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prettyboykatsuki · 7 months ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

☼ ao3 link | extended authors note | fics for gaza

☼ wc ; 16.4k / 33.2k

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

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

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

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

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

PART ONE: MAY THE BRIDGES I HAVE BURNED..

[ NINE]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’re you reading?”

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

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

“Am I in trouble?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You find this to be very strange for several reasons.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ TEN ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,”

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

“Hi,” He says back.

You smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Bachira,”

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

“How old are you?”

“I’m ten,”

“Really? Me too,”

“Do you know how to play soccer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” You tell him.

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

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

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

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

“Not really. I’m just normal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you’re an omega?”

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

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

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

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

“Does that mean you like alphas?”

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

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

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

“But do you?”

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

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

“Then what about omegas?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Right.”

[ ELEVEN ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ TWELVE ]

You return to the classroom early after health examinations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess what!”

“Did you find out your secondary sex?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that bother you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Right.”

[ THIRTEEN ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

our jolting makes Bachira look up from his phone.

“Are you trying to tempt an alpha?”

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

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

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

You’ve never seen him so angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ FOURTEEN ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Buy something with it later.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll split it with you as thanks,”

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

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

“New shoes, maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say something that embarrassing,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even you thinking about laws is so boring,”

You shake your head, displeased.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am!”

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

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

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

You blink.

“Sorry?”

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

“What a good question,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didja miss me?”

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

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

“Rude!”

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

[ FIFTEEN ]

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re home late,”

“I had student council,”

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

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

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

“Then are you in other clubs?”

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

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

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

“You heard all of that?”

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

“It didn’t scare you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

“Got any plans?”

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

He makes a face at you. “That brat,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug indifferently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes.

You roll your eyes. “Oh I know,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ SIXTEEN ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What an incredible view.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you are,”

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

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

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

[ SEVENTEEN ]

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

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

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

“Huh? Yeah, I am.”

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

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

“You ran here,”

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

“News? What about?”

His eyes widen and shine brilliantly. “Bluelock!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aren’t you wanting to practice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you some sort of masochist?

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

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

Hours pass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not nothing,” He whines petulantly. “You’re not listeninggggg,”

“Sorry.”

He hugs you, an arm slipping under you and squeezing you. Was he always so strong? You figured his legs might be but there’s muscle in his arms too. “I’m not actually mad, dummy.”

“I was sorry, though.” A beat of silence. A heartbeat. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Really?”

You look at him incredulous. “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“You’re hard to read sometimes! Even for me.”

You decide not to apologize again. Bachira would complain. You desperately want to tell him you love him. They’re the only words on you mind. But even this wasted, you can’t bring yourself to do something that pointless.

“You’re the most important person in my entire life,” You opt for instead. “And I hope you find someone who can play the kind of soccer that’s fun for you.”

Another minute of silence passes before you hear the familiar huff of Bachira crying. He cries often but he hasn’t done it in front of you for quite some time. He tucks himself against your neck and shoulder, shifting to press against your scent glands.

“I was doing a good job not trying before this,” He mutters. You rub his back soothingly, smiling a bit. “Gosh…don’t be so sappy like that randomly. It’s bad for my heart!”

Your own throat feels thick but you keep it down. Manage to swallow the tears away. You want to tell him so badly it’s making it hard to breathe.

Bachira looks up after a while. You do him the courtesy of wiping his tears away with your thumb, brushing them away from his face.

You don’t realize how close your faces have gotten until you nearly brush against his nose.

You think the alcohol is making you hallucinate when you feel a kiss.

Your eyes are still open for it. It’s not clumsy but it’s not smooth either. You blink. And you feel it again, and it lingers a little longer until you close your eyes and kiss back.

You kiss him so hard it feels like you forget how to breathe.

You don’t talk about it.

When Bachira wakes up the next day thoroughly hung-over and much in the same condition, treating you exactly the same - you assume he’s forgotten about it unlike you. You try not to let it weigh on you by writing it off as one of Bachira’s many quirks. Maybe you’ve gotten practice at repressing your emotions better than you thought since it works perfectly.

The week passes by easily. At the end of it, you see Bachira off along with his mom and the rest of your family who insisted on waving him off. The thought of not knowing the next time you’ll see him is painful but you manage it with the feeling you’ll see him eventually.

Though you don’t know how long it’ll be.

The next time you see Bachira’s face is on T.V.

It’s the first time you’ve ever sat in your living room to watch a game of soccer. You had wanted to attend, but tickets had only been alloted for family. You settled on watching at home, though Bachira’s mom had promised she would relay any messages she could from Bachira to you through text and otherwise.

You’ve never been into soccer. Despite your many years spent along side it for one reason or another, the sport itself has rarely ever been of any interest. You’re sure this is partly to blame on the fact you are hilariously unathletic albeit perfectly healthy.

When the U-2o match gets announced and you hear Bluelock will be playing, your ears perk up like a dog. You’re glad Bachira isn’t around to see how you announce to your entire house and tell them the T.V. and living room will be totally occupied during the duration of the match. You invite Miki-chan who pretends to want to refuse but comes over to watch anyway. Your nii-san joins you, which isn’t a surprise since he liked soccer to begin with.

You know whats happening well enough since you’ve had it explained to you hundreds of times.

You see several people on the screen during the match. Bachira’s team mates. Team mates he gets along with. There’s another player named Isagi on the field and him and Bachira have such tangible chemistry you feel a little jealous watching them.

In the short few months Bachira has been away at Bluelock, you can see how he’s changed. How much his soccer has transformed and improved in so little time.

Most of all, you can tell that Bachira is having the best time of his entire life. You can deal with the mild envy if only he gets to be that happy forever.

The U-20 games end in a victory for the Bluelock team and several interesting characters appearing. That guy, Isagi, announces to the world that he’s going to be the one to lead the team to victory. You think to yourself that you understand exactly why Bachira likes him.

The next time you see Bachira in person is not long after that. Apparently as a reward for their win, they’d been granted two weeks of free time.

It was only a few months, but it’s easy to tell how much Bachira has changed. It was all over him. He carried himself with more confidence, more electricity, more buzz.

He was still himself while being completely unrecognizable at the same time.

You were happy Bachira was happy, elated to hear all about his life and new friends. You couldn’t keep track of all of it, but you’ve been spending the last few days attached at the hip now that he was back in your hometown.

He’d had another day to visit friends already out in Shibuya that you couldn’t attend. Not that you really wanted too. You were happy he extended the invite but being around that many athletes and no doubt many alphas sounded like a nightmare.

You figured he would have another day or two like that as is, so when he texts you again that he’ll be meeting with some Bluelock friends, you’re content to let him go and not tag along despite yourself. As much some whiny part of you wanted to monopolize him completely (an omega part of you, you can admit) you feel it’s more important for Bachira to nurture his newer relationships on his own.

And again, being around that many alpha athlete teenage boys is mildly nightmarish to you in particular.

So you invited Sasaki to the mall to talk about this and that to keep your time occupied. She’d started dating some guy at school and you have yet to know the details.

You weren’t expecting to run into Bachira with his friends at the same mall.

You catch Bachira’s eye from across the way in the middle of the mall, along with a group of boys you know to be his new team mates. You honestly think it’d be better to avoid them for now. Not that you’re not happy to see Bachira, but there’s no way this won’t be incredibly awkward for you.

Sasaki nudges you though, not caring in the slightest at your visible distress. “Isn’t that Bachira-kun?”

“Yes,” You hiss, trying not to be obvious. “Let’s go the other way.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because—“

You turn around to leave but don’t really get a chance as you hear a voice shout your name.

You flinch as you turn around. Sasaki gives you an amused look that you elbow her for immediately, feeling yourself jolt. After she makes fun of you, she holds your hand with an affirming squeeze and comforts you in a way only betas can - a soft citrus scent washing over you. You squeeze her hand back sighing, thankful as the group of boys stalk over to you.

Bachira runs more than he walks, skidding to a halt in front of you. “Ehhh? What are you doing here?”

“Came to gossip and walk around with Sasaki-chan,” You say with a shrug, pointedly ignoring the three pairs of eyes on you as you talk. “And buy books.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t come,” Bachira pouts at you, giving you a pointed look. You smile lightly.

“I didn’t say that,” You reply softly. “I didn’t want to intrude, that’s all.”

“You’re not intruding! Even if you were, I wouldn’t really care.”

“But you should,” You insist, shaking your head. You turn to his friends, getting a better look at them. Two alphas and one beta if your nose is right. You look at them apologetically. “Sorry about interrupting your outing.”

The one of them with pink hair and the prettiest features you’ve ever seen talks first. You’re sure people mistake him for an omega, but his scent is too alpha like for that to be the case. It’s strong enough and distinct enough for you to identify from this distance. “Not at all. I’m Chigiri. This is Nagi,” He says, introducing the other alpha next to him. “And I figure you already know of Isagi,”

You smile a little at that. “Ah, yeah. I do, actually.” You glance at Isagi. He’s a beta in the way he feels like the pinnacle of peace and safety off the field. It’s a little funny how different he seems. They all seem, really.

“Stop getting so buddy-buddy with them,” Bachira bemoans. You frown at him.

“Sorry about him,” You introduce your name first, then Sasaki. “We’re all childhood friends. It’s nice to meet all of you. Sorry to disturb your day off.”

“You’re not disturbing us,” Isagi says serenely. You think he seems a touch smug but can’t tell if you’re imagining it.

“You’re welcome to hang out,” Chigiri says next. He and Isagi share an unreadable but obviously conspiratorial look. Your eyes widen at the offer, shaking your head with your hands up.

“Ah. No, we don’t want to intrude seriously.”

“Why are you deciding for me?” Sasaki cuts in, making you shoot her a very sharp glare. “Shouldn’t you at least ask?”

“You’re not intruding,” Chigiri assures, an incredibly disarming smile on his face. “We’d be bound to see each other again if we’re both here anyways. May as well, right?”

You feel yourself sink, glancing at a very Bachira and thinking of the complaints you’re going to receive as soon as the two of you are alone. Your shoulders slump as you reluctantly smile, lips pressed into a flat line.

‘That’s true. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then alright.

For alphas, you think Bachira’s friends are pretty nice.

Nagi barely speaks, but he’s weirdly been engaged in conversation for the entire duration of you knowing him. He’s got the imposing looks and vibe of an alpha but precisely none of the aggression - at least from where you’re standing. He’s been considerate of you in his own way, especially after Bachira had announced the general discomfort you had felt towards alphas over all.

Chigiri is similarly nice. You can tell he grew up around omegas and are not surprised at all when he informs you he has omega sisters in his house. He’s extremely friendly for an alpha, and you’re sure another omega would be foaming at the mouth at how polite he is.

Of his friends though, you still take preference to Isagi. He is a beta through and through. Adaptable, friendly, easy going while having a sort of snark you find incredibly entertaining. Him and Bachira get along like a house on fire, but not in way that’s entire negative. You do feel a little envious seeing how close they’ve gotten in such a short period of time, but you’re mostly happy for him. Their bond is obviously special.

The rest of your group left a few moments ago, leaving you and Isagi to a much bedgrudging Bachira. You’d gotten food from the food court but it wouldn’t require so many people to go wait so you and Isagi have been securing a spot. You aren’t sure how to be alone with him, never been all that good with strangers.

Isagi is good at making conversation though, so you haven’t had to do much leg work.

You end up at the topic of Bluelock and Isagi practically beams at the chance to talk about it. It’s kind of cute in it’s own right. You know some stuff about it, but the logistics have been lost on you. Bachira tends to talk about these things more with onomatopoeias than with words.

You fiddle with something on the end of your bag as you engage in conversation.

“How does the facility manage like… having omegas and stuff in there?” You wonder. You voiced the concern to Bachira before leaving too but he had assured you it’d be fine. You kind of feel nosy asking.

Isagi shoots you a confused look. “Hm? Bluelock doesn’t have any omegas. It sucks but they considered it too high risk so only betas and alphas were admitted.”

Your turn to look confused. “Sorry? But Bachira is enrolled in it no…?”

Isagi stares at you. “Uh,” He scratches the back of his neck. “Bachira is an alpha, though? Like, a pretty strong one too. It’s hard to tell from his scent from what I hear but he’s prescribed the really high dose medications that the other alphas take. Part of the rut management and everything.”

You blink.

“…That’s…” And then you look up, completely unsure of what to say. “..Are you sure? Like… really sure?”

Isagi looks at you sympathetically. His voice is soft and comforting. “Yeah. I’m sure. Sorry,”

You shake your head. “No it’s,” You feel your eyes start to well up, chest feeling especially tight. “It’s okay. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

“You’re a nice girl, huh?” Isagi says, voice tender and easily sensing your sudden distress. It makes your lip wobble. You want to cry into a strangers arms even though you absolutely can’t. “I’ll scold him for you.”

You give him a thankful look. “I’m gonna uh,” You swallow. “Go to the bathroom. When Sasaki comes back tell her to text me. And Bachira, uhm. I guess just tell him I went home.”

Isagi smiles. “Sure.”

You thank him again picking up your few things hastily and bolting in the opposite direction.

You don’t really know what you’re supposed to do or how you’re so suppose to receive the information. It’s not a sense of betrayal you feel welling up inside of you, but something closer to a sudden deep remorse and regret. And so much shock you can barely make sense of anything. You feel the sorry in your bones, and you feel the paved memories of your entire lifetime begging to shake under your feet.

Bachira is still Bachira.

But he’s an alpha. An alpha who likes other alphas, in the same way you’re an omega who likes other omegas. He’s like you. You shared this your entire life, but you never knew not once. You didn’t even have any idea.

What kind of friend does that make you? What kind of friend have you been to him all this time? Was it bad enough that he couldn’t share it? When you’ve depended on him so much?

You don’t know how you end up in a bathroom. It’s in such a far away part of the mall. You feel out of body, moving on autopilot as you shuffle into the empty stall and sit on the toliet with your bag and your things.

You’re reminded of your first heat on the train back from middle school. An old memory but not old enough you easily forget. Hesitance turned to frustration and disgust towards alphas. You’d avoided after that for years and still do now. Was it then?

Despondent, you aren’t sure what to do with yourself. The echo of stalls, the noise of people loudly outside, the forceful beat of your heart. A reminder that you’re really living through this realization so late. It’s weird. It hurts so much you can barely think through your thoughts and come upon any answers on how to go on.

It’s not hard to understand why. Bachira is selfish but he’s also loyal. You’re sure that sometime ago, to protect the vulnerable version of you who was already so distrusting of alphas, Bachira had kept it from you as to break your perception any further. You can’t blame him for that, especially when that distrust towards alphas yet to dissolve completely. Of course he wouldn’t be comfortable telling you.

You can’t bring yourself to hate him over it and never would. You’d spend the rest of your life trying to unglue the fused parts of yourself with him, the memories and you’d never see the end of it if you attempted.

What hurts you is that he never told you. Not ever. Not even when you voiced your worries about his heats in Bluelock. Not even as you drank together. Not even when he kissed you.

Was he never going to tell you?

Did he never trust you enough to tell you?

That hurts most. You only have yourself to blame. The thought makes your heart wrench. Your eyes water as you focus in on the ground and try to breathe.

The door of the bathroom itself opens and shuts all of a sudden, familiar footfall making hundreds of alarm bells go off at once. You already know it’s Bachira, but for the first time you don’t know what you’re meant to say to him. The feeling is so complex you can barely put it in words for yourself. How were you meant to face him?

“Meguru,”

You can hear him whimper on the other side of the stall door, fists hitting it in a dull thud.

“I’m sorry,” He’s crying. You want to open the door and comfort him so badly but shame stops you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry - it’s all my fault. Don’t hate me, please don’t hate me.”

You hate hearing him cry. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to keep your voice steady. “I don’t hate you at all.”

“You’re lying. You won’t even open the door to look at me.”

“I just can’t,” You say, not really know how else to explain it. “But nothing could make me hate you.”

“But you hate alphas, don’t you? You’re uncomfortable with me now. We can’t be close anymore, right?”

You don’t say anything to that. You want to deny it. You want to tell him nothing could make you want to stop being his friend.

But then, you remember that Bachira is destined for unimaginable greatness. Bright like the sun and even more interesting, more talented, more cool than you could ever be. He’s an alpha to boot. You think of the future of your life and how you’ve always pictured it to be quiet and functional, because that’s who you’ve always been. Bachira is—was a star crash landing in your life, anyhow. You think of all of that, along with everything else - and all the ways you’ve betrayed him unintentionally.

You’ve used up all of your luck. Inevitably. Eventually, it was always going to end with a gradually forming distance. You knew that before he left just like you know it now. And nows as good a time as any to put it to rest.

“Meguru,” He’s your first friend. You’re sure that’s why he’s so shaken up. Distance would be better. “You have to focus on becoming the best in the world, right? I’ll uh,” You try to breathe. “I’ll be watching from a distance no matter what,”

“Please don’t leave me,” He whimpers. You wince.

“It’s not like that. There’s a lot of people who are beside you now.” You say warily, trying to comfort him. If you were a more selfish person, you would want to be friends. You love Bachira. You’ve loved him your entire life. You probably always will. But you think if he’s had to keep this secret from you so long - you don’t deserve any of that. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine,”

Without me. You’ll be fine without me. You want to tell him that, but can’t bring yourself to say it.

You won’t be, you don’t think. Not for a while. But this is the least you can do for your relationship. For your best friend who you haven’t paid enough attention too.

“I’ll stay with you until you stop crying,” You offer. “And when your eyes aren’t red, we can both just go home. Okay?”

Bachira sniffles on the other side of the door and doesn’t reply.

[ EIGHTEEN ]

On your eighteenth birthday, Bachira’s mom calls you at midnight.

Yu-san is like a third parent to you, so you pick regardless for the reason she calls. She sounds relieved when you answer despite the sleep in your voice. You’re up late studying for your driving license exam which you’ll finally be eligible to take starting now.

“Ah. Hello?”

“Hey, kid. Thanks for picking my call,” She sounds like she’s doing something. It’s a Sunday so she’s probably painting. “Don’t sound too confused. I just called to wish you happy birthday. Meguru always called you at midnight, didn’t he?”

You look down at the papers on your desk, twirling pen in fingers. “Yeah, he did.”

“You two still aren’t talking, right? But knowing Meguru, he’ll feel sad later on when he realizes he didn’t wish you because he was upset,” She hums, nonplussed. You smile a little. Yu-san is just like that, you think. Even after being aware of you and Bachira’s fights, the way she’s treated you hasn’t changed. “So I thought I’d do in his place.”

“It’s alright, Yu-san. But thank you,”

“Of course,” She says. You hear the faucet running and the familiar clicking of paint brushes on the other side of the line. “Come over when you have some time. I brought ingredients for your favorite. We can go pick up a cake together, too. I bet you’re too busy studying and forgot to make plans, right?”

You flush. “…I did.”

She laughs good-naturedly. “Right? I thought so. I know it’s just you in the house, but feel free to invite Sasaki and Miki-chan, alright? And don’t stay up too late studying.”

You feel tears well up in the corners of your eyes. “Thank you for always taking care of me, Yu-obasan,”

“Oh, don’t be silly. That’s a given right?”

“Right,” You sniffle. “But still, thanks.”

“Of course. Oh! And, happy birthday.”

#bachira x reader #bluelock x reader #bachira smut #bluelock smut #writing tag #fics for gaza #bllk x reader #bachira meguru x reader #omegaverse cw

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miniseokminnies · 2 months ago

Text

the gambit —- y.jh

♙ pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader ♙ genre: enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, 1960s au, university au, chess club president!jeonghan, club member!yn ♙ wc: ~12.5k ♙ warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexism (it's the 1960s), heavily implied reader is a virgin, unprotected sex (that's a no no), oral sex [f. receiving], fingering, pet names, praise kink, marking, drinking and getting drunk, a lot of rude men ♙ a/n: this is obviously VERY LOOSELY inspired by The Queen's Gambit lol. give jeonghan a chance he's learning okay?? thank you to my army of beta readers: @haologram, @lovetaroandtaemin, @highvern, and @tomodachiii i genuienly would not have this posted without them. ♙tags: @seungkw1, @cherry-zip, @crab-ranjun, @myhimbomingi oh and happy holidays i guess (i wanted to have this out way sooner) enjoy! and as always comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated

Three succinct knocks rang out as you rapped your knuckles against the door frame. The man alone inside the room looked in your direction. Looking him over you noticed his striking features that were delicately framed by his black hair that was only a bit shorter than your own.

“Are you lost, miss?” He straightened up, “Sorority recruitment is across the hall.” He turned back to setting up the chess set on the table in front of him.

“What?” you asked, confused, “No, this is the chess club, is it not?”

“It is,” he didn’t bother looking in your direction this time.

“Then I am in the right place,” you took a few steps into the room as he looked up at you again.

“Girls don’t play chess.” he stifled a laugh.

“There’s nothing in the university rules against gir-women joining recreational clubs.” You watched him sigh and snatch a notebook off the table.

“Look,” he walked closer to you and held out the notebook, “you may watch”

“I have my own notebook, thank you.” You turned on your heel and huffed into a chair near a chess set across the room. The man watched you for a moment before turning back to his task of setting up the chess boards. You could only assume that he was the president of the club, but could not wrap your head around why he was voted in.

After waiting for a few moments several more boys began trickling into the room, all of them giving you a once over. Have these people never seen a girl before?

“Excuse me miss,” one of the boys approached you and sat at the board nearest to you, “I’m Minghao”

“Y/N,” you nodded and scribbled his name down in your book. You could feel Minghao’s eyes on you, but you didn’t feel as though you owed him any explanation. After a few minutes another boy who introduced himself as Wonwoo joined Minghao at the table.

The president announced that the meeting today would function “tournament style” and everyone should get the chance to have a match with each other. Perfect.

Wonwoo and Minghao played well, but Wonwoo had a bad habit of leaving his queen unprotected and Minghao always overutilized his rook. In the end, even with a queen out in the open, Wonwoo found a checkmate.

Minghao was unhappy with this result and challenged him to a rematch outside of club time which Wonwoo eagerly agreed to. You were finishing up your notes on their match when two new men appeared at your table introducing themselves as Mark and Yunho.

The remaining matches went by quickly, you felt the president’s eyes on you every so often, he wondered what you could possibly be taking such detailed notes about when you weren’t even playing. Men came and went, all politely introducing themselves to you, clearly they don’t take after their fearless leader in any capacity.

The “tournament” went on for a few hours, your ass was starting to go numb from the chair by the time it was called in favor of the president, who peculiarly you never had the opportunity to observe. He dismissed the club and they all filtered out as you finished up your notes. You heard his footsteps approaching as you dotted the last punctuation on the page.

“So?” he started smugly, “Enjoy your observations?” he watched as you ripped out several pages of your own notebook. You rose out of your seat and square your shoulders, you shoved the pages into his chest and left the room without another word. He watched you leave the room, your skirt swishing around your knees.

Tearing his eyes from the door he looked down at the papers you left him. He read over them and quickly realized what it was you were doing all this time. Each member was written down and in detail you scrawled out every single missed check from each and every game played here today.

The bottom of the page reads “The President: ?”

“What are you doing?” your roommate, Cami, flopped around in her bed, “It’s the first month of classes, there’s no way you have course work already”

“I don’t” you moved your rook, not looking away from the board, “Remember how I told you I was going to join the chess club?”

“Yes?”

“Well the stupid president won’t let me play” you captured white’s queen, “so I’m not able to practice with anyone” you heard her throw her blankets around and the clatter of her hand hitting her glasses,

“What?” she hissed, “he can’t do that can he?” she sat up in bed

“I mean,” you finally looked up at her, “He didn’t technically bar me from joining”

“Look at you” she scoffed, “Making you just sit there and watch when you’re the best player like ever!”

“I am nowhere near the best, Cami.”

“Well” she protested, “You’re the best player I know!”

“I’m the only player you know,” you laughed.

“Not true!” she hopped off her bed, “Teach me.” She pulled out her desk chair and pulled it next to you. You quirk an eyebrow at her, “Seriously! Teaching is great practice plus you keep me awake with this dreadful lamp anyway”

You swipe all of the pieces from the board and begin to set them back up in their proper places, you set the black in place and invite Cami to mirror them with the white on the other side. Starting off you teach her some simple and popular openings. For as airy as she tends to be she is an attentive listener and is able to grasp the basics quickly.

You feel like you could cry, no one has truly taken this much of an interest in you, besides your parents and some friends from high school. When you first moved in with Cami you were worried she would join a sorority on campus and never be around, and while you like your alone time, being alone is a difficult task.

“And how do you win?” Cami asked once the board was scarce with pieces.

“You need a successful and all encompassing check,” you move your queen to trap her king sufficiently, “Like this one, check mate” you reach over and softly lay the king on the board.

From your usual chair in the back of the room you strain to listen to the conversation happening between Wonwoo and the president, who you learned recently was named Jeonghan. The discussion looked heated and Wonwoo was hesitating at the door frame like a child being scolded.

Jeonghan threw his hands up, exasperated, and turned to make a beeline for you. You fumbled about trying to get your notebook open and to a page to make it look like you weren’t just eavesdropping.

“You heard all of that I’m assuming,” he asked gruffly, “You’re not as subtle as you would like to think.”

“What?” you blinked up at him. He bent down to get closer to your face,

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you aren’t,” he nearly growled, “You were listening to that entire conversation”

“I was trying to,” you admitted with a roll of your eyes, “I couldn’t hear a thing from over here,” He backs away from you and makes a subtle noise of approval.

“You’re with Minghao today,” he said as he was turning to leave, which made you shoot up out of your chair.

“I actually get to play?” You blurted out, which caused him to turn back to you,

“Yeah,” he scoffed at your enthusiasm, “Uneven numbers, Minghao needs a partner, Wonwoo had to go tutor our idiot friend Mingyu, I guess” You made a mental note to thank whoever Mingyu was profusely if you were to ever meet him. Jeonghan took your silence as an invitation to leave this conversation,as if he had ever needed one before.

You glanced around the room until you found Minghao’s eyes on you.

“Hi,” You offered your hand for him to shake as you approached his table. He easily took your hand and shook it.

“Sit, sit” he insisted, “It’s an honor to be the first to play you, sorry it’s under weird circumstances,” he chuckles awkwardly.

You told Minghao not to worry about the circumstances, you were just happy to be playing after weeks of sitting around watching. With this he began the game, he utilized a simple opener and your first capture came quickly. This wasn’t to say that Minghao wasn’t a good player and didn’t put up a fight.

You, however, were hungry to show everyone here that you were not to be messed with. Minghao felt that you were two steps ahead of him the entire match, he didn’t understand how it felt like you were in his head and knew his moves. If it wasn’t so impressive he would be infuriated.

He didn’t even mind that you baited him quickly into a checkmate. He wanted to see you beat Jeonghan, to wipe the winning streak clean. Even more, he wanted to see Jeonghan get beat by a freshman, a wickedly smart and kind of scary freshman.

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan asked from across the room where he was putting pieces back into boxes, “I need to clean that up and I can’t very well do that when you’re still using it”

“Minghao almost beat me” You mumbled, not looking up from the board. You hear Jeonghan sigh and walk toward you.

“Almosts don’t matter in chess, you either win or you don’t” he swiped your notebook from under your elbow, “And you won”

“Give it back, Yoon, I’m not in the mood” you attempted to grab it back from him.

“When are you ever,” he snorted, holding the book over his head. You shot out of your chair.

“Give it back!” you attempted to reach for it, “I’m trying to find weaknesses in my game and you’re acting like a child!”

“Fine,” he lowered the book with a look in his eyes that let you know that this would not be that easy, “play me then” You blinked at him,

“Really?”

“You’re looking for weaknesses in your game, play me” he pulled out the chair recently vacated by Minghao and sat down, “Well? I don’t have all night." You took your seat, studying Jeonghan’s face. He has never been across from you as your opponent, let alone offered a match. He passes your notebook back to you and watches as you carefully turn to a new page, crack the spine, and scrawl out his name and the date at the top of the page.

You carefully move your first pawn, which in return Jeonghan moves his, beginning the dance. Your second pawn takes its place and you hear your opponent chuckle.

“What?” you spat defensively.

“Oh nothing,” he hides his smile with his hand, “you’re just predictable, you always start with attempting a queen’s gambit”. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you immediately know you are at a disadvantage, Jeonghan knows your game and you know nothing of his. He delicately moves a second pawn forward, “Queen’s gambit declined” he sits back in his chair, thinking he already has you beat.

The first capture of the match is in you taking his first pawn, he returns the favor by taking yours quickly. The two of you go back and forth like this for several turns. You realize quickly that he is very much your equal, he is smart and clever, but he plays rigidly and by the book. By the book players are usually easy for you to handle.

Jeonghan was different, it’s almost as if he knew your moves before you made them, and admittedly he kind of did. Not well enough, you were nervous in the middle of the match but now you were sure that you could lure him into a checkmate within three moves.

Letting him capture your rook was a small sacrifice. Luring him into a false sense of security letting him take this piece and your queen earlier in the game, so that your second rook could move to take his queen and leaving his king open. Attempting to move his king out of the line of fire from your rook only placed it in harm's way at the hands of your bishop.

“Checkmate” you declared. Jeonghan sat quietly, you saw the math he was doing in his mind by the way his eyes were flitting around the board, calculating his mistakes. You gathered your things and swiped them into your arms and turned to leave.

Fingers encircled your wrist and pulled you to face him. Judging by the look on his face he did not think before he acted for once, “If it means so much to you, I won’t tell anyone I beat you,” you offered, rolling your eyes.

“You’re infuriatingly irritating” was the last thing he said before pulling you closer and pressing his soft lips to yours. You stood perfectly still, shocked at the sudden development, Jeonghan didn’t push until you parted your lips. With this he deepened the kiss, his mouth tasted of tobacco, the expensive kind. His skin was warm against yours, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t entirely hate this exchange.

Tentatively, you placed your hands on his hips, your notebook falling to the floor forgotten. Jeonghan swiped his tongue into your mouth and you let him. He felt your fingers grip for dear life and tried to ignore the fact that the gesture caused his head to swim. He had the faintest idea of why he kissed you and even less of an idea on why you let him but he would not complain. He tangled his hands in your hair.

He pulled your lip between his teeth and it snapped something in you, you pressed your thighs together and sighed. When Jeonghan moved to plant kisses just below your ear you realized what was happening and pushed back against his chest.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You seemed to enjoy it.” he sighed pushing a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know what this is,” you picked up your notebook, “but find someone else to help you out next time you get hard over a girl beating you”

You shifted uncomfortably in the doorway of the fraternity house as Cami was informing the poor boy working the door who she was and who the two of you were intending to meet inside. Finally, after what felt like an eternity out on the porch, he stepped aside and the two of you shuffled past him. The inside of the house was nothing special, it smelled of smoke and sweat. There were groups of people scattered about talking and drinking.

Cami put a hand on your arm and began to pull you further into the house, “Come on!” she shouted over the noise, “I’m meeting him in the kitchen!” and she began weaving her way through the house, as if she had done this a thousand times before.

The kitchen was open and frankly dirty. There was a couple making out against the counter closest to where your roommate dragged you.

“Y/N, this is Mingyu, the guy I told you about,” she smiled up at him, “and this is Y/N, my roommate”

“Nice to meet you,” Mingyu smiled at you momentarily before turning his attention back to the girl he actually invited to this party. You were surprised, you figured it would have taken longer than five minutes for you to start wondering why you came here in the first place. You were starting to feel boxed in, the couple on the counter was getting dangerously close to exposing themselves to you, and Mingyu was whispering close to your roommate's ear. You could only imagine the filthy things he was surely saying to her, judging by the scarlet blush rising up her neck and the giddy smile playing at her lips.

“Take this,” a familiar voice cut through the panic, a small glass being pressed into your hand. Looking up, Jeonghan had a matching glass up to his lips, looking down at you expectantly. You followed suit and the two of you tipped the glasses back together. The liquid burned your throat and you sputtered a cough as you felt the heat settle in your belly. “Woah,” he stifled a laugh, “Never had a drink before, noted,” he filled up his shot glass with water from the sink and traded it for your empty glass. He guided it to your lips and disappeared down the hall, just as quickly as he approached.

The water dulled the burn in your throat. During your exchange with Jeonghan your roommate and Mingyu disappeared somewhere, sighing you left the kitchen to find them or somewhere quiet to sit down, whichever came first.

As it turned out, at a party there are few places unoccupied by people. You took to walking laps around the bottom floor of the house looking out for anyone leaving or a room you missed. On lap one thousand (give or take) you heard your roommate’s laugh cut through the dull thrum of the music from the turntable in the living room. You looked toward where you heard her, your shoulders slumped seeing Mingyu lead her up the stairs, cursing under your breath you stomped through the kitchen and into the first door you came across.

You plop to the ground and cross your arms over your chest, if anyone were to be looking at you right now you’re sure you would look like a petulant child. You’re not even sure why you’re angry, you knew she would end up hooking up with this guy tonight. Walking home could be an option, however it’s getting cold…and do you even remember how to get back? Don’t parties like this typically have sober drivers? But I’m not drunk…I only had whatever Jeonghan gave me, you thought, Jeonghan! You could find him, but how embarrassing would it be to crawl to him for help right now? He would use it against you forever and you are as good as kicked out of the chess club after this! What would have been the point of any of this if you can’t play chess? This stupid situation with Jeonghan would have been for naught.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, you scramble to situate yourself in this damned skirt to have any semblance of appropriateness for whoever is coming through that door.

“What are you doing in the laundry room?” you could hear the smirk in his tone before you even looked up. Jeonghan slipped into the small room, which when looking around you realized it was in fact the laundry room. He closed the door behind him with the hand not occupied with a bottle of liquor and a cigarette perched between his pointer and middle fingers. Scooting back you pressed your back against the washing machine and stretched your legs straight in front of you. Jeonghan grunted while sitting down on the floor next to you, his back up against the dryer. He set down the bottle and two of those little glasses from earlier on the floor in front of him.

“There was nowhere else to sit…” You offered quietly. “My stupid roommate went upstairs with some guy and she is the only reason I’m even at this fucking party! I wanted to stay home tonight, but she dragged me out here and–and are you trying to get me drunk?” you interrupted yourself, eyes flicking between the contents on the floor and Jeonghan. He cracked a smile, not a smirk, a smile, at your question.

“No, Dove,” he chuckled sticking the cigarette between his lips, “I’m trying to get you to loosen up for once,” he brought his hand above your thigh, hesitating in the air for only a moment before placing it down slightly above your knee, kneading the flesh there. Jeonghan had kissed you last week, but this felt…intimate, not angry. Before you had the chance to yell at him he brought his hand back to his lap, “You’re tense.”

“Yeah, not a great night,” you pointed out, “And it seems like it is getting weird now,” he rolled his eyes at your addition and began pouring the liquid into the two glasses.

“Take another shot with me, will you?” he attempted to hand you the glass, “before I decide you’ve annoyed me too much for one night”

“No”

“Y/N please, don’t be so insufferable for once,” he moved his glass to his lips and removed the cigarette, which admittedly was distracting enough for you to almost give in. You held strong. Jeonghan clicked his tongue disapprovingly and threw back the contents of the glass. He brought his free hand and scrubbed his face, “Fine, let’s play a game.” he poured himself another shot.

“What kind of game?”

“Really that’s all it took?” he looked at you, his eyes starting to shine with the alcohol, “Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.” he taps the glass with his fingers, a habit that manifests when he’s thinking, you’ve noticed throughout his chess matches,

“You’re making a game up,” you point out nonchalantly,

“What?” the drumming stops for a moment, “No, I’m remembering the rules”

“No you’re not, tell me about your made up game, Yoon”

“It’s a real game…anyway, rules are simple, you ask me a question, I answer, then you answer. If you don’t want to answer, you take a shot, if we both answer, we both take a shot”

“Those rules don’t make sense” “Yes they do, who was the first LP you ever got?” you were taken aback by the tameness of his question, but you figured he was just getting started.

“The Blues and the Abstract Truth by Oliver Nelson”

“Jazz?” he scoffed, “Have you ever thought about not being boring?”

“Have you ever thought about being a decent person?”

“Don’t get unglued,” he rolled his eyes, “mine was Nice’n’Easy by Frank Sinatra” With that he tipped his glass back and emptied it, you followed suit and tried not to cough this time. He gestured to you seemingly inviting you to ask a question of your own. You thought for a moment,

“Why do you play chess?” you asked.

“My dad figured it would be a good skill to have” he shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the fact that the world chess champion was, and still is, a Soviet. I don’t really care about that though, I just like to play, I’m good at it.”

“You only play chess because you’re good at it?” you said flatly

“Ah ah” he tsked, “You already asked your question, so either answer or drink up”

“Fine,” you sighed with a pointed look in his direction, “My grandpa taught me, I always watched him and his buddy play when he babysat me. I learned by watching and then eventually playing, and beating, both of them.”

“Learning chess just by watching,” he mumbled and shook his head. “Gimme,” his lithe fingers took the glass from your hand, set it on the floor next to his and poured another round. You both drank the shot with no complaint.

The game continued like this for a while, Jeonghan never asking anything that stumped you, and in return he answered every question of yours. You weren’t sure what being drunk actually felt like but if someone told you this was it you would believe them. Your muscles relaxed more than you can remember in recent months, your vision was slightly blurry, and you felt a pleasant buzz in your brain. Jeonghan was slumped against the dryer and his head leaned on your shoulder.

“When’s your birthday?” Jeonghan asked, playing with your fingers lightly.

“January 2”

“Coming up,” he noted, “Mine was October 4”

“How old are you now?”

“22” he sighed, “graduating in May” You knew Jeonghan was older than you, but you hadn’t thought about the fact that he would be actually graduating, leaving. Something about that made you sick to your stomach in a way, but you weren’t sure why, don’t you hate him?

“I’ll be 19 next month” you mumbled. He shifted his body to sit up and look at you. His eyes were glassy and heavy, physical evidence of the alcohol thrumming in his system.

“Are you drunk?” he asked

“I have no earthly idea, Han” he smiled at the nickname. He reached over to cup your cheek in his hand, unconsciously you melted into him.

“I might be,” he mumbled, and even in your intoxicated state you couldn’t miss the way his eyes flicked from yours to your lips, only for a moment. After what felt like ages he connected his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, his lips were warm and he didn’t rush it. He held you as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, requesting entrance. Once that entrance was granted it was as if the floodgates opened for him. Both of his hands were in your hair and he was licking into your mouth. Jeonghan tasted of the alcohol the two of you had been drinking the entire night, different from the taste on his lips last time. Jeonghan curiously tugged at the hair around his fingers.

Butterflies, or something like that but infinitely more intense, erupted in your stomach. The suddenness of it all allowed a whine to escape your lips. With that Jeonghan pulled back from you but stayed close enough for your noses to still be touching.

“I think you should start coming to meetings early,” he panted. The only response you could muster was a nod, and an attempt to bring his lips back to yours. He pulled back against your request, and much to your dismay the wicked smirk was back on his face, “Y/N, are you a virgin?” You were taken aback by the question, you backed away from him and grabbed the bottle on the floor. You forwent the shot glass and just took a long pull from the lip. He watched you down the burning liquid before nodding, “So that’s a yes,” he settled back against the dryer and watched you flounder.

“You don’t know that!” you stood up, feeling wobbly on your feet, “Maybe I’m just being a lady”

“Woah,” he stood up and wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to steady you, “but it doesn’t really matter, I trapped you, even a nonanswer would have told me what I wanted to know, I won and you know it.” You attempted to hit his chest but the way he was holding you proved it impossible. He maneuvered you to sit back down, “Sit right here, I’m gonna go find your roommate and get you home.”

The walk back to your dorm was quicker than you thought it was, but that could be on account of the alcohol warming your skin. Jeonghan informed you that your roommate had decided to stay the night with Mingyu back at the house so the responsibility of getting your drunk self home fell on him. Serves him right, he’s the one who got you to this state in the first place. Your arm linked with his and his arm around your waist he walked the short trek very carefully, because he truly was not sober himself.

He fished your room key out of your pocket and let the two of you into your room. He blinked to adjust to the lower light, the room was only illuminated by the lamp on your desk that you must have forgotten to turn out before leaving earlier in the night. Moving further into the room he helped you sit down on the bed. On the desk there was a chess board with a half finished game set up. He smiled to himself moving closer to see that the pieces of paper strewn about were the notes you always take during matches with him. You’re replaying matches between the two of you he realized.

“Y/N” he called, tearing his eyes away from the pretty way your handwriting captures his name, “You gotta change.”

“Tired,” you grumbled from the bed. He moved towards you and attempted to pull you up.

“Come on, you can’t sleep in this” he begged, “Fine! Where do you keep your pajamas?”

“Top drawer”

He moved the short distance to your dresser and opened the top drawer. He flushed seeing your undergarments being housed in the same space as your pajamas but he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. He pulled out the first nightgown he found and moved back to you.

“Okay, undress” he was met with protest noises. He sighed and moved to the hem on your shirt, “I’m going to help you and then leave, okay?” he waited for your approval and then began lifting your shirt up over your head. He felt perverted in a way as he watched each inch of your skin come into view and then the clothed swell of your breasts. The situation was in no way sexual and he had no plans to take advantage, but he had never seen you in a vulnerable state before. You were softer than you often let on, something he almost didn’t believe.

He removed the shirt completely and moved to unclasp your bra. He hesitated only slightly before taking the plunge. He removed the piece of fabric and quickly, and unceremoniously shoved the nightgown over your head. Finally, you were dressed for bed and he helped you under the covers.

Soon he heard your soft snores and took this as his signal to leave. Turning out the lamp he pressed his lips to your forehead, hoping it didn’t hurt too terribly in the morning.

“Goodnight, Y/N”

The gentle sting of teeth against your neck paired with the vice grip on your thigh under your skirt almost sent you into a frenzy.

“Jeonghan” you shied away from his mouth, he grunted and chased you in response, “Jeonghan!” you hissed and pulled his hair until his lips separated from your neck.

“What?” he whispered, his eyes heavy and clouded with lust.

“The boys will be here in,” you twisted to check your watch, “Twenty minutes and I would rather not have them distracted by fresh hickies on my neck for the entire meeting.”

“And why not?” he attempted to connect to the spot below your ear again, “They might respect you more if they know you’re getting some”

“They respect me just fine!” you shove against his shoulder, but there weren’t many places for him to go in the small closet. His hand stayed gripped on your thigh.

“Okay, okay” he conceded, taking back his place crowding you against the wall behind you. “You’re tense again” a squeeze to your thigh, “let me help” his hand slowly traveled higher, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

All you could do was nod.

A flash of a smirk and he is wedging his thigh between your knees, “Keep ‘em spread” he commanded. His hand continued up and up until - oh - his thumb pressed that delicious bundle of nerves, separated only by the thin cotton of your underwear. He watches your face as you bite your lip, if he was a better man he wouldn’t be doing this in the supply closet, but the promise of seeing you unspool was too delicious. He’ll make it up to you someday, he promises himself.

He started with slow torturous circles, refusing to move the barrier. The touches are too feather light, you resist the urge to rut up against him in an attempt to increase the friction. This didn’t stop the pathetic whine from escaping your lips. “What was that?” Jeonghan teased, increasing the pressure on your clit.

“Please…” you screwed your eyes shut.

“Is this what you want?” he slid your underwear to the side and gathered your arousal on his fingers. Nodding you felt him slip in a finger experimentally. You bucked your hips to meet him, “Eager” he commented nonchalantly. The tightness in his pants reminded him that time was of the essence and he slipped in another finger.

You bit your lip to keep quiet, no matter how much Jeonghan encouraged you to let him hear you. His long fingers reached a spot inside you that you didn’t know existed with ease. You rocked on his fingers, feeling a tightness in your stomach begin to gather.

Jeonghan pulled aside the neck of your sweater to access a new swath of skin untouched by him until now. He sucked a deep bruise just below your collarbone as you felt the snap in your stomach.

The euphoria washed over you in waves and Jeonghan continued his ruminations until you came down from your high. Once you were more lucid, you noticed the gaping neck of your sweater. Your hand flew to where the top two buttons once were and gasped.

“You ripped the buttons off my sweater, you ass”

“Right like I meant to!” he began to scan the cluttered floor for the buttons.

“Well I don’t have the time to go back to change” you gritted your teeth, “This was my favorite sweater” you stormed out of the closet, leaving Jeonghan’s apology to die on his lips. What you didn’t expect was Minghao sitting at the table closest to you, reading. You clutched your sweater, careful to cover your new mark. He tore his eyes away from his book and just looked at you, it felt like he was looking right through you.

You open your mouth to explain yourself but the sound of Mark bursting through the door with Yunho stole the moment away from you. Minghao gave a curt nod of understanding and snapped his book closed. Jeonghan entered the room, clearly trying not to look flushed. You shot him a pointed look and proceeded to sit in front of an empty chess board.

“Pair up,” he mumbled, “scrimmages today” and throws himself into the chair across from you. “Take that look off your face, Dove” you blinked at him, not realizing there was even a look, you were just surprised he was willingly choosing you, in front of everyone. However, if he was going to act like this, you could make the meeting Hell too.

His timer clicked, he made his first move. Jeonghan was going to lose this match, you stretched your legs, leaving your foot next to his. You felt his eyes boring into your skull as you were making your opening. Your timer clicked. Jeonghan laced his fingers under his chin, it would look like he was thinking, but you knew better, he was trying to figure you out this time. He reached to move his knight and you trailed your foot up his leg, disrupting his trousers. Placing his knight down with a definitive thunk he looked up at you with widened eyes.

“Your timer, Jeonghan” you smirked. Click. Jeonghan watched your subsequent move, trying desperately to ignore the tightness in the crotch of his pants. You played it safe for a majority of the game, letting Jeonghan believe that you were the one distracted by your nonsense. You let him have some meaningless captures.

His fingers weren’t drumming on the desk, he felt confident. You captured his bishop. You could easily have a checkmate within four or five moves. You brought his bishop to your lips and hit your timer. You looked at him from under your lashes and waited.

Jeonghan watched the white piece rest against your pretty lips, what was wrong with him? You were doing next to nothing but the hardness in his pants was almost painful at this point. His hesitancy was evident,

“I know” you whispered against the bishop, “It’s just so hard” Jeonghan had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering. He made a quick careless move and hit the timer. Smiling, you set the bishop aside and moved your queen into position, “Checkmate.”

“What is wrong with you?”

The only sound in your room was the soft drag of the white bishop you moved across your chess board. Cami was out, probably with Mingyu, as she is most nights nowadays. The game you were playing against yourself was almost finished and you were planning to retire to bed or to do some reading afterwards. Even you had your limit on the amount of chess you could play in a day.

You picked up the black knight thinking to capture a white pawn when there was a knock at your door. Untangling yourself from the position that was comfortable until you thought about it you stretched your legs and padded to the door. You don’t tend to get visitors unless Cami is home so you’re not sure who this could be.

Swinging the door open you see the familiar shape of Jeonghan standing in the hallway, illuminated by the fluorescent lighting. He was dressed more casually than you’d ever seen him, clad in an oversized t-shirt and pair of shorts with the faded logo of what you guessed was his high school hanging off his hips. You fold your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of your lack of bra.

“Are you stalking me now, Yoon?” he blinked at you a couple times before pushing past you into your room and uttering,

“Do you really not remember?” he sits at your desk in front of the almost finished chess game, “Can I sit here?”

“You already are,” you raised an eyebrow as you took a seat across from him on your bed. Seeing Jeonghan comfortable and relaxed in the low light of your room was strange, but not entirely off putting. Almost as if he belonged here in a way. “Remember what?”

“I brought you home after Seungcheol’s party when Cami ditched you” he studied the remaining pieces on the board. Jeonghan doesn’t know when he started remembering things, like the name of your roommate, about you. He didn’t mind having you in his head, but he wasn’t aware just how often you were on his mind until this moment, seeing you bathed in the lamp light of your room.

“Wait,” your cheeks grew red and you felt the heat in them rise.

“Yes, I changed your clothes, no I didn’t look, but at this point does it matter?” His brown eyes gazed up at you before they trailed down your body, he realized that this is the first time he has seen you in your casual attire since that night.

“Maybe not…” You mumble, “But it certainly did at the time.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes and settled them back on the chess board in front of him. You watched as he moved the rook into position,

“Checkmate” he smirked smugly,

“I played that game myself, don’t think you’ve beaten me because you finished it.” He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at your comment and stood up from the chair and moved toward you. He stood in front of you and tapped your knee, you spread your legs so he could stand between them, you mentally cursed yourself for the automatic response. Moving in between your knees he ran his hands through your hair, he looked down at you, his face softer than you’d seen it in a while. His features were beautiful when he was concentrated and vengeful during a match but the soft moments between were quickly becoming your favorites.

“Hi,” he whispered, he could almost laugh, he felt so boyish. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Han,” you laughed, “you don’t need an excuse to kiss me, if that’s what you’re looking for”

“Okay Ms. Smarty Pants,” he ducked his head to press his lips to yours. What felt like lightning crackled between your lips and into your stomach, he hadn’t touched you let alone kissed you since that day that you teased him at the meeting in front of everyone. Partly because you stopped showing up early, and partly because he was clearly mad at you for the spectacle you caused. He had never anticipated Wonwoo of all people to ask him what that was all about.

A hand trailed from your hair down to your chest. You whined as Jeonghan took a handful of your breast and kneaded it underneath his fingers. He deepened the kiss at the sounds you were making. His teeth grazed your lip as he pinched your nipple between his fingers. His other hand was gripping your bare thigh.

He broke the kiss and grabbed the loose fabric of your nightgown and pulled it up around your hips. Hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your panties he mutters,

“Can we try something?” All you could do was nod in response. He swiftly shimmied the fabric down and onto the floor. “Let me know if it’s too much for you, okay?”

Jeonghan sank to his knees in front of you, his mouth level with your bare cunt. He takes his time sucking deep bruises into your thighs, he was only going to do it once but the sweet noises you made in response were too beautiful to ignore. You felt the sting of teeth on the last bruise, and then the soothing sensation of his tongue. In an attempt to get his long hair out of the way he raked his hand through it and leveled himself with your heat.

He licked the first fat stripe up your cunt, the warmth of his mouth on you was a new and spectacular feeling. He felt all encompassing, you were surrounded by him, and you couldn’t imagine anything better in this moment. He flattened his tongue against you and dragged it through your folds slowly. Your eyes screwed shut at the overwhelming sensation.

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit and began to suck. Jeonghan felt absolutely high on the sounds he was eliciting from you. Slowly, he moved from your clit to your entrance and experimentally dipped inside. You filled the room with quiet moans as he began to pump his tongue in and out of you. The coil in your stomach began to tighten, you bucked your hips up searching for stimulation on your clit. Jeonghan pulled away from you and you shivered at the lack of warmth. He blew lightly into your cunt, a whine getting pulled from your throat.

“Just wait, Dove, I’ll take care of you.” He stood and helped you out of the nightgown the rest of the way. You sat up slightly and reached for his shirt. He looked beautiful with the flush of want on his cheeks and the sheen of you on his chin. He smiled down at you and allowed you to peel off his shirt, “Lay down all the way” he whispered as he pulled off the rest of his clothes. You readjusted on the bed. He crawled on top of you, “Are you okay with this?” You nodded, you let your eyes wander down his body and caught a glimpse of his stiff cock, leaking and angry. The tension in your thighs returned, nervous for this next step.

“Hey,” he whispered, “look at me”, your eyes finding his, “Relax for me, Dove. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to”

“I want to,” you whispered. He smiled softly at you and pressed his lips to yours. He reached down and stroked his cock a few times before lining up at your entrance. You took a deep breath.

“I’m serious this time, you need to relax,” his eyes were dark with lust but ultimately serious. He reached to knead the muscle of your plush thigh. You nodded to show him you understood and tried to release some tension you were holding.

You felt the head of his cock push past your entrance. The feeling was entirely different to what you were used to with his fingers. He moved slowly, scared to overwhelm you. He stayed still for several agonizing minutes, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.

“You can move now,” you breathed out quietly. He nodded and slowly began to rock his hips. It was almost as if you could feel every single vein dragging against your walls. The feeling was nothing short of intoxicating, you felt so full.

“Oh Dove,” his voice was deeper than you have ever heard it, “you feel so perfect, like you were made for me.” His praises went straight to your core and you couldn’t help but moan. “If you keep,” he grunted, “sounding perfect like that I won’t last.”

He doesn’t. Neither do you. He didn’t expect you to, you don’t last long on his fingers, his cock was a different story entirely. What he didn’t expect was how fast he was spent. He thinks he meant it when he said you were perfect, he fit inside of you just right. Thinking about how perfect you were had him releasing hot white spurts of himself inside of you.

He leaned forward to move the sweaty pieces of hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You okay, Dove?”

“I’m fab,” you breathed. Jeonghan laughed and slowly pulled out of you. He took a moment to look at your spent cunt, leaking with him.

“Uh, let me get you cleaned up,” he stumbled out of the bed and moved toward your collection of bath towels. He returned with one and helped clean you up. He rummaged through your drawer, retrieved a clean set of underwear and sent you to the bathroom. He got himself dressed and sat on the bed. He ran his hands through his hair.

When you came back you laid back down together. You draped your legs over his. The two of you stayed this way for what felt like hours. You talked about everything, he asked you about your classes, how you’re adjusting to being away from home, and your impressions of the guys in the chess club.

Talking to Jeonghan was easy, much easier than your first impression had led you to believe. Eventually, you fell asleep mid sentence. Cute, Jeonghan thought. He was starting to realize he found most of the things you did cute.

He slipped out of your bed and covered you with the blanket. Before he left he slipped your ruined sweater from where it was draped haphazardly over the foot of your bed. With that, he was out of the room and bounding down the hall.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Turning around you see Minghao jogging to catch up with you. You smile at him as he joins you, “Where you headed?”

“The teaching building,” you jerked your head in the direction of the building.

“Let me walk with you, I’m going to the art building, but I need to ask you about something.” he gestured for you to keep walking. You nodded and began the walk, “So what on Earth are you doing?”

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to class?”

“No” he shook his head, “With Jeonghan” you had to force yourself to keep walking and not stop right there in the middle of the sidewalk and gawk at him, “Oh come on, Y/N I’m not stupid”

“I never said you were,” you shifted your gaze to the ground, “But I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Yes you do” A telling silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes before you reached the front of the art building. Minghao stopped walking and put a hand on your shoulder, “Listen it’s not my business, but whatever game you’re playing better have a good reason.” he sighed, “I don’t know if you actually like him or what this bullshit is, but be careful,”

“Careful?”

“You’re a threat to him, Y/N” you must look as confused as you feel because he continues, “I’m good at chess, Wonwoo’s good at chess, Jeonghan is great at chess, but Y/N, you’re phenomenal at chess.”

“So?” you protest, “It’s just a club, this doesn’t mean anything does it?”

“The competition season is coming up,” he offered, “You’ll be asked to be on the team by the faculty supervisor, so will Jeonghan, and hopefully me and Wonwoo, but there’s the individual tournament to worry about.”

“Okay?” you huff, “And?” you try to see the point Minghao is making.

“Just…” he sighs, “I’m worried he’s using you. He’s never lost the collegiate division, Y/N” you nodded, taking in what he was suggesting, “You’ve painted yourself as a threat to him winning that title for his last year. That’s why it matters, that’s what he cares about.”

“Isn’t he your friend?”

“Well, yes,” Minghao blinked at you, “Doesn’t that put me in the exact position to know what he might be capable of?”

“If I’m selected, I’ll try my best, win or lose” You assured him.

“I know you will, just be careful, don’t get distracted” He turns toward the entrance of the art building, “And stop using the supply closet, you have more dignity than that” you feel your face heat up and you turn on your heel toward the teaching building.

If anyone could see the great asshole, Jeonghan Yoon right now Mingyu could die happy. He bounded down the stairs and took in the sight of the man himself with a sewing needle snug between his teeth, instead of the usual cigarette.

“Oh you couldn’t be more keen on her, huh?” Mingyu plopped down on the couch next to the sweater Jeonghan had carefully spread over the cushion between himself and the younger man.

“Shut your fucking trap, Kim,” Jeonghan mumbled around the needle.

“She has you sewing,” Mingyu stifled a laugh.

“As if you have room to talk,” Jeonghan ripped the needle from his mouth, “Cami has you just about as tied up,” Mingyu blinked at him, “Oh come on! You don’t need tutoring, let alone from Wonwoo, you’re not in any of the same classes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mingyu attempted to insist but avoiding Jeonghan’s eyes gave him away.

“Obviously you do, Y/N was mad about not being able to play, so you and Cami decided to take matters of my club into your own hands,” he began to thread the needle.

“You could’ve let her play,” Mingyu shrugged watching Jeonghan struggle to find the simplest way to put the thread through the hole.

“She could’ve earned her spot like everyone else” he muttered, “Besides there’s nothing between her and I so there’s no need to compare”

“You made the comparison…” Mingyu pointed out, confused.

“No I didn’t,” the thread made it through the hole in the needle. Mingyu opened and closed his mouth, not sure what his friend was getting at. Jeonghan claiming that there was nothing going on between you and him was almost laughable, but Mingyu knew better than to voice this, as he valued his life. So instead he settled to watch Jeonghan skillfully sew the pearlescent buttons back on to your sweater.

Mingyu also knew better than to ask what happened in the first place. He knew that Jeonghan had his own way about things, and this was more than likely an apology of some kind. If Mingyu Kim was a far stupider man he would point out the fact that Jeonghan never denied that this was your sweater.

You could hear the other members of the chess club before you even saw the door to the meeting room, there was an excited buzz spilling out into the hallway. As you closed in on the room you saw a paper hanging up on the closed door.

“1963 Collegiate Chess Championship: University of Michigan

Yoon, Jeonghan

Xu, Minghao

Jeon, Wonwoo

Y/L/N, Y/F/N

Congratulations and good luck!”

That’s your name, you’re on the team. You thought Minghao was potentially exaggerating when he was predicting the team but he was right on the money. Something akin to anxiety bubbled in your stomach, what if you lose? What if you win?

Walking into the room Minghao smiled at you, Wonwoo gave you a thumbs up, and Jeonghan was simply staring at you He couldn’t deny that he was scared of your placement on the team, when it came for the individual matches you potentially have him beat, he needed to play his best set of games in his career.

You took your usual seat at the table you share with Wonwoo and Minghao. Jeonghan’s eyes bored into your skull as you set up your board. Was Minghao right? Did he do all of this as a distraction? Were you really that big of a threat to him? You knew the answer, but that didn’t stop the seeds of doubt from sewing in your mind.

“Congrats teammate!” You heard the smile in Wonwoo’s voice before you saw it.

“Congratulations, Y/N.” Minghao smiled at you as he took his seat next to Wonwoo, “A force to be reckoned with, as always.”

“Thank you both,” you smiled, “congrats to you as well.” You stole a glance in Jeonghan’s direction, he was still staring. He was quick, he saw your eyes, and knowing he got what he wanted he slowly licked his lips and turned back to the board he was setting up with Mark.

Your blood boiled in your veins, Minghao had to have been right, he’s so cocky even with no wins against you under his belt. He must have been banking on you losing your composure, now and at the competition, so you determined right then that you would not allow it. You began to slam the white pawns into their places, earning you sideways glances from your tablemates.

Wonwoo pulled the black pieces out and tried to match your pace, knowing that your patience has run out, for Jeonghan Yoon related reasons he’s sure. The meeting is spent by you beating the boys in a variety of ways and shooting angry glances at the back of Jeonghan’s head. Jeonghan was stealing his own looks in your own direction under the guise of “keeping an eye on the games”. A few times he catches you looking at him, he attempts to soften your face to no avail.

After watching Wonwoo deliver a final checkmate to Minghao, you shot out of your seat and attempted to flee the room as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Jeonghan had other plans. He caught your arm and pulled you to face him.

“Congratulations,” he said softly after he made sure everyone was out of the room.

“Likewise,” you bit, “is that all?” Jeonghan blinked at you, clearly confused.

“What’s wrong?” He asked earnestly, “Aren’t you excited?” You couldn’t tell if he was truly confused or if he was acting again.

“I am,” you nodded, “what do you need? Or can I go home?”

“Right,” his lips pressed into a tight line, clearly no longer in the mood for whatever you decided you were mad about. He pulled his messenger bag to his front and pulled out a bunch of fabric. “I fixed this for you,” he held it out in front of him. You took it gingerly and unfolded it so you could look at what it actually was. The sweater he ruined a few weeks ago. A swooping feeling in your stomach took hold, something between tenderness and anger. You chose anger.

“Oh so you’re stealing from me now?” You snapped.

“What?” He hissed, “I fixed it for you!” He pointed at the top two buttons he carefully sewed back on. He looked like a petulant child if you weren’t seething you could laugh.

“You still stole from me!”

“Y/N you’re missing the point on purpose!” He whined at you, “I wanted to fix my mistake!”

“By making another mistake.” You turned and walked out the door and all Jeonghan could do was stare after you. For once he was at a loss for words.

You’re in over your head, you have to be. You have never felt so unprepared for a set of matches in your life. The day was going to be full, only breaking for lunch and then your schedule thinning out God willing that you get to participate until the finals.

You smoothed your hands over the new outfit you scrounged up money to buy for the occassion. The blouse is pretty, but the main focus is the new trousers. You have never worn pants to a big event before, and you’re nervous for the reactions of the men downstairs. Determined to exude confidence even when you were scared out of your mind you took deep breaths and practiced looking tough in the mirror. You could not, however, forget how out of place you felt at this moment.

You check your watch and mutter a curse under your breath. Snatching your notebook off the hotel bed you tossed and turned in the entire night you bounded out the door. Once downstairs you snaked through throngs of people, picking up bits and pieces of conversations about chess strategy.

You spotted Wonwoo’s head above various members of the crowd and made your way to him and where you assumed Minghao, Jeonghan, and your faculty advisor were as well. Your fingers wrapped around Minghao’s arm and he turned to you quickly.

His eyes lit up seeing it was you, “Y/N, hi” he smiled down at you.

“Hi Hao,” you wiggled through the last of the crowd and up next to him, “did I miss anything?” you look around at the people, trying to spot Jeonghan.

“No, we’re just waiting for table assignments,” he pointed toward the window, “he’s over there.” You followed his gesture and saw Jeonghan talking with the faculty advisor. He looked almost ethereal silhouetted against the window, cigarette delicately perched in between his fingers. You watched them talk for several minutes before you saw an official post a list on the wall opposite you. Jeonghan noticed as well, extinguished his cigarette, and excused himself to look at his table assignment.

The competitors funnelled into a line to check where they will be starting the day. You shuffled in behind Minghao, Jeonghan tucked in behind you. He was trying his best to ignore the new outfit and how good you happened to look in it as the line slowly moved. Minghao quickly found his name and moved out of the way for you to scan the document. You felt Jeonghan pressing against you slightly, clearly impatient and looking over your head. His hand hovered awkwardly over your hip, he ached to touch you even just casually.

Locating your name and your table you exited the line, leaving Jeonghan’s hand hanging in the air before he dropped it. He followed after you silently. Several other competitors were whispering about your outfit, he could hear them plainly even if you couldn’t.

The thing about Jeonghan Yoon was that his reputation proceeded him. Every person in this building knew who he was and what he came here to do today. This type of reputation comes with a healthy respect and a bit of fear. So the dagger-like glances he shot these stupid men were not to be questioned. To their knowledge it was because you were his teammate, none of them were aware of the affection he held for you.

You broke away from your team in order to find the first table, your opponent already sitting on white’s side. Holding your hand out for him to shake you could tell he was cocky, he rose to take your hand. His handshake was firm, an obvious attempt to scare you. Only you weren’t scared anymore, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. The environment was different but the game was the same, and you were one of the best.

The officials signaled for the beginning of the round and you watched as your opponent contemplated his first move. He selected a safe opener; for the first round and knowing nothing about your opponent this was a respectable choice. You tend to play it safe as well, opting for your classic attempt at a queen’s gambit. The match went uneventful for the first several moves, the only sound in the room was several timers clicking at different times. Some players were faster than others, and you were attempting to take your time and not get cocky.

The same could not be said about Jeonghan across the room. He was the epitome of confidence, as he has been every year since he won the first time. Freshly 19 and on top of the world. He always felt like the first win was some unbelievable stroke of luck and then he just continued to win. He realized quickly that he enjoyed winning, almost more than he liked playing the game itself. Maybe that makes him cocky, but he didn’t care. He was making quick work of his first opponent, he was confident and playing defensively. He clicked his timer and watched the man on the other side of the table panic under his gaze.

Jeonghan watched as the man moved his rook across the board. He leaned forward, seeing now that the opponent’s king was unprotected. Jeonghan moved his knight.

“Checkmate.”

Your timer clicked as you gently pressed the button. The man across from you looked perplexed as the board was dominated by your pieces. He figured that this would be an easy win for him, figuring that your university stacked the team so that Jeonghan would have an easier time winning. He was wrong, and everyone else in the room would soon find out if he didn’t find a way to save his own ass and soon. He moved his bishop across to prevent you from queening your pawn on your next turn. His timer clicked. No matter, that bishop was the last piece protecting his king from your rook.

“Checkmate.”

Your name was on everyone’s lips as you moved to your next table. It was almost annoying, all you did was win one game against someone who needed a lot of practice in your opinion. They could start whispering when you were at least in the semifinals. If that first game was any indication on how the rest of the day would go it would be easy to get there. You knew Jeonghan was faring well, because once people were done talking about you they were talking about him.

You took your place on the white side of this board as you were at the table far before your next opponent. Jeonghan watched you from his side of the room, smiling to himself that you won your first match. He slipped a cigarette between his lips and brought his lighter to the end. He dragged on his cigarette as he watched his next opponent take his seat.

Jeonghan lost track of you at some point over the next several hours, as the matches became a bit more difficult he felt the need to focus. While he wanted more than anything to know how the rest of the team was faring, he had to win. This was his last chance, what no one knew was that he was declining the faculty advisor’s offer to continue his career after graduation. He was getting his degree for a reason, and for him the reason was to move on from this part of his life. So finishing with four consecutive collegiate championships under his belt would be great. Only problem here was, unfortunately, you.

You beat Minghao again right before lunch. Things were going incredibly well, much to your surprise. Minghao shook your hand, his smile almost cracking his face. The two of you walked toward the conference room where the complimentary lunch was set up. Jeonghan and Wonwoo were already seated at a table in the corner.

“The sophomore from Clempson” Wonwoo mumbled as Minghao and yourself joined them at the table.

“What about him?” You asked as you reached for the water in the middle of the table.

“Beat me in round four,” Wonwoo sighed, pushing his food around his plate.

“Oh so you’re both out?” You looked between Minghao and Wonwoo, “What about you?” You asked, turning to Jeonghan. Jeonghan shook his head,

“I’m still in,” he turned to Minghao then, “Who got you?” In response, Minghao smirked and pointed a finger at you. Jeonghan’s eyes followed in the direction he was pointing. He tried not to smile and pushed away from the table. You don’t miss the roll of Minghao’s eyes as he watches Jeonghan walk out of the conference room.

“I’ve heard about you,” your first opponent after the lunch break spoke over confidently as he sat down across from you. “A girl at this competition is asinine.”

“Well, I made it just as far as you so far,” you opened your notebook, “and I have heard nothing about you so might as well get this over with.” You brought your eyes up to his, refusing to back down. The man across from you scoffed at your bold reply.

“God are all of you people from U of M like this?” He rolled his eyes, “A bitch and a bastard, you and Jeonghan.” You could punch him, him and his smug face. You bit your tongue to avoid getting yourself in trouble, if you didn’t beat him, Jeonghan certainly would.

The match was quick, he was careless and sloppy, letting the delusion of confidence brought on by sexism carry him to a loss. You thrusted out your hand for him to shake.

“Thanks for the practice,” you smiled, glancing down at your hand. He walked away without taking it. You let your hand drop to your side, trying and failing to hide the fact that you were upset by his words.

“This is my next table,” you heard Jeonghan’s unusually timid voice at your side.

“Oh,” you shuffled to the side, “I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” He blinked at you, “Did you lose?”

“No, obviously not,” you looked toward him.

“Okay,” he chuckled, “then what happened?”

“He called me a bitch, and you a bastard.” You mumbled.

“He called you what?” Jeonghan’s eyes wildly searched the room.

“A bitch, but he also called you a bastard.” You reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he gestured vaguely, “that’s not the point.”

“Drop it, no big deal, I knew this would happen,” you shook your head, “it always does.” With that, Jeonghan watched you walk toward another table. He sighed and sank down into the chair that you just vacated.

Jeonghan was distracted for the rest of his matches, did he make you feel that way? He was sure he did, that first meeting you attended. The difference was that he seemed to light a fire with his comment, whereas this asshole dampened your spirits. Jeonghan could rip his face off, your confidence was one of the best parts of you.

He sighed, moving his bishop across from his opponent’s king.

“Check.”

The man moved his king one space to the left. This allowed Jeonghan to move his rook to trap the king.

“Checkmate.” He muttered, raising from his seat, ignoring the other man’s outstretched hand. He misses being challenged, namely by you, but he won’t admit that to himself just yet. He wandered toward the front of the room, trying to waste time before his next table opened. He caught sight of your concentrated face. He leaned against the wall across from your table and watched the end of your match.

You won, of course you won.

“So your semi finals match against Ms. Y/L/N will start in 20 minutes at the table towards the front.” An official interrupted his thoughts.

“What?” He tore his eyes away from you. “Semi finals is this round?”

“Yes, you and Ms. Y/L/N will begin in about 20 minutes,” he repeated gesturing to the table. Jeonghan didn’t stick around to chat.

“Y/N,” he snaked through people, “Y/N!” He caught your arm, and placed his hands on your shoulders. He was smiling.

“Jeonghan,” you nodded trying to ignore the feeling of electricity coursing through you.

“We’re paired for the semi finals”

“I am aware,” you smirked. Your last match had given you the confidence to let your smug attitude reemerge.

“Dove, please, nothing funny, just a straight up and down match,” he searched your eyes.

“Oh, Jeonghan, this is too important.”

“Thank you, I agree,” he exhaled.

“I need you to lose all on your own, not because I turn you on”

You watched Jeonghan fiddle nervously with his fingers from across the table. He was trying, and failing, to keep cool. On the other hand, you kept eerily calm, you always prided yourself on your ability to seem unaffected by the situation at hand. The breakdown earlier was a mistake you made in front of Jeonghan, one you wouldn’t be making again now.

Once you were given the go ahead you began your opener. Jeonghan felt his stomach drop watching your first several moves, you ditched the queen’s gambit, you weren’t playing safe. He had no idea how to handle this. You watched his fingers falter just slightly, you knew he was freaking out. He might know your game well, but you knew him. He was absolutely out of his depth.

The two of you were well matched, eliminated participants gathered around your table. People who didn’t know your name before today were watching in awe as you made moves that stunned even the man who’s name was on everyone’s lips before he even entered the building that morning.

He knew you could play circles around him, that wasn’t the question anymore, he knew you were better than him. That fact made him furious, and he had to figure out a way to beat you, and quickly because you pressed the button on your timer after claiming his second rook. His fingers twitched and he resisted the urge to make an uncalculated move. He could get a check right now, but he knows it’s flimsy and you could get out of it easily. He settles for capturing your first bishop. You always liked to use your bishop.

You calculated possibilities in your head, and then you saw it. You dragged your queen to the center of the board, leaving Jeonghan no choice.

“Checkmate,” you whispered, you weren’t sure if anyone but him heard you. The moment seemed to freeze, you didn’t dare breathe, just in case Jeonghan shattered in front of you. After what felt like an eternity he dragged his eyes from the queen to your wild eyes.

He rose to his feet and walked out of the room wordlessly. The crowd was silent as you watched him go. Jeonghan Yoon, the reigning champion, was just defeated by a freshman, on his own team. No one knew what to say. You didn’t know what to say, in all honesty. You just sat there, watching the door, willing him to come back, but he never did.

Minghao broke through the crowd and grabbed your shoulders.

“You did it,” he breathed, “Come on.” He pulled you out of your chair. He congratulated you profusely as he held your hand and dragged you back to your room upstairs. “Rest, recuperate, finals begin in a few hours.”

“Make sure he’s okay, Hao,” was all you could muster before closing the door and flopping yourself onto the bed.

“Stop pacing, you're going to wear a rabbit trail into the floor,” Minghao muttered watching you continue your ruminations back and forth.

“What if I lose?”

“Then you lose, that doesn’t take away the fact that you made it this far, beating the reigning champion to do it.” He sighs. You nodded, still not sure if you were okay with coming this far and losing. Minghao watched your opponent approach finally and wrapped you into a hug, “Good luck,” he whispered into your hair before letting you go and taking his place in the crowd next to Wonwoo. Jeonghan was still strikingly missing.

You shook your opponent’s hand and took your seat. The match started quickly, and rather unceremoniously. It almost put your nerves at ease that there was no fanfare, just a straight up and down game just as you had been playing all day.

The match quickly sucked you in, it was as if the rest of the room melted away. The man across from you was good, almost as good as Jeonghan. He was lucky that Jeonghan was paired with you in the semi finals, because you would have a different opponent right now if that weren’t the case. However, this would end up working in your favor, you’ve never lost to Jeonghan, so why would you lose to someone worse?

When you captured both of his knights he knew it was over, he didn’t let it show, but he knew. He knew that you had dissected his game as you were playing him, which was the smartest strategy a player could use. If you were smart enough to watch, learn and adjust as you were playing, you knew exactly what you were doing.

He was almost honored when he heard you squeak,

“Checkmate.” He held out his hand and you took it.

“See you next year, Y/N” he smiled. “Don’t expect it to be an easy rematch.”

“I would never assume anything would be easy,” you smiled back at him, “thanks for the game.” You turned back to the crowd for the first time since the match began. Immediately you zeroed in on someone that wasn’t there when it started. He was smiling widely. The officials prevented you from leaving your table. They spoke to you but none of it registered with you, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jeonghan.

“Smile,” he mouthed to you. Camera flashes explained what he meant quickly, and you turned to smile at them while the officials were talking with reporters. Eventually, everything settled down and you were able to find Jeonghan leaning against a wall near the window. He once again had a cigarette lazily perched in his fingers.

“You came,” you called to him as you approached. His eyes lit up as he saw you and he reached out to smush the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

“Of course I did,” he wrapped his arms around you, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Girls not only can play chess, but they absolutely should, they’re smarter than all of us anyway.” You couldn’t help but laugh, the most freeing feeling after the insane day you had.

“Finally, you see it!”

“Oh shut up, we both know I’m stupid,” you didn’t even have time to agree before he was tilting your head up to give himself access to you. He pressed his lips to yours, a continuation of the apology, showing everyone in the room how proud he was of you and not caring at all who sees anymore.

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shy2-29 · 2 months ago

Text

Why didn’t you text back? ✮ l.hs ⋆

pairing: idol lee heeseung x reader

wc: 4.7k

synopsis: Your idol boyfriend, Heeseung hasn’t come home in days. You keep telling yourself it’s because he’s just too busy with work, after all, being an idol is hard. You’ve grown worried after no texts or calls after 4 days. He finally comes home, not paying attention to you, constantly demanding for you to do things. You confront him, asking him to do better, and he promises he’ll try.

warning: not proof read, mentions of self harm, death (car accident), swearing, arguing, relationships problems, drinking, passing out, harsh language, idol heeseung, mentions of Jake and Jungwon, sexism

genre: angst, drama, romance

rating: 15+

—

Four long days had passed, and Heeseung hadn't returned home. You reassured yourself not to worry, understanding the demanding nature of an idol's schedule. With a sigh, you accessed the messaging app to check Heeseung's response only to discover your message left on "delivered" for the past three days.

You started to worry more, seeing that your message was left on "delivered" for the past three days. Thinking and worrying about it, you started pacing around the room. "He couldn't even answer a simple text," you muttered to yourself, starting to get frustrated. After pacing around some more, you eventually sat down on the couch, debating whether you should call him.

A pang of resignation echoed through your thoughts, whispering to yourself, "He's not going to answer anyways." With a resigned sigh, you switched to Instagram, where you spotted photos from the celebration party with his members and staff. "Oh," you muttered to yourself, rationalizing the lack of response, attributing it to his busy schedule. "He's probably just enjoying himself and got caught up, that's why he hasn't texted—for four days..."

You couldn't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy as you scrolled through the Instagram feed, seeing photos from the party. "He's probably enjoying himself," you thought to yourself, trying to rationalize the fact that he hadn't responded to you in four days. "He must just have gotten caught up in it all." Despite your efforts to convince yourself that it was no big deal, the longer you looked at the photos, the more it only fueled your growing anxiety.

You continued to check your messages in vain, anxiously refreshing the screen in anticipation. Before long, tiredness overcame you, and you found yourself dozing off on the couch, the clock displaying a late hour of 12:35am. Suddenly, you were jolted awake by the sound of men's voices and commotion near the front door. Blinking sleepily, you stood up to find Heeseung and two other members, Jungwon and Jake, entering the apartment, seemingly unaware of your presence.

Jungwon and Jake were clearly visibly drunken as they stumbled through the doorway, giggling and chatting loudly with Heeseung.

"Shut it you guys," Heeseung hushed, trying to shush them but failing to keep a straight face himself. Jake and Jungwon continued giggling as they stumbled around the apartment. They didn't notice you until they saw you sitting on the couch, looking exhausted and frustrated.

"Jesus-" Jake exclaimed, clearly startled by your unexpected presence. "I didn't know you were here..." Jungwon mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact, feeling guilty. Heeseung seemed to tense up upon seeing you, realizing your displeased expression.

A weary sigh escaped your lips as you slunk back onto the couch in defeat. With their inebriated state, you assumed they would likely forget they had even noticed you in the first place.

Jake spoke up, "Damn, she looks pissed..." Jungwon elbowed him, shushing him. Heeseung couldn't help but notice your weary sigh and defeated slouch on the couch, realizing your annoyance.

Jake and Jungwon continued to stumble around, trying to find something to eat or drink in the kitchen. Their noises and clumsiness were clearly irritating you, especially when you noticed them raiding your cupboards and fridge, helping themselves to your food and drinks.

Heeseung let out a huff and turned to Jake and Jungwon, "What are you doing? We have our own food back at the dorm." Jake responded jokingly, "Yeah, but the food at y/n’s house always tastes better," while Jungwon continued drinking from a bottle of water he had found in the fridge. Heeseung shot them a disapproving look, trying to keep them under control.

The kitchen commotion continued as Jake and Jungwon rummaged through the fridge, laughing and chattering loudly. You sat on the couch, growing increasingly irritable by the minute. After a while, you had had enough and stood up from the couch, walking over to the kitchen.

"For crying out loud. Lower the volume, please," you exclaimed, your irritation evident in your voice. "It's almost 1 am, and a girl is trying to sleep."

You approached Heeseung, your finger jabbing his chest as you voiced your concerns. "And you, of all people, should know better," you added sharply before marching off to the shared bedroom.

Heeseung just stood there silently, watching as you stormed off to the bedroom. His expression was a mix of guilt and annoyance. He knew he was in the wrong but couldn't help feeling a bit defensive. Jake and Jungwon continued to giggle innocently, blissfully unaware of the tension.

A dismissive comment was made by Heeseung, a joking tone in his voice. "She's probably on her time of the month," he quipped, disregarding your frustration as if it were simply a byproduct of hormonal fluctuations.

Jake and Jungwon burst into laughter at Heeseung's comment, finding it hilariously outrageous. "Girls these days huh?" Jake chimed in, trying to brush off your annoyance as well.

Heeseung chuckled, taking a sip from a beer bottle as he leaned against the counter. "Yeah, they're so hormonal sometimes," he joked, earning him further laughter from Jake and Jungwon.

You woke with the dawn, only to find Heeseung lying next to you, reeking of alcohol. With a soft groan, you shook him awake, aware that it was already 7am. Knowing his upcoming comeback was drawing near and that he needed to head to the studio early to practice with his bandmates, you understood the urgency.

Heeseung stirred slowly, groaning at the bright morning light streaming through the window. The smell of alcohol lingered in the room, and you could tell he was struggling to open his eyes. You gently shook his shoulder, attempting to wake him up. "Heeseung, you need to wake up. It's already 7am, and you need to head to the studio for practice," you said, trying to keep your voice soft, yet firm.

Heeseung groaned again, burying his face into the pillow. "Just 5 more minutes..." he mumbled, his words slightly slurred from the drinking the previous night. You knew the importance of his upcoming comeback and practice session, so you continued shaking his shoulder a bit more firmly.

“Hee, wake up,” you urged, only to be met with a snappy retort from Heeseung. "Stop being so dramatic and let me sleep for five more minutes!" he grumbled, rolling further away from you in bed.

—

Frustration welled up within you as Heeseung snapped at you. You couldn’t believe the audacity he had after the night before. "Dramatic?" you repeated, a hint of anger in your voice. "You were out drinking with your members until 1 am, disturbing me in the middle of the night, and now you want to sleep in?"

Heeseung mumbled an incoherent response, clearly still groggy and trying to avoid a confrontation. But you weren't having it. "No, Heeseung," you asserted firmly. "You need to get up. You have a practice session with your bandmates. You're already running late, and you should have woken up hours ago."

Frustration boiled over, and Heeseung abruptly sat up in bed, startling you with his sudden movement. "For fuck sake y/n, I'm up, okay?!" he exclaimed, his tone sharp with annoyance.

Heeseung’s sudden outburst caught you off guard. You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his snappy attitude. But you tried to remain calm, "I’m just reminding you about the practice session," you replied, keeping your voice steady. "And you didn’t text or call me.. it’s been four days.“

Heeseung ran a hand through his messy hair, still visibly annoyed. "Jesus christ, it’s not like I’ve been gone for weeks," he retorted defensively. "I just got caught up with work, like I always do."

Heeseung's expression softened as he offered an apologetic smile, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I promise to do better next time, okay, y/n?" he reassured you before rising from bed. "I love you."

He picked up his scattered belongings from the floor and headed to the bathroom to get ready, leaving you alone in bed.

You smiled slightly, hoping for the best. Perhaps this time was an exception, and Heeseung had truly been too busy. Maybe he would indeed do better in the future, you thought to yourself.

The days passed in a blur, each one bringing fresh waves of anxiety and worry. You found yourself cycling through thoughts of whether to reach out to Heeseung, contemplating different ways to communicate, only to be met with silence.

Day 1. He hasn’t come home. Maybe he’ll come home tomorrow..

Day 2. Should I text him?

Day 3. No response, maybe a call?

Day 4. No response to my text or my calls…

Day 5. No nothing, his members are ignoring me as well.

You genuinely wanted to kill yourself. Were you that annoying to be with? Maybe he’s loosing feelings for you..

As the fifth day arrived, you were left with no response from your texts or calls, and Heeseung's members were also ignoring you. Feeling abandoned and questioning your worth, thoughts of self-harm crept into your mind. You grappled with the notion that perhaps you were an annoying presence in Heeseung's life, causing him to lose interest in you.

Day by day, the void of communication left you feeling more and more helpless. Each day you'd hope to hear back from Heeseung, but the silence only grew louder. The absence of his presence filled you with despair and a deep question of your worth.

Why couldn't he reach out to you? Why couldn't he respond to your texts or calls? Why did it feel like his members were purposely dodging your attempts to contact them? The lack of response from Heeseung and his members only added to your growing pain and insecurities.

The lack of communication continued to weigh heavily on your heart, and the days without any response from Heeseung only amplified your fears. You tried to push down the invasive thought of him possibly cheating, but it continued to gnaw at the back of your mind. Each passing hour and day were a constant battle with yourself, wondering if something more sinister was at play.

Maybe you should just end it. End your life. It would be easier for everyone right? But no, that would be too selfish for you. You know better y/n.

You reminded yourself that it wasn’t a solution to the problem and that it would only cause more pain for those around you. Still, you couldn’t shake off those thoughts. The anxiety and despair continued to build up inside you, making it difficult to see any light at the end of the tunnel.

It had been an entire week since you last heard from Heeseung, and no amount of distractions seemed to bring you comfort. You tried watching videos of him online, hoping to find solace, but even that failed to lift your spirits. Seeking refuge in your friends and family also proved fruitless. Finally, you even attempted a self-care day, but the emptiness within you remained steadfast. No matter what you tried, nothing seemed to work, leaving you feeling more lost than ever before.

The loneliness you felt was all-consuming, like a deep void inside your heart. You yearned for Heeseung's presence, but at the same time, you felt increasingly anxious and frustrated with his absence.

You questioned if he was intentionally ignoring you, or if something else was going on that you weren’t aware of. The mixed emotions twisted into a tangled mess inside your chest, making it difficult to think or breathe.

Heeseung finally returned home around 11pm, shutting the door with a weary thud. Exhausted, he settled onto the couch and nonchalantly requested, "Babe, could you make me a tea?" He then preoccupied himself with his phone, seemingly oblivious to your presence in the kitchen. Your mind raced, wondering why he hadn't even acknowledged you upon arriving home. Frustration and confusion coursed through your veins, creating a whirlwind of emotions.

The audacity he had to come back home and immediately ask you to make him tea, all while being completely indifferent to your feelings, made your blood boil. You stood there in the kitchen, your hands clenching into fists, watching him on the couch, his attention focused solely on his phone. The frustration boiled within you, and you couldn’t hold back your voice any longer.

"Are you serious right now?" you replied, the anger evident in your voice. "You finally come back home after ignoring me for an entire week, and the first thing you do is ask me to make you tea? Like nothing's wrong? Like nothing's changed?"

Heeseung looked up from his phone, finally giving you a glance. His expression was nonchalant, lacking any remorse or apology. He shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "What's the big deal? I’ve been working my ass off, and now I'm thirsty."

You couldn't believe your ears. The indifference in his tone and attitude only fueled the fire of your anger. "Working your ass off? That’s no excuse for not even acknowledging your own partner for an entire week. How can you be so ignorant to my feelings and just brush me off like this? Not even one simple text Hee? Just one!”

Heeseung let out a sigh, clearly annoyed that you were questioning him. "Jesus, y/n, I told you I’ve been busy. I don't have time to deal with your clingy behavior right now. Can you stop being so clingy and just make me the tea y/n?”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to punch him in the face. You wanted to grab that phone out of his hand and throw it on the floor then crush it into pieces.

"Clingy?" you repeated, your voice shaking with anger and disappointment. "Is that really what you think of me? I’m just being a concerned partner, you idiot! And the fact that you can’t even spare me a moment of your time to text or call me is what makes me 'clingy'? How do you not understand how incredibly inconsiderate that is?”

Heeseung's expression hardened, his patience starting to wear thin. "Oh, I’m sorry that I’m not always available to cater to your every need. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, y/n. I’ve got my own life and responsibilities. Can you just shut the fuck up and make the tea? It’s not that hard.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The disrespect and indifference in his tone made your heart ache. How could he treat you like this?

"So that's what I am to you? Just a needy person who constantly needs your attention? Just someone you can push aside whenever you're bored? What happened to when we first started dating? When you used to make time for me no matter how busy you were? Was that just an act? Did you fake all of it?"

"Can you get off your phone and look at me for once, Lee Heeseung?" Your words echoed with a mixture of determination and frustration, as you used his full name to emphasize your dissatisfaction.

Heeseung rolled his eyes and reluctantly put down his phone, finally giving you his full attention. He looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and irritation, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Happy now?" he said, his voice sharp with annoyance. "Is that what you wanted? To have my undivided attention?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your own anger before replying. "Yes, I am happy that I finally have your attention. But not because I’m being needy and clingy, as you so charmingly put it. It’s because you’ve been MIA for a week with not a single message, no update, nothing. And you had the audacity to come home and pretend like nothing is wrong?"

Heeseung shrugged again, his aloofness continuing to grate on your nerves. "I was busy, okay? I had work and other commitments. I didn’t have time to text you every waking moment. Can you stop making such a big deal out of this? It’s exhausting."

Every fiber of your being was alight with anger, your hands instinctively forming tight fists. Your voice rang out in a near demand, "That’s it."

His nonchalant response only added fuel to the flames. "What's it?" he asked casually.

You responded coldly, your words cutting like a knife: "Get out of my house."

His expression faltered for a brief moment, surprise crossing his features before he quickly regained his aloof demeanor. "Your house," he repeated, his voice laced with mockery. "Funny how you’re so quick to kick me out, huh? Where do you want me to go at 11pm with no warning?"

Without hesitation, you replied acerbically, "Oh, I don't know, perhaps back to your dorm with your members? I'm quite certain they'd be absolutely thrilled for you to stay there."

Heeseung's annoyance turned into a mix of anger and disbelief. "Are you serious? You want me to go back to the dorm? After I’ve been away working my ass off? You’re really kicking me out like this? Are you that pissed at me just because I didn’t text you for a week?"

A tear escaped, betraying your attempt to hold back your emotions. Quickly, you turned away, refusing to let him witness your vulnerability and exhaustion.

Heeseung’s expression softened slightly as he saw the single tear trickle down your cheek, but his annoyance persisted. "Y/n, seriously?" he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Are you really crying over this? It’s not even a big deal."

You spun around to face him, your voice laced with anger and hurt. "It’s not a big deal? It's not a big deal? Do you even realize how it feels to be constantly ignored and put aside by the person you love? To feel like they don't even care about you anymore? You think it's okay to just disappear for a week without a single word, and expect me to act like it’s all fine and dandy?"

Heeseung's eyebrows furrowed, his irritation growing once again. "Oh, here we go with the dramatic bullshit again. I didn't "disappear," y/n. I was working. I had responsibilities that I couldn't ignore."

You clenched your fists, your frustration reaching its peak. "And I’m asking for the bare minimum, Hee. Just a text to let me know you're alive and haven't completely forgotten about my existence. Is that seriously too much to ask for?"

The floodgates of your emotions burst open, spilling your heartache onto the floor. "Do you even love me anymore? Or are you just saying it so I can provide you with food and water, and serve as a source of stress relief at your convenience?"

Heeseung's expression hardened, his annoyance now replaced with anger. "Are you seriously questioning my love for you just because I didn’t text you for a week? Do you think love is measured by how many texts and calls someone sends? Are you really that shallow?"

The pain and anger in your voice echoed through the room as you exclaimed, "This isn't the first time you've done this! Last month you disappeared on me for a whole month! Do you even understand how worried I was? I passed out from worry! But I bet you didn't know that, did you? Because you're so fucking full of yourself!"

Heeseung's eyes widened, genuine surprise taking over his features. "You passed out from worry?" he repeated, his tone shifting from annoyance to shock. "You’re kidding, right? Why didn’t you tell me?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you spoke. "It's hilarious how you're pretending to care now," you spat, the words dripping with derision.

"Y/n-"

"Don’t y/n me!" you cut him off, refusing to give in to the familiarity of your name on his lips.

Heeseung fell silent, his expression a mixture of guilt and defensiveness. He had clearly not expected the conversation to take this turn, and your outburst seemed to have caught him off guard.

"Y/n," he began, his tone softer this time. "I-"

You cut him off again, your anger still burning brightly. “Don’t. Don’t say my name like that. Don’t use that gentle tone with me now. You’ve been ignoring me for a month. A whole two fucking months! I’ve been worried sick, wondering where the hell you even were. And it’s happening again now!”

Heeseung’s defensiveness resurfaced, and he snapped back, "Can you give me a break for five seconds, please? I’ve been working non-stop, y/n, and I just needed some space. I didn’t want you hovering over me every single second, nagging me to text you. I have my own life and responsibilities too, you know."

A frustrated explosion of emotions welled up inside you, manifesting in a stomping of your foot. "Fine! Stay here all you want," you huffed. "I'm going to find somewhere else to stay." Without another word, you snatched up your phone and stormed out of the house, left with no concrete plan nor belongings.

Heeseung called after you, his voice filled with annoyance and concern, "Y/n, where are you going? It's pouring outside!"

However, you were too caught up in your own emotions to listen, your feet carrying you away from the house and into the pouring rain.

The rain soaked your clothes and hair in seconds, but the coldness did little to diminish the fiery anger and hurt that consumed your heart. You continued walking, unsure of where you were headed or what you were going to do. All you knew was that you needed to get away from Heeseung, if only for a moment to gather your thoughts and calm your racing heart.

—

Time passed, and a week had flown by since Heeseung last laid eyes on you. Oddly enough, the absence didn’t weigh heavily on his mind, as he was completely immersed in the preparations for his comeback, engrossed in the company of his members and consumed by their upcoming cochella performance.

Curiously, Heeseung noticed the absence of your usual daily texts and calls. When he checked at home, expecting to find signs of your presence, there was nothing. Inquiring with one of your closest friends yielded no information either. Confusion and a hint of concern began to stir within him.

Heeseung tried to focus on his preparations, but a subtle sense of unease hovered over him as the days passed without any sign or word from you. He had grown accustomed to your regular texts and updates throughout his busy schedule, and the silence was now deafening.

The more time went on, the more concerned he became. His fingers itched to message you, but he held back, wrestling with his own stubbornness and pride.

Heeseung's phone rang, the screen displaying a mysterious number. A young female voice greeted him, asking, "Hello? Is this Lee Heeseung?”

"Speaking. Who is this?"

"A young lady was involved in a car accident a few days ago, and her name is y/n? You were listed as her only emergency contact..."

Heeseung's heart dropped in his chest at the mention of your name. “What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “A car accident? How bad is it? Is she okay?”

The news grew more dire as the voice continued. "She's currently in a coma," the voice revealed grimly, "She might not survive sir..."

Heeseung felt like he had been punched in the gut. "Coma?" he repeated, his voice hoarse. "What? No, no, that can't be..."

His mind reeled with a flurry of emotions – shock, disbelief, and a deep, painful regret. Why had he let two months slip by without even a thought of you? And now, hearing that you were fighting for your life in a hospital room...

In the background, Heeseung hears an urgent beeping, followed by the panicked mutter of a doctor. "Oh no..." The words hang in the air before the call abruptly ends, leaving him with the name of the hospital and a sense of growing anxiety.

Without hesitation, Heeseung grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. Every cell in his body was filled with dread and guilt. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not when he had neglected and ignored you for so long.

As he drove to the hospital, his mind raced with a million questions and regrets. He cursed himself for not reaching out sooner, for letting his pride and stubbornness get in the way.

When he finally arrived at the hospital, he practically sprinted towards the nurses' station, desperation fueling his every step.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice strained. "I need to see her. Please."

The doctor's words hit Heeseung like a ton of bricks. "I'm sorry," the doctor said, his voice grave, "We did everything we could, but she didn't make it. The injuries were too severe, and she passed just a few minutes ago."

Heeseung felt a wave of nausea wash over him. No. This couldn't be true. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He had meant to apologize and make things right—to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he had taken you for granted. But now, it was too late.

Literally was so angry making this | masterlist

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daycourtofficial · 9 months ago

Text

Deceptive Domestication

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 7.7k | Warnings: sexism, misogyny

Summary: The two of you have to pretend to be a married couple for a mission. Can you live with this false reality? Or will your feelings for Azriel eat you alive when it’s over?

Author’s note: started making it, had a breakdown, bon apetit

“Angel, where are you?”

Azriel’s deep voice moves on the wind, finding you at the back of your cottage. You twist the new ring adorning your fourth finger, the skin beneath it showing no tan lines, “I’m back here, just one second!”

Azriel laughs, his voice sweet and full of honey, “the wife’s an avid gardener. When we were first considering moving here, she insisted we check the soil to make sure she would be able to have her prized blackberries.”

You appear from the side of the house, wiping your hands on the apron around your dress. Azriel’s arm reaches around you, clasping you on your shoulder as you get next to him.

“He’s right, I love my blackberries greatly,” you say, reaching out to shake hands with your new neighbors. They lived in the house closest to yours, a red thatched roof adorning the black building. Delicious smells came from it, and judging by the smoke from the chimney, they were likely preparing dinner when they saw you two.

“We just wanted to come by and meet the two of you, we saw you come in last night and wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Arben,” the male points to himself, “and this is my wife, Alija.”

You nod to both of them - they looked to be a good bit older than you and Azriel, wrinkles adorning their tanned faces. “Thank you, this used to be my Uncle Sal’s home. Since he passed away recently, he left the home to us and we wanted to leave our home village.”

“I’m so sorry about Sal, sweetheart,” he says, a sympathetic look in his eye, “he was a nice male, talked about you all of the time. Alija has to finish dinner, but we’ll see the two of you around, yeah?”

You press your lips into a firm smile, nodding before pressing into Azriel’s side and turning back to the house. His arm on your back guides you to the door of your new home, his touch a familiar warmth amidst all of the new. Once you cross the threshold, shutting the door behind yourselves, Azriel’s hand falls from your back and he immediately puts distance between you two, walking towards the bedroom he was staying in. His smile drops, the air in the room frigid. Rhys’s words clang through you, a shock to your senses.

Go to this village as a married couple. I’m unsure how long it will take.

You jolted as Azriel slammed the door behind him. Sighing, you move to your own room, taking in the bags left to unpack. You had taken great care to pack enough to last you as the season changes. The two of you were here indefinitely, marooned in a quaint village of about forty-three people.

Move in, become friends with the neighbors, find out what you can.

There was a circle of villages in the western part of the Night Court where females kept disappearing - six had gone missing in the last month. The villagers were not speaking to outsiders, but Rhysand thought a long term mission might allow the spies to get close enough to get some questions answered.

So he decided on you and Azriel.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

It had been strange seeing Azriel play this version of a spy, even if it had only been a day. You were so used to him lurking in the shadows, it felt so strange to watch him play the part of a doting husband, and to do it well. Introducing you to the neighbors and random villagers, a hand kept on your skin at all times - on your lower back, your waist, your shoulders. It was so easy to get swept up in the illusion you two were selling - even you were convinced you were newlyweds, moving for a fresh start.

Until he slammed his door, reminding you it was all fake, a farse for information.

Things between you and Azriel have always been easy. You two were the best of friends, most of your free time being spent with him since joining the Inner Circle two years ago. The two of you spent countless nights sitting together when sleep wouldn’t find you, you two had even developed a code - open bedroom doors at night were a silent invitation for the other to come in, spending most nights in each other’s rooms, wrapped up in sheets that smelled of the two of you.

All of that ended very suddenly a few months ago. Suddenly his door was always closed to you, your own cracked every night. A call to him, begging him to acknowledge you.

You started keeping your door closed a month ago. It didn’t feel right, shutting him out, but clearly you had done something wrong. Your entrance into a room would cause him to leave immediately, changes in his training schedule to avoid you, abruptly turning around when he saw you.

It was all pissing you off.

The rest of the Inner Circle were just as clueless as you were as to what happened to cause Azriel’s sudden distance. Cassian tried to interfere - making plans with both of you for dinner at a restaurant and ditching, trying to force you two to spend time together.

Azriel just left once he caught sight of you.

That was your tipping point. You stopped going to training, you pulled back from family dinners. They were his family first, and you wanted to give him whatever space he needed. Everyone protested, telling you it was his problem, and in Cassian’s words “if he’s going to be a jackass, I don’t want him around anyway.”

Still, you retreated, hardly seeing much of the family you had forged over the past few years. No matter how much it hurts you to do so.

Once you began accepting this new Azriel-less reality, Rhys had called you into his office. The high lord looked almost conflicted, your entire family aware that something weird was happening between you and Azriel. None of them dared to ask Azriel, his darkened mood making it incredibly easy to anger him, and anytime they asked you they were met with a shrug and a soft, “I don’t know.”

All of them had been scratching their heads, desperate for an explanation for the sudden iciness between you two. It had been weeks of this, and everyone missed seeing the two of you exchanging whispers in the corner or watching Azriel’s shadows wind through your hair.

Which was why Rhysand decided to insert himself into the situation. He called you into his office, and after asking you to take a seat, he began asking after your week. Your eyebrows knitted, confused about the formality of it all, when you realized you haven’t actually seen Rhysand in almost a month.

You had taken up residence in the House of Wind - since you were a scholar it lended easy access to your work, and whenever you wanted to leave, you asked Azriel to ferry you around. You tried to remember the last time you saw anyone in the inner circle that wasn't Cassian or Nesta, and it was when Cassian offered to fly you into town to get lunch with Feyre three weeks ago.

You’re not certain how to tell Rhysand the past few weeks had been filled with silence, whatever happened between you and the shadowsinger led you to avoid Cassian and Nesta, avoid training, avoid anything that wasn’t being buried in your work in the library.

You look into violet eyes, and you check your mental shields because he’s looking at you as if he already knows how sad this whole situation has made you.

You take a deep breath, shrugging. “Time is passing, I suppose.”

Rhys’s face falls a bit at just how dejected you sounded. It wasn’t supposed to be like this - they all knew there was something between you and Azriel, they all saw how you two gravitated towards each other. Neither of you would open up about whatever it was that shifted things so quickly and easily and it was pissing all of them off.

“I need your help with something.”

It was the best plan they could come up with to try to salvage things.

You woke up early the next morning, determined to tend to the garden before the sun reached its peak in the sky. You had plans later in the afternoon to meet with a few of the women of the village, but you had to get to working on this garden. There was no time table on this mission, and the two of you only had food stores to last you a few months.

If you were to be stuck in this purgatory that long, you needed new food to replenish whatever you use.

Your story to tell the villagers was that the two of you were quite young from the other end of Illyria. The two of you were extraordinarily lucky that one of the older fae males in this village happened to pass away a few weeks ago, allowing the two of you an easy in. You merely reviewed some family records, and were posing as his beloved niece, here to lead a new life with her husband.

You tended to the garden behind the house - the weeds had grown wildly in the previous owner’s absence. Your ‘uncle's absence, that is.

You spent all morning pulling weeds, making quite an improvement to the garden before you decided to go in and make yourself lunch. You came in, rinsing the dirt from your fingers, the water feeling nice against some of the minor cuts you acquired outside. After drying off, you pulled out a loaf of bread, slicing the bread to prepare some sandwiches.

You hummed to yourself, trying to fill the silence of the house. It wasn’t large - a quaint two bedroom house with two bathrooms, a nice little kitchen, and a sitting room. You were a bit surprised at how well the interior of the house had been maintained by your ‘uncle’.

Azriel was headed with the rest of the males to the war camp, spending his day training as a lesser ranked Illyrian. He was glamoured to look enough not like himself to the other Illyrians that they wouldn’t think anything of him. You had also glamoured some of Azriel’s siphons, only allowing one on his chest to remain. He was not happy about it, not wanting to seem so much weaker than he truly was. He wouldn’t listen to any of your points about it, but Rhys eventually convinced him to allow your glamour to cover six of his siphons because “it’s quite obvious who you are”.

Azriel’s refusal to listen to even your opinions on the mission was grating. You wanted to get to know the local females, and Rhys agreed with you, but Azriel kept arguing that ‘it wasn’t safe’.

Stupid Illyrians and their stupid pigheadedness, you suppose. If you’re not supposed to speak with the other females, why were you even here?

You knew this mission would be difficult for Azriel - his hatred for his own people fueling centuries of anger and resentment. You thought being trapped here was an appropriate punishment for how he had iced you out of his life.

You had just finished making your sandwich when there was a knock at the door. You brushed your hands down your dress, glamouring wings back to life behind you, breathing deeply before you answered the door.

An Illyrian woman stood in your doorway, her dark curls slightly hiding her tanned face that was turned down. She was taller and broader than you, but still small for an Illyrian. Her demeanor told you they treated her that way as well. Her wings were tucked in tight behind her and her shoulders shook lightly before you.

Her voice was weak as she told you, “we go every day, bringing lunch to the males, if you wish to accompany us.”

Wish.

You knew the reality of coming here - you knew they would give a few days of grace to settle in, set up your garden, bereave your uncle before they assigned you to a chore rotation. In communities like this one, everyone had to pull their weight.

It was just astonishing how ‘pulling your own weight’ made the females seem two to three times heavier than the males.

You nod your head to the female, closing the door behind you as you meet her outside. You had no idea where the war camp was, knowing it mustn’t be too far from the village. You vaguely remember Azriel and Rhys discussing the three villages that filtered into the camp, how all three were short walks from the villages.

Dirt crunches beneath your boots as you walk alongside the female, her deep brown eyes downcast towards the ground, shoulders hunched to make herself as small as possible as you walk. “What’s your name?” You ask, your voice causing her to flinch. Her eyes were wide as they looked at you, shock at being addressed you presumed. It was astonishing how awfully they must treat her, because her face resembled a wounded dog’s.

“Kaltrina.” Her words are mumbled, and you have to strain your ears a little to hear her.

“Kaltrina - it’s nice to meet you. Um, are you married?”

Not your usual first question, but around these parts marriage was as good as social standing. Also any unwed women over the age of 24 were considered ‘unwanted’ or ‘untameable’. This village was harsh on women - even by Illyrian standards. The males of this village made Devlon look forward and free-thinking.

“No, not married. I live with my brother, Dardan.”

Her tone didn’t suggest anything about him, but you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. She offers you a smile and a soft nod, “is your husband nice?”

You offer the same soft nod before you hear her say, “he’s quite good looking, too.”

You pause, trying to remember everything Cassian and Rhysand had told you about Illyrians to prepare for this - they told you males were incredibly territorial, treating their wives more like trophies and laborers rather than spouses. A male would take this as a compliment - one mention of a good-looking wife would be something to boast about, mentioning it more than once would be an offense.

But how did the females treat their husbands, how did they speak to each other about them? It was the biggest gap in your knowledge, but you suppose you can explain away any discrepancies on how far away the two of you came from.

“Yes, he’s quite pretty.”

She giggles at your words, and you feel a swell of pride at getting it right. She walks next to you, standing a little straighter for the rest of the walk.

The two of you made it to the war camp, joining the other females to distribute food to the males. The males look at you like you’re not much more than a piece of meat or some dirt on their boots, but your eyes scanned the crowd for Azriel, not finding him the entire time you’re there.

You do get a chance to speak with a few of the females as you all head back to the village, carrying leftover food with you. Most of them seem to welcome you - suggesting what crops grow best in the area, telling you to reach out if you need any help with anything.

The other females head off at the fork in the road, telling you and Kaltrina they would see you the next day. You breathe deeply, looking to Kaltrina once more. She hardly spoke once the two of you had met up with the other females at the war camp, keeping her distance from them the entire time.

“How’s your brother?” You ask, the innocent question causing Kaltrina to flinch.

“He’s a fine male.”

Her answer feels so dry, so rehearsed. You don’t press the issue, changing topics instead. “How will you spend the rest of the afternoon?”

“Chores.”

You listen to the birds singing around the both of you, their song a beautiful melody across the skies. You eventually pass a house similar to your own, but a bit smaller, the roof not well cared for. Kaltrina gives you a small wave before turning down the path to her house, disappearing behind the door.

You kept walking towards your own house, but you did see her appear in the window briefly, watching you walk down the road. It made the hairs on your neck stand up, but you quickly looked forward again, making your way back to the house, determined to finish unpacking this afternoon.

You had finished unpacking by the time you heard the door open, Azriel traipsing through the house.

“Hello my loving husb-“

Your sarcastic words die as you turn to see his face, a cut on his lip and a black eye. He shakes his head, trying to tell you it’s nothing, and he starts moving to just head to his room, but you’re not having it.

“We have some bandages in the bathroom.” Your words don’t have a command in them, but he heads towards the bathroom. You pick up a bottle of alcohol, dabbing some on a rag. You motion for him to sit on the edge of the tub, and he goes.

You’re a few inches from his face, the closest you’ve been in months. His scent was so comforting, you just wanted to wrap yourself in it and stay for a while. He stays silent, his face a blank slate you could slap any emotion to.

His shadows have been having fun whizzing around the house. He had told them they had to stay completely hidden if they were to come to the war camp with him, otherwise they had to stay in the house or go off wherever they wanted. They didn’t like the options, but most of them stayed with him, tucked into his boots, his pants, the hilt of his sword. Now that he was back, they scattered across the house, energetic wisps of darkness moving through the house, through your hair, against your skin.

“What happened?”

He huffed, his fingers dancing on his thighs in irritation. “I’m a new male, they’re just seeing if I can take it.”

You nod, and from the irritation in his voice, you know he’s shutting you back out. You hold the alcohol covered rag up to his lip, cleaning the blood from his face. He had healed a good bit since he received the beating, and you notice his knuckles are bloody.

Hopefully he put up a good enough fight.

“I went with some of the women to the war camp to distribute food.”

His eyes snap to yours, his wings rustling behind him. His eyes were dark, a look to them you’ve never seen directed at you. He reaches his hand up to your wrist, his grip tight but not uncomfortable.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

You’re taken aback by his tone - even if your relationship was tenuous, he never took such an aggressive tone with you. In all your years of friendship, the most strain in his voice you had heard directed at you was when you were free climbing up the cabinets of the kitchen to get to the top shelf for some cookies.

“Because Rhys thinks-”

“I don’t give a damn what Rhys thinks when it comes to you, I said it was a bad idea and to stay away from them.”

“They’re battered females, Azriel! The males treat them like dirt! And their friends and sisters and mothers have gone missing. I can help them, I know I can - that’s why we’re here!”

His hand tensed around you before he pulled his hand away from you. He looks away from you, his harsh breathing echoing through the small bathroom.

“You’ll only get yourself hurt by talking to them.”

He snatched the rag from your hand, pushing past you out the bathroom and into his room, slamming the door on your once again. You want to scream or stomp your feet at how ridiculous he was being.

“I’m not a kid you can boss around, Azriel.”

His silence didn’t make you so certain about that.

The next week goes by much like your first full day in the village - you wake up after Azriel’s gone, tend to the house (your ‘uncle’ left it in semi-decent shape, but it did need a few repairs), head with Kaltrina to the war camp to feed the males (where you were even able to meet Kaltrina’s brother and several of the female’s husbands), and spend your afternoon preparing dinner for the two of you.

You’re not on speaking terms with Azriel after his outburst while you cleaned him up - every day he’s returned with some minor cut and scrape, and all you do is point to the alcohol and provide him with fresh rags. You won’t clean him up yourself, you’re too pissed at him for that, but you still urge him to do it himself

You still care, despite it all.

Despite the ice between you and Azriel, the females of the village began opening up to you, accepting you as one of their own. You join them every day to serve lunches to the males, and several of them even invited you to their homes to help teach you how to cook with the regional vegetables.

“Your husband’s too skinny,” one said, “I’ll teach you how to cook.”

You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but you took it for what it was - an offering. You spent the afternoon with her, learning how to smoke pig ‘the correct way’. She had told you her name was Bora, she and her husband have lived in this village for several centuries, and she has had many, many smoked pigs.

“None compare to my family recipe.”

She was quite intimidating, and you could tell she took shit from no one, not even her husband. You were touched that she would share her family recipe with you so readily, thinking perhaps she took a special interest in you until another female stopped by and, after telling her Bora was teaching you her family recipe, she told you, “it’s how she inaugurates new females to the village’.

You were less touched and your ego deflated a bit, but you were still grateful she would spend so much time with you. The afternoon flew by, time not registering as you helped Bora peel her vegetables while the pork cooked.

You looked up, noting the dark sky through the window, dropping the zucchini. “Oh no,” you mutter, running out of the house to the road, eyes wide to find Azriel running up the road, blades drawn. His siphon was glowing in the dark, it’s cobalt blue blazing with intensity.

He was frantic, and you could have sworn you saw his shadows frantically zipping around him, moving in and out of houses. His body visibly relaxes as he spots you, rushing towards you. His arms wrap around you, crushing you into an embrace. His breathing is ragged, “I thought- I thought- you-”

His words come out choppy, but he pulls back, his hands on your face. He’s breathing hard, trying to string words together. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement.

“Is everything alright?”

Bora’s voice startles Az, and one of his shadows whips into a defensive position before you shoo it away. He quickly collects himself, moving one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you to his chest.

“Sorry, I got worried when I got home and my wife wasn’t there.”

He pats your hair, his hands combing through them softly. “Just need her to be safe, s’all.”

Bora nods, perhaps more understanding than she should be of Azriel’s concern. “Ah, to be newly married again. She was safe,” she turns away before adding, “she’s always safe here with Bora.”

The older female waddles back inside for a moment before coming back out to the two of you, the tray of pork and vegetables on it. “Here’s dinner tonight - Bora’s family recipe.” She winks at you, and the two of you politely thank her before heading back to your house. You carried the tray, but Azriel kept both of his hands on you the entire walk back.

The walk back is mostly quiet, Azriel’s heartbeat slowing as the adrenaline leaves his body. You swivel your head around, noticing no one out in the village at this hour.

“Why were you being so nice and touchy to me out there and anytime we see the neighbors?” Your words come out barely more than a whisper, but you knew he heard them. “The men in this village hardly view their wives as more than livestock, it might be more suspicious for you to be so nice to me.”

He turned, just enough for you to see the side of his face, to watch his mouth as he said, “I could never do that to you.”

You spent the rest of the walk in silence, spending the entire time dissecting the way he said “you”.

Your house with Azriel is still quiet, the two of you living separate lives behind the oak door. Sleeping apart, eating dinner in different rooms. You two only spoke when you were outside of the house.

A few days after cooking with Bora, you and Kaltrina were headed back to the village from the camps for lunch when she offered to help you make dinner.

“I want to say thanks, for being my friend.”

Her words make you feel terrible over how strange you had found her. Maybe she was just awkward. You weren’t sure, but you knew you’d be safe inside your own home, so you agreed to let her stay.

The two of you prepare dinner, Kaltrina seeming a bit nervous as she skitters about your kitchen. You make idle small talk, but the air in the room seems so off you can’t put your finger on it.

“What will your brother be doing for dinner tonight?”

She looks a bit downcast as she tells you, “he has plans tonight, he’s eating at his friend’s house.”

Her tone tells you not to ask anymore, and you don’t press the issue any further.

The two of you eat in silence, Kaltrina’s eyes moving around your house, taking in every detail. She excuses herself to the bathroom, and you show her where it is.

In Kaltrina’s absence, Azriel makes his way through the front door, his shadows beginning to spread throughout the house in contentment. You quickly shake your head at the tiny wisps that come to you, sending them back to Azriel. You point towards the bathroom, jerking your head at the noises from behind the door trying to tell him someone was here.

The water runs, and Azriel quickly moves across the room, his arms circling your waist. Your eyebrows pinch, but you quickly relax them as Kaltrina leaves the bathroom. Her steps halt at seeing Azriel, her eyes wide at his sudden appearance.

“Kaltrina, this is my husband. Valon, this is my friend, Kaltrina.”

He nods to her before squeezing your waist and giving a swift kiss to your temple. Kaltrina’s eyes linger on the display of affection, not breaking contact even moments later. Azriel rubs your back, eyes fond as he looks to you, “I’m going to head to bed, take your time with your friend, but don’t leave me waiting too long.”

Was that a signal? You two slept in separate rooms - what did his words mean? You lean up, kissing his cheek before rubbing at his jaw and nodding. He turns his attention towards Kaltrina, “it was nice meeting you Kaltrina, my wife is quite fond of you. Have a good night.”

Her mouth is slightly ajar, her cheeks a harsh shade of red as she squeaks, “good night.”

Azriel nods at her and he slips into your bedroom, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You turn back to Kaltrina, her eyes lingering on the door to your bedroom, and you could almost feel the yearning radiating from her.

“Come on, we should clean up a bit.” The two of you head into the kitchen, cleaning and scraping the dirty dishes from earlier. You two work in silence, the only sounds in the room are the scrubbing of pots.

“Your husband seems quite nice.”

Her voice is full of want and yearning. You stop cleaning pots before you, Kaltrina’s eyes fixed on you until you look. She turns her eyes away, looking back to the pots.

“Yes, he is very kind.”

“He’s unlike any of the males around here.”

This conversation felt a bit dangerous. Azriel said it was fine, that he couldn’t treat you the way any of these males treat their wives - like servants, like cattle, like nothing. But you knew the females of the village would notice how he treated you, if they haven’t already. You start to wonder if they had noticed, discussing the odd outsiders, figuring the two of you out, getting you-

“He’s very good-looking.”

Kaltrina’s voice startles you, and you look to find her not even looking at you, gazing off to some point on the wall. Had she meant to say that out loud? The two of you finish up cleaning, although it is mostly you doing the work, Kaltrina’s gaze is lost somewhere on your kitchen wall. You quickly escort her out, wishing her a good night. You offer to walk her home, but she declines, saying she’ll be fine on her own.

You close the door behind her, taking a deep breath. Azriel was in your room - your room - the one with the unmade bed, clothes haphazard around the space. You two used to frequent each other’s private chambers, but now you can’t recall the last time he laid in your bed, perused the books on your shelves, or sat in the chair in the corner of your room at the House of Wind.

You push open the door to find him pacing in front of your bed, his shadows lounging lazily on your bed. You nod to him, picking at your fingernails.

“I think it’s Kaltrina. I think she’s the one doing this.”

“Kaltrina?” His voice is full of surprise and misunderstanding. “You think Kaltrina, that little thing is behind all of this?”

“Yes! I just.. Don’t know why.. The way she talks about you…”

“We can’t go off of silly little feelings when convicting someone of a crime, you know.” He stands in front of you, his wings blocking the light from the candles, casting shadows across his face.

“I’m well aware-”

“You have to think - where would she keep them? How could she overpower so many Illyrian women? And besides, why does it matter what she thinks of me?”

Your anger was bubbling to the surface, his condescending tone leading you to yell out, “what the fuck is your problem, Azriel?”

He looks at you, turning away quickly while muttering, “we are not doing this here.” His shadows are ever so slightly trying to push him back towards you, but he ignores their attempts, plowing through them to your kitchen.

“No, I think we are doing this right here, right now. I’ve let too much shit go by and I can’t keep acting like everything’s okay anymore.” You take in a shaky breath. “I’m tired of pretending. Just tell me whatever it was that I did that made you hate me and we can move on!”

“No.”

His curt reply annoys you even more, and you’re directly in front of him poking his chest.

“Just tell me what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s clearly not the case.”

He groans in frustration, running a hand down his face, but you are unrelenting in your pursuit for the truth.

“We were friends, you used to like spending time with me. I don’t know what happened that made you hate me-”

“I don’t hate you.”

You laugh, “well you could have fooled me. For months everyone’s been asking me what happened between us, and I have no clue! It’s like you woke up one day and decided we couldn’t be friends anymore!”

“That’s not what happened-”

“Oh, it’s not? So you were pretending to be my friend while you secretly hated me before cutting me off one day?”

“I HAD TO.”

His eyes were wide with an almost feral-like look to them. He looked almost more beast than fae.

“I had to. Those fae that were trafficking females and males, they… “ His hand shakes as he curls and uncurls it, his scarred fingers twitching with the motion. “One of my spies found your name in one of their notebooks, reported it to me immediately.”

His ferocity is turned on you, hazel eyes looking into your own, as if he was searching through your soul. “Don’t you get it? They know you, they know who you are.” His voice raised an octave, squeaking, “because of me.”

“So, what? Because someone knew that I was important to you, you cut me off?”

“No it wasn’t-“

“Oh, no, was it that someone pointed out to you that I was important to you and you didn’t like that?” Your voice was raising, getting louder, but you couldn’t care.

“That’s not-“

“I’m a big girl, Az, I deserve to know everything before making decisions. I don’t deserve my decisions to be taken from me.”

“Will you let me speak?”

His shadows were covering the windows, the doors, the walls. His chest was heaving as he tried to get the words out, tried to make you see.

“I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“So instead of explaining this to me, you cut me off like I meant nothing to you? Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Why couldn’t you tell me-”

“You would talk me out of it! Convince me it was in my head. I needed you to be safe, for cauldron’s sake!”

You sniffle, eyes catching on the door. “I have a lot to think about,” is all you say before storming out, closing the door behind you. You walk from the house, your boots sinking into the grass at your feet as you walk aimlessly around the village. Your thoughts whirled and swirled of Azriel’s words, your hands pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Hey, there.”

You whip around, fist raised, to find Dardan looking back at you. You quickly drop your fist - he could still tell the others you showed defiance towards him and you’d be in a lot of trouble.

“Oh, hey, Dardan, right? I must not have heard you. How are you tonight?”

You try to make your voice sound as pleasant as possible, as feminine as possible.

“Just taking an afternoon stroll,” he muses, “care to join me?”

You look around, noticing you’re much further from the village than you intended. Even though you were a married female to the rest of the village, it was still disrespectful towards your husband to be seen on the outskirts of town with an unmarried male.

“Um,” you start turning around, your gut trying to tell you this was wrong, wrong, wrong. “Actually, I should get back to my husband. I need to start working on dinner soon.”

You turned your head just in time for something hard and metal to make contact with it, the last thing in your vision was the ground before complete darkness.

Your head was killing you, your neck at an unnatural angle as you opened your eyes. The room was dark, but still too bright for the pounding of your head. You take a deep breath, trying to note your surroundings.

Your hands were bound behind you, some fabric you should be able to easily pull apart. You were on the ground, some dirt beneath your body as you laid on the cold ground. You began tugging on the fabric, trying to maneuver your hands to slip through the knot.

“Tug all you want, we got a talented witch in these parts.”

Your body goes cold at the voice.

Dardan.

Fuck.

You want to slam your head on something, but there’s nothing. Your breathing speeds up, your mind moving through all your interactions with Dardan.

You thought he was nice. He had been amicable to you at the war camp, you barely even thought of him during this mission. You thought it was Kaltrina. How could you have gotten things so wrong?

He smiles as he watches your brain try to figure things out. His smugness was a new look for Lee - one that made him look very unattractive. “We knew one of Rhysand’s dogs was bound to show up at some point, just didn’t think they’d bring a pretty bitch like you with ‘em. Color me surprised when my little sister brought you around.”

You snap at his words, “bitches bite.”

He goes by to sharpen whatever knife he was wielding before replying. “We got big plans.”

Dardan wouldn’t say more than that, continuing to sharpen his blade before inspecting it. Once it was to his satisfaction, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you from the ground. You scramble, trying to get your feet on the ground, kicking at the dirt he was dragging you across to gain some footing. His pull on your hair was unrelenting, even as your arms flailed back trying to hit him.

Eventually you’re able to get your feet beneath you, trying to keep up with his steps. He opens the doors to the structure you were kept in, the light of dusk surprising you. There was no way to tell time in that barn.

“It’s almost sunset, girl.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, trying to take a big inhale so you can scream. The sound was piercing - a loud screech coming from you. Dardan just laughed. “Screech all you want, no one’s around for miles.”

Rhys’s words echo in your mind.

Stay close to Azriel.

A warning you had forgotten when you stormed off. Dardan’s tight grip brings you towards a clearing full of other Illyrians from the village you had been staying in and several of the nearby villages. You’re about to call, to beg them for help, when you notice six of the males are each dragging a female in some way towards the center of the clearing. You can’t see over the wings and heads in front of you, but the crowd parts for your eyes to land on a stone altar with ancient languages carved into it.

The crowd gave enough space for the six Illyrians to stand in a circle around the altar, each one cradling a woman by their neck with a blade pressed to it. You start fighting back against Dardan, trying to scratch him, hit him, but he throws you towards the altar where two winged males stand, catching you in their arms easily. You throw out your hand, making contact with one of their jaws, a soft “bitch” hissed at you.

You throw your bound hands into the other one’s gut, but the first one grabs your elbow, twisting harshly. You struggle in the hold, winding your head back to headbutt him, but the other one grabs your head, holding it in place. You start kicking your legs out, hoping for any kind of contact, but a male from the crowd comes up and catches your ankles.

The three males hold onto you, moving you on top of the altar. Your movements do nothing to stop them as they clamp down your feet, moving towards your hands, shackling them to the altar as well. Your pleas to be let go fell on deaf ears.

You turn your head to the left, two of the females coming into your view. Their wings twitched as their captors held them, not much fight in them. You yell to them, begging for them to fight back against the males at their backs. Tears stream down the side of your face, leaking into your ears as you watch their complacency, what they’ve been conditioned for.

Nausea rolled in your stomach at the idea of how long they’ve been aware of this fate. These girls have been missing for weeks and months of their lives, kept Mother knows where to beat them into compliance.

They stood at attention, knives to their throats, unmoving.

Your eyes water seeing Kaltrina amongst them, her eyes downcast.

It was sickening.

Dardan comes from the crowd, looking down at you over the crook of his nose. He raises a knife to your throat, your skin nicking on the blade as your breathing quickened.

“Any last words?”

You look up at Dardan, mustering every ounce of defiance onto your face as you pull back, spitting into his smug face. His face falls for a moment before wiping the saliva off. Dardan looks towards the sky, “just a moment until sundown. If only your pretty little shadowsinger could be here now, to watch you become the ultimate sacrifice.”

Breathing gets harder as the seconds tick by, knowing the sun will set at any second. You felt a cool breeze blow over you.

Not a breeze.

A shadow.

“Get your fucking hands off of my mate.”

Your heart stops in your chest, something sparking deep within you at Azriel’s growl of warning in a tone you’ve never heard from him before. Dardan’s knife is still pressed to your neck, but you’re able to move your eyes enough to see wisps of shadow pulling the knives away from the necks of the other females in the circle.

You tilt your head back, barely able to make out Azriel standing behind Dardan, his shadows angrily darting all around him. Several more of them make their way to you, almost cloaking you in the scent of their master.

Dardan’s arrogance doesn’t balk at the sight of Azriel, his grip on the knife tightening.

“You can drop the ‘mate’ act, freak,” Dardan spat out, his words causing the shadows to whirl in agitation. “We need her-”

In a flash the shadows coating you slithered up your torso, slithering around the wrist that held the blade. They pulled the wrist away, the knife narrowly avoiding slicing your throat. At the same time, Azriel moved for Dardan, his fist connecting with Dardan’s jaw causing a crack across the clearing. Dardan hit the ground, but Azriel dove after him, landing punch after punch.

In the chaos of the fight breaking out, the crowd was in hysterics, all of the males attempting to fly or flee, pools of shadows surfaced at their feet, tripping them up, their bodies slowly disappearing into the darkness. Some of them tried to crawl from the darkness, but to no avail. The crowd quickly went from about 30 males to just the six females left, all unharmed, huddling together for some form of protection.

Azriel was choking Dardan out, scarred fingers forcing the breath from Dardan’s lungs. “I will enjoy taking my time with you.” Azriel’s words hung in the air as Dardan slowly slipped into the shadows underneath him, but Azriel remained on the grass. He quickly got to this feet, most of his shadows gone, likely to keep the Illyrian prisoners in check.

He stumbles over to you, quickly undoing your binds before wrapping you in his arms, pulling you from the altar.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” are all he says, his words repeating as you feel tears fall onto your shirt. You gripped him just as tightly, finding it easier to breathe in his presence for the first time in ages.

“I can’t live in fear anymore.”

He lunged for you, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s rushed, full of fear and trepidation.

But by the cauldron was it warm and full of life.

He pulled back, wiping spit from his mouth, his fingers covered in blood pushing the hair out of your face. “When I heard that your name was on one of those books, the bond snapped for me. I flew in a rage, killing all those traffickers. But I knew there were more like them out there.”

His eyes were full of regret, “I should have told you, but I thought you’d be safer not knowing. Then I figured this mission was my last time to actually have you, to play pretend.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of it, pulling him in closer to you. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling that deep smell of cedar that you adored more than anything. It felt like coming home.

“I’m still pissed at you for not telling me.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound you haven’t truly heard in ages, “can I make it up to you? I won’t keep secrets from you ever again.”

He holds your face in his hands, his own eyes wet with tears. One of his hands pulls away, his tan skin radiant in the moonlight. You bring up your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You keep your eyes on his, “no more secrets. From either of us.”

He nods, a bargain tattoo beginning to snake its way on your skin.

“No more running.”

The tattoo wove its way on your skin, dark tendrils solidifying where your forearms meet. When you pull your hand away, the tattoo is incomplete, missing the gaps where Azriel’s arm belongs.

Much like a one-sided duet, your tattoos look empty without the other there to complete the song that echoed in your chest, the song that hummed at the sight of him. The bond didn’t feel so much like a snap as a slow sinking, as if you had finally opened your eyes after so long.

Wrapped in his arms, the two of you had a lot to figure out - the females, what to do with the strange occult Illyrians, but the two of you could do it.

He promised - no more running.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading 💕

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

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m-ilkiee · 4 months ago

Text

E-boys Ruined my Life: Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader

Chapter 1: Love at First Sight

[series summary]: you had a crush on Megumi for so long, you hoped you would meet him again. But now, as you stand before him, you realize that Fushiguro Megumi is not the same kid as he was at fifteen- he was taller, broader and far more handsome than ever. And a whole lot meaner to you.

[synopsis]: Being friends with the IT GIRLS as a first year has a lot of perks; new friends, a popularity boost and crossing paths constantly with your high school crush after many years apart, Megumi Fushiguro. this is a heavily edited and revised chapter.

[cw]: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, aged up characters, classism - elitism, sexism/misogyny, unhealthy body image, violence, mentions of bullying and suicidal ideation, slut shaming, objectification, parasocial relationships, gaslighting, manipulation, sex between characters, brief mention of teenagers fooling around.

[r-18+] (not suitable for 17 and under)

[wc] 13.5k

[masterlist] [chapter 2] [taglist] [playlist] [main]

THERE’S just something so thrilling about having positive attention.

Each step you take down the campus quad has heads turning your way in awe. Decked in original pink juicy couture tracks, white Nike sneakers with pink highlights and your white hermes bag hanging off your arm, you strutted onwards with your head held up high. Everything about you screamed perfection, from your proper posture to your brand new hair-do, to your freshly microbladed brows, to your light ‘clean girl’ makeup that accented your best features, down to new manipedi you got.

Things you took care of no matter how much pain or discomfort you were in. And it was worth every hot wax pulled off your skin.

All eyes were on you, stopping in their tracks just to admire your beauty. You could hear whistles and compliments being thrown at you from all sides, but you pay no mind to them, instead scanning the surroundings until you spot a familiar blue haired girl sitting at the edge of the quad with the other girls. She notices you as well, breaking into a smile as she waves you over and you make your way to their spot excitedly, plopping yourself on the bench besides your friends.

The IT girls of Wilhelm Baldwin University; that’s what the school dubbed your group, made up of the most popular girls in the school.

“Honestly, you’re one of the only people who I’ve seen wear a tracksuit and still look hot with it.” the blue haired girl, Miwa, spoke, her eyes admiring your outfit. She was the sweetest girl you’ve ever met, coming from humble beginnings and doing everything she could to support her family as the sole breadwinner.

She started creating lifestyle and baking content on her tik tok as a way to pass time when she was bored, only for her to grow big overnight, appearing on shows, tours and other events. Now she settled to go to school, wanting an education and she makes lifestyle content about her chaotic days in university.

Everyone knew her as the nice girl of the group, always willing to let people down gently and helping people who asked. To outsiders Miwa was a saint. To the inner workings of your group, she could be a little misguided and thick headed at times. Despite all that, she’s your closest friend and the first ever person you met on college campus, long before you became popular.

“It’s juicy couture Miwa. Of course it’s gonna look good. Well on someone as hot as (name).” A blonde haired girl who was sitting across added.

Momo Nishimiya, a trust-fund baby whose parents practically own the legal world in the palm of their hands. With her father as a rather influential senator and her mother as the chief justice of the nation, Momo is set for life. You never let her five foot appearance fool you; just like her parents she was vicious, smart and could pull just the right strings to get people to do what she wanted.

Not even her dad was safe. The cherry red sports’ car sitting in the school’s parking lot is a testament of how convincing she could be.

You’re glad she was an ally and not an enemy.

“I’m just shocked that new money is finally wearing something original.” the girl with the short green hair sitting next to Momo says with a sly grin, her mocking tone grinding your gears.

Mai Zenin, the leader of the group and the bane of your fucking existence. Coming from a long line of generational wealth of the Zenin’s, Mai is the President of the biggest sorority in the nation, the Zeta house, a business major at the top of her class and an olympic gold medalist in the shooting range category.

It didn’t help that she was also gorgeous and her pores were effortlessly clear, because by god was she infuriating and you wished there was just something you could say to knock her down a peg.

Cocking her head sideways, Mai’s pink lips curled up into a smirk as she placed her chin on her propped up hand. “It is real Juicy Couture, right?”

“It is real.” You quip back in a sickly sweet voice, returning a strained smile and resisting the urge to just jump her. “I thought old money could recognize real from fake, guess you’re not that good at spotting the difference.”

And then there is the newest addition to the group, you, (name) (last name). From the generous nickname Mai gave you, you’re new money after your mother married your step-father, a highly controversial marriage to the media. Being the youngest and only freshman to ever join the group without being in Mai’s sorority, you’ve garnered attention within just months of entering the university.

You would think you would have done something noteworthy for the entire school to notice you; but no that’s not what happened.

You’re popular because you’re the hottest girl on campus.

No seriously.

There was a stupid ranking of the hottest freshman girl and you won. Not a sorority sister or some girl rushing for a sorority, nor a much more wealthy socialite who had years of money to keep looking hot. You assumed that with the world’s weird beauty standards you would barely be noticed, which was fine, but somehow the university decided they liked you and they liked the way you looked.

You went from being a homebody glued to your screen to being invited out by other girls to gatherings, getting free things on campus and being asked out every 3-7 business days.

And who was Mai to ignore the opportunity of a rising star?

Mai laughed at your clap back, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned back on the picnic chair. “Don’t be mad at me, I saved you from a scandal by giving you valid criticism. Imagine if the tabloids caught you wearing fake Vancleef, ‘(Last name) - Nanami caught wearing a dupe, is the mother-daughter duo still stuck with their penny pinching ways?’ Is that the kind of news you’d want following you around, new money?”

You gritted your teeth in frustration, recalling exactly how you got into that mess which heavily involved Mai Zenin. “You were the one who sent me to that store in the first place.”

“I was trying to teach you how to tell what’s a dupe and what’s not. And it’s paying off. You look so much better in original clothes.”

“Why you-”

“Ladies enough! Hearing about dupes makes my head hurt.” Momo cuts in, ending the argument before it could escalate any further. Both you and Mai instantly back down from the heated argument, still glaring down at each other. “And where is that pledge with our drinks? I’m really not in the mood to get through the day without my fix of espresso.”

“You’re just antsy cause you pulled an all-nighter with some project.” Mai teased her blonde friend, suddenly in a good mood again. “I told you to give that shit to some poor nerd who needs the money to do it for you.”

“I’d rather not. Most of them are so mediocre in their academic papers, it makes my skin crawl -”

You tune out the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear the two girls talk about how poor people are dumb losers and how much better they are compared to people of lower class, picking up your phone and going straight to instagram. Mindlessly, you scrolled through your feed, only liking pictures of hot guys, your friends and food content, really nothing out of the ordinary with your feed.

Sometimes you wonder if this was going to be your college experience.

You had barely just entered school and already you were at the top of the food chain, which was good for you. Being the newest socialite, you knew it would be hard for anyone to respect you.

It was different for someone like Miwa, who made the money by herself. She had more respect from wealthy people, than you who by proxy inherited it by your mother marrying into money.

Your dumb luck has saved you from being known as the gold digger’s daughter and you’re grateful for it.

Anyone would kill to be in your position right now and yet, you feel like you’re wasting away. There are so many restrictions attached to the lifestyle you’re living, so many clubs you can’t join because you let Mai dictate what you can or can’t do.

“The Wilhelm Baldwin University Theatre is inviting you to our play production, Legally Blonde on 26th Nov 2024.”

You hover on the instagram post on your school’s official account, staring at it sadly as you think about your situation. Something twists in your heart at the e-poster, a solemn smile making its way to your face. A distant past where you would have jumped at the opportunity to be involved in the arts flashes back into your mind.

‘Perhaps there is truly a price for fame and popularity…’

“Hey, isn’t that the play by the University’s theatre club?”

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts by Miwa, but soon your shock turns to annoyance when you realise she was looking into your phone while you were distracted. Before you could reprimand her, Mai and Momo quickly shifted their attention to what she had said, clearly interested in the newest information, their faces twisted into ugly smirks.

“Those Juillard wannabees are hosting a play? That’s rich. What are they gonna do? Another shitty rendition of Romeo and Juliet?”

You internally cringe at Mai’s scornful tone but you couldn’t deny her words. Your school’s theatre program is rather underfunded, putting more money in your cheer team, football squad and fraternities. Only people either on scholarships or who are currently knee-deep in college debt make up the majority of the program's occupants.

Another difference between class divisions in this school.

Before you could say anything to change the topic, Momo snatches your phone from your hand and takes a good look at the poster. “They’re doing Legally Blonde?? These bottom feeders are literally cosplaying a socialite. Be for real”

The two girls burst into laughter, nearly knocking over your expensive iphone as if it’s the funniest thing on earth. Miwa bites her lip, a look of guilt crossing over her face the moment she sees your fists clenched underneath the table in annoyance. You’re quick to take slow deep breaths, counting from one - ten as the two older girls continued to berate the play between scornful laughter.

“Wait wait, let's check the casting…” Mai says between gasps, scrolling to see the people playing the characters. A feeling of dread washes down your body when you see her sneer at the first picture. “Hana Kurusu is the person they picked to be THE Elle Woods? THEY picked a girl who wears shoes from goodwill to play Elle woods? Who casted this?”

‘I’m pretty sure they don’t base their criteria for casting based on where you get shoes from’

“She’s not even close to being hot.” Momo adds, her tone tinged with pure disgust. “I can’t believe they picked her.”

“Maybe she’s a good actress.” Miwa says in a dead tone, trying to salvage the situation. The older girls look at Miwa as if she’s grown two heads, before sighing and shaking their heads like she’s an impetuous child. “Look, Miwa-chan, I know you’re a sweetheart but you know none of those theatre kids have any talent. They take in anyone, ANYONE. New money can agree with me on this one.”

All eyes turned to you, expectant of your answer. Anxiousness creeps onto your skin as the spotlight is put on you, all your anger dissipating as Mai’s gaze burns deep into your soul, waiting for you to agree with her. As much as you’re usually going toe to toe with Mai, you know your spot with the IT girls was still tentative. This is one of the arguments that could make or break you; while she loves being challenged, Mai will never forgive you if you show sympathy for any person she considers beneath her status.

On one hand, you could risk Mai genuinely hating you and making her your enemy by telling her the truth, that Hana truly has more talent than Mai ever will.

On the other hand…

You plucked your phone from Momo’s hand, taking a good look at the picture before throwing your phone aside dramatically, gagging in disgust. “Ewwww, that’s the girl that wears that ugly sweater from Costco three times a week. I hope her acting isn't as ugly as her fashion sense.”

Your comment breaks the tension, making the three girls - yes even Miwa - bark with laughter, nearly losing their minds at your reaction, sealing the deal. You settle into a small smile as the pledge brings your drinks to the table, placing your frappuccino in front of you. You carefully sip your drink, washing down the bitter taste of guilt with its sweetness.

‘Keep your friends close and wealthy friends with connections closer.’

ZENIN Megumi hated Trending Tuesdays on the T with a burning passion.

He hated a lot of things, to be fair, but this was at the top of the list of things he hated. It was like a dick measuring contest that some of his classmates did in high school, only on a much larger scale involving a bunch of grown adults who should be doing something better than watching the latest trend on a thinly veiled gossip blog masquerading as the school’s website.

The fraternity usually got louder during Trending Tuesdays, hollering about the newest girl they considered hot and who was not or what guy did the craziest thing. Usually on these kinds of days, Megumi would go up to his private room and smoke whilst blasting music or playing League of Legends, but now as the president of his fraternity, he has responsibilities. He has to be present, even if it killed him on the inside, at least to encourage this stupid bonding activity or whatever his vice-president, Yuuji Itadori told him.

“Aren’t you going to show the slightest interest in Trending Tuesdays?”

Speak of the devil.

Megumi turns his attention from the book he’s reading, “The Godfather” to Yuuji Itadori. The pink haired man had always been there for him since Megumi moved schools; even as he fell into deeper darkness as he spent more time with the Zenins, he and that crazy bitch Nobara stood beside him. Yuuji was the more fun one, much more cut out to be the president of the Fraternity in Megumi’s opinion, even though he’d say otherwise. He has been so invested in Trending Tuesdays as a tradition and perhaps that’s why he wants Megumi to be more involved this year.

“You want me to huddle over a phone with other guys to see what girl half of the fraternity will jerk off to tonight?” Megumi crosses his arms. He knows he’ll cave eventually because it’s Yuuji, but he’s not going to make it easy for him either. “Isn’t my presence while this madness is going on in the common room enough?”

“Come onnnn! Toge’s gonna put it on the TV anyways so you won’t have to rub shoulders with people” Yuuji groans childishly, making the dark haired man roll his eyes in response. Sometimes his friend can be so irritating whenever he wants him to do something, especially if it involves socialising with people. “We just have one more year before we graduate, aren’t you in the slightest curious about it?”

“No.”

“But it’s like a team bonding exercise! Besides, you might see a girl you’ll actually like in this school.”

Megumi almost wants to laugh at Yuuji’s statement. It’s just as ridiculous as the elders in the Zenin family who keep insisting for him to at least have a main girl so that the future of their bloodline is secure. Only that Yuuji thinks that Megumi is only sleeping with different girls cause he hasn’t found the right one yet.

At least the Zenin’s are not naïve to his real intentions.

“As long as it's not school sanctioned, I don’t care.”

His blunt tone deflates Yuuji’s cheerful mood once more and for a brief moment Megumi thinks he’s worn Yuuji down, returning to read his book in peace.

“PleasePleasePleasePleasePlease-”

Sick of Yuuji’s incessant nagging, the dark haired man barked out “I’m coming, I’m coming!” throwing the novel aside and storming off, Yuuji following behind with a shit eating grin.

THE second he enters the common room, the once chattering room goes silent.

Megumi isn’t new to his frat brothers fearing him. He is not a particularly friendly face with his usual grumpy expression and towering height, and he has the personality to match, quiet with a stern personality. It could be his policies that make them instantly shape up whenever he is around, scared that he’d lash out at them at any moment or expel them for the slightest mistake.

It’s not like their fears are unfounded though. But he only punishes annoyances and as long as they stay out of his way and his room, they’re safe.

They clear the way for him and Yuuji, letting them walk to the largest chair in the common room, greetings of “Good day President” “Good day vice-president” echoing throughout the room. Yuuji is the only one that responds, telling them to loosen up. “We’re just here for trending Tuesdays. No one’s gonna get in trouble today for being rowdy, right, Zenin?”

“We’ll see.”

A white haired male was already perched on their usual seat, brows pinched in concentration as he connected his phone's bluetooth to the television. The man raised his head, his sour expression quickly turning to shock when he saw Megumi standing in front of him. He looked from Megumi to Yuuji, discarding his phone to put a hand in front of his face, bending his fingers in and out, his lips mimicking Megumi’s usual grouchy frown.

“How the hell did you get Mr. Grumpy out of his room for Trending Tuesday? You didn’t offer him a free fuck like one of his whores, right?”

Megumi felt his eye twitch as Yuuji snorted at the comment. before rapidly signing back. “Fuck you, Toge.”

Toge rolled his eyes at Megumi in response, before moving aside so that he and Yuuji could sit and the common room goes back to their chattering as before when they realise Megumi wasn’t doing any official duties today.

Toge Inumaki was a senior majoring in robotics engineering, their fraternities treasurer, as well as a grade one menace to society.

People make the mistake of assuming he’s a quiet guy because he doesn’t say anything and think he’s this sort of mysterious and cool person who keeps to himself, not knowing that he’s mute, deaf in his right ear and partially deaf in his left, always donning his hearing aids. Toge doesn’t bother clearing up the rumours, rather taking glee in watching people try to get close to him to get him to ‘open up’, only to be horrified when they realise his disability and feel immense guilt right after.

Yuuji had tried talking him out of it, but he defended his actions with, “That’s what they get for treating me like a social experiment. They wanna be friends with the quiet rich kid to get favours.”

Megumi doesn’t blame him. Ever since meeting Toge, when he moved high schools, he knew that people either treat him as the introverted project they want to take on or the poor disabled kid who no one understands, but never a human being.

Sometimes, people would straight up not believe him that he can’t hear them without his aid because he’s “too cute to be disabled”.

Even his parents are weird around him, never once attempting to learn sign language themselves since it would be too ‘tasking’.

It hasn’t damped Toge’s sense of humour regardless. Anyone who knows Toge and knows sign language knows that the white haired man is a talkative with a filthy mouth. He’s a prankster and pledges are advised to avoid him, seeing as they’re the most susceptible to his rather cruel jokes.

Girls seem to like him though, if the irritating screams of pleasure that keeps everyone else up at night every time he has a study partner were anything to go by.

Toge goes straight to the school’s website, the T and the website comes up, a large TRENDING TUESDAY typed in cursive letters was at the top of the blog post. Realising that he was out of his element, Megumi turns to Yuuji to ask “So how does this work again?”

“Well, trending Tuesdays are all about who is or are the most influential students in school today. Whether it’s pranks, or the cutest couple or even someone that did something impressive today, it all depends on who had the most impact. They write a short blurb and say something about the person.” Yuuji doesn’t turn his attention away from the screen as he continues. “You’ve always been in the top three since you entered this school.”

“Is that so?”

Megumi shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile on his lips. Sure, he hates the T and thinks it’s a pointless program but being at the top without even trying feeds his large ego a little bit.

Toge scrolls up the page, ignoring the people at the hundredth place because they’re obviously irrelevant and gets to the top twenty. A picture of a girl with white hair in short bob wearing a white sweater and black pants in one picture, and a blonde wig in another wearing a hot pink suit in another comes up.

‘Hana Kurusu, the head of the theatre club is the first to spearhead a high end production of legally blonde. While we’re really happy for her, let’s not get our hopes up, this play is going to be garbage fire-’

Megumi quickly tunes out the rest of the post and the rest of the frat talking about how the musical will be dog shit, not really interested in anything about Hana. Sure, she’s a decent fuck and she does whatever he wants, including keeping her mouth shut about their arrangement but that didn’t mean he cared about her.

“Damn, they really ripped the theatre kids a new one. I don’t think they deserve that” Yuuji murmurs.

“The T didn’t lie, I tried giving theatre a chance for a hot girl who was super into it. I ended up taking off my hearing aids mid-performance because I didn’t pay to hear such shit acting”

“Toge!”

“It was a shame, she had really nice tits but she can’t sing or act for shit. Instant turn off. Why do something you’re shit at?”

Megumi nods in agreement, replying to Toge’s argument. “Only broke kids join theatre to be part of something. The fee is low and they think they’ll make it in Hollywood since they schooled here.”

The rest of the top 15 were uneventful, apart from Yuuji at number 6 who practically broke a school record in track and field, set up by the fastest runner in ‘08, Zenin Naoya - Megumi’s shitty cousin amongst the sea of shit family members he has.

As usual, Yuuji shrugs it off despite everyone screaming in shock and congratulating him, saying it's not a big deal. Maybe it’s because he’s a beast at almost every sport he touches that he’s so humble with his achievement. All his years of knowing Yuuji from high school, he has always remained humble and friendly, never letting his success get to his head.

He’s sure if Naoya ever finds out, he’d be pissed.

Good.

Finally they make it to the top five, the most anticipated people that everyone is always curious about. Usually, the top five is not just about achievements, it’s about looks, it’s about charisma, it about how much people thirst over them.

They encapsulate the true shallowness of the student body.

‘At number five, it’s Momo Nishimiya. Winning the debate nationals and making it as the head of the national model UN, there are big things awaiting the beauty with brains from the IT girls group. I’m sure I see another cherry red sports car in ms. Nishimiya’s future or another trip to the Bahamas as a celebration! Make sure to post those Bikini pics babe’

“Preferably the latter.” Some of the frat boys murmured, their voices dripping with lust that it’s nearly pathetic. “I’ve got to see her in a bikini again or I’ll kill myself.”

‘I hope you do, you’re actually annoying.’

Megumi doesn’t stop them from being nasty little perverts though. In his opinion, it's just the way boys talk, especially when they’re with their fellow guys.

It’s not like they mean any harm by being horny.

‘At number four, making it to the cover of Independent and a guest appearance on the Tonight Show, Mai Zenin. Well, are we really surprised to see ms. hot stuff, perfect ass at the top?

Running the school with an Iron fist, Mai, the leader of the IT girls has always maintained her relevance from the second she won an olympic gold medal in shooting range. A mixture of grace and smarts, there is always a spot for her in the top five.’

Megumi sighs the second he sees Mai’s magazine cover; wearing a rather sexualized version of a chesogam, she leans on a chair with her legs crossed, the long slit giving view of her long legs. Her smile is sultry, never reaching her eyes.

He has never seen her ever smile genuinely before in all the time he spent in the Zenin household. Not that he blames her, the way they treated women in that place was nothing to smile about.

The frat boys all but bark at her pictures, each hungry for something, shouting profainities about how much they want to fuck her. Itadori opens his mouth to say something, but Megumi clamps a hand over his shoulders and tells him to settle down. “Don’t worry, let them have their fun. It’s nothing serious.”

Normally Megumi would stop them, but he thinks they’re cute. They’re so cute thinking they even have a chance with Mai of all people. If there was something Megumi liked about Mai, it was that she had standards.

If she was going to be treated like shit, might as well be treated like shit wearing Louis Vuitton and Hermes.

He turns his attention to the next one on the list and his smile instantly drops the second he sees Maki at number 3. The T has a weird habit of pitting Maki and Mai against each other, and while Maki wouldn’t care about this shit, Mai does.

The Zenin’s had imprinted it that women must be in constant competition for affection because how much they are loved is how much they are valued. Maki thinks everything the Zenin says is bullshit, including that whole line about affection. Mai, however, is a different story. She has internalised that information so much that she spends so much time caring about her reputation to her detriment.

‘At the proud number three is our nationi8nal MMA champion, Maki Zenin! This week she defeated the previously undefeated title holder, Sena. I’m not usually into muscular women but goddamn does she look hot while beating in someone’s face with her fists. Step on me mommy-’

Uncomfortable with reading the rest of that sentence, Megumi quickly signs desperately with Yuuji laughing at him in the background. “Scroll up, scroll up.”

Luckily for him, Toge also seemed uncomfortable because the last thing he wants to see is someone thirsting over his best friend and scrolling away, landing on the number two name on the list.

‘And coming up to the number two is Zenin Megumi, the school’s resident mysterious hottie who happens to be recruiting new pledges for the Alpha Beta frat house.

How he divides his time between posing for the house of Gojo’s fashion line, shirtless and at the same time stays on top of his business class is some what a mystery, not that I’m complaining though cause FUCK HE’S HOT…’

Megumi groans in his hands as a picture of him posing shirtless with flared jeans, whilst manspreading comes on screen for the entire frat house to see.

The entire house grows quiet, before whispers of “is it okay to have a crush on our president- in a manly kind of way?” And “he looks so majestic, that’s our president! I need his gym routine-” start floating in the air, only making Megumi grow more annoyed, almost as if he’s not in the room with them.

Yuuji places a hand on his shoulder with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying watching Megumi suffer. “Don’t be shy. You should be proud of your-”

“Shut the fuck up and tell Toge to get that shit off the screen before I hear another person ask if it’s okay they get off to pictures of me.”

Amused, Yuuji turns to Toge, signing Megumi’s message to which he lets out a weird snort like laughter, before scrolling up to the moment everyone has been waiting for: The number one spot. He can hear some people drawing in a deep breath, waiting for the next person until the blurb flashes on the screen.

“At the number one spot; the stunning beauty of University that has gripped our hearts and our nether regions. Voted the sexiest girl on campus the second we saw her in the freshman group taking a tour, (Name) (Last name)-Nanami!

Dressed in a cute Juicy Couture that makes her ass look juusst right, (name) has taken the entire school and the socialite scene by storm.

By the way, happy belated eighteenth birthday princess. Now that you are legal, I can proudly say I and the majority of the guys in this school have jerked off to your birthday bikini pics with zero guilt. And also, thanks to you the juicy couture section in the mall not too far away and the goodwill a few blocks over is sold out. You’re an icon babe, keep being you.’

“FUCK YES IT’S HER AGAIN!”

“Please, please, please marry me (name), I’ll dump my girlfriend for you! Fuck I’ll set a car on fire for you-”

“I hope her nudes leak or something, that’s the only way I’ll see her naked because she’s way too good for me.”

Megumi doesn’t think too much of it, ignoring all the crazy things his fraternity brothers are saying. But someone else has an opposite opinion.

“Oh God, not her again.”

Megumi raises a brow, curious at Yuuji’s reaction. It was strange for the friendly man to sound so annoyed over someone, especially somebody so new to this school and seemingly beloved by the student body. Usually, he’s the one to have qualms about the person and Yuuji would have to talk him into being less suspicious about the person.

His friend had no malicious bone in his body. Or maybe there’s a side to Yuuji even he doesn’t know about.

“You don’t sound too happy.”

“No… that’s not what… you don’t know who she is, do you?” His pink haired friend only groans in response, increasingly getting more agitated for some reason. Megumi shakes his head negatively in response and Yuuji sighs. “Remember when my dad got married like last year? That’s my step-mom’s daughter … my step-sister.”

“Oh”

Back in December it was trending news that the owner of the best winery in the world, Nanami Kento was getting married to a deaf, single mother. The Zenin’s were pissed because Nanami chose ‘damaged goods’ over the barely legal teen they arranged so that they could partner with him. But since Megumi wasn’t interested in such a topic and he was just happy the elders were miserable that winter, he didn’t bother to look into it.

No wonder Yuuji looked more irritated with every passing moment. The pink haired boy always seemed to be concerned about his family members whenever the tabloids said something nasty about them and was fiercely protective of them. It could be why Yuuji doesn’t bring her around the fraternity house or barely mentions her, so that people won’t try to use him to get to her.

“She’s just eighteen Megs.” Yuuji’s grave tone rouses Megumi from his thoughts. Poor guy, it’s really bothering him, what’s going on with his sister. “It’s not been up to three months since she got here and the comments the T has made about her body are disgusting. She pretends like it doesn’t bother her but I’m sure that she hates it deep down.”

He can relate to Yuuji right now; back in high school he would overhear guys talking about how much they want to screw his sister.

Unlike Yuuji though, he wasn’t as patient.

“Don’t think too much about the T’s comments” Megumi reaches a comforting hand to Yuuji. Even though he’s sure the girl doesn’t give a damn about his friend, he has to ease the pink haired man’s nerves somehow. “Maybe she truly doesn’t think it’s too much of a big deal. She could be like that, you never know. Plus you know how the T is. They’re obsessed with the next hot thing and then they fall out of love with it.”

Besides, Megumi figures you’re just a shiny new thing that’s trending now. And the thing about trends is that when there’s nothing interesting or fantastic about them, they die out. ‘Yuuji has nothing to worry about’ he muses to himself. ‘You’re probably not that pretty to last long-’

The second Toge puts your picture on the screen, Megumi finds himself eating his words.

The admiration of your image by the other frat members becomes nothing but background noise as he stares at the t.v utterly transfixed. Your features were distinct in a way that could only be described as ethereal, breathtaking, exotic. You’re wearing cute juicy couture sweats, something he thinks looked utterly tacky and overdone by all the blond girls in this school and yet you make it look expensive, like you’re the only one he wants to see it on. Your lips are pulled into a pretty smile that lights up your eyes, only highlighting your best features like your cheeks and your nose.

He’s not one for looks, but by god you were one of the most gorgeous girls he’s ever set his eyes on.

“No wonder you keep hiding her from us.” Toge signs, also nearly astonished by how beautiful you look. “Your sister is fucking hot man.”

“Not you too, Toge, she’s barely eighteen, leave her alone-”

Megumi ignores the argument going on behind him, opting to keep looking at your picture. As much as he’s captivated by your beauty, there’s this nagging feeling at the back of his mind that there’s something familiar about you. He can’t shake off the coincidence that you have the same first and last name as someone he used to know and you look like the prettier version of that person.

‘It can’t be her.’ He denies it in his head. The girl that he knew all those years ago would never have been able to afford this university’s tuition without incurring a huge debt. She’d care too much about hurting her single mom’s finances. He keeps staring at the picture and notices you’re holding up your boba drink in one hand, revealing the bracelets on your wrist, which he didn’t pay attention to at first, until something purple and pink catches his eye.

‘That looks really cheap for her to be wearing- wait.’

He squints his eyes a little bit and sees the four letters written on the bracelet “GUMI” boldy.

His mouth groes dry instantly.

‘No fucking way.’

There was a distant past where he was much more free to do whatever he wanted and he didn’t have to worry about the responsibility of taking over the Zenin’s chain of businesses. There were many faceless people in that high school. There were people he brutally beat senseless and there were people who either feared or admired him from afar.

But you were the most memorable because you were a clingy little bitch.

While others avoided him like a plague, you were always beside him, offering to be his “friend” and following him around like fucking insect. You were a pimple-faced, annoying little tramp that he could barely stand.

He could have avoided your affection if he didn’t beat up your bullies that day. He should have never pitied you when he saw you crying in the boys bathroom. It would have saved him the headache of being stuck with you for almost two years in high school.

The only reason he tolerated you for as long as he did was because of Tsumiki. In hindsight, he blames his deceased sister for encouraging your borderline obsession with him because she thought it was cute. He wonders if romantically and mentally you’ve changed. If you’ve grown out of your childish crush on him and forgotten all about your “Gumi” and “Fushiguro-kun”, the things you used to call him with your shrill voice.

When he left that dreaded Academy, he made sure that no one called him “Gumi” ever. He resented that nickname, because it reminded him of you.

You looked happy, fitting right into a society that once rejected you with your pretty hair and manicured nails. Long gone was the wimp that hid behind him, that had to rely on food stamps on your worst days; now you’re a spoiled little brat, having the time of your life without inheriting the responsibility of being a wealthy socialite like he did.

It just made Megumi hate you even more. While he’s stuck with the Zenin clan and paying the price of wealth, you don’t have to do anything. You’re happy. How the hell is any of that fair to him?

Why do you get to be happy?

“You’re staring a bit too hard at the picture, Zenin. Don’t tell me you wanna fuck her too?”

He considers telling the pink haired man that he knew you and all about your pathetic crush on him for a brief moment, but quickly discarded that plan. Like Tsumiki, Yuuji would get the wrong idea and try to get them together.

Instead he rolled his eyes and said in the most bland voice he could muster.

“Not my type.”

Yuuji looks at the tips of Megumi’s ears, noticing them turn red before looking at the boy again with narrowed eyes.

“Sure.”

YOU hated dinners with your ‘family’.

Your step-dad, Nanami Kento was not much of a conversationalist and he ate in silence, except to ask to pass the water jug. Your mother was a try-hard, always asking how school is like for both you and Yuuji, like you’re teenagers attending high school and not university students. Yuuji was also a try hard, answering your mother’s questions like his life depended on it.

And you? You don’t want to be here.

You love your mother and would do anything for her. She sacrificed so much for you so that you’d have an education, working so many jobs and encouraging you. Sure, she was a bit harsh on you when it came to your academics and you used to hate it, but you understood back then that she was giving you a chance she never had. With your father a deadbeat and your family members a bunch of self-righteous losers, it was you and her against the world.

But trying to play house with a step-father you barely knew and a brother who would never speak to you on school grounds was tethering on the edge of your patience that you feel lucky that you only have to do this once a week.

Couple that with the stressful day you had in university from dealing with Mai, to the disgusting and perverted comment section on your trending tuesdays posts -that Mai told you to “get used to it” when you said you hated them and wanted it to stop, to nearly being late in submitting an assignment only to be told “looks can only get you so far” as if you’re not trying your hardest in school, you’re just about done with everything.

All you want to do is eat and sleep in your own bed.

The only good thing about your dinner is the unripe plantain, your favourite meal and you’re shocked the chefs made it after debating with your mother about making ethnic foods for her. Maybe your step-father had some choice words with them.

“So how’s school been for you baby girl?”

You internally groan at your mother’s question as your step-father and Yuuji turn their attention towards you. “It’s okay.” you sign back, before continuing with your food, hoping that your mother would get the message that you don’t want to talk about it.

As your luck could have it, your mother did not like the reply. “What do you mean, Okay?” she signs, her brows pinched together in irritation. “That’s not an answer (name).”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh come on baby (name), you’re in college, you should be having fun. I heard from some sources you’re very popular in your school which means you’ve got to have friends right? Why don’t you invite them over? Hell, you should have also met someone cute too that piques your interest or are you still pining over Gumi-”

There’s a tense atmosphere that cuts across the once awkward sphere of the table. Your step father stopped eating the second he saw the enraged look on your face, and his hands facing your mother trying to tell her to “stop-” only for her to aggressively shake her head in dismal, her next words pushing you over the edge. “No, Kento! She’s our child and I have to ask her what she’s been up to-”

“You really want to know what I’ve been up to, mom?” You start to sign, your hands trembling in anger. “You want to know how I’m doing in my business course where no one takes me seriously because I’m too pretty to be smart? Or you want to know how many ‘cute guys’ have threatened to assault me sexually or said something perverted about my body on a school post and how the school refused to take it down when I reported it? Or how I feel so out of place when you seem so well-adjusted with your husband and son, and your only solution is to throw a new black card at me and hope I’m obedient? You really want to know?”

The entire dining table grows silent at your outburst by the time you’re done, heavily breathing as tears threaten to prickle your eyes. Your mother’s features soften, clearly affected by your words and for a second you feel guilty for getting angry at her. Instead, you said out loud whilst tossing your cutlery aside “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me.” and disappeared up the stairs despite your step father calling out your name until you made it to your room.

Flopping onto your canopy bed the second you enter your room, you’re quick to bury your head in your pillow and let out a guttural scream that you’ve been holding all day. At this point, you don’t care that you’re being rude, your life took a drastic turn the second you turned seventeen and you’ve just been pretending to be okay with it. After years of it just being you and her, these two men barged into your life. You had to up and move from the friends you had finally managed to make, from all your plans to attend a community college for music to an expensive overpriced university in a business course that you hate and from your home that had all your memories into a large mansion that makes you feel insignificant.

You were quickly shuffled into a lifestyle that made you stand out because you weren’t born into money. You had to mingle with people who reminded you of your bullies in high school and laugh with them like you’re not a step from having a mental breakdown, because you need to be significant, you need to network and fit in. You had to pretend you were fine because if you act out the media will drag your mother’s name in the mud.

And you’re all alone dealing with your feelings. Who were you going to tell how inauthentic you felt? How so out of place you felt despite your popularity and you just want to escape it all?

Mai would just tease you for being overdramatic. Momo would tell you that it is what it is as a female socialite and you should swallow it. Maybe Miwa might be sympathetic to your cause but then you remembered she’s supposed to be editing her posts for tiktok tomorrow, so there is no time for you.

There was only one person who would have truly understood and you haven’t seen him in five years.

Feeling nostalgic, you lean over your bed and retrieve a box from underneath. Carefully punching in the code, it opens with a quiet click revealing an old cream sweater kept in good condition, your high school’s logo stitched at the top, three pictures you got at a fair and your old iphone 4 that seems to still work, that all seem so reminiscent of a time so far away yet so close.

Long before you were the IT girl, before you were new money, the girl everyone wants and wants to be.

It was a time when things were so dark that you couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel because you were relentlessly bullied for not being fortunate enough to have money in a school where the rich eat the vulnerable. You had considered ending it all, to stop your mom from constantly coming to school to complain only to return feeling more powerless than ever.

And then he came into your life.

You take the sweater in your arms, gently pressing your nose against the fabric to inhale his scent, preserving it all these years just for comfort. It takes you back to when you were 13, huddled up in a bathroom stall while cradling your broken fingers. You hated life so much back then and you really wanted to die to the point you were googling how many acetamin pills it would take to kill you with your uninjured hand, the bottle containing them just a few feet away from your shaking body. You couldn’t play the harp that you loved because of them, you couldn’t take the emotional abuse and you couldn’t return home to break your mother’s heart by being a pathetic child.

You were planning to die in a boys bathroom stall, ready to swallow the pill when the door flew open. You instantly cowered in fear, spilling the entire bottle on the floor, your heart dropping to your stomach the second you set eyes on the school’s resident bully.

Fushiguro Megumi.

Back then you assumed he was going to laugh at you and then tell everyone what you tried to do. As much as you admired him from afar, you didn’t trust him. You couldn’t trust him. Maybe he was going to kick you aside and take a piss like one other guy had done when you were still barely conscious from earlier.

You didn’t expect him to notice your broken fingers. Or even ask you who did the bullying. And when he did, you had begged him not to get the teacher involved, to which he said. “Who said I’m telling anyone?” before disappearing. You were scared, wondering if he’d call them back to finish the job.

Instead, he dragged the bullies -male and female back to the bathroom for you to watch him beat them up and broke the arm of the guy who crushed your fingers. After he was done, he had taken your unbroken hand in his larger ones to help you up, warmth spreading into your shaking fingers as he steadied you, telling you to step on them.

“W-why?”

“Revenge. Catharsis. Fun.” he had said, his tone rueful. You looked at him with pure fear as he guided you to one the bullies, the girl who started it all. “B-but what if I get in trouble? Or they come for me and hurt me again-”

“Don’t be a square. I’m giving you a chance for payback, so be a good girl and take it.”

“B-but-”

“Do it. I’ll take the blame.”

And true to his word, he did take the blame for both your actions and was suspended for a day. When he came back, you clung onto him like glue, fearful you’d get hurt by those same bullies, but eventually giving way into your heart as you fell head over heels for him. The way he smiled when you said the dumbest stuff. The way his voice sounded, especially when he called your name. The way his hand swallows yours because of how big they were, his comforting scent, everything about Megumi was calming, comforting.

Even your first kiss with him was gentle, sparks flying as he cupped your face in his larger hands.

He could be a bit harsh on you and sometimes, he could say some mean things, he always made it up with some sweet gesture like buying your favourite strawberry drink or spending time with you while you practised the harp.

You loved him so much. You still love him so much. You can’t look at any man the way you looked at him, and you’ve tried. Mai has tried shoving you into a relationship with many guys to try and spice up your reputation but you couldn’t let them even hold your hand, let alone kiss them.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Megumi was not the light at the end of your tunnel, but he took your broken hands in his and let you dance through the thick of the dark times of your life when no one else thought you deserved happiness.

You shed off your juicy couture jacket and shrug on his large sweater, collapsing into your bed with your arms wrapped around yourself. Any time you were upset with anything, you would call him and he’d either listen to you through your sobs or come over to your little house and sneak in with your favourite snacks to watch a movie with you and hold you tight whenever you said you wanted a hug. You wish he hadn’t disappeared when he moved away, that he had at least left you with a number for you to call or text or anything instead of upping and leaving cold turkey.

Tears rolled down your face as you tried to picture him comforting you, over everything that had happened. “Want me to fuck them up?” He’d ask in between murmurs and when you’d shake your head no, he’d click his tongue. He always loved solving problems with violence. “I should, for the way they’re talking to you. You shouldn’t let people take advantage of you.”

‘I miss you Megumi. I miss you so much-’

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts and you’re quick to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand. Not wanting any pity from whoever was at the door -most likely your mother- you put on your best resting bitch face before storming towards it before yanking it open.

Your frown only deepens when you see your step-father at the door. “Did she put you up to this?” Your voice was cold and from how his brows creased in response, you could see he was hurt.

He shakes his head negatively in response, about to say something when you cut him off again. “The dad thing is not going to work, just leave me be.”

You close the door in his face, albeit rudely and flopped on your bed, curling yourself up into a tight ball and sobbing quietly until you fall asleep.

YOUR step-father’s solution to you being upset is to throw money at your face and tell you to ‘do something nice for yourself’.

Mid-class you had received a cash-app alert attached with a message for you to ‘cheer up with this and tell Yuuji to take you shopping.’ and while it annoyed you to no end that he assumed money made you happy, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

You also suspect that he wants you to open up to Yuuji about your problems, as you both are closer in age; which is a dumb plan in hindsight because you know you’re not going to say shit to someone you barely interact with. Step-brother or not.

The second class dismissed you were out of the door, your Hermes bag slung over your arm. Perhaps your step-dad was right about retail therapy, you needed something to blow off steam with after the depressing night you had; being forced to relive your entire day and then cry yourself to sleep thinking about how much you miss Megumi so much.

What you need is to turn off your brain and buy new things that would make you happy, like new trinkets to add to your room.

Feeling giddy, you pick up your phone and go to the IT girls group chat, ready to invite them to your shopping spree since you didn’t want to go on your shopping spree all alone.

“I should text the girls to see if they’ll hang out with me-”

You paused, stopping yourself in your tracks. You’re trying to have fun, not be silently judged and have pictures taken of your spree and uploaded on the internet for weirdos to oogle.

“I need time alone, but not alone alone” you say to yourself. “Yuuji’s the better option, at least he’ll keep to himself if he sees I’m not in the mood to talk.”

With that decision finalised, you found Yuuji’s contact - Yuuji 🏀- and quickly shot him a text that you needed a ride to the mall right now, if he’s free.

“With that done, I’ll get myself strawberry yoghurt to go-”

Your phone dings just as you’re about to tuck it in your bag and you see it’s Yuuji who had replied faster than you anticipated.

Yuuji 🏀 - I’ll be free in an hr, my class will soon be over

Yuuji 🏀- wait in my room at the frat house, I’ll pick you up there.

You frowned. Why the hell will you wait at a fraternity house? For all you know, they’re nothing but nasty, filthy little perverts. Frat bros have a bad reputation, being gross pieces of shit who have no personal boundaries and get away with anything. Mai always told you that they’re a slippery slope and the chances of you meeting a decent one is as good as pigs flying.

You🧋- Heck no. What if something happens to me there?

Yuuji 🏀 - Look, I need to pick you up and drop you off by 3pm before my next class starts and I don’t wanna waste any time

Yuuji 🏀 - besides my friends are there and they know you’re coming. No one will hurt you.

You 🧋- Fine. I’ll be there waiting. Not a minute late or I’ll rip your jlaw posters apart

Abandoning your plan of getting strawberry yoghurt with a secret promise you’d get it later at the mall, you decided to make your way to the Alpha Beta Frat house, much to your chagrin.

AFTER hitching a ride with the school’s shuttle system within five minutes, you find yourself standing in front of the famed Alpha-Beta house.

The four story building was imposing to say the least, but there wasn’t a challenge you’ve ever backed down from. You casually strolled through the path leading to the front door, grabbing the brass handle and slamming it as hard as possible on the door twice.

‘They ought to hear me that way.’

Sure enough, someone shuffled with the door a few seconds later and opened it, complaints on their lips as the gap widened.

“Who the fuck is knocking on the door like tha- oh-oh h-hey-”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his sudden change of behaviour. You could recognize him from one of your electives, psychology 101 with professor Getou. He usually makes a fool of himself there as he is doing right now, practically drooling all over himself on the front porch like a mangy mutt.

As much as you’d like to watch him pant like a dog and laugh at him later, you couldn’t stand staying outside any longer.

“Where’s Yuuji Itadori’s room?” You ask curtly.

“Uh… the l-last floor, the door on the far end of the left… o-or was it r-right...”

‘Fucking moron’ you curse internally, before putting on a fake, thankful smile on your face and pushed past the awestruck man to get into the house. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out, myself.”

The house was neat, surprisingly, compared to the horrific stories you used to hear from Mai about how filthy fraternity houses are, especially the Alpha beta house under Todo’s rule. As you gingerly walk up the stairs, you notice how not a speck of dust nor a single graffitti lies on the wall, like everything had been polished and cleaned constantly.

Yuuji had made an off comment about the new president being a clean freak and would beat anyone up for leaving as much as wrapping paper on the floor without picking it up. “It runs in the Zenin’s I guess.” He had signed on a particular dinner night. “The last Zenin leader had done the exact same thing.”

As much as you hate the Zenin men and have never heard anything good about them, you have to be grateful that this one was dedicated to keeping the damn house clean. Even the frat bros look well dressed in their polo and shorts, and didn’t reek like beer or weed - although you caught some of them looking at you like a piece of meat.

‘At least they don’t try to talk to me. Must be out of respect for Yuuji.’

Eventually you make it to the top floor with two hallways stretching out on either side. You contemplated going to the left for a few seconds, but ultimately headed towards the right, figuring that Yuuji’s room could be there and if it wasn’t, you would just go the other way. You stop at the door at the end of the room, assuming that it’s the right one and open it without knocking.

The first thing that hit you was the fresh scent of jasmines and apricot, two flavours that you would never expect to be mixed together, but worked so well. You took in the surroundings of the large room next, admiring the rather dark academic route it took in terms of design with the large brown curtains hanging over the windows, the low level lighting hanging above your head. The closet was large and the doors were made out tempered, coloured glass, a rather brave choice but it seemed to contribute to the overall look of the room.

Seeing a couch with a coffee table at a corner, you decided to set your bag aside there while you admired the rest of the properties. You never took him for someone who’d have such a good taste for details, especially in terms of decor but he seemed to have exceeded your expectations of him. Even the floor is made up of mahogany wood board as opposed to the rest of the marble floors in the house.

You walk up to the medium sized reading table, admiring the hanging shelves over it stacked with books. The table was as clean as the rest of the room, each knick-knack and stationery arranged accordingly. Your eyes caught sight of the trophy case standing next to the closet in its own case and you walked up to it, admiring the sheer size. It was to be expected, since he had been on the varsity of his school team and was really good at sports. You take up one hand and trace a line over the case, carefully looking at the achievements.

“1st place at the Wimbledon championship, Male singles”

‘Interesting, I didn’t know Yuuji played tennis. I thought he mostly focused on basketball and track and field in school- oh, oh no-’

The second you read the next line your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Zenin Megumi”

Fuck, you were the wrong room. You should have known, the level organisation of this room and the lack of Jennifer Lawrence posters on the wall was too suspicious.

“I need to get out of this room as fast as possible-”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

As if things couldn’t get any worse.

Your body grew rigid at the sound of a male voice right behind you, too scared to turn around, sweating bullets despite the air conditioning of the room at being caught red handed like a fucking creep in some random guys room.

‘Oh god, how am I going to explain myself that it was an accident and I was going to Yuuji’s room?’

“I’m very sure I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

Wait. That voice.

They say when you spend time away from someone, you usually forget a lot of things, like their scent, the sound of their voice, and even the way they look. But not you. You remember that voice as clear as a day. You know that Megumi Fushiguro’s voice deepened rather early, you know that bored, dead tone from anywhere, even in your grave.

The dots began to connect in your head as you matched the name to his voice.

‘It can’t be…’

You turn around, heart thumping loudly in your chest as you turn to look at the man standing behind you, glossy eyes taking in the features. The dark spiky hair that always seemed difficult to maintain, the blue eyes staring down at you, the slope of his nose, his lips, even his imposing height - being far taller than all those years ago.

“Megumi?”

Tears of joy blind you to the way his jaw tenses and without thinking, you engulf him in a warm hug, pressing your teary face into his broad chest.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve looked for you everywhere.” You blab, not realising how rigid he stood, not returning your hug. You assumed it’s because he’s not an affectionate person, and you’ve never minded it. “I missed you so much. I asked everyone that knew you and you were just gone-”

“Hey, Megs, have you seen my sister? I told her to wait for me in my room but I think she came into yours- oh, am I interrupting something?”

All it took was Yuuji coming into the room for you to be dragged back into reality, because Megumi is quick to place two hands on your shoulders, his grip nearly vice-like and pried you off himself before roughly shoving you towards your step brother. You let out a pained gasp as Yuuji catches you in time.

“Megumi what the fuck is your issue?”

You cannot see his facial expression, but you can feel his steely, unwelcoming gaze burning holes at the back of your head, making your heart drop further. “You’d do the same thing too if a random stranger hugged you out of nowhere.”

“She is not a stranger, she’s my sister and you don’t get to manhandle her the way you do to your other girls. Even if she’s in the wrong.”

“Well tell your step-sister to get her bag off my couch and take her out of here before I come back.” he snapped back.

You can’t believe your ears. Sure, you look different from how you did five years prior but was it so bad he couldn’t recognize you?

You’re brought out of your thoughts when the dark haired man walks past you both and without thinking you push Yuuji away, attempting to follow him. Your step-brother comes between you and the door, holding you by your forearms to prevent you from following Megumi.

“No, (name), stop. Just tell me what’s going on-”

You stay mute, evading Yuuji’s grasp and dash out of the door, following after Megumi. His legs were longer than yours and you had to speed up, nearly tripping on the stairs as you followed him into the common room, Yuuji not too far off. You reached him, grasping his wrist in a desperate attempt to get his attention. He freezes for a second but soon his shock turns to anger as he swivels his head to look at you.

“What the hell do you want?” He barked.

You flinch, remembering how frightening he could be when he lost his temper but push down your fear to look up at him, your gaze soft as you try to remind him that it's you. “G-gumi it's me!” You stutter out, trembling as you jumble through your words. “(Name) (last name)... w-we went to school together, you can recognize m-me right?”

It only seems like you’re making things worse, because he’s looking at you like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat and kill you for touching him. He yanks his hand away from you, his lips curled up in a sneer. “Keep following me around and you won’t be recognizable for long.”

No, no, this isn’t right. Sure Megumi was so hostile but not like this to you. He would never, ever threaten to put his hands on you, not even as a joke. This isn’t the Megumi you know, this cannot be the person you idolised, that you loved all those years.

This stranger is wearing Megumi’s face, saying things that your Gumi would never EVER say.

He walked away and you followed him down the stairs into the living room, ignoring the surprised stares of other frat members, watching you call after him desperately, “ ‘Gumi, Gumi! Wait, it’s me! I-i still have the bracelet we made together-” not caring how crazy you looked now. You need to understand why the hell Megumi was treating you like he’s never met you before, there has to be an explanation.

He doesn’t turn around or pay attention to your incessant cries, maintaining his ignorance. “Get lost. I don’t know you.” he says casually, almost as if he seems amused you’re embarrassing yourself. “Yuuji, get your crazy sister away from me.”

You feel lost, heart dropping to your feet at his words. Being reduced to nothing but a mere stranger after years of pining for him. Shame crawls up to your skin as you feel the entire house look at you like you’ve truly lost your mind for chasing after Megumi, humbling you completely. Yuuji catches up to you, a hand wrapped around your arm, trying to tug you away gently, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move.

‘T-there’s no way.’ Your head spins, trying to figure out what you did to offend him. Where did it all go wrong? Wasn’t this supposed to be the both of you reuniting? Rekindling your relationship? Even if he just acknowledged knowing you, you would have been satisfied. So why was he acting this way? ‘Does he truly not remember me? Or… is he… trying to pretend I don’t exist?’

There’s only one way to figure it out. There is one name that Megumi would answer to, no matter what.

“You say you don’t remember me, but we both know that’s not true.” You push Yuuji off again and tell him to stay out of it, taking a step forward with your back straight. It takes everything in you to keep your composure, not wanting to cry in front of these men. “Even after all these years, I can still tell it’s you. Have I changed so much you can’t recognize me?”

“Can you stop this madness-”

“Look me in eye and tell me that you don’t remember me Fushiguro-kun!”

The entire house goes silent. You’re breathing hard as Megumi abruptly stops in his tracks, slowly turning around to look at you. Your mouth goes dry when you see a flicker of fury in those blue eyes, before he masks it with a cold gaze.

“You really can’t take a hint, can you (name)? Years of maturing and you’re still so stupid.”

The way his tone is so even, without any hint of emotion feels like an ice bucket of water has been thrown on you.

“Is that all you have to say?” Your voice is trembling as you look at him incredulously. “After disappearing for five fucking years on me without a trace? All this time, I cried and waited for you! I thought something bad had happened to you-”

“How is that my problem?” He scoffed, now folding his arms across his chest, staring down at you like you’re the dirt beneath his feet and you instantly shrink underneath his gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re still obsessed with me? For five years? That’s really pathetic.”

Pathetic? How is it pathetic to be in love with someone who was supposed to love you back? Were you really pathetic to keep him in your heart all these years? “I-i don’t understand, y-you asked me to be your girlfriend right before you left! Y-you said you liked me-”

“We were in high school. I was a horny teenager and you were there. I said something nice so that I could mess around with you.” He groaned, uncaring that his words were hurting you. That he was admitting to just seeing you as a means to an end. “Don’t tell me all these years you believed the shit I said about liking you?”

‘This can’t be right.’ Your eyes are wide with shock, unable to comprehend the madness coming out from his mouth. Each word that he uttered takes apart your fragile heart piece by piece until there is almost nothing left, your frustration and anger rising with the entire situation. ‘No, no- this isn’t Gumi. He-he’d never do this to m-me-’

“I-i kept the bracelet we both made, to carry u-us with each other-”

“You mean the one with your nickname you gave to me? I threw it away the second I left for a new school.” He looks down at your wrist, a wry smile forming on his lips as he chuckles darkly. “Seems like you still wear yours.”

Your face felt hot as all eyes fell on you, embarrassment flooding your features. Megumi had practically made it known that you were nothing to him and he didn’t even consider you once when he left, in front of all of his frat members, while you pined after him like a desperate girl.

Thinking back to high school, it made sense now that he never loved you. He was always cold to you until you begged him. He refused to be seen with you in public but would make out with you in hidden corners of the school, then go back to pretending he doesn’t know you in front of his friends.

For years you had this idealised version of your Gumi in your head but now you realised you chose to believe in your own delusions.

You kept his sweater, his pictures, his gifts in a special box and his memories in your heart. You cried over him until you got ill when he disappeared and you even tried to run away from home to find him. You refused to date guys Mai would push your way because you were waiting for him.

You gave away five years of your happiness crying over someone that hates you.

You watch through teary eyes as Megumi leans close enough to you until his breath tickles your ears, whispering in a harsh voice, just for you to hear.

“Did you really think I’d like you now because you’re dressed like a skank? Wear all the fancy clothes you want, you’ll always be an insecure whiny brat who looks for affection everywhere but won’t find it.”

“You’re lying.” You spit back. You want to hurt him back, to make him feel the same way he’s made you feel; angry, humiliated. “There are tons of guys who will be lining up to fuck me the second I give the green light.”

“Exactly. They’ll want to fuck you, but they’ll never ever date you.”

Any form of self-worth or self-confidence you might have built up, came crashing down the second he said those words. You’re left standing there as he stood upright again, frozen at the way his words managed to unearth the insecurities you’ve tried your best to hide. You look at Megumi with tears in your eyes, defiant before taking a deep breath and composing yourself, blinking away tears.

Five years ago, if he had said these things to you, you would have cried. But you’re not a kid and you’d be damned if you shed tears for him in front of all the Alpha Beta boys and looked more pathetic than you already were.

“Yuuji, pass me my bag.”

Your step-brother holds it out for you, and without looking, you snatched it out of his hand. At least, he’s not trying to act like a good brother and getting in between your fight with Megumi. Maybe he knows it would make the situation worse.

You look at Megumi again, your once adoring gaze turned to that of anger and sadness. By God, he had become more handsome than ever, but it seems the Zenin’s have rottened him to the core. You look at his eyes again and see that his eyes are dull, like there is no life in them; like he’s dealing with perpetual sadness. He was always depressed in high school and you considered using the fact he used to cut the pain away too often to hurt him, but ultimately decided against it.

You were not going down that road. You still loved him more than you wanted to hurt him, even if it felt pathetic to do so like he said.

“You’re right.” You begin, a sad smile forming on your lips. “I’m pathetic. But at least I’m not as miserable as you are. Have a nice life, Zenin.”

With that, you walk past him with your head held up high and leave the frat house with a forced smile, ignoring the way your legs felt like jelly. It’s not until you enter a shuttle towards the Kappa sorority house that the crushing weight of humiliation and betrayal wears you down that you burst into tears.

Bonus:

‘Fuck, (name), keep squeezing me like that, Shiittt’

Megumi knows he’s a piece of shit. Ever since he entered the Zenin household and shed his Fushiguro last name, he’s been hitting one low to another, seemingly unaware of where the rock bottom is. He knows he’s done abhorrent, corrupt things that normal people would scrunch their nose in disgust. The Zenin’s are never afraid to get their hands dirty and he had to learn that at an early age if he had any chance of surviving that household.

But this was a new low, even for him.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, hair sticking to his forehead, glistening down his muscular body. His hips give timed thrusts, angled just right to send pleasurable waves through his body, hitting the right spot for the girl under him. Each movement elicits a soft moan from Hana, muffled by the position she was in; face down on his king sized bed with his hand pressing her face against the pillow, her torso held up by his arm around it whilst his cock pistoned in and out of her poor abused pussy.

On a normal day, it fed his large ego if she was crying out his name for everyone to hear it. He secretly prided himself in ruining a girl, making her cry for him and then tossing her aside. And they always crawl back, eager to do whatever he wants and give in to his selfish needs, no matter how shitty he treats them.

But today, he didn’t want to hear Hana say his name. He wished it was you.

And by god he hated it. He hated you so much.

If there was anything about you that never changed, it’s how you saw through him. Right in high school, you always knew when he was upset, even when he didn't say anything or act out; those times you would sit in silence and push your favourite strawberry yoghurt in his hands to make him feel better. Even in the midst of him tearing you apart, you had the audacity to call him miserable.

And he knows you’re right, but hearing it come out from your mouth hurts him, opening up a part of him that he buried in his heart.

How dare you make him feel vulnerable?

He wishes it was you he had in this position, but instead of pushing your head down, he’d grab you by your neck and make the entire house hear you cry. He’d fuck you like a slut, make you cum all over his cock so hard multiple times, until you couldn’t think about it. He wishes it’s your cunt he was fucking like a mad man, that was squeezing him like this so deliciously as he angled it to your g-spot, hearing your sharp in take of breath, trying to stave your orgasm off.

There’s a burning sensation at the back of his mind that aches for your body. He wants to be the one you’re the most vulnerable with, so that he can throw it back in your face. He wants to take his misery out on you.

“ ‘s too much, t’much- Gumi gonna cum-”

“Shut up” he snarled at her angrily. She called him that stupid name you always call him. No matter what he does, you keep haunting him everywhere he goes. “You’ll put me off if you talk. Just cum.”

And goodness, Hana has no self-worth as she cums hard, crying out his name over and over again. Megumi pretends it's your voice, that it’s you whining for him and it pushes him over the edge. He cums hard into the condom with a quiet groan, his body violently trembling as he rides his high, your face at the back of his mind until he’s spent.

He slowly removes his hand off her head and drags his cock out, letting her body fall limp onto his bed. He rolled over to face the ceiling in an attempt to catch his breath from having the best orgasm of his life.

Because he was thinking about you.

He knows it’s definitely not love. He doesn’t love anyone and he doesn’t care about anyone else beyond what he can gain. And he definitely enjoyed hurting you, making you cry. He enjoyed dragging you down to his level and he’s sure that’s not what someone who is in love does to the person they care about.

He is brought out of his thoughts when Hana rolls on her back, white hair splayed on his pillows, frowning like she’s dissatisfied with something he did.

Which is weird, he’s sure he made her cum.

Normally, he didn’t care and he would never ask, but today, he’s feeling a bit generous. "What’s up with you?” He asked. “You didn’t like it?”

There is a nervous pause, with her biting her lip anxiously, like she’s afraid of saying something that would offend him. It’s clear that whatever has been on her mind must be serious. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and starts talking.

“N-no, I liked today’s session, it’s just…” she mumbled, biting her lip nervously. Megumi raised a brow at her statement. “It’s just what? Spit it out.”

“You kept on calling me (name).”

‘Fuck.’

e-boys taglist: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @megumisdivinedogs @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @iluv-ace @lovely-maryj @slvdsjjk @espresso1patronum @aegsland @madison777x

also available on wattpad under the name "Stupid Love"

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comfortless · 1 year ago

Text

Only Other

chapter one of three.

Goth soldier! König x fem, Roman! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of gore, groping, dubcon sword/knifeplay. additional warnings will be added to the next two chapters.

notes: for @writersdrug’s request. ^^

wc: 11k.

The barbarians are here.

The dream of river water lapping over your knees and songbirds in swaying trees fades out into a hazy fog as you begin to rise, dropping your legs from the mattress to spur yourself to move across the small room as quietly as your feet can carry you.

Heavy footfalls and staggering hoof beats from their horses weighed down by heavy sacks of supplies is what has pulled you from sleep.

The flames of their torches crackle, accompanied by the shrieks of clanging, well-polished metals singing out as if in the throes of war becomes a dull song; weapons, wicked and crudely crafted unlike the spears of the soldiers donned in red you were so accustomed to by now.

You had heard the whispers on the wind of the untamed beasts from Germania filtering in, settling down here; their arms and their blood for just a sliver of land to claim, soil to birth farmland, a semblance of peace from within the walls of the great empire.

Never, in these small words from gossiping tongues, did you suspect that these rugged men would be taking to camp so very close to your city. Not only that… they’ve been accepted into the walls, the door flung open for them with their gnashing teeth and thick, ugly weapons. These men of myth were usually set further out into the countryside, far from view of polite people to sow seed in soft fields, build the little shacks that seemed far too fragile for their rugged forms that could never compare to the villas built here.

Peering over the sill of the open window, stretching your upper half out into crisp night air to catch a glimpse of torches sailing along the breeze, flames just as ever-shifting as their darkened silhouettes, your breath seems to halt entirely. They look the trueness of harbingers like this: each somehow more imposing than the one they follow behind. You count only two horses split between the eight men of this small band.

Could any of them even speak in your tongue?

What stories could they tell?

Had any of them ventured as far as the sea or had they only bathed in waves of warm blood?

With eyes wide, you even dare to perch there to watch on, never bothering to conceal your underclothes with the faith that the darkness would hide away anything more than a illusory view of your shape.

Through the faint glow of the yellow-red flickering flames, your gaze drifts to something large, hulking and brutish, darker still against the backdrop of a sable horizon.

The shadow walks in line with the others, their proud and raucous foreign voices feathering through the otherwise quieted air… only he does not speak, does not make a single utterance of mirth or glee. He stares only forward as his feet tread on just paces behind the rest of the group.

Nine, then.

Like the tales you’ve heard of the Goths, you’ve also listened in on the children spinning wild stories of monsters, the legends of heroes of old slaying cruel beasts told by their elders. You had always believed them, even without the evidence currently striding through the sleeping streets, dark like a crypt, like the underworld itself. A true titan.

Just as your eyes track the brooding, silent form, he abruptly turns his head in your direction.

The glow of a nearby torch paints the shrouded face in the color of a dying sun, casts a glint on the thick seax strapped to his hip.

In that moment, it isn’t wonderment curling through your blood, but surprise, maybe even a tinge of fear.

Your heart hammers as you pull yourself from the window to whisper hurried, hushed prayers to Juno, protectress of women, as you reject your curious nature and climb back into your bed. You’ll bring your offerings to her altar just as any devout: incense and a sweet pastry so long as she keeps you safe, chaste.

Buried beneath cushions stuffed with straw and thin fabric sheets to tuck yourself away, you wish only to return to dreaming of the river’s silt beneath your feet and colorful birds parading past in the open air that smells only of violets and honey.

Instead, you dream of fire.

You dream of the city bathed in gold, molten and angry as the walls come down around you.

You watch as your neighbors, friends, all begin to writhe and shriek as their skin begins to blister, boil beneath until it melts layer by precious layer to puddle like oil where feet once stood until the mighty, wraithful scorch takes even that away too. What once was human becomes smoke: women, men, children, it made no difference. It all becomes a mighty roaring flame as the structures wail and crumble around you.

Yet, you remain untouched.

Dawn breaks with the puppets sewn in shadow all but entirely forgotten, washed away in the fearsome tides of your own dreaming.

You startle and bolt upright as you wipe cold sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.

You’re no oracle: it’s just a dream… Vulcan would never turn his fiery gaze to your people after you’ve all honored him so, the offerings paid at his altar had been plentiful this past year with the steady expansion of the empire and the need for well-smithed weapons.

There were no volcanoes here to sweep away your life with magma and sulfur… only the lemures that haunted old shacks with their wailing had paid a visit to you last night. You let them in with your fears, and you would ward them away next with your courage.

The sun’s warmth creeps its way in, sweeps up from your blanketed legs until it curls and caresses at your cheek. From its positioning, proud and impossibly high in the sky it’s almost as though Sol himself were staring down at you, radiant yet scolding.

You’ve overslept.

Hurriedly, you ready yourself for the day, cinching your waist, clasping the shoulder of the stola, and dutifully washing your face with still water held in a clay pot. There was little else to do than bide your time with tedium: the animals loitering about needed tending to, a neglected sewing project lay strewn across the floor that had long-awaited its completion, and as the questions began to stir in your mind again… perhaps, gods willing, you would safely be gifted the opportunity to peek at the barbarian camp. To see that peculiar titan that they kept tethered at their sides.

It was dangerous and unheard of for a maiden, of course, but with little else to do than work and practice stitching threads for a betrothed you held no true affection for, this was a significant reprieve from the humdrum of what was scrawled out into the stars.

You weren’t given the luxury of further studies and communing with the aristocrats at their hearty banquets, sipping wine and prattling onwards about politics and how to further Rome as a whole. A part of you preferred this simple life of taking to the street, to peruse the market with what little money you held clutched in your palm, to pet the horses and watch as bulls sparred out in the fields beyond. Returning home to an empty house was a comfort, too.

As always, the market is a lively place, full to bursting with people exchanging anything under the sun, either beneath painted wooden stalls or from the first floor of their very homes, all with very little regard for you.

The city was simply too full to take in every name and face, and only their chatter seemed to intrigue you anyhow. You didn’t need a scroll or a song about each individual, your people were easy enough to read: war, pride, and duty all embedded into their very blood. The only ones that drew your attention were the poets and bards, entertainers who spun their stories of lives vastly different from your own… but there were none awaiting coin on the streets today.

A man passes with his wife at his side, loudly bolstering onward about his progress on some expedition.

Women with flowers woven into the braids of their hair laugh softly behind their palms as they exchange their secrets in singsong whispers.

The children play and pocket with eager palms when salesmen are unaware, likely to be caught later on and have their hands whipped raw.

There’s no talk of the Goths.

With these foreign men, most of your people seemed unbothered, taking solace in the knowledge that the empire’s cavalry would ride to strike down any opposition. A tentative, arrogant sort of comfort that you knew very well not to trust entirely. Most were simply not as educated on the potential of what could be, hadn’t snuck around on quiet feet to listen in on the men discussing failed treaties and negotiations.

The Goths could find their own food, their own women and shelters after fighting for the empire for a time: likely what they were here to do… give up their lives in exchange for a sliver of a Roman dream. A band as small as the one you witnessed could never quite hope to topple an empire, anyhow.

That sense of safety brought forth disinterest and smug little grins with little else to say, whereas your mind only took to further conjuring curiosity.

The more you wander the more you question whether you saw them at all, or if they were mere specters, already slain and silenced on some field far off from here, long dead and forgotten by all but the sleep-addled mind of a maiden.

You’ve never felt so disheartened. Though the city remained constantly bustling and full of intrigue when you knew where to look, these days the ease of it all only seemed to further the boredom. If nothing were to come, it would be no surprise to find that Juno would serve her purpose, looking after all with her blessings. You almost regret calling for her safety last night.

If the barbarians were indeed real, had some plot to overthrow an empire with their small numbers, perhaps only a vulture would be pleased with your thoughts now: teetering on the cusp of anticipation and wonder. You would never think yourself treasonous, but to learn, to see more… Your appetite for something further than a life spent sewing and child-rearing after marrying a man that made your skin prickle with distaste in the coming winter was rational.

Maybe not to most, but to you.

The fruit stall pulls you from thought with its sappy, honey-sweet scent and brilliant colors littered in crates: reds, greens, even some soft and blue… You only then notice you’ve been standing entirely still here, lost in thought, as if expecting a bolt of lightning to split the world in two.

Two apricots were purchased, one for you and the other for the gray mare in the stable you had grown fond of. You give the merchant a smile and a few bronze coins and carry on your way, nibbling at one of the fruits on your walk.

There were usually servants tending to the horses just beyond the city's paved streets, but it seemed today they were busy with other affairs: Quinquatria would be upon the city soon, and there was much to prepare for such an important festival. The place was empty all apart from yourself and the horses, some off in the fields to gallop to their heart’s content, while others like your mare, secured by wooden gates and paddocks.

You feed her, cooing gently as she takes the pitted fruit from your hand and between her blunt teeth; then, allows you to lead her into the grass with your honeyed words and languid steps.

One day, you hoped to have the opportunity to ride her, perhaps far away to touch the waters of the ocean, to see the foreign trees in some great adventure that would leave you more fulfilled. Ideally, without being weighed down heavy with child.

Your hand strokes at her nose before she begins to tense, eyes wandering from your form to something just beyond, far off and nestled in tall, fluttering grass and small bushes. You track her gaze for a moment, finally turning to look over your shoulder.

The wind has the tops of the trees swaying along the hills, grass pushed down to kiss the earth with each flutter of air. It all smells and feels so gentle, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the soil and salt of the earth itself. Ceres would have found herself prideful at the sight; everything rich and lush with the spring… Harvests would be bountiful this year, and everyone would be well-fed and contented. It’s no surprise that after pilfering through old calendars and running his tests upon the soil, Gaius had declared that this was the year he would take you to be his wife.

Past the expanse of soft blossoms and a cavalcade of greenery, all sweeping and rolling, a beauty that would stifle anyone should they think to look hard enough… but amidst all of this sits a man that you recognize immediately. Though he remains utterly faceless, his stature is somehow enough to make a gladiator blush and turn tail in shame.

There, just where the hill dips down and gives way to the soft rush of the stream, sits your warrior. His head is lowered as he crouches by the water, hands tucked to his front as he busies himself with something in his lap. The bare expanse of his back presented to you is unfathomable even from such a distance.

The men from Germania were said to be huge, dwarfing those that you were accustomed to by lengths, tall and thick like the weapons that they carry. They were said to be handsome, too… and like some hazy dream you were already certain that he was, somehow, beneath the pelt tied round his waist to keep him warmed at night, the sable shroud hanging over his head as he works away at sharpening the blade laying over his lap.

Your legs feel weak like a freshly birthed lamb’s as you watch him; the muscles of his bare arms bulging and quivering, his nude back tensing with effort. The soft rays of the sun beaming down only seem to paint him golden, untouchable except by higherborn women and men who could pay well to have him dirty his blade or his cock. Radiant, cruel, maybe even a bastard son of Mars himself, because what better a place for a man so vast and laden with scar tissue to be than in the midst of some great war.

Someone like this, you know with a certainty, would have no time for fickle maidens with their heads filled with the fluff of fantasies, and in a way that only seems to solidify a plume of possessiveness stirred up within your head.

You wonder even, if he calls to Vulcan as he pauses to hold his blade up to the sun to marvel at his work, the sharpened silver glinting in the light. The weapon casts its rays to only further illuminate the paleness of his flesh, coupled with the gleam of the flowing water ebbing past it only serves to make him look the very picture of those old stories and myths. The older women in the city would have tapestries embroidered of this scene, no doubt, if they could see through your eyes now.

Your horse trots off, satisfied that there is no true threat here, and you feel yourself begin to creep forward.

The gods and goddesses must play their tricks, because you are no fool. The pull only feels undeniable, something that you could not fight with a stern will alone. You pacify your impromptu decision with the thought that you could turn away at any point in the meters it would take to reach him. Surely, if he turned to face you before then that same fear from the night before would come to surface and you would sprint, startled and wary.

Perhaps he would even give chase…

There’s no excitement to be held on him, either acutely unaware or ignoring your presence entirely as you draw ever-closer. The grass softens your footsteps, the breeze blanketing any sound from each shift of your legs beneath the linen stola. You’re near silent in your approach, only halting where the hill crests over the bank several paces away from where he remains seated.

Only then does he turn to look your way.

There’s no greeting, no display of friendliness. His body language remains closed off, distant, like that of a wolf in cautious preparation; deciding whether or not it would be necessary to bare his teeth, to snap and growl until your flesh rends beneath him.

So it’s left up to you and to Juno who remains harbored in your heart. The goddess would protect you most assuredly, you’ve left her offerings for as long as you could remember, prayed at her altars and devoted yourself entirely— perhaps not in the same way of the temple maidens, but certainly more so than most.

You take a breath, watching him with kind eyes and an air of unease about you that only seems sweet by comparison to the very danger that his presence proposes. He only returns your stare with something colder, detached and unamused beneath that ugly veil he wears: two holes for the eyes, dyed beneath with the red rimming yellow like the tissue a butcher may find in a plump calf.

“Can you understand me?”

There’s a long, tense silence that follows your frail question. The titan stares, looks you over from the crown of your head, briefly pauses midway- at your hips- then further. It’s both heated and cold, coaxing yet analytical.

Finally, the barbarian gives a curt nod in response, seeming no less frigid and closed off even as your voice feathers over the breeze. But he understands, can decipher your language, that’s a start.

“You are… one of the barbarians, yes?” Is that even what they preferred to be called? The word certainly sounded prettier on your tongue than the brutish pronunciation of ‘Goths’. There would certainly be some price to be paid if your blood was spilled over a mere insult…

Graciously, he only seems to overlook it as he sheaths his blade and rises to his full height, tall like the mountains you had only heard stories of, where gods and goddesses sit in council not meant for mortal ears.

Freed of any covering upon his upper body, you find yourself reluctantly mesmerized by the trail of light hair that runs from chest to abdomen and down further… until a little tuft peeks from the hem of the pelt tied around his narrow hips. The layer of fat over his midsection paves a way upward to reveal the muscles of his chest, wider and more prominent somehow than most breasts you’ve seen.

Unruly thoughts clutter that would have others questioning your status and devotion to your Gaius if they could hear them. It couldn’t be helped, you reason; you had never seen a man quite so vast, so meant for battle and breeding.

“That is what your people call me,” he huffs, bull preparing to charge. His words come out with a thick accent, northern. The trees and mountains would sound similar if they could speak at all.

He drinks you in with his eyes, fingers twitching at his sides as though itching to touch your most sensitive parts. Though he doesn’t move yet, you get the sense that all it would take is one false move, a skitter in your step that leaves you tumbling to the earth, and he would be upon you like the downpours of spring. You even wonder if he would roar like the thunder delivered from Jupiter’s weighty palms if he were to mount you.

Of course, what he sees before him is not a maiden of Rome. His people didn’t care for purity, for your religions and ideals: you’re a fertile little doe, wandering straight to a buck in his prime.

You swallow hard, a little bob from your fragile throat, to force those treasonous thoughts from your mind. Even talking to this man was a risk to your reputation… Your poor betrothed, nearing thrice your age and horribly delicate by comparison to this beast, would be up in arms if he were to find you here. More concerning, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“What do you call yourself, then?” Your voice comes almost breathless, thighs pressed together beneath your stola as your own body sends its signs and omens to tell you that you’re precariously close to the underworld just by gracing him with your presence. Perhaps it would be that dark, too, if this giant decided to push you to the soil, hover over you as he plucked you apart like petals from a flower.

His eyes track that subtle shift of your legs, crinkling at the outer corners when they roam back upward to your face. The beast grins beneath his hood, you’re certain of it, and those eyes of pale blue seem to glitter like the sun's rays on the stream to your side. He shifts, crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his hips just slightly forward, some strange display undoubtedly meant to tempt and charm you.

You don’t budge from your perch, despite your body’s persistent singing for him. Enticing scents and views of flesh could do that… this man wasn’t special, you were just curious. That’s all that it was.

“König.” He answers things plainly in that lilted voice, as though he’s trying to seem more of a man to spite that boyish way of speaking. And gods help you- it’s cute.

“Does it have meaning?,” you settle to ask when he does not request your name in turn. A bit rude, though you do wonder if perhaps the bullish men in his settlements see delicate things like you more like pets anyhow. The thought of this warrior whisking you away and naming you one day… You swallow that lump in your throat again, teetering back on your heels as if to place more distance between you two.

“What do you think it means?”

That simple non-answer does finally allow your pulse to settle, only to rise immediately to find it insulting— as if this wild man with no proper education had the right to insult you at all.

He only smiles again beneath that veil when your face sours. Awful, wretched, gorgeous creature… You’re no threat to him and he knows it. He’s only playing with you, dodging your pretension with a bit of his own, and unfortunately… This is the most pleasant conversation that you’ve had with any man.

Your betrothed was only arrogant and dull, there’s no light in his eyes when he smiles at you- everything is duty. Not here. Not with König, and surely the goddess of marriage and love is frowning down at you from her lofty throne, because you’re almost certain you’re infatuated with the brute by now.

“You’re a bit rude.”

“King.” He grins, a grin that you can see when he frees the leather flask from his belt and shoves his mask upward to take a heavy gulp of what is undoubtedly Roman wine. The glimpse alone makes you weak again, honey drips from your thoughts to your cunt, and you know now that you were never simply curious.

No, this brute would be the end of your engagement and even you if you allowed it.

You watch him take his fill, catch the bitter scent in the air as a bit trickles down from his rough jaw to his throat, all covered in scars. He’s been in battle for a long time, likely why he wears the hood at all. The rest of that handsome face is undoubtedly a wreck just as what could be seen of his body, all covered in memories of where he’s had scrapes and dances with daggers only to fell his foes one by one with that long seax dangling from his hip.

After the hood and the flask are in their proper places once more, he gives you a nod, then speaks, “How many coins?”

It takes a moment for the question to register in full; he isn’t asking what you have on your person, but how much you’re worth. How much it would cost for you to spend a night in his bed, tolerating this giant between your legs…

Your attractions billow up in smoke immediately, just as you expression sours and your hands curl to fists at your side, crushing the half-eaten apricot in the process. You toss the ruined fruit to the ground, allowing the sweet juice to coat your fingers as it flows downward.

You wring your hand as you very nearly shout, “You are an animal. I’m not here to sell myself.”

Your voice falters to a meek, little whisper with your final words, the breath a weak gust through the first tiny blossoms of spring.

Of course he catches onto your body language, to the way your thighs rub and tense beneath your skirt, the way your nipples peak at the mere sight of him and all of the infatuation and curiosity in your eyes. Men knew things like this, offhandedly, it seemed; if the others were correct then this beast could surely smell you, too.

The bastard only stares, eyes narrowing as his brow pulls together beneath the hood in some strange confusion. The whores wore their togas, not the stolas of maidens and married women, even a barbarian should have known that: his men were certainly no strangers to the sweet women with their faces chalked in lead.

Then, his shoulders pull up to fall in a shrug.

“Run, then, little one.”

It’s almost as though he knows your thoughts in and out, a lemure himself as he presents the bulk of him that would strike fear into any man, taunts and goads. You don’t want another fire dream. You force your courage and mirror his stance: chin up, back straightened as you look down upon him like a goddess sent to deliver her fury with… a pitted apricot at your feet rather than bolts of famine and misfortunes.

His eyes become stars, twinkling in earnest when he sees you then. You’re no aristocrat, no empress, but you certainly feel the part when the giant’s gaze finally relaxes its pilferage and settles upon your face instead.

Your act is all for naught, because you realize that his men are approaching, opposite the stream. One of them was enough, but a hoard of others… You were not even certain that he could understand you properly, and the others could be even less patient. Your gaze travels over their forms, smaller than this ‘König’, but each equipped with their own weapons and their own scars from battle.

They look from their leader to you, eyes grazing over the plush flesh that your stola dutifully conceals like starved dogs. One of them mutters something in a foreign tongue, harsh and guttural, his eyes never leaving your shape in a display of brazen appraisal.

König responds in turn, voice taking on a lower octave as he all but barks his response: harsh, unyielding language that you couldn’t hope to interpret… but if you had to guess, you were nearly certain that his men were asking who would lift your skirts and have their way with you first.

You depart from them with tentative yet hurried feet, and you don’t look back as you cross across the lush field. There’s no stopping at the stable, not a thought in your head except that you would most assuredly not be returning. The barbarians could have the field, the stream, whatever the city’s officials had allowed them.

Just not you.

It’s Gaius that greets you when you arrive home, to the little villa he had secured for you; to the place that would become less of a home and more of a prison once the two of you were wed. You’re barely a foot in the door when the man’s gaunt face turns to you, his lips set in a stern line.

“Where were you?”

You knew that look, it’s the very same that he gives to his slaves when he’s about to bleat out his orders like an enraged goat, shove them or grab at them to feel less small than he truly is.

Your brow pinches, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as you try in earnest to look the part of an innocent lady who had not just crossed a field and fantasized endlessly of some rude, barbaric oaf.

“In the field. With the horses,” you deliver your half-truth with practiced ease. This wasn’t the first time you’ve lied to him, and it certainly would not be the last. If the protectress of Rome could overlook your stunts and recognize your discomfort in this wretch’s presence… then she might even side with you; save you from a future of sharing this man’s bed.

Gaius relents then— as much as a stoic, old man could. He reaches out to cup your face with one weathered hand and you have to force back to urge to shudder.

It’s not that you mean to be cold, not after all that he’s done to care for you… it just comes as naturally as the seasons and the wills of the gods. Something about him always made you feel ill.

You eventually, tentatively jut your chin forward just a bit to force yourself into leaning toward the touch of his cold hand.

His lips curl into an unsightly grin; then, he pats your cheek and draws away enough to bless you with fresher air to breathe without his withering presence alone contaminating it.

“I brought you a gift, meum corculum.”

“Oh…” Your words come in a little hiss, your heart stuttering in your chest as you teeter back on the heels of your sandals. The straps along your calves feel tighter now, your stola too… maybe even the room itself: everything seems to close in, and you could only silently hope he doesn’t request your affections for doing such. “… you didn’t have to-“

“Nonsense.” Gaius raises both of his hands, arcs them before stepping out of your path to reveal a new dress lying on the wooden table just beyond him, dyed a light blue.

It’s pretty, well-spun and soft-looking… yet you still hesitate a bit when you step closer to run your fingertips over the fabric. It yields beneath your touch, bunches when you move each digit along the pliant linen, and it’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched, maybe even softer than the lambs and kittens you’ve played with in the streets.

“I thought that you might like something nicer to wear during Quinquatria,” he adds from just behind you. You feel his hands trace along your arms, further, until they reach your shoulders and give a gentle, but almost demanding squeeze.

It’s meant to be affectionate and he is your husband-to-be… but he still manages to make you feel ill. It’s only a blessing that he’s never requested more from you than a peck for his offerings to you.

What a man in his late stage of life could see in you, you couldn’t hope to imagine. A fertile womb, likely, and you could only hope that that isn’t also what he saw in the women he kept as slaves in his own home further toward the city’s center. Nosy, dull man that he was, of course he needed to be closer to the housings of banquets and discussions to feel some level of importance while he kept you locked away toward the wall and the slums like some filthy little mystery.

“I’m tired, my love,” you manage, voice thin as you slowly pull yourself away, from both Gaius and the delicate blue thing you would be forced into wearing for the coming festival.

The man balks, but doesn’t push. A few seasons and he would have what he’s awaited for years, the confident gleam in his eyes tells you that he’s certain of it.

It’s difficult to believe that someone you had once considered a hero and a friend could make you feel so much disgust now. You were naïve, then, and now you only feel how those poor horses locked away in the stables must feel, burdened with a constant yearning for your own freedom.

“Then rest.”

When the door shuts behind him, you’re only then able to expel your relief. The weight of what you must do settles upon you, heavy and unyielding, the boulder of Terminus.

You can not marry Gaius. You can not continue to breathe in the stink of the city from its miasmic aqueducts, perfumed only by the crowded marketplace full of mortals so contented with their own tedium. The unknown calls and calls, howling like a mother wolf to guide you. Even with the stories told of what fiends and horrors lie outside of the city you could almost feel with a certainty that you were destined for it.

You light your incense with a lump of coal in the burner of a clay pot. Just cinnamon would have to do for now. You make your peace with that promising Juno whichever sweet, flaking pastry that appeals most during the festival of Minerva.

Though you were more than content with your wish for nothing more to do with the barbarians after meeting with König earlier… he comes rushing back into your mind, rolling and lapping like waves as you begin to prepare yourself for sleep. The polished tin of your hand mirror reflects your face as you twirl the handle in a curled palm and you stare. Did he see beauty or simply a womb…? Had you taken offense to nothing? The questions stir up remorse as you strip away your gown and take to the bed.

Just one more meeting with the foreigner, maybe. Just to say your farewells, wish him luck in future battles, bless his seax and his shield with a touch and a prayer (if he even had the sight to keep any form of defense on his person).

When Quinquatria comes, when the people are busy and satisfied with their food, fortune telling and the gladiator games, you will take your mare and ride off into a sea of stars. Each light will be a point of guidance until you reach the riverbed you’ve only ever dreamt of, until you scale the mountains that sang so sweetly from the goth’s tongue…

And perhaps he will chase you.

— — —

Quinquatria used to be one of your favorite festivals. The fortune tellers were your favorites, always seeming to know so very much with so little insight into your life. Then there were the revelers donning their colorful masks, barking out song with bitter wine painting their tongues.

You try to listen in on them as a woman traces over the patterns in your palm, the curved lines and straight, fine indentations. Palmistry, rather than any proper reading with sacrifices and proper seers stood before a temple. You reason that this is for fun, just like the wine-drinking and the gladiators fighting for their lives and the horrible stink of the city’s streets: natural, reasonable, and dreadfully normal.

The fortune teller hums as she reads you through your hand, laughs a bit when she seems to note a secret or… something. You were not entirely sure. The woman was young, her belly likely as full of fermented fruit as everyone else’s as they dance and crowd the street where you two are stood.

“You’re unhappy, girl,” the woman muses, giving you a sympathetic look before another laugh pulls from her lips.

You give her a nod but don’t say a word as she continues to stroke at your palm. Of course you were, anyone could tell just by the frail look upon your face, as if you were indeed bereft and ready to cry at any moment in this horrible, dainty dress with your betrothed fondling some lady mere paces from you.

“Yet, so lovely,” she continues, nimbly running her fingers to your wrist. She curls them around you, turns your hand over and gives it a soft pat to signify that your reading is done.

“You’re destined for a summer wedding.” Winter, you want to correct. “And your husband… strong and brave like the sacred wolf.” Weak and old, you force back with a clenched jaw.

She releases your wrist with one last assessment, “Juno favors you, sweet girl.”

You want to call her a fraud, but instead you merely part with the bronze you had promised to her. With Gaius preoccupied, his wrinkled hands already tucked beneath the skirt of the other woman’s stola, now would be the best time to wrench the door of your little cage wide open… not make a scene.

Your chest feels tight, and for the first time it isn’t from some unknown fear, it’s excitement. Your heart hammers as the blood stirs within your veins, belly tense and breathing shallow, taking a stiff pace to walk along the shadow untouched by silver paths of moonlight.

There’s a bellow, a wail as the gladiators fight some distance off. Soft words and whispers filtering past like eerie words from something ghastly, moans from a brothel, bells on the wind, the stink of rot and perfume all from all that you’ve known for so long as you leave it all behind.

Your mare is pacing restlessly in the field, her ears flicking and tail swaying behind her. You’ve no saddle, you hadn’t even thought to procure food or any supplies. You’re not even certain that she’s been ridden by anyone, but you coax her over to the wooden fence that your body rests over; hands find the velvety fur of her gray snout, fingers moving to gently caress her mane and ears.

“We are going to be free,” you whisper as your hands curl over her neck. The mare makes her displeasure known immediately, huffing and tensing immediately… and you realize that this isn’t going to work, not without her bucking you off and leaving you injured or dead. You’re not stupid or brazen enough to break a horse or anything, really. Not Gaius. Not…

You would find König. Perhaps you could even trade the Goth for a horse already accustomed to being ridden… he had already revealed his intentions, and he was easy enough on the eyes to entertain the thought.

You give the mare a kiss farewell, right on the softness of her cheek and detach yourself from the fence to wander past the silver field, the gently flowing stream. The water dampens your dress, embeds it’s cold into your very bone where the sandals fail to protect. Spring or not, it’s hardly warm at night, and there are only so many rocks lying in the water to keep you from sinking in.

The clothes are drenched by the time you crawl to the other side. On the opposite bank, it’s only then that you turn back to look over at the city, one final glimpse of a place bathed in gold; cinder and ash from torchlight, flowers and the creeping scent of decay carry on the breeze. Even from the distance you can hear the music, chimes of steel on steel, the laughter and cries of mirth and pleasure.

Begrudgingly, you feel the first seeds of regret plucking at your heartstrings. You’ve nothing to your name apart from a few coins in a pouch strapped to your hip, no weapons, no food. You could die, you verily would if you went at this alone. And still, you force your face forward and continue your steady waltz to look the unknown straight in its bloody maw.

You won’t panic, won’t fear. Whatever awaits would be better— it had to be.

The barbarian camp comes into view some time later. You couldn’t be certain how long you’ve been walking, as though some spirit had plucked the chords of your mind and left you in some confused daze. It couldn’t have been your own desperation. Something greater had to be at play, a proper destiny: one much better than the life of Gaius’s wife, owned like a hound, imprisoned and uninspired.

Though their torches burn, their tents stitched together amalgamations of old pelts and cloth, the air is fresher here. You expected the reek of death, heavy on their skin, bathed in blood and the rot like visions of Mors herself. Instead, you smell smoked meat and wine on the air: a boar and fermented grape, fruit from the surrounding orchards, the heavy scent of men. There’s no celebration here, a few men talking quietly as their eyes wander over what you can only assume to be some sort of map— tactical discussion for their next bloodbath.

You puff your chest and steel your gaze as you walk towards them, expression set not unlike the stern looks your betrothed would give.

Your attempt at intimidation only earns a flicker of hunger in the gazes of these men, and then a bout of grating laughter. They glance at one another, discussing you in hushed voices in their mother tongue before one finally looks to you and asks a simple, “Was?”

“König,” you answer simply. “Where might I find him?”

The question undoubtedly goes uninterpreted, but the name does spark a wave of interest that passes between their faces. Finally, one points toward the tent at the far side of the camp: ugly thing, vast and layered in dark tones of gray and maroon, the very structure is a bleeding animal.

You hear the laughter behind you, the lewd whispers and jeers and only a simpleton wouldn’t be able to interpret the meaning; the titan that heads their little group has a lovely woman seeking him out like a wayward dream, and with adrenaline already coursing through you the thought of spending your night here doesn’t even seem an insulting prospect.

The flap serving as the door of the tent parts as your hands move to lift it, and sure enough… the beast lies in wait in his den, seated on a mattress made up entirely of fur. His hood remains over his head as he traces the carvings on the handle of the seax, under flickering flame and the shadow of the tent König seems further unearthly, god walking amongst men as he toys with his weapon in some strange sort of ritual.

The ritual only seems to be one of boredom, because his eyes light up when they rest over you, standing like a dream as your dress billows with the breeze creeping in. You’re drenched and dirty and pitiful in his presence, but he only seems to soften when he beckons you toward him with a curl of his fingers meeting his palm.

You obey with tentative steps, stopping next to him as he waits on the bed. If it were possible for your heart to seize and halt entirely without you collapsing to sink beneath the earth, it surely would now, so close to him.

“I need a favor,” you explain in whispers. “A horse.”

“A horse,” he repeats as his weapon is set aside, “Warum?”

You don’t want to explain a thing. He’s working with the very men that could drag you back to the city after being paid heavily by Gaius… your trust is blind and foolish and you almost want to break apart right here. How stupid to believe that you could find some solace here, with a giant that walks along the cusp between men and beasts. Your shaking hands reach out to drag along his vast shoulders, lingering on the healed wounds that dent and give rise to his flesh.

“I’ll do what you want,” you offer quietly, earning a pleased rumble from his chest.

Though after a moment, he only sieges your wrists, pulls you down to the mattress at his side. He touches you no further, only stares down at you in a twist of amusement, reverence and confusion.

“Warum?,” he repeats, “Tell me.”

You wind over onto your side, staring up at him with a desperation that you’ve never known until this night, clawing down from your throat to bed it’s way into your roaring pulse, frightened and pleading. Just give in, ask no more, you want to wail to him as your vision begins to blur with tears.

Mercifully, he doesn’t ask again. König lies at your side, mimicking the way you curl onto your side and again… he smiles, though this one is unlike the way he looked upon you by the stream. It lacks that boyish twinkle, the intensity of the lines forming beneath his eyes: it’s more of a pleasantry than anything genuine.

“You are married?”

“What? No…” You swallow hard, toying with a thread that’s begun to pull free from your hip, twirling it between your fingers. “…not yet.”

“Ach… but you belong to another, ja?”

You want to howl out your frustrations up to every god and goddess above, burn through the Elysian with your misery alone. You wish, yearn for the courage to cast off that mask and lure him in with a kiss, erase any memory of Gaius with the kindling of a truer passion.

Your voice doesn’t come, and your fingers steadily pluck at that thread, feeling more unsure of yourself with each passing second.

Again, your bastard god grants his mercy as he raises a hand to cup your jaw, the warmth of him singing away the memory of the weathered hand that had touched you there before. His hand is so much larger, strong and riddled with calluses; you swear that you can feel his own fluttering pulse through his fingertips when they press against your bottom lip.

“Not after tonight,” he hums.

When the shroud is tugged up and his mouth meets your own, König’s kiss is exactly what you had expected: a sloppy, eager clash of teeth and tongue. He steadies you with a hand pressed to the back of your neck as his grunts filter past your own lips. Your eyelids flutter, then close as you allow your mind to finally relax, coaxed into the ethereal with each swipe of his tongue and pleasured sound drawn up from the well of his throat.

He pulls away with a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth, gazing down at you as though he’s been deprived of light for the entirety of his being and had only now met the sacred flame. It’s incomparable to how easily your betrothed would cast his scrutiny; though the hunger is similar, there’s something far more enticing here.

“Do you trust me?”

König’s voice holds no apprehension as he speaks; the question is just as blunt as each bulge of muscle and peek of teeth through the grin on his face, only set aglow by dim candlelight in the tent. You don’t nod, don’t even reply immediately as you stare at him a little dumbly, still intoxicated by the ferocity of his affections.

“… I don’t know.”

He moves a hand over your eyes then, gently presses his palm over you until you’re bathed in such darkness that you shudder. It’s a disconcerting feeling— not because you fear him so much anymore, but because if this were Gaius you would have already been squirming away, rushing to hide. You want to kiss his palm, revel in whatever piece of him he gives to you.

“Sehr schön,” König coos to you in a whisper. You settle further, allowing the tension to leave you almost entirely as you fall into the velvety embrace of all of this darkness and the pelts beneath your back.

He shifts at your side, and almost immediately there’s a cold chill at your collar, something sharp that he rakes over the softness of your flesh, then down, down to snag at the top of your dress. Your gasp is quieted by a kiss as you feel his weight shift over you, and just as you begin to melt into it… the fabric begins to tear, shreds as he guides his blade further, past your breasts and along your sternum, your belly, further.

“Don’t..,” you manage to hiss against his mouth, immediately taken over by the feeling of his tongue lapping at your teeth. Your nipples peak at the sudden chill as your dress lies ruined to either side of your body, thighs trembling as the blade hooks along the linen concealing your maidenhood.

One more generous, gentle cut and that comes away too.

You’re entirely bare when he retreats to your side again, one hand still clutching the blade as he moves his head to lay over your breast and… never, never had you heard of a man lapping and suckling at a woman like a pup, but that’s what he begins to do; his tongue circles over the bud, tugging it between his teeth until you feel the wetness between your legs beginning to drip to smear upon the mattress.

It’s caught, quick, as he turns the blade in his hand to slot its grip against your sex. It’s cold, but his mouth is warm, attentive as he licks between the valley of your breasts to capture your other nipple.

The noises that leave your mouth are filthy, rivaled only by the sounds you’ve heard in brothels… König only seems appreciative of them, muttering praises as he grinds the cold metal against your cunt, careful as the ridges of it graze your throbbing bud, gathering your slick to make the glide that much easier.

When he moves to dive for your breasts again, you cradle his jaw in your hands, peering up at those moonlight eyes in silent pleading as you capture him in another burning kiss.

The blade turns again, its sharpness directed down so as to not bring you any harm as you desperately roll your hips against its coldness. He groans into your mouth, panting softly just as you begin to whine.

You’ve never heard of a man making love to a woman with a weapon… or of one suckling at her as though she’s lactating when she is not, but… it has the desired result when your body tenses and all that can escape you is a frail whisper of his name.

The heat sweeps from your foggy head to your middle as your thighs squeeze around the damned thing and König presses his lips to your temple. You climax for him, chasing wave upon crashing wave of intensity with stilted bucks of your hips. He clicks his tongue in approval when you’ve finished, holds up the seax again, smeared wet with your essence and twinkling as though it had been bathed in the stream once more.

You know with a certainty you’ve lost Juno’s favor. If he chose you to carve you open with his come-stained blade the goddess would not make her descent to save you.

“Gut,” he whispers into your hair. To your horror, maybe even fascination, he raises the dirtied silver to his lips and licks your sweetness from it with another low groan.

“Wh… why would you do that..?” Your rapture feels almost shameful as you watch him lap at the weapon, the long tongue meeting silver only warmed by your heat.

He’s mad, certainly, and you only find yourself further infatuated: you reason that you must be too…

König doesn’t answer you as he sets the seax aside again, not in words. Instead, he cups your face and directs your lips to his own where he laps at your tongue, suckling it in the same way he did your tits. It’s slow and sensual, and you can taste yourself in his mouth, smell yourself on him as his hands find your waist and tug you closer until you’re lying almost entirely over him; one leg thrown over his thigh with your hands splayed over his chest.

The titan is hard beneath the pelt he wears, felt against the plushness of your thigh, the brown fur wrapped around his hips is pushed to rise where it’s harboring something akin to a pillar… but he doesn’t force you to settle over it, makes no attempt to tug it free, despite its throbbing against your leg,

“I needed your blessing,” he mutters, a hand settling over your naked hip, tracing small shapes with his thick fingers. The other finds your shoulder to pull you into a cuddle, pulled so tightly against him that you’re hardly able to discern where your warmth ends and his begins.

“A.. a blessing?” Your voice comes as a trembling croak, head pressed into the gap between a broad shoulder and the column of his throat.

“We are leaving in the morning.”

“Oh…”

“I will give you the horse when I return.”

Your head feels like a mess. You’re not even certain of what you’ve just done— did that count as sex? Would he tell the Roman soldiers he works alongside of how he had convinced some pompous aristocrat’s lovely bride to lustrate his blade with her essence? You could hit him, demand the horse now and bolt, but you only melt against him: eyelashes fluttering as exhaustion takes hold and the tension leaves you entirely.

“That’s all?”

König pets you, running a hand along your spine and back up to repeat. He presses his nose to the crown of your head, nuzzling against it until his hand is freed from your form and only then does it coax its way beneath the fur covering his groin.

He laughs at the weak sound of surprise you elicit when that beast is pulled free, another, thicker weapon curled in his hand. The thickness, the length of it that tapers off to a layer of skin, eager and pulled back from the tip, leaking beads of milky white: something that would surely tear you if he were not careful, and the thought brings you to squeeze your thighs together, concealing the leaking, thrumming thing between.

“I will fuck you when I return, too,” he huffs into your scalp, causing you to further bury your face against him, intent not to let him see the effect his derangement seems to have on you. You would let him bury himself into your chest, steal the breath from your very lungs, but you don’t breathe a word of it. Something tells you it’s a mutual thing, perhaps it was all spelled out for you when he asked for your favor rather than from any of his foreign gods.

You count your undeserved blessings. He seems sated only ruining you with his touch for the time being, you’re very comfortable here, and though you dare not speak it… you do find this brute charming. He speaks where you fail to, whispers of your beauty being like that from myths and dreams.

He doesn’t force you to leave, either, only paws at and squishes your breasts until you squeak and whine your protests, already sore from his teeth leaving their marks all over them. When he tires of his fun, you’re pulled into a crushing embrace where he rests his head against your own, blankets you in himself entirely. You were right… the shadow he casts over you blackens out the sun, moon, stars all of it; dulls the haze of carnality with something far more tender.

Your night becomes entirely made up of König: his scent like forest and sweat, the furs from beasts he’s chased down and slain, his soft breathing and gentle snores when he does fall asleep against you.

No dreams come to you, no lemures to haunt you with their wails and flames. Not even Juno descends to punish you. You’re warm and soft and contented like the kittens curled up in clusters along the streets on cold nights.

It’s the first night of peace you’ve had in some time.

When morning comes, the brightness of the sun peeking through the flaps of the tent, you wake to find König already out of bed. He stands at the far side of the tent, strapping on pelts and gear and the leather pouch filled with wine. His seax is held up in utter revelry, and mortifyingly enough… you immediately note that he hadn’t cleaned away the remnants of what occurred last night either.

When you bring yourself to sit upright, the giant only drops to his knees at your feet and curls his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to the valley between your breasts through the thick fabric of the hood.

And… it almost hurts, to realize then that this is something you’ve longed for. You’re not arrogant enough to believe yourself worthy of some foreign worship, but he seems to liken you of some devout little acolyte, as if your come and kisses could grant him favor while he butchers poor souls all in favor of your empire: the people he had likely been communing and trading with only months before. Traitorous, mad, utterly enthralling man… You’re not certain whether you want to relieve yourself from him or guide him back into bed for more frenzied pleasures.

“You will stay?,” he murmurs into your skin as his kisses trail up to your neck.

You hadn’t even considered what you would do, it never came to mind, but staying in a shoddy tent in wait for him to return with the horse he’s promised was far from favorable. You’re out from the city, still without food or weapons, your dress and underclothes are a torn ruin on the floor, nothing but the wind and the stream and König’s stinking furs… The bathhouse seems to call to you now more than ever. Your lower lip trembles when you think of returning to that stale place, to be questioned endlessly about your affairs from your ‘doting’ husband-to-be…

Your head shakes solemnly. “I’ll wait for you at home.”

König drags you up onto your feet and closer as he savors in another embrace. You’re cloaked in a gray pelt, tied up and over your shoulders like the gaudiest tunic in the world, but you bur your nose into its shoulder, humming in contentment when you find that it smells just like him.

He’s more confident and proud than you’ve ever seen him now. The filthy blade remains strapped to his hip when he gathers you up to sit at his front on the back of his horse— a dark stallion with a pelt the same shade as the night sky. It doesn’t even seem to flinch at your combined weight, just canters along smoothly as König directs it through the sprawling field and past the stream to lead you back towards the city’s gates.

You’re not thinking of Juno or Gaius or traditions when König cinches your waist with a thick arm to draw you in closer; there’s nothing but fluffy warmth pooling in your chest sent by Venus when you feel his hips shift to press himself against your back. His head dips to kiss at your neck, your burning cheeks, shoulder, anyplace that he can.

When the horse comes to a halt with a sharp tug of its makeshift reigns, some length of rope and twine, his hand is at your rear.

Everything’s incensed and floral when you’re lowered to the ground, when he lifts the hood to grin down at you, not only with his eyes this time. It’s a sheepish, gluttonous grin, drunk off your very presence.

“I will come back for you, meine Göttin.”

And you know now, that the palm reading had been true— there’s your wolf in preparation for a hunt, the man who’s unwittingly aiding you in your pursuit of freedom painted with mountains and vast, blue skies. You will convince him to come away too, lay down the blade you’ve blessed with your pleasure. A summer wedding… far from wars of greed and smirking old men.

Your head swims when he bids you farewell, rides off on his massive horse back to his camp to gather his own men to march. You watch him go, breath caught up in your throat, a burning longing in your chest that you can not entirely dismiss.

The walk of shame only comes when you’ve crossed the threshold separating König’s world from your own.

The stink of the streets immediately washes away any lingering scent of him on your skin, on his pelt you now hide away with your arms curled around your waist.

You catch your reflection in stagnant water held in a pot, swaying and ebbing gently as others breeze past you.

You’re in a foreigner’s clothes that just barely crest your thighs, hair a mess and the carmine you had worn to bring a false blush to your cheeks is smeared over an eye and down to your jaw. You look the part of an adulteress, maybe, even as you dip your hand into the water to wash the makeup from your face.

There isn’t much to be done about the marks left over the hints of your chest revealed beneath the fur, but you make your way home without anyone even bothering to ask. If anything, the festivities from the night prior only seemed to subdue the standard bustle. You could only imagine how exhausted the hungover soldiers may have been as they undoubtedly prepare for the expedition König had mentioned.

That overrides your shame, sobers you from that sugary elation somewhat. You’re worried. It’s not just about König himself, not about the threat of fucking you when he returns left unfulfilled— though, those are enough to make your heart begin it’s hammering, rabbit in the throes of a chase. The horse, too. That proud stallion, your hope of a swift escape before winter comes and it’s all lost. If his drunken allies fail him in battle, if some other barbarian’s spear strikes true and fells your titan then the dream is dispelled into smoke, sunken down to river bed to be lashed away by frothing waters.

Whoever decided that the day after revelry would be the time to move was a fool indeed. The deities couldn’t look at you after last night, you know if they saw their noses would be turned up in disgust… perhaps not Jupiter’s, he’s more guilty than you could ever be, but your offerings had never been for him had they?

You fret and hiss below your breath as you wind your way back to the villa with its white walls and terracotta-tiled roof. The sun bears down on you like the flame of your dreaming. You’re afraid again, letting the lemures find their way in through the gaps in your shivering limbs to haunt your dreams.

Gaius is not there to greet you, likely still recovering from his own fevered night. You’re grateful for that.

The little altar to Juno still stands atop a table in your room, the burner still smells of cinnamon, dried flower petals and a dish of honey still sat there entirely untouched. She hasn’t split it in two, abandoned you, but it does feel that way when you peel away the fur.

Your fingers nudge at the bruises laden into your skin, the marks that look like teeth to either side of your breast. You press into them, gently, immediately feel that coil of heat, and you don’t want to sleep. That fire from your dream only seems to have become a part of you: you know it intimately now, it comes with pleasure and bite marks and a heavy weight harbored in your chest.

You cinch your waist and tie your stola at your shoulder, brush your hair out with a comb made of ivory. You rub your bruises with a salve made of honey, bandage up what you can and hide away what you can’t by tugging up your breast band.

The same as any other day, you take to the streets of the city and peruse the marketplace, take to the empty bathhouse to wash away all that’s consumed you over the past day. And you watch the soldiers go as they march through the streets, women and children waving away their fathers and brothers with prayers and sentimental words.

They don themselves in red, clutching their gladiuses, spears and heavy shields as they filter out and away where your very being longs to be. Their faces are giddy, almost: the prospect of pillaging and felling each enemy another delightful treat just like those found in the gladiator pits and amidst rolling with the whores in their brothel beds. You can not hope to understand their mirth, the happiness in any of the civilians either.

You watch them leave wistfully, lips pressed to a thin line, fingers digging into the waist of the stola. You down your fair share of the wine Gaius has left in your cellar. The day merely passes you by, the sewing left undone on the floor, altar bathed in cinnamon and saffron as you make your prayers and beg like any dog.

The mattress feels lonely and sad without the warmth of a body made for war curled against you, without his breath in your hair and his arms wrapped around you. It’s cold, too, and far harder than his, all straw and thin sheets. None of this feels like home.

Your eyes eventually close as the last of the sun’s rays begin to die, blotted out by the dark, untouched by torchlight.

You dream of fire.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig x you #cod fanfiction #f: only other #tw: dubcon

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doitforbangchan · 1 year ago

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All Bark and No Bite

Chapter 1

It's here! This is the first chapter of my first real fic here on tumblr! I am not the best writer so please be kind :')

Series masterlist

Alternate Universe SKZ!

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

Previous - Next

Summary: There's no turning back now, not when you know what you left behind. A dangerous situation now replaced with another. After the omegas disappeared you have to extra careful, especially now that you have left your pack and family. What happens when your car breaks down on another pack's land?

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, fluff, angst, virgin!reader, cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!)

Chapter warnings: Angst, anxiety, reader is VERY sad, minor violence, cursing, A/B/O (pls let me know if I missed any!)

MDNI 18+

Wc: 2400 ish

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please.

You should have known better. All those hushed conversations your parents have been having, all the phone calls your father excused himself to take, even the trip to your packs doctor for a very extensive physical. None of it set off your mental alarm bells and that made you feel so stupid. But how could you have known that your own parents, the people who raised you and were supposed to have your best interest at heart, were planning on selling you off to the highest bidder once you became mature enough.

That's life for omegas these days, though. After a worldwide virus a few decades ago, omegas just stopped being born. The virus wiped the gene out almost completely, leaving a very small percentage of omegas left. Unluckily for you, you happened to be the only omega born in your area in the last 40 years. That made you highly sought after by alphas, especially dangerous ones.

Your hands were still shaking. It had been hours since you escaped your parents house in your car, yet you couldn't get your hands to stop shaking with the immense adrenaline you’re feeling. You had no plan, no money, nowhere to go and no one to help you. Your only friend, Ash, was a beta girl in your pack and as much as you liked her you knew she could do nothing to save you now. At least your car had a full tank of gas, the only good thing your father had done for you was allow you to drive to Ash's house on occasion.

All the adrenaline was starting to wear off as you drove, the realization of what this would mean for you and your life now starting to sink in. The constant looking over your shoulder, the uneasiness you will always feel, it was almost too much to handle. No. What would have been too much to handle is letting that filthy man get his hands on you. Kim Hongjoong.You had heard about the things that alpha had done to claim power over his pack. From sabotage to murder, none of it was good. From what you could gather he was on the search for an omega to complete his pack and somehow had heard whispers about you. The only known omega within a few hundred miles. He wanted an omega to raise his children and help him lead his pack and would do anything to get his hands on one; whatever necessary.

You imagine the sum of money he offered your parents was just too good for them to pass up on. Your alpha father was too proud to accept anything less than a hefty amount. Your mother was an omega through and through. Obedient and submissive to her alpha. Just as she raised you to be. She herself was a rare omega. Though back in her day the omega population wasn't as low as it is now. Now the numbers have fallen to less than 0.2%. Your mother molded you into the perfect little doll. Almost. Never in your wildest dreams did she or your father imagine you, their doll, would be disobeying and running from all you had ever known, yet here you are. That's what real fear does to a person. Fight or flight. All your life you had been all bark and no bite. Now this is your way of biting back.

All you had to your name was this old car (technically your fathers), an old backpack with a few changes of clothes, and couple cans of spaghetti o’s. Luckily this car had an old map in the glovebox. Better than nothing especially since you had no gps and no phone. You knew better than to take the main roads. Your pack would undoubtedly be looking for you and the car. Back roads it was then.

You couldn't tell exactly how many hours you had been driving at this point, too caught up in your mind to really pay attention to the time but by now it had gotten very dark and you found yourself on this old road going through a small town in the woods. You vaguely remember passing through the small community about half an hour ago. Of course you hadn't stopped in the town in fear of being noticed or recognised somehow. But now you’re wishing you had stopped at that little gas station and at least tried to get an ounce of gas with the spare change left in the middle console. The car was officially running out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. Just your luck.

“Are you serious?” You asked no one with tears starting to fill your eyes.

Feeling the difference in the vehicle causes you to pull off to the side of the road with a groan. You know it won't be going any further with the way it just gives up there on the side. Turning off the car and leaning your head against the wheel you let out a light sob. This wasn't the life you had envisioned for yourself. Once upon a time you thought one day you would meet your true mate, a caring alpha who would love you for you and want to make you happy. Seems as though that was just a fairytale after all. Even your parents weren’t true mates. They just settled for each other. You knew you couldn’t let that be you. You wouldn’t settle, especially not for a vile man you didn't love.

It was too late now to leave the car. This is where you will be staying for the night. Good thing it was late spring and not winter or you would freeze out here. Once your tears have slowed and the sobs have ceased you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You will be ok.” You repeat to yourself a few times. “You will be ok. You will be ok.”

Will you though? It didn't matter. You had to be. With one last sigh you locked the doors and climbed into the backseat of the old car. Its seats were worn and uncomfortable but it somehow felt comforting. It felt like the last remaining bit you had from childhood. When things were simple for you. Were things ever that simple as you remembered it being though? Before presenting as an omega when you were 16 things were definitely simple. You had assumed along with everyone else that you would be a beta and go on to have a normal life. Sure sometimes you were a little agreeable and always had a gentle nature, but you had just thought you took after your mom in that aspect. Little did you know you would take after her in a different way. It wasn’t until you presented that it made sense to the pack why you were that way. It was then that the looks began from other pack members. The way their eyes would linger on you a little too hard. The way their nostrils would flare when you entered a room. It made your skin crawl thinking back.

From that point on there was no more public school for you. You were homeschooled the last few years of high school for your protection. “We're doing this to protect you not punish you, Y/N.” your father had said when he forbade you from going back to school. “You can't trust anyone these days. Not around an omega.” He was right. The thought never crossed your mind that you couldn't even trust your own parents. You wished you had been born a beta like your sister, or even an alpha like your brother. Being the youngest out of three you figured you would be like them.

The worst part was you didn't have the suppressants you had been taking since you were a teen. They were almost impossible to come by normally, but your father had somehow gotten his hands on a steady supply and had been forcing you to take them. Another thing that was for your protection. To keep alphas from detecting you by scent. You hadn't taken any this morning before you left so you imagine your scent was going to start leaking out for any one nearby to smell. Great. Another problem for tomorrow.

Adjusting yourself on the seat to lay down as much as you could, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. It wouldn't be long before sleep overcame you. The exhaustion of the whole ordeal catching up with you.

__________________________________________________________

The sun peaking through the trees awoke you from your surprisingly restful slumber. It seemed to be early morning if the dew on the windows was any indication. Peeking out the window you saw nothing around. Not even any animals. Perfect. You slowly unlocked the door and crept out quietly shutting the door behind you. Taking careful steps a few yards into the thickets ahead of you and relieving yourself helped you feel a little better. You made your way back to the car and took a second to breathe. In and out. In and out. The air was crisp and refreshing and helped you clear your head.

Now feeling a little better you noticed how bad your stomach was growling at you. Reaching into the trunk of the car you pulled out a small can of spaghetti o’s. Not your first choice of a meal but when you panic you grab what you figure will be easiest to take with you. Plus you could use a can as a weapon if needed!

Eating was the last thing on your mind yesterday, but now you knew you could no longer put it off. Popping a can open and taking a seat on the hood of the car with a spoon you dug into the food. It was….. food . Cold and disappointing but at the same time satisfying as you had an empty stomach.

There you were, sitting there on the old car contemplating your next move from here with now a half full can of disappointment, when you catch a scent in the air getting stronger with each passing second. It was another person, no it was people. More than one.

Fuck

You have been found. Whether by the packs that were after you or by a stranger it didn’t matter all you felt was terror.

There was no time to flee. Before you could even move from the hood you could feel a pair of eyes on you to the right of you. You twist your head to face the eyes that are peaking out at you from the trees ahead.

The stranger takes a tentative step towards you and comes out from hiding and you immediately go into fight or flight.

With an alarmed shout “NO”, you launched the half full can of spaghetti o’s at the intruder, hitting him square in the chest and sending the cold contents all across his shirt.

“What the fuck?!” the possible assailant yelled.

Spotting another figure approaching the first one you threw yourself back off the hood and onto the ground, then as quickly as possible you yanked the door open to the car and jammed yourself in locking it immediately. You made yourself as small as possible as to not be seen by them but you knew the damage had been done. There was no way out of this. No gas in the tank and even if there was you had no idea where your keys had gone.

You could hear them talking but you were too frightened to pick up any of the words except girl, mess and Alpha. Now you really felt terror. Without realizing how close they had been to you, you let out a shriek when there was a sudden knock on the window next to you.

Not daring to look at them for even a second you yelled through the glass “Please go away! Please please I don’t deserve this!” tears filled your eyes.

__________________________________________________________

The smell of your distress was making Seungmins and Jeongins eyes water. They had never experienced such a powerful scent before. Not even the odor from the Spaghetti Os covering Seungmins shirt would distract from the one coming from within the vehicle. The beta wanted to be mad that she had pretty much assaulted him, but at the same time couldn’t find it within himself to care much given how much pure terror he smelled coming from the young woman. The omega.

The young alpha Jeongin felt similarly now that he had eyes on her he felt this overwhelming urge to protect. He had never encountered one before and honestly thought he never would but now that he was laying eyes on her he felt his alpha side perk up. A part of him never wanted to stop looking at her.

Honestly the boys didn’t know what to expect when they came out here to investigate the scent that had appeared on their land late into the night. They truly didn’t expect the cause to be an omega girl that was holed up on the side of a path.

Seungmin tried knocking again, a little more timid this time so as not to frighten her more. “Excuse me, we could smell your distress. Do you need any help?” He asked slowly.

You spared him one quick glance then shrunk into yourself again. “No thank you, please go!”

He sighed and stepped back a few feet to look at Jeongin in amazement at the situation. Giving him one small nod he said “ We need to call Chan.”

__________________________________________________________

What felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, passed and you stayed in your same position. The boys had remained there but not so close to the car anymore to which you were thankful. They were quietly mumbling amongst themselves, no doubt about an omega being caught out here alone. Every so often you would move your head just slightly to peer over at them. You hadn’t noticed before in your initial panic but they were pretty cute young men. A beta and an alpha from what you could tell. Even covered in your thrown breakfast (a shame about that really) they still managed to carry themselves proudly. Though your smell is causing their faces to scrunch up, you could tell it was taking it's toll on them.

Not even a moment later after taking another look at them you could feel the change in the air as another pair of people was approaching. Not just anybody was coming this way, it was an Alpha. A very strong one at that. The smell was starting to permeate all of your senses and was quickly becoming intoxicating.

You could sense him before he even appeared. No matter how intrigued you may be though you can’t show weakness.

‘Keep your head down and wait it out’ you kept telling yourself like a mantra.

You knew he was approaching your door. It took everything in you to remain still. Then as if struck by lightning you felt your body alight like it never has before.

“Omega..”

(A/N: Please do not steal my writing and content! Reblogs and comments are encouraged tho 😙once again i would LOVE to hear your thoughts and theories! This has not been beta read all mistakes are my own.)

TAGLIST

@ihrtlix @realrintaro @meowmeeps

#stray kids x reader #skz smut #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #felix lee #seungmin #jeongin #ot8 x reader #skz ot8 #skz abo #omegaverse #stray kids #abo #dom chan

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shotgunbunny · 2 months ago

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𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐝

pinboard¦ playlist¦ dividers¦ wc:14k ¦ paring: Dark!Frat!Alpha!Ari x Alpha!Omega?Reader

warnings: Misogyny, sexism, Rape! Non con! Breeding kink! blood, fighting, violence, forced impregnation, power imbalance, size difference, Ari being very mean, Manipulation, depression, yandere, obsession, Bucky and Curtis being assholes too, forced oral (m), being recorded without consent.

This is a very dark fic so please be aware of that before reading! This is my first commission too! <3 This is the alpha version! :)

Everyone knew Ari. How could they not? With a striking 6’6 figure, well toned with muscles that would make any woman shiver at the sight of the hunky man. All embodied with the face that would seem like it’s from a Greek god with a body to match. Gorgeous chocolate brown hair that was always swept back from his face yet still long enough to frame his angular face. A beard to match, making him look older than he was, an aura of maturity and grace in everything he did, no matter how simple. All matched with the most beautiful brown eyes that would glow like honey in the sunlight or darken like a black void when he laid his eyes on something he desired, which would only ever be you. The feisty Alpha that he was determined to bring to her knees, turn you into what you were meant to be, an omega. That’s what a woman was designed to be, and yet you defied his logic, and he just couldn’t stand it. You made his nose wrinkle in disgust at the fact you didn’t submit; how you carried yourself would make him curl his hand up into a fist. You were simply wrong to him.

It wasn’t just his looks that made him so well known, everything about him drew people in. He was the head Hockey Player, he had never lost a game and he prided himself on that. And in return so did everyone else, their champion who would always win a match. Then afterwards throw a raging party that left everyone filled with regret or empty memories. Especially the omega’s, they would enter these parties and leave defiled by whatever alpha had gotten them. There were rumours that Ari had participated in this but it was never backed up as he would often brag about how he would never accept such a tainted slut that got drunk and spread their legs so easily, he believed in true mates and that he would find his woman and put her in her rightful place. On her knees sucking his cock while the dinner was cooking and the baby was sleeping upstairs safely in the nursery all while living in a beautiful house he bought with a pretty white picket fence. He was traditional to an extreme amount. Despite that though, it didn’t stop him from sexting every girl on campus, only getting nudes to stroke his cock to while he imagined breaking in your tight, disobedient cunt and making you cry from the stretch of his knot breaking your will.

And you despised him, He was nothing but an asshole who needed to be put in his place, All he did was play with girls online coaxing sweet, innocent omegas to open their hearts to him online before he exploited them and left wanting more and forever empty. He had broken your dorm mates heart, a sweet girl called Vera, she was studying art and she fell hard for Ari. He had so many promises to her but they were left in the dust like she was as well as the other omegas. All he wanted was to look at these willing women and picture how willing you would be if he broke your place and he was going to. You were a strong alpha woman, you were proud of that too. You rose above the rest and set an example of how women should be. You were paving the way for independence and respect step by step.

You were studying business and you were doing amazing at it, to the point that you were over achieving. Or well you would be if it wasn’t for the bear of a man that took the class with you. He gave you a run for your money, he would always one up you in class. He was smug in everything he did. Crowding your space, stealing pens so you had nothing to write with, critiquing your notes whenever he could. And the worst part was that the teacher did nothing. He has disregarded it as it being Alpha playfulness when it was Ari’s systematic way to oppress you and it was working. Every little thing he did kept you busy studying while he breezed through lessons without a care.

That’s how life was for you, always battling Ari. From his darkened gaze when he watched you do anything, his eyes would devour your form no matter what you wore and every time you saw him readjust his half hard cock in his pants with a lazy grin tugging at his lips. He wanted to break you, to have you submit from being an Alpha to an Omega. You wanted him to bow like that pathetic sexist mongrel that he was to you. It was a rivalry to you, a battle of will. To Ari it was a contest, a game that he would win without even breaking a sweat.

Of course there was another reason you despised the Adonis that graced the hallways and that was because he was filthy rich. Spoiled to a degree that he had never worked for anything, he expected it all to just fall into his hands if he just flashed a wad of cash. A luxury you had never experienced as you had grown up from roots that encouraged you to work hard for everything, to earn it so then you would understand the hardships of life. That was the life of a female omega, forced to strive harder than any other kind. You had to battle for everything and you were not giving up now. Which is why when you signed up for this prestige college you knew you had to work until your back ached and your bones were sore. You needed the money.

So you had ended up with a small job at a cafe across the campus, it was simple at first being a waitress, taking any extra shift you could to meet the expenses you faced on the daily and it was smooth sailing. You looked out for the omegas that worked there before it transpired into a friendship between you all. They relied on you to keep them safe during the shifts and you did. Which led to you climbing the ladder to becoming a manager at the cafe. The pay was okay, enough to scrape by while also save some money. Every penny counted, you told yourself and in a way it did, it had gotten you this far after all. Yet your smooth sailing and peace was soon disrupted when the frat alphas heard about it and deemed it a place to harass the omegas. And the leader that led the great conquest was none other than Ari. You assumed that he would be there to use the Omegas yet he never did. He didn’t treat them with respect, but he never laid his hands on them or said anything vile, he would just wear a neutral expression on his face while he watched them work.

Soon his eyