, her hand gently resting on your arm.

"Stay," she says softly, her voice low, almost a whisper.

You look up at her, your breath catching in your throat. There’s something intense in her gaze, something that makes your heart race. Without another word, she moves closer, her body brushing lightly against yours as she gently backs you up until your hips bump against the edge of her desk.

Her hands slide to your waist, holding you in place as she leans in, her lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "You’ve been driving me crazy all night," she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.

Your breath hitches as she closes the gap, her lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It’s soft at first, but it quickly deepens, her hand sliding up your side as her fingers trace the fabric of your blouse. The kiss is intoxicating, sending a wave of heat through your body. You feel her hands move to the buttons of your blouse, and with a skilled, practiced motion, she begins to undo them, one by one.

The room feels warmer, and your heart races as she breaks the kiss, her lips moving to your neck. She trails soft, teasing kisses along your skin, her hands working their way down the rest of your blouse, exposing the delicate skin of your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. Her touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity behind it that makes your pulse quicken.

"You have no idea what you do to me," she whispers against your skin, her lips brushing the exposed part of your chest. Her hands slide lower, brushing against your thighs as she presses you further against her desk.

You’re completely lost in the sensation of her touch, the way her hands and lips seem to know exactly how to make your body respond. The world outside fades away, and all that exists is this moment, just you and her, the connection between you growing stronger with every breath.

You feel the wetness between your legs, your breath growing uneven as her hand slips further up your thigh, just under the hem of your skirt. Her fingers graze the fabric of your panties, and you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips.

"Does Mommy make you wet?" she asks in a playful, teasing tone, her voice thick with amusement.

You moan softly, heat rushing to your cheeks, unable to form words as the sensation of her touch makes your mind go blank. "Please, Emily," you whisper, but it’s not enough for her.

She raises an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Please who?" she asks, her tone firm but laced with that teasing edge.

You look up at her, feeling a mix of desperation and excitement. "Please, Mommy… touch me," you finally manage, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Emily’s smile turns softer, almost affectionate. "That’s better," she whispers. "Such a good girl."

Her fingers dance over your skin as she lifts you slightly, helping you adjust your position on the desk. The cool wood beneath you is a stark contrast to the warmth of her body so close to yours. She slowly slides your panties down, her movements deliberate, making every second feel stretched and heavy with tension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as she places a gentle kiss just below your collarbone, her hands exploring the newly exposed skin of your thighs. The intimacy of the moment overwhelms you, every inch of your body hyperaware of her touch.

"You're so beautiful," she whispers softly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. There's no rush in her movements, no urgency, just a deliberate, unspoken promise that she’s taking her time because she wants this to last.

She presses her lips to your neck, trailing soft kisses down to your collarbone as her hand moves between your legs. Your breath hitches as she touches you, gently at first, her fingers moving in slow, rhythmic circles. It’s a feeling that sends a wave of warmth through your entire body, and you can’t help but lean into her, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut.

"Mommy..." you moan softly, but she hushes you with a quiet "Shh, just relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you."

Her movements remain gentle yet purposeful, building tension with every slow stroke, every soft touch. She’s in complete control, and the trust you feel in this moment is overwhelming. Her lips return to your neck, peppering kisses along your skin as her hand continues to explore you, coaxing soft sounds from your lips that you can barely control.

Time seems to blur. The tension that’s been simmering between you for so long is finally spilling over, but there’s something more than just desire here. It’s the way she looks at you, the way her touch is both tender and sure, making you feel cherished, seen, and completely in the moment.

She presses her forehead gently against yours, her breath hot on your lips. "You’re so good for me," she whispers, her voice filled with affection. "So perfect."

The words wash over you, and in that moment, everything else fades away. All that matters is her, her touch, and the connection between you. Your hands tighten on the edge of the desk as the intensity builds, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, completely lost in her.

As your body tenses, her pace quickens, her hand expertly guiding you to the brink. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer, and she smiles against your skin, knowing exactly what you need. And when the release finally comes, it's overwhelming—a wave of sensation that makes you gasp, your hands gripping the desk for support as your whole body shakes with the force of it.

Emily holds you through it, her hand never leaving you, her lips pressing soft kisses to your cheek, your neck, as you come down from the high. Your breathing is ragged, your body trembling in the aftermath, but she’s there, grounding you, keeping you steady.

When you finally catch your breath, you open your eyes to find her watching you, her smile soft and full of warmth. She brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary.

"You’re amazing," she whispers, her voice filled with something deeper than just desire.

As the last tremors of your shared moment with Emily begin to settle, the room grows quiet once again. Your body still tingles with the aftermath, your breath slowly returning to normal as you sit on the edge of her desk, adjusting your skirt, trying to regain some composure. Emily leans down, brushing a soft kiss against your lips, her touch lingering, her hand gently smoothing the fabric of your blouse.

But then, there’s another sound, a soft thud, faint but noticeable, coming from Hotch’s office. You both freeze, listening. The noise isn’t loud, but it’s unmistakable, a chair scraping against the floor, perhaps? Papers being shuffled?

You exchange a glance with Emily, the thrill of the moment between you still fresh, but now mingled with a new tension. Emily straightens, her usual composure returning as she quickly buttons the top of your blouse, her movements careful and precise. “We should get out of here before anyone sees,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a small, mischievous smile.

You nod, still catching your breath as you slide off the desk, smoothing down your skirt. But as you reach for your underwear that had been carelessly discarded during the heat of the moment, Emily is quicker. She picks them up with a sly grin, twirling the fabric around her fingers before tucking them into her handbag without a word.

"These are mine now," she whispers with a teasing lilt, her eyes gleaming with playful possession.

Your heart races again, not from fear of being caught, but from the intensity of her actions—how she continues to assert her control, even in such small, intimate ways. You give her a knowing look but say nothing, biting your lip as you fight back a smile.

Emily places a hand on the small of your back as you both begin to walk toward the door, the sound of your footsteps light against the polished floor.

You hold your breath, wondering if Hotch is still inside, completely unaware of what had just happened just outside of his office. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but Emily remains calm, her confidence unshaken. She leads you out of the bullpen, her hand sliding lower until it’s resting just under the hem of your skirt.

As you pass the office door, the sound fades, and you breathe a quiet sigh of relief. But then, just as you're about to turn the corner, Emily’s hand gives your ass a firm squeeze, her touch bold and possessive, hidden beneath the fabric of your skirt. You gasp, shooting her a look of disbelief mixed with excitement, but she only smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Keep walking,” she murmurs in a low voice, so soft that only you can hear it. “You wouldn’t want Hotch to come out and see us now, would you?”

Her words send a rush of heat through your body, but you keep your composure, biting back a moan as her hand lingers for a moment longer before slipping away. You manage to walk a few more steps before daring to glance at her, and the look in her eyes is enough to make your pulse race all over again.

As you exit the building together, the cool night air hits your skin, grounding you back into reality. The thrill of almost getting caught, of knowing your underwear is hidden away in her handbag, sends a flush of warmth through you. Emily walks beside you, her expression casual, but you can still feel the heat of her presence, the tension between you crackling in the night air.

Before you part ways, Emily leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “I’m keeping these as a reminder.” She pats her handbag, where your underwear rests, and gives you one last, lingering kiss. "Next time, you’ll have to earn them back."

You shiver, your body still humming with the memory of her touch, and you know that this is far from over. As she walks away, you’re left standing there, breathless and anticipating when your paths will cross again, when you’ll feel her hands on you, her control over you, her claim on you, once more.

[prettyboykatsuki]

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

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

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

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

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

☼ ao3 link | extended authors note | fics for gaza

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

☼ wc ; 16.8k / 33.2k

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

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

PART TWO: LIGHT MY WAY BACK HOME.

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

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

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

For many reasons and in many ways.  

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re the new freshie, right?”  

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

“Hira,” She says easily  

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

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

You’re surprised. “Is it obvious?”  

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

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

Your eyes go wide. “Sorry?”  

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

“An omega,”  

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

You blink slowly, hesitating. “Thanks.” 

“Which way do you swing, then?”  

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

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

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

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

“Right. Got any experience then?”  

She’s…  

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you a quick learner?”  

Your breath hitches. “Yeah,”  

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

Shit. “Uh, y-yeah.”  

“Great!”  

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

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

__  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

9:35am: You have 24 new notifications.  

__ 

[ NINETEEN ] 

“Do you wanna become club manager?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks?”  

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

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

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

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

You sigh.  

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

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

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

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

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

“You cared about him a lot, huh?”  

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

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

“Was he an omega?”  

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

He blinks in realization before nodding.  

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

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

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

“Right,”  

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

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

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

“Are you joking?”  

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

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

“It’s a compliment.”  

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

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

“Of course. Thanks, captain.”  

“Anytime.”  

__ 

“Are you sure you want this?”  

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

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

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

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

You huff. “Yeah.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__  

[ TWENTY ] 

“I’m home!”  

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

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

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

“Nii-san, I’m home.”  

“In the living room,”  

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

“Hey,”  

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

“Still snowing?” 

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

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

“Did you get your ears pierced?”  

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

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

“When did you get a tattoo?” 

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

“What for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”  

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

“I told you he likes alphas.”   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you didn’t like him.” 

“You little—just promise.”  

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

__  

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

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

“Where did you two just back from?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever. I want details!”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm. True.”  

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

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

“What a weird guy.” Shinohara hums thoughtfully.  

“He’s that into you?!”  

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

Shinohara chuckles. “You sound so enthused.”  

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

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

“So you’re gonna date him seriously?”  

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

__ 

You date Takahashi-kun for a year.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think, I miss him.  

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

__  

[ TWENTY-ONE ] 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 A faint scent of burnt honey.  

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

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

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

Except you’re not.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods back.  

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

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

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

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

Surprised, he blinks in silence for a while.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You soften, shoulder slumped with endured longing.  

“I missed you too,” 

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

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

“It wasn’t like that,”  

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

His display of genuine sadness makes you feel horrible.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You… Really?”  

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

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

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

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

“Stop apologizing, dummy. Stupid.”  

You give him a wobbly smile.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bachira?”  

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

“S-sorry?”  

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

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

“But you…don’t you also like…?”  

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

You cover your face with your hands. 

“What’s wrong?” Bachira asks.  

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

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

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

“You’ll disturb the neighbors.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ehhh?? That’s not my name.”  

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

“Better!”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it soon?”  

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

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

“Don’t say it so..haah… blatantly.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who said you were my…?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re  hardwired to want this in some ways.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lungs expand with a breath. “Meguru,”  

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

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

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

“Wanna get me naked so bad?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You say embarrassing stuff so easily…”  

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

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

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

“Meguru,” You whimper. “Meguru,”  

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

You frown feeling bashful as you nod.  

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, nghh - Meguru,”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,”  

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

You sniffle. “Okay,”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs blissfully content.  

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

“Meguru,”  

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

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

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

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

“…A tattoo,”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Meguru… you’re huge.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S-sorry,”  

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

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

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

“Knot me, Meguru.”  

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

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

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

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

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

He hums. “An hour-ish?”  

Your eyes go wide. “Shit. Really?”  

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

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

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

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

__  

Your back is going to give out.  

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

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

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

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

“Booo,”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, excuse—Bachira?”  

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

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

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

“Rin Itoshi. He prefers Rin,”  

“Rin-kun,”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squint. “What picture?”  

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

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

“You didn’t know?”  

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

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

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

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

__  

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

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

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

“Ah,”  

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

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

“Yu-obasan..”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come join us then!”  

“Yay! Group hug!” 

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

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

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

“Love you too!”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The second time, silly.”  

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

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

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

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

Meguru. Your one and only.  

[vanillalore]

i don't know if anyone has said this but kim complimenting harry's snakeskin boots and pants and saying "the green goes good with the orange" is such an obvious acknowledgement of queer flagging to me.

i'm a lesbian and i always have various unnatural colors of hair, on top of a few other flamboyant flagging things, and i frequently get compliments from strangers that are more acknowledgements of my flagging than real compliments. sort of a "i can tell you are queer. i see you, and i'm like you." (especially from little teenagers, which always warms my heart.)

so that's how i read that scene the first time and i just really like it. kim acknowledges harry's obvious bisexuality and queer flagging. idk.

[elliethefroggy]

Operation Seduction

One night when Buck is a bit tipsy, he takes one of those online sexuality tests. The internet informs him that he’s bisexual.

After he sobers up, he starts to consider the possibility that he’s not as straight as he’d previously thought. He takes a few weeks to discretely stare at pretty men. Reads through some forums. Wanders into a few gay bars. Has one very messy make-out session with a man in one of those gay bars (it’s for science).

Thanks to his very scientific research, he realises that not everything you read on the internet is a lie, and that yes, he’s bisexual.

But that realisation doesn’t change the fact that he’s looking for a long-term commitment, no longer interested in flings and one night stands. He wants to settle down.

Though thanks to his recent revelation, this does mean that his dating pool has significantly expanded, allowing room for a whole new gender.

Then in waltzes Tommy, here to save the day. Here to fly them into a literal hurricane. Tommy Kinard. Hot pilot extraordinaire with an amazing cleft chin, an even better ass, pecks Buck wants to smother himself with, and attractive amount of confidence to boot.

How could Buck resist?

But before he gets ahead of himself, Buck has to figure out if Tommy is actually attracted to men. This is rendered easy by the fact that Chimney can’t keep a secret to save his life and is always willing to wax poetic about how cool Tommy is. One not-so-subtle interrogation later, Buck is now aware that Tommy is both very gay and very single.

Excellent.

The next obvious step is to see if Tommy is attracted to Buck. Now Buck knows how to pick up woman. He’s very good at it. He imagines it can’t be that much different to pick up men (if his one make-out session with a man was anything to go by).

But Buck is a changed man. He is Buck 4.0. He doesn’t want to hook up with Tommy. He doesn’t want a one-night stand or a messy make out session in a dark corner of a bar. He doesn’t want to start dating Tommy immediately after sleeping with him only for their relationship to fizzle out a few months down the line because of lack of communication and a misunderstanding of each other’s wants and needs.

So he tests the waters first. Starts hanging out with Tommy more. Gets an invite to those pub quizzes. Takes Tommy up on those flying lessons. Invites Tommy out to as many pretentious craft breweries he can find (that’s another hot tip he weaseled out of Chim).

During all this, his shorts get smaller and smaller. His tops get skimpier and more form-fitting. He wears less sleeves. He starts discreetly flexing in Tommy’s company. He rushes to the gym area whenever Tommy visits the fire station, showing off how much he can lift. He also uses any excuse to take his shirt off around Tommy to the point of pretending to spill greek yogurt all over his front on two occasions.

Buck pays close attention to Tommy’s every expression. He notices when Tommy’s eyes linger on the almost indecent amount of skin Buck is showing. Notices Tommy staring at Buck’s biceps whenever Buck forgoes sleeves. Notices Tommy’s gaze slide down to Buck’s lips whenever they’ve had a little too much fancy craft beer.

Operation Seduction is a go.

Buck ever so slowly starts making their hangouts more and more romantic.

At first, it’s just sandwiches on a bench in a nice park after a shared workout session.

Yes, he did stake out the park beforehand.

Yes, he did choose a nice, secluded bench where they wouldn’t bothered by too many people.

Yes, the bench just so happens to be located next to a very nice flower bed.

And yes, he did spend an hour preparing these sandwiches before the gym, and they tasted fucking fantastic. Admittedly, the deliciousness of the sandwiches does become detrimental when Tommy bites into his and moans around his mouthful.

He takes Tommy out to a nice restaurant with low lighting, cosy booths and excellent pasta. No candles on the table yet, though; it’s too soon for candles. But, the tables are small enough that Buck and Tommy’s long legs are pressed together during the whole meal.

He starts carrying around Tommy’s favourite snacks whenever he has a flying lesson.

(Buck’s heard that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and Buck is taking that very seriously).

Buck thinks his plan is going brilliantly, that he’s the height of discretion.

Tommy being Tommy, he notices all of this. From Buck’s outfits losing more and more fabric to the ever-closing distance between their bodies. He lets it play out for while, wanting to see where Buck goes with whatever he’s doing, but all Buck does is shower him in ever more delicious sandwiches.

It’s not until they’re having a not-officially-romantic walk along the beach as the sun is setting that Tommy finally asks the question he’s been puzzling over for a few weeks.

“What exactly is going on here, Evan?” Tommy asks.

“What do you mean?” Buck asks back, knowing exactly what Tommy is referring to, but trying to buy himself a little time. He’s figuratively hitting himself over the head because of course a sunset walk along the beach was too obvious. They should have gone bowling instead; there’s nothing romantic about bowling shoes.

“Come on,” Tommy says, “The fancy dinners, the even fancier sandwiches, the sunset walks,” he says, waving at the beach they were standing on, the gentle orange rays turning everything soft and golden.

“Ah. Right. That.” Buck says, pondering what to say. He settles on honesty because he would have had to admit to his plan eventually though that was meant to be at the end of Part 3 of Operation Seduction, and he’s only half way through Part 2. “Well, I’m attempting to seduce you.”

It takes a moment for the words to truly register in Tommy’s mind. And then hope inches its way in.

Because Tommy had an inkling that Evan was attracted to him. But he hadn’t allowed the hope to grow; he’d been burned one too many times when it came to romance.

Tommy enjoys Evan’s company, enjoys it more than he probably should. Evan was a fun, lovable man with a beautiful personality and the face to match. What’s not to like. But Tommy hadn’t wanted to ruin their growing friendship by testing out if Evan really liked him or not.

And here’s Evan, having the courage to try what Tommy could not.

“If you’re not interested, I’ll stop immediately, of course. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Evan says when Tommy is quiet for too long.

“I never said I wasn’t interested.” Tommy says immediately, and then watches as a gigantic and oh so sincere smile blossoms on Evan’s face. Tommy can’t do anything but smile back.

“That’s good. Because I really like you,” Evan says.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, trying to not sound as breathless as he feels because that hope that he has been beating down with a broom is rising up tenfold.

“Yeah,” Evan says, “Does this mean I can continue seducing you?”

“Seduce away,” Tommy says, then adds because he wants Evan to understand, “But you do know I don’t need all that?” Tommy is more than willing to start making out with Evan on the spot now that he knows he hasn’t been imagining all the wanting looks Evan’s been sending his way.

“But I want to,” Evan says, “It’s just, well, I’ve been told that I sometimes take things too fast, especially with dating, and I’m trying to be better about that. I want to be better. I want to do this properly. You’re the kind of person who deserves it. You deserve to be properly courted.”

“Courted? I’m being courted now.”

“Yes.” Evan nods. And Evan means every word, and Tommy sees that, and Tommy really wants that.

“Okay,” Tommy says because what else do you say when a hot, sincere, wonderful guy informs you that he wants to court you in the 21st century? You agree.

After that conversation, they are both on the same page. They’re not dancing around each other, they’re actively dancing towards one another. Though it’s less dancing and more Evan sashaying towards Tommy, a peacock strutting about with its tail feathers out on full display. They both know full well where this is going, how this dance ends, and they’re both happy to take their time on the journey there.

(Though Tommy is a bit impatient to get to the kissing part because he thinks he’ll enjoy kissing Evan quite a lot. But the joy on Evan’s face whenever Evan gets to do something even remotely romantic for Tommy makes the wait worthwhile.)

Once Buck has Tommy’s full permission to continue with seducing him, Operation Seduction goes to a whole new level. No longer needing to be subtle with his interest, Buck gleefully skips all the way to Part 5.

He goes on full seductor mode.

And Tommy has no idea what to do with himself. He hadn’t realised how much Evan was holding back until Tommy gave him the ‘go ahead’, but having Evan’s full attention on him is a thing to behold.

There are hikes in the hills surrounding LA accompanied by picnics at the very top with spectacular views and spectacular company (and also sandwiches that somehow get even fancier).

There is even more craft beer in places so obscure that even Tommy’s never heard of.

There are movie nights filled to the brim with some of Tommy’s favourite romcoms.

It’s not until Evan takes them to a drive-in movie of Love Actually that Tommy realises Evan has an informant, but Tommy is having so much fun that he doesn’t give Chim shit for revealing all his secrets to Evan.

Evan opens the door for Tommy at every opportunity he can get. When they drive somewhere together, Evan will ask Tommy to wait so that Evan can rush around the car to open Tommy’s door for him all the while Tommy stares at him bemused, but charmed all the same.

There are candle-lit dinners with rose petals scattered over the tablecloth. Tommy’s being showered in so many amazing home-cooked meals that he considers upping his work-outs just so he can eat more of them.

And flowers. There are so many flowers. The first time Evan offers him a bouquet, Tommy doesn't know what to say; no one has ever given him flowers before. Tommy couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. He’s sure Evan noticed because barely a week later, he gets another bouquet. Tommy had to go and buy himself a vase because he didn’t have anywhere to put them.

Throughout all of this, Evan is constantly asking Tommy if something is ok, checking in to make sure Tommy isn’t uncomfortable.

On their second sunset walk along a beach, Evan asks Tommy if he can hold Tommy’s hand. And of course, Tommy says yes. Evan’s hand is about as big as Tommy’s, and it’s so warm in Tommy’s own.

After that, Evan is always asking to hold Tommy’s hand no matter where they are or what they’re doing. Tommy says yes every single time. Even if it’s during a long hike or just after a gym session together when their hands are both sweaty and disgusting. And despite doing it so often, Evan always has that big smile on his face whenever Tommy agrees. Tommy is just the same.

But after a few weeks, the anxiety starts creeping in.

Because Tommy’s not used to this. Not used to so much effort being put into dating him (Are they even dating yet? Tommy’s not sure; it definitely feels like dating. But when in the courting process is Tommy allowed to call it dating? He should ask Evan for clarification.)

When it comes to romantic relationships, Tommy is usually the one doing all the work, coming up with all the outing ideas. He’s not used to the reverse, and he’s not completely sure how he’s meant to act in this situation.

When he asks Evan if he should be returning the seduction, Evan smiles at him and says, “You ask me that as though you haven’t already inadvertently seduced me. That terrible fake mouth static really did it for me.”

Evan informs him that he’s meant to sit back and enjoy the ride, nothing more. And so Tommy does.

(Tommy does also ask if they’re allowed to call it dating yet, but according to Evan’s clipboard and the very detailed spreadsheet attached to the clipboard, it is still too early call it dating. Tommy nods in agreement when Evan informs him of that, but Tommy still calls it dating in his head.)

(Tommy tries to ignore how hot and bothered it makes him to see Evan with the clipboard because, according to the spreadsheet, what he wants to do to Evan is not in the cards any time soon.)

But then it’s Buck’s turn to be anxious. The last time he took it this slow was with Abby, and that did not end well.

Despite the very detailed plan, despite all the thought he’s put into Operation Seduction, he wonders if maybe he’s taking it too far.

He knows not everyone likes this pedantic side of him, especially when he’s got a clipboard at hand.

When he shares these worries with Tommy, when he suggests that maybe they give up the plan entirely and just admit that they’ve basically already been dating for months, Tommy refuses.

“You made a colour-coded spreadsheet. Of course, we’re finishing the plan.” Tommy is invested now even though he has long since been seduced. Also, fuck knows how much time Evan took to make the spread-sheet. “What’s next?” He asks.

Evan smiles as he looks down at his phone to open said-spreadsheet (constantly carrying around a clipboard can be a hassle, so he also has a digital version on his phone. Tommy would not mind constantly seeing Evan with a clipboard).

“Uh, right. Next up is star-gazing.”

And so they go star-gazing, and they have an amazing time, just like they always do.

One day, Evan hesitantly asks Tommy if he wants to go on a hot air balloon ride. Like every time Evan asks him for something, Tommy says yes.

Even though Tommy is used to these heights, the hot air balloon ride is amazing (though that could have more to do with Evan than anything. Evan who handed him the largest bouquet of flowers yet before they lifted off and who packed them a whole bunch of Tommy’s favourite snacks for the ride.)

As they admire the view, Evan showers him in so many hot air balloon facts that even the person flying them is riveted.

Evan quiets down after a while because even he had to run out of facts eventually.

Instead, they quietly watch the small world beneath them, shoulders pressed against one another, not an inch of room between them. And it’s nice. It’s so wonderfully nice that Tommy’s starting to suspect that that he’s going to want to keep this, to keep Evan for a long, long while.

“So how far along in the plan are we?” Tommy asks instead of asking how much longer before he gets to kiss Evan.

“Actually, funny you should mention that. This is actually the before-last part of the plan.”

“What’s the last?” Tommy asks.

Evan turns to face him, their shoulders no longer pressed together, but their bodies still so close.

“Tommy Kinard,” Evans says, grabbing Tommy’s hand and interlacing his fingers with Tommy’s, “Will you do me the honour of dating me?”

“There is nothing I would love more,” Tommy says, because again, what else can he say?

They lean into each over even further. Tommy lets go of Evan’s hand and instead places two fingers underneath Evan’s chin, tilting Evan’s head up towards him. And finally, after all this time, they kiss.

Operation Seduction is a resounding success, and the infamous spreadsheet will one day be framed and hanging in a place of honour in their future home.

[agustdeeznuts-7]

~SAKAMAKI BROTHERS NSFW HEADCANONS~

(Disclaimer: this will contain mature content please feel free to skip if you’re uncomfortable with it. These are my own opinions. And I’ve only watched the anime)

SHU

🎧 Bicurious and wouldn’t mind experimenting

🎧 A lazy top so mostly he’ll get his partner to ride him while occasionally bucking his hips

🎧 When he does get motivation, he is a very dominant partner

🎧 Hand kink

🎧 Degradation kink

🎧 Wraps his hand around his partner’s throat

🎧 Will record his partner moaning so he can listen to it whenever he wants

🎧 Calls his partner: whore, slut, dirty, naughty

🎧 “You like that huh?”

🎧 “Aww look at the mess you’ve made”

🎧 “You’re such a little whore”

REIJI

☕️ Bisexual but prefers women

☕️ Will make his partner touch themselves in front of him and degrade them as they do it

☕️ Makes his partner suck him off as he studies in his office

☕️ BDSM kink

☕️ Will tie his partner’s wrists with his tie and sometimes chokes them with it

☕️ Denies his partner’s orgasms

☕️ Whips his partner if/when they cum without his permission

☕️ Calls his partner: darling, little one, slave, dear

☕️ “You better not disobey me..”

☕️ “Do you really think I’ll let you cum so soon?”

☕️ “Look at you all tied up and pretty for me”

AYATO

🏀 Straight

🏀 Will make his partner hang from a basketball hoop as he eats them out

🏀 Will overstimulate his partner with a vibrator

🏀 Loves his partner’s chest and constantly leaves hickeys

🏀 Leaves obvious hickeys on his partner’s neck so people are able to see

🏀 Is surprisingly gentle

🏀 Chest play

🏀 Calls his partner: pancake, sweetheart, cutie, love

🏀 “You’re so cute~”

🏀 “Jeez pancake stop squirming”

🏀 “You’re fucking mine”

KANATO

🧸 Bicurious but a bit more weary towards men

🧸 Needs to be in control at all times and struggles to be submissive but will try if that’s what his partner wants

🧸 Degradation kink

🧸 Food play

🧸 Bondage kink

🧸 Blood play

🧸 Will get jealous if he catches his partner touching themselves

🧸 Calls his partner: doll, pretty, dear, plaything

🧸 “…what do you think you’re doing, dear..?”

🧸 “You look absolutely delicious..”

🧸 “I could just snap you in half”

LAITO

🎹 Pansexual

🎹 A switch but prefers being dominant most of the time

🎹 Up for threesomes

🎹 Not afraid to have sex in public

🎹 Would teach his partner the piano and leaves one hickey for every note they get wrong

🎹 Very experimental and up for almost anything

🎹 Loves his partner’s thighs

🎹 Calls his partner: little bitch, darling, my love, hun

🎹 “Want to play with me, my love?~”

🎹 “You say you’re trying so hard and yet the mess on your neck says otherwise, little bitch”

🎹 “Your thighs are absolutely divine..I could play with them all day~”

SUBARU

🗝️ Straight

🗝️ Wax play

🗝️ Knife play

🗝️ Likes pinning down his partner with one hand

🗝️ Dominant but wouldn’t mind being submissive if that’s what his partner wants

🗝️ Spanks his partner

🗝️ Sometimes degrades his partner

🗝️ Calls his partner: princess, darling, love, moron

🗝️ “Don’t you fucking move..”

🗝️ “Tch..you’re such a moron..”

🗝️ “Did that hurt? Good”

[lemotmo]

🙃 but also 😂😂

Q. Do you agree that Oliver has behaved unprofessionally throughout this entire process?

A. Absolutely not. Oliver is the one that maintained his professionalism. He refused to pretend that a plot device was more than a plot device. That was the professional approach. He refused to play along with nonsense and grandstanding. That was the professional approach. He has been a main part of this show for 8 years and he has always conducted himself appropriately. Period. Lou's shameful, downright embarrassingly unprofessional behavior is not Oliver's fault. He was cast as a plot device. He was well aware of this. He even acknowledged it in his first few interviews last season. He admitted Tommy was a 'starter' relationship. He said Tommy was there to allow Buck to work out the kinks before Eddie. He fucking said those words. He was under no illusion his part was anything more. He got paid by delusional, racist fans to pretend he was something more than what he was, and he talked himself into believing he was the shit he told them he was. Oliver and the show are doing him a favor by ignoring his behavior and the appalling behavior he's encouraging all 340 of his fans to engage in. Oliver could come out and say that he was the most unprofessional, talentless, narcissistic, racist, homophobic piece of shit he ever had the misfortune of having to share space with. The fact that he hasn't said those things publicly, because they're all true statements, is the epitome of professionalism. He got cast as a temporary love interest. He got cast as a minimal plot point. He got cast as the definition of a plot device. He had to be talked through their first kissing scene. They then only had one more before he went to Tim and said he wouldn't do anymore intimate scenes 'because they're unnecessary and don't add any value'. Which was code for I'm not comfortable doing any of those things with a man. They did not get along. It was obvious. They had less than zero chemistry. It worked on no level other than the one Lou manufactured. End of story. Oliver was never the problem. Ryan was never the problem. Oliver is allowed his opinions on Buck's storylines. Other than Tim, Oliver's opinion is the only one that matters. Lou gets zero opinion. He's a z-list nepo baby that they clearly couldn't wait to get off their set. Oliver treated him with more respect and professional courtesy than the man ever came close to deserving.

Thank you Nonny!

Over the last couple of days I've seen an increasing amount of Tommies turning on Oliver, accusing him of all sorts of things, while excusing Lou's behaviour and even praising him as some kind of perfect man who can do no wrong.😠

It's insane behaviour that needs and deserves to be called out.

Lou has a past of racist and sexist behaviour as evidenced by those awful posts he made on social media (Twitter and Instagram). But apparently all is forgiven and forgotten because he kissed another man on a TV-show. 🤷‍♀️🤦‍♀️ Make it make sense.

The man pushed his fanbase to relentlessly harass other fans, cast and crew, by making them all believe that his part in a show was so much more than it actually was. It was so bad at a certain point that some of the cast and crew had to block these people and Tim actually publicly called out his fans for bringing along so much new toxicity.

I won't even get back into the horrible shit (death threats and all) they dropped in my ask box and those false accusations they made at my (and some other Buddie fans) address, complete with elaborately fabricated false evidence.

It all comes down to this: the man was hired as a plot device. A way to have Buck come out as bisexual. He was okay with that in the beginning, but soon realised he could make money of this opportunity by scamming his own fanbase. He made these crazy cameos talking nonsense and headcanons, telling his fans what they wanted to hear, telling them lies for money.

He took the gift of a part in the top TV-show of the moment and instead of being grateful for this gift, he used it to manipulate and lie. He abused the trust of the people who gave him this chance in the first place.

He's still doing this to this day by the way, egging these people on to mass-harass the official 911onABC account on Instagram by having them post insane hashtags. As if Tim will ever allow that man to set foot again on the 911 set.🤣

Lou made sure to burn the final bridge by giving his last and frankly unhinged interview. This interview ensured that he is NEVER coming back. Good riddance. 😏

Ultimately, the story of season 7 was about Buck coming out and getting more comfortable in his own skin. It was about him having all of these big feelings, but being unsure who they were for and why he was having them. It was about his own bisexuality. Nothing more, nothing less.

Oliver knew this and respected the storyline, knowing how important it was (and still is) for so many bisexual people. He never made it about a love interest. He only briefly mentioned Tommy once or twice, but never said anything else about the relationship, because he knew that the man wasn't going to stick around and he didn't want to lead the fans on. Which is admirable.

He was the one who was always professional, even when he was forced to work together with a man who had never heard of the word 'professionalism'. Having that man play his love interest must have been difficult, but instead of complaining or whining (like Lou did and still does) Oliver has never once uttered an unkind word about him. Which tells me enough about the strength of his character.

I'm disgusted by people 'calling out' Oliver as unprofessional when all he has ever done was be as professional as he could be. These people need to go back and watch some of Lou's cameos. They'll quickly be confronted by the very definition of 'unprofessionalism'.

'nough said. Sorry for the rant, but the way these people are talking trash about Oliver right now? It just pisses me off so much! And I don't get pissed off so easily. But this makes my blood boil!

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[writertothemaximum]

Yuuji has an insatiable libido

Yuuji x ftm reader

Content Warnings: nsfw/18+, very horny, sub Yuuji, dom reader, reversible top/bottom, male reader, mention of female anatomy (i.e. clit, pussy, etc.), reader also has a cock (or strap), bisexual Yuuji, piv creampie, both of you are are 18yo.

-It's no surprise to you that Yuuji's sex drive is always active. He's be polite about it, sure, but that doesn't stop him from staring at your groin, from getting an erection as soon as you two start cuddling.

-If anything, he finds it kind of embarrassing. It's a representation of his immaturity, of how obvious he is, of how little experience he had with...anyone beyond his pin-up, really.

-Any move you make onto him sends him raring to go. Squeeze your hand around his thigh, and he's giving you eyes telling you to pin him down to the nearest surface and fuck his mouth out.

-He's on the floor, nudging his nose into your crotch, thumbing his lips around for your cock, trying to get you aroused so that you'll just fuck him already. He wants you to stuff him full, he wants you to grab his head, pull his hair until he's crying, until your juices are slathered thick across his face.

-Honestly, he doesn't really care much which way you decide to fuck him, he knows that either way, he'll be seeing deep into the dark void of relaxing nothingness soon enough. He'll be hard and aching against you, but the longer you edge him, the more desperate he gets.

-Yuuji is a strong boy, so never worry about being rough with him! The way he moans when you fuck him from behind, grabbing a fistful of hair, is delightful beyond recognition. The way he'll grab at the bedsheets with his fingers and toes, desperate for some kind of hold, any way to release the tension--But it's on you. He's completely in the palm of your hand.

-When getting fucked, Yuuji loves doggy. The angle hits him just right, and every time he pumps his hips back at you, he finds the head of your cock pressing up hard against his prostate. His cock dangles between his legs helplessly, and if you reach down to feel him up, you'll realize that it's been leaking thick beads of precum for a while now.

-Sometimes, Yuuji will ask to fuck you, too. He's always shy about it, he'll plead, he'll ask in such a soft, genuine voice. He treats your body like a palace, his hands firm, but always gentle, always at your mercy.

-He loves the feeling of getting crushed by you. He loves the feeling of his cock about to explode, wrapped in your tight hole, moving slowly, getting the position just right. If he just came inside, it would be so sloppy and it would feel so good. You would be so full of him, so cherished, just loved.

-It feels good, right? That's what this is about, anyways. It wasn't ever about anything else. It didn't matter how you did it, it just mattered that it felt good. You trusted Yuuji with anything. It didn't matter how horny he was, because you were worse. It didn't matter how rough he was, because you were rougher.

-As long as you give him a minute or two in-between, Yuuji can go for multiple rounds in a row. If you keep going right after he cums, you might even get him to cry from the overstimulation? You wouldn't want poor Yuuji-kun to cry, would you? (of course you would)

-Covered in sweat, cum, and about every other fluid you can name, Yuuji cuddles you, his body hot and damp from exhaustion. He rubs his head against you dearly, cherishing your presence here, next to him. He doesn't want you to get up and leave, so he hugs you tighter, and you won't. You'll stay right here with him.

[talenlee]

3e: Winners and Losers In Lawful Space

Planescape is a silly place.

Dungeons & Dragons is a wholeheartedly silly game, and it’s important to remember that what makes it silly is an expansive growth out of a particular root. It is a tree of many branches but thanks to the way that it encourages people to build their own things on top of it, it has become a sprawling kind of folk narrative and generally accepted consensus material that then a company comes along and tries to augment and supplement. Still, as much as a corporate mind is at the head of what gets published, what gets handed to that corporation is going to derive from the mind of a dork who likes D&D. To that end, D&D’s lore is a constant push-pull between the kinds of nerds who like organising lists and the kind of nerds who like to invent new types of dragons they want to have sex with and they’re all trying to integrate one another’s material because that’s how nerds demonstrate mastery over a topic.

The result is that D&D lore is composed of parts that neatly and smoothly fit together and parts that should be airbrushed on the side of a van, and all subjects exist in a space between those two points, on a spectrum. And nowhere is this more evident than in the way that 2e’s setting Planescape introduced elements that 3rd edition tried to hide.

Planescape, as a setting, exists very close to the ‘airbrushed on a Van’ side of things, and it’s extremely obvious when you look at its roots in 2nd Edition. In this space, much of what makes Planescape Planescape was codified. For those of you unfamiliar, Planescape is a setting made up of the idea of ‘planes’ as distinct, discrete universes with their own rules separated not by time and space, but just by barriers or magical boundaries. You know how Narnia is supposed to work, with the wardrobe? It’s like that, but there are a lot more wardrobes and they all go to different places. Think a sort of multi-level Isekai scheme.

Anyway, it’s a setting with like, multiple whole universe-sized worlds, that may or may not have planets inside them, some of which follow a very narrow set of identifying rules, like the elemental plane of Fire, which is full of Fire, or are just like ‘here, but a bit weird,’ like Bitopia, which is a whole plane that is mirrored vertically at a certain height. If you look up in Bitopia, you see another whole country up there – that’s why it’s called that. Also everyone there is bisexual.

Planescape sought to build out more of that structured universe and then in each structured space, fill it with interesting notions. But the structure is a little odd, in that it’s hard to make an infinite number of chairs organise neatly, someone is always putting out one more where they shouldn’t. That means there are tidy diagrams of the Planar cosmology, and then you look inside any of the bubbles in that diagram and find it’s full of gibberish.

It was in 2e that, as far as I know, we were introduced world-wise, to the characters of the Modrons.

There’s a whole writing form that involves referring to Modrons in deliberately obtuse ways, with Modrons being the individual, plural, categorical, and utility terms for this people, but what you need to know about them is that Modrons are weird lil guys that are made out of a basic geometric shape – pyramid, cube, dodecahedron, all the way up to sphere (or down to sphere, depending on who you ask). They are truly perfect Lil Guys, a byproduct of a plane of true law and order which doesn’t in any way cohere to what humans (the people playing the game) necessarily assume about law.

They make a lot of sense in a storybook kind of way where you don’t need to have big answers for what they are or how they work or even how their philosophical bias towards pure lawfulness works. In the world of 2ed, where sometimes things that sound like they should be well explained, clear rules are kinda yada-yada-yada’d in a space that you might imagine is flavour text, the Modrons left a bunch of questions unanswered and seemingly, that was good. It was good that they were heavily ambiguous because what was the life cycle of ‘an orb?’ Any answer made them less mysterious and pushed them away from the oddness that they represented.

Anyway, 3e was an attempt by a serious company to do serious things and that’s why when they went back to talk about the Creatures That Lived In The Lawful Planes, they came up with the Inevitables.

Inevitables are the demons of small minds, writ large. Literally, the point of an Inevitable is to be a Lawful Neutral version of a Demon, an entity that exists purely based on rules, coalesced out of a world made of rules, and with nothing holding them back from expressing that. Each of the Inevitables is meant to respond to a rule in the universe and then enforce it. They are self-appointed near-immortal construct cops, and they’re meant to oppose things and people that break the rules that they, specifically, are meant to care about.

These rules are completely out of whack, though, because one of them is meant to enforce say, justice, another the inevitability of death and another, the way the desert is a fixed ecosystem that nobody should try and change or interact with. And in that case, there are a bunch of plants that the Inevitables are going to have issues with, that don’t seem to be capable of forming complex political allegiances.

There’s a really interesting distinction between Inevitables and Modrons, to me. Modrons are weird and interesting but also, there’s nothing they can do that answers a question. Inevitables are a fun challenge that’s supposed to be present to oppose players or potentially be recruited into an adventure, but not for too long. But Inevitables, the 3e attempt to populate Lawful Planes with A Kind of Guy, sort of fell apart and are now more of a trivia question while Modrons have endured into 4th and 5th edition.

I don’t think there’s some greater, better reason for it or anything. I don’t think that Inevitables failed because they were Bad Design or something. But I do think that for me, the way that Modrons represented Weirdness was much more interesting than the ways the Inevitables sucked weirdness away with their simple, clear consideration of certain things as being part of natural reality.

After all: Inevitables would hunt down people who extended their lifespans because ‘everyone must die.’ But Inevitables were immortal. That’s a pretty interesting thing to juxtapose and maybe a character could struggle with that.

Or maybe they could make a big speaking trumpet and demand that everyone else refer to them as a Spokesmodron which is, in my opinion, much funnier.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[calicomarie11]

Buck grabs one chocolate chip cookie and hesitates before snatching up 3 more to add to the growing pile of food on his plate. He ignores Tommy’s raised eyebrows as he loads up on junk food from the appetizer and dessert buffet laid out on Bobby and Athena’s new dining room table. 

“What?” he asks with a frown.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a cookie,” Tommy comments.

“Well if I’m going to have to sit through this I want carbs,” Buck pouts.

Tommy sighs, and Buck knows he’s been whining about this party for the last two weeks, but damn it, he’s still annoyed that Bobby and Athena’s Housewarming party is coinciding with the premier of season 3 of Hotshots.  

“We agreed to come and support Bobby,” Tommy says reasonably.

“But he doesn’t even work on the show anymore,” Buck points out. “He’s back where he belongs at the 118. I just want to put the past 4 months behind us and focus on the future.”

Tommy takes his plate away and sets it on a clear spot on the table so he can take Buck’s hands in his, thumbs rubbing soothingly over Buck’s knuckles. 

“Baby, it’s one night that we get to spend with your family…”

“Your’s too,” Buck interrupts.

Tommy’s nose scrunches as he continues without acknowledging the interruption, “and it means a lot to them to have you here.  It’s just a show and those are just actors playing characters. Yes, there are some similarities to your experiences but those characters have grown and changed in different ways from you. Everyone knows it’s all make believe and they’re not going to judge you based on a tv show.”

It’s Buck’s turn to sigh, knowing he’s being ridiculous when everyone else seems to be okay with their lives being used as plot fodder for Taylor’s show. Heck, last week Bobby gave the actor who plays him a tour of the firehouse and allowed him to come for a ride along. 

“Okay.  I will eat my carbs and try to keep my opinions to myself.” Buck grudgingly agrees.

“It might not be that bad,” Tommy says. “It’s a good show.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Buck scoffs. 

Tommy lets him go so he can grab his plate and pile a few more lemon bars on top of the mountain of junk before they join the rest of the crew in Bobby and Athena’s new living room.

————

As the trailer for the next episode plays the room is quiet, everyone’s eyes darting to and away from Buck and Tommy where they have claimed a corner of the couch, no one wanting to be the first to break the silence. 

It’s Bobby who breaks the stalemate, rising from his seat. “I”m going to start cleaning up, if anyone wants to pitch in.” 

He escapes to the kitchen and is quickly followed by Athena, Chim, Maddie, Karen, Hen, and Eddie, leaving Buck and Tommy alone, the noise from the next show (something ridiculous set on a cruise ship) barely covering the noise of everyone talking at once in the next room. 

Buck turns to Tommy, a knowing smirk on his face. “So how does it feel to have an actor playing you on tv?”

Tommy is still staring straight ahead, a stunned expression on his face. “How, why, that’s not how it happened. There’s no way Johnny is based on me.”

Buck just chortles. “Sure, there’s no way the hotshot helicopter pilot who flew into a lightning storm to rescue Cap and Artemis from the top of a mountain that was on fire is you. The pilot who was roped into helping by Shaft and Bea, his old colleagues, and who took Sandy and Ricky along too.” 

“Where are they getting their information?” Tommy asks, eyes darting around the room looking for hidden cameras.

“They didn’t get everything right,” Buck says, shit eating grin firmly in place. “It took you a lot longer to kiss me than it took Johnny to plant one on Sandy.” 

Tommy turns to Buck then, deadpan as always. “Well Sandy was a lot more obvious about his interest than you were.”

Buck squawks and hits him gently on the shoulder. “Hey, bisexual revelations take time.”  He snuggles down next Tommy, linking their hands together. “But really, are you okay?” He tilts his head back to look up at Tommy.

Tommy lets out a slow breath. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.  I’m starting to see why you were weirded out by the whole thing.”

They sit quietly for a while, the sounds of laughter and conversation from the kitchen washing over them. Buck squeezes Tommy’s hand. 

“So, what do you think their ship name will be? I’m thinking Jandy, but maybe they’ll go with Sohny. Oh, or Jolaine could be cool.” 

Tommy snorts and shakes his head. “It’s lucky you’re adorable,” he says, before leaning down for a kiss.

(Read on AO3)

5 times the Firefam talks about the show Hotshots and the 1 time they watch it together

[catboybiologist]

Boymoding is getting exhausting.

And yay, toxic thought time that's going to be anecdotal and probably come off as somewhat sexist. But I hope it doesn't.

The thing that's really wearing down on me is emotional responses, I think. When cis women cry or show emotion as part of their daily routine, it's still taboo, but often accommodated more than others. I'm going through a lot of emotional swings right now, and there's a very stark difference in how those are treated vs how it's treated in others. And I don't know if that'll ever change, tbh, but hopefully at least someone will acknowledge that it's rough. Even with the good, close friends I have, there very much is a gap in what level of emotion elicits sympathy vs ignoring it or treating it as an overreaction in men vs women. I'm a "man" now, and simply don't get the space for that emotional support as a casual daily thing. It's not uncommon for people in academia to cry or be overwhelmed and anxious, and it's becoming more and more obvious how that's treated in men vs women. It's always a thought I had in the back of my head, but I'm noticing it a lot more now that I'm outwardly a man but have a lot more visibly emotional moments.

Its weird. I have made efforts to be more open about bisexuality, and my day to day vibe has gotten fruitier as a result. A lot of cis women friends have gotten closer to me as a result, but they very clearly treat me with a "gay best friend" kinda vibe. Which is honestly fun, but it provides an interesting baseline for the biases people have in how much emotion men vs women are allowed to show, even among good friends.

On the flip side, another thing I'm becoming more acutely aware of (even though I always knew it was a thing, it just feels more pressing now) is how casually women are ignored, talked over, disregarded, etc etc when compared to men in a academia. I've always known this was a problem, but it's been on my mind a lot more recently.

Top all of that off with the endless physical considerations of compressive bras, managing the way I walk, baggy clothes, mitigating dysphoria vs hiding my transition, not accidentally slipping into my shitty voice training voice while going around daily, making time for injections now, taking sublingual pills midday when I was still on those... Yeah. It adds up.

I've tried making my transition an "open secret" by going to social events and queer events femme, and I know word gets around to labmates and such. I just don't know who exactly knows, and the barrier of actually talking to people about it is huge. I really think, for my own sanity, I need to start telling people what's up even before I socially transition.

I'm particularly moody and stressed bc of my qual tomorrow, but yeah. Consider this a toxic unfocused rant. I'll probably have more to say in a more focused way in a couple days.

Oh also. Please don't be like "ooohhh then why are you still boymoding idiot" cuz that's not helpful. There's a right moment to socially transition and I have a plan.

[ninyard]

TSC2/TGR theory:

I know we all want Neil to come along with Kevin for the interview, but absolutely none of the Foxes would want that. There's an element of 'don't let Neil anywhere near reporters' in my thinking, but mostly there's just no way they let both first string strikers take a few days off practice when the team is currently two-fifths fractious freshmen, and on top of that he's Vice-Captain. Does anyone remember the title of Neil's trilogy?

I think there's two realistic options. The most obvious would be that Kevin comes alone, which would be a sign of his continued recovery from the Nest (something I think got started in TSC, and it would split the plot too much to have a Kevin-centered arc so showing him being functional by himself would help wrap that up). This is assuming that everyone thinks Kevin is physically safe from Raven interference, since the psychological dangers Riko and Tetsuji presented have been removed.

If the media backlash is too intense and they are worried about him physically, Renee makes more sense. Andrew and Neil both trust her to watch over him, which would be enough for Kevin, and it wouldn't put the same strain on the team since they have two goalies. And she would want to see Jean! And putting Jeremy in the same room with Renee would either make Jean happy or make his brain explode a little bit. Maybe both.

Ohhhh!!! I love the idea of Renee going with Kevin! It’s definitely the best option and I love the way you’ve explained this. It makes a lot of sense! I feel like with it being such an important interview, you’re probably right that they wouldn’t want Neil going with him. Not that he would say anything, but Neil + microphones and cameras has historically never ended very well. Better to avoid the risk.

+ Renee and Jeremy being in Jean’s proximity and giving him a total bisexual crisis yeah I love that

[whydousernamesevenexist]

@rosekillermicrofic 2nd May: Dread (it's like 03:15 in the morning and I probably have a fever lol)

Cw: mention of homophobia

Exposed

Word count: 798

Shit, shit, shit.

Barty frantically rummaged through his backpack. It wasn't there. His journal. Not a diary, mind you, that was for lovesick teenage girls.

Although Barty couldn't even be sure if he wasn't a lovesick teenage girl anymore.

Ever since he realised his feelings for his best friend two weeks ago, it's been eating him alive. Every waking thought, every dream, was filled with him. His Evan, his Rosie. And Barty began analysing every interaction with Evan. To be honest, he wasn't even trying to figure out if Evan likes him or not, he was sure Evan didn't. He was analysing his own behaviour to be sure he wasn't too obvious.

That's why he got the journal, too. Because his head felt like it was going to burst with all the running thoughts.

And now it wasn't there.

Who could've taken it? Or did Barty forget it somewhere?

He tried to summon it, but no such luck.

He sighed. He better get to lunch before Evan and Regulus get suspicious. Maybe he can look for the journal afterwards.

He managed to eat lunch without Evan noticing something was wrong with him. Regulus had some errands to run, so he wasn't at lunch.

But then he saw them - Mulciber and Snape. They had his journal. And they were looking this way.

No. Please.

He was immediately filled with overwhelming dread. And shame, too.

These two read about his deepest secret, and there was no chance they'd keep it to themselves.

Just what were they planning to do? Expose him, that's for sure. But how? When? Will they humiliate him in front of the whole school, or just Evan?

Well, it didn't matter much. If Evan found out… Barty wasn't sure what he'd do.

Shit. They were heading here.

What should he do? Ignore them?

"Hey, Crouch!" Snape yelled, an evil smirk plastered on his face.

"Lost something?" Mulciber laughed, waving the journal.

"Give it back," Barty pleaded quietly.

Of course, they didn't. Mulciber barked out a laugh and held the journal in the air, just high enough so Barty couldn't reach it.

"I didn't think you'd be bent, Crouch. You surprise me," Mulciber sneered, "is it the daddy issues?"

"Wait, Barty's gay?" Evan asked, surprised.

"Bisexual," Barty muttered. "Doesn't matter. Give it back."

Mulciber just laughed.

"Hey, he's right. Give him the journal back," Evan said firmly, stepping forward to reach for the journal.

Mulciber just smirked and lifted the book higher, out of Evan's reach.

"Wanna know who he's gay for, Rosier?" Snape laughed.

Something like hurt flashed in Evan's eyes, before he schooled his features into a practiced pokerface.

"I believe Barty will tell me about his crush when he's ready," he replied icily.

"Aww, you're not even the smallest bit interested?" Mulciber mocked. "That must've hurt, didn't it, Crouch?"

"Shut up," was all Barty could say. His breathing quickened, and he was sure everyone could hear the beating of his heart.

"It must've hurt, to know your little crush doesn't even care it's him, right?" Snape laughed. "Here, take it," he handed Barty the journal with a condescending smirk. "I don't think I could read one more disgustingly sweet line of your hopeless pining over poor Rosier over here."

Barty swallowed his tears, grabbed the journal, and bolted out of the Great Hall. He didn't dare to check Evan's reaction. He was sure it'd break his heart.

The astronomy tower.

He ran upstairs, and then sat down, pressed against the cold wall. It was a bit grounding.

Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his breathing was quick, ragged. He was clutching the journal tightly to his chest.

He heard quick footsteps. Evan appeared at the top of the staircase.

"B? Thank Merlin I found you," Evan sighed, out of breath. "I was worried you'd do something stupid."

"Just leave me alone, Ev," Barty sobbed out. "You don't have to rub it in."

"So it's true, then?" Evan ignored his request. "You really like me?"

"Yeah. Sorry." Barty replied and hid his face in his knees. "Now go away, will you? I'm already humiliated as it is. I'm sorry for making it weird between us, and for making you uncomfortable. We don't have to be friends anymore. But please, don't tease me about it even more," he choked out.

"Oh for the love of- come here," Evan sighed, exasperated. He sat across from Barty and pulled him into a hug.

"I like you too, alright? Honestly, I can't believe you didn't figure it out earlier, I'm not exactly the most subtle person."

Barty looked up at him, searching for a trace of joke in Evan's face. There was none.

He smiled slowly.

"Can I kiss you?" He whispered.

"Of course," Evan smiled, and leaned in.

[corrodedbisexual]

No more unicorns for Eddie Munson

Steddie | E | ~6.5k | AO3 link

For Kinktober Day 7: Virginity

Featuring: Loss of Virginity, Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Gay/Virgin/Bottom Eddie Munson, Confident Bisexual/Sweetheart/Service Top Steve Harrington, Tender Sex, Communication, Porn with Feelings, Dorks in Love, Laughter During Sex, Boys Kissing, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, POV Steve Harrington, Minor Steve Harrington/OFC

When Steve’s boyfriend interrupts their makeout session and very, very nervously confesses that he’s never been intimate with anyone before… oh, boy. It’s fucking Christmas. *** Steve deflowers Eddie, and he's incredibly soft and gentle about it. Because Eddie deserves his first time to be absolutely perfect.

Snippet below!

When Steve’s boyfriend interrupts their makeout session that got rather steamy at some point and very, very nervously confesses that he’s never been intimate with anyone before… oh, boy. It’s fucking Christmas. 

As if Steve hasn’t already been walking on clouds for the past month, overjoyed at the fact that he finally got to touch and kiss the boy he’d been so helplessly infatuated with that he just had to take a chance, and pray that he hadn’t been reading into things wrong. (Who ever came up with “God hates queers”? Eddie Munson kissing him back that nerve-wrecking night a month ago is proof of exactly the opposite.)

Eddie must have misinterpreted his brief stunned silence and absolutely goofy grin, because he starts to squirm away, averting his eyes, and Steve has to tighten his hold around Eddie’s waist to keep him from escaping.

“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Steve purrs, and Eddie’s already flushed cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. (He always blushes when Steve calls him that. Damn, now that Steve thinks about it, that should have been an obvious clue.)

“I dunno,” Eddie mumbles, rubbing a palm across his eyes. “Anywhere. Somewhere you’re not laughing at me, preferably.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Steve replies softly, tucking a strand of Eddie’s unruly hair behind his ear. His fingers linger on the earshell, tracing its shape, and Eddie absolutely melts into the touch. “We can take things slow, if you want. But you don’t need to worry about this. It’s not a bad thing, Eds. It’s great, in fact.”

“How the hell is me being a lame 20-year-old virgin great ?!” Eddie stares at him in disbelief.

Steve’s smile turns into yet another grin.  

“‘Cause I get to blow your mind.”

“Oh my god, of course you’d be cocky about this,” Eddie groans, rolling his eyes, but fails to conceal a giddy smile on his lips. 

Steve can’t resist pressing his mouth to it. Eddie’s so, so fucking cute when he smiles. 

One kiss turns into another, and another, and soon they’re back to where they paused when Eddie spoke up; this time, when Steve slides his hands into Eddie’s back pockets and draws him closer, makes him grind down, Eddie doesn’t pull away. He just groans and rolls down again, without Steve’s guidance, and breaks the kiss to stare down at Steve, panting, pupils fully blown.  

“Fuck, Stevie, I don’t wanna take things slow,” he blurts out, immediately ducking his head to hide behind the curtain of hair, but Steve tugs on his chin to make him look up again. When Eddie does, he cups his cheek, strokes his thumb along the cheekbone gently.

“Okay," Steve says. "If you’re sure.”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle. “Totally sure.”

“Okay,” Steve says again, his thoughts slightly hazy with horny anticipation. His brain is momentarily flooded with images of getting Eddie naked, laying him out on his bed, kissing and touching every inch of his skin; he feels his cock twitch in his pants at the prospect. He pats Eddie’s thigh twice, barely concealing his impatience. “Lemme up, then. Let’s go upstairs.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open.

“Oh. Right now? ” He points with a finger.

Steve blinks and frowns, wondering if he misunderstood. 

“I mean, unless一”

“Nonono, now is good.” Eddie nods rapidly. “Totally cool. My schedule’s free today.” He snaps his mouth shut and drops his head back, groaning. “God, I’m a moron. How the fuck did I land you again?”

Steve chuckles, nuzzling at his neck. 

“By being really hot and irresistible.” He doesn’t need to look up to know Eddie’s blushing again. “But also, not a moron at all.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s chin, then finally pushes him gently to land on the couch beside him, and stands. 

Eddie looks up at him, slightly dazed; he’s fidgeting with his rings, always a dead giveaway of his nerves. Steve grins and holds out his hand, bowing slightly. 

“May I have this dance?”

It’s definitely the right move, because after a brief stunned silence, Eddie bursts out laughing, dropping his head as he takes Steve’s hand and lets himself be pulled up to his feet.

Full work @ AO3

[petrasdisapproves]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧.

I'm going to write the obvious things now, but I need to remind myself (and those who need it): It's 𝙊𝙆𝘼𝙔 to look at the same character from different angles. Analyze and interpret his actions and words in different ways. Have your own vision of a romantic relationship with this character.

What I'm trying to say is, it's 𝙊𝙆𝘼𝙔 if you see Astarion as a lost and vulnerable character or just a damn charming manipulator. If he actually has a complex personality or just an arrogant and sassy vampire for you. If you like the more vulnerable or strong sides of him. If you see him as a victim or as a villain. As a bad guy who has a chance on redemption, who can become a better version of himself, even a hero perhaps, - or as a magnificent bastard who doesn't need and doesn't wish to change anything about himself. Or you can see 𝘢𝘭𝘭 that in him at once! (and still love him for it.) :D

This also applies to the relationship with Astarion. If you see a character as bisexual/pansexual, or perhaps in your opinion he is more into women/man/other, that's fine. Ascended or spawn can love your tav or durge, regardless of their race and gender, because the game still allows to romance him. In your headcanons, Astarion can also have a unique interaction with your character. For example, they can be cheeky and insolent, have more 'hot' type of dynamic, or on the contrary - they can be more tender and soft with each other, because Astarion can behave unusual with his partner when he opens his heart. Astarion can have wild passionate sex with your tav/durge 24/7 if you wish, so they won't get out of their tent/cozy chambers any time soon. Or maybe in your story he still needs time to adjust and has yet to learn how to make physical contact without unpleasant feelings and memories of the past hunting him. Perhaps in your headcanon Astarion doesn't need sex at all (for a while or permanently). Or maybe he's not against polyamory and intimate experiments. Your Astarion can be the top. Or he can be the bottom. ( just like he can be big or a small spoon in your relationships :) ).

AND YES. If you prefer Astarion's ending as Ascended vampire or as a spawn... 𝙄𝙏'𝙎 𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙆𝘼𝙔! If you want a luxurious life with your Ascended Vampire Daddy (sorry couldn't help it ;D), you can have it. If you see AscendedA as a man who hides his vulnerability and insecure behind a display of power and dominant behaviour, who still in love with your tav/durge and perhaps scared they might leave him one day or that they fond of him only for his charms and power, then this is 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣. But if you see AscendedA as a manipulator and a liar, a cruel tyrant who has become the worst version of himself, who does not know love and would just use/abuse you, this is also 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣.

Same for the spawnA ending. You can see different type of progress in this path, how Astarion breaks a vicious cycle of violence and abuse, his personal growth and how he is overcoming his fears and weaknesses by trusting you in the moment of choice during the ritual. You can see this as a way of story where Astarion had sacrificed the sun and power, but where you saved him from himself and opened another door - the one where he will learn another meaning of freedom. Where he will discover other possibilities in his future, where his personality/behaviour remained unchanged or even improved in the way he couldn't even think of. And he will certainly find other values in his life, as well as he will learn more of himself, like 'what he is' now, when Cazador gone. He can enjoy adventures and dangers just as AscendedA enjoys ruling from the Crimson palace. SpawnA can love your durge/tav because he 𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘖𝘚𝘌𝘚 to, because you are equal and have a deep bond built on trust. Not because he clings to you as you were his lifeline or a safe blanket. Or on the contrary, you can see like spawn completely dependent on you, sacrificing everything just for you. Perhaps without your tav/durge, he will never feel happy and free again, perhaps his world is currently limited to you. Perhaps in your opinion, this ending actually is not best for him and his future seems rather pathetic and poor.

So my point is. These are 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 and 𝙮𝙤𝙪 have the right to fantasize as much as you like, 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙚𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚. Just remember: 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮. Baldur's Gate is a roleplay game, damn it. No one has the right to judge how you play it, either your choices or opinions in the different matters. Or your headcanons. We all looking for comfort in something specific for ourselves, we all need different things to escape from reality, and that's why we here. We have our own experiences and traumas, own worldviews and own understanding of what's right and wrong. During the interaction with other people, we can feel them on different levels, as well as perceive and analyze same characters from certain angles. And simply as that, 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩. And it's fine.

For me, Astarion is a complex character who you can discuss and talk about endlessly, because - honestly? - there is NOT ENOUGH content in the game to make an unambiguous verdict on all issues related to his personality and story. A lot of ideas and scenario stuff for Astarion has been cut from the game even before the release, a lot has been changed in process and a lot of content leaved unfinished. But we have what we have, and I'm still happy with that, because I still get to enjoy character, and it also thanks to modders and people who makes headcanons, screenshots and all kind of friendly content with that charming brat.

I sincerely believe that everyone has the right to interpret Astarion in their own way, as well as to have their own imaginary future with a fictional vampire, damn it. Every tav/durge can have their own happiness with him, whatever it may be, no matter how they see it. Everyone chooses and goes their own path with Astarion. And it is precisely these different headcanons that makes your couple and this vampire unique. <3 𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙡. *drops the microphone*

[hard--headed--woman]

im also goldstar/never even kissed a man but it doesn't seem fair to me to blanket call anyone who's recently came out/slept with men in the past straight. I believe she has a gf currently? But either way I can understand how living in a conservative/religious small town would make it easier to stay with your bf you aren't attracted to but are attached to for other reasons (companionship, friendship etc) than when you move away and can be more yourself. Do I know if she's a lesbian or if she will end up figuring out she's bi or whatever, I have no clue. But it seems pretty hurtful to think her attraction isn't genuine. Maybe I'm too sympathetic bc I'm feminine looking (although I don't wear makeup or shave) and so I know most people don't immediately think of me as gay, even though I could never even imagine finding a man attractive but idk. I honestly would more likely believe Chappell is gay and was closeted than some self ID lesbians who say stuff like well yeah I'm attracted to men everyone can see when a man's handsome I just don't want to go further. I have never understood attraction to even conventionally attractive/celebrity men so that is more weird to me than like. Staying in a relationship because you're attached and they've been a part of your life for years vs genuinely being attracted.

Jesus I am so SICK of people like you sending me asks like these. When will you people ever STOP defending fakebians and understand that no, no matter how homophobic her family is, a lesbian would not willingly spend YEARS sleeping with a man ??? For real leave me alone and go defend lesbophobes elsewhere if you really have so little pride

She isn’t a lesbian. That's it. Everyone who disagrees is a homophobe on top of being an absolute idiot. Even if she's from a homophobic backround, and we don't even know if she is, she still spent years sleeping with her ex, she spent years singing about sex with men, she is obsessed with her ex and talks about him all the time, she is obsessed with men in general and only talks about them, she sings, dances and talks for the male gaze, and she decided to call herself a lesbian only because she hates men and thinks they're bad at sex. Since when is that lesbianism ? No matter how homophobic her family is and no matter how hard she's struggling with internalized homophobia, a lesbian would absolutely never do this.

I don't care if it's hurftul. I don't think she's attracted to women at all, and even if she is, then she's just another homophobic bisexual. Also, I don't understand how it has anything to do with you being feminine looking, lol. Do you think that's why I say Chappell is straight ? I would call her straight even if she was as masculine as Rocky Balboa.

"it's easier to stay with your bf you aren't attracted to" then why dating him in the first place ? Plus I don't think a lesbian could sleep with a man for years, no matter what. Do you have any idea how traumatizing that would be ? And above all, WHY would a lesbian do that ? Also, in Roan's case, she is so obsessed with her ex that even if you believe a lesbian can date a man (stupid thing to believe), it's still very very obvious that she was attracted to him. A lesbian wouldn't obsess over a guy that way.

Anyway, a real lesbian would never start dating a man at all, let alone stay with him for years. If you really are a lesbian, let me give you an advice : stop protecting fakebians. They're not on your side. They're helping TRAs and conservative homophobes. You're working against all lesbians when you defend people like Roan.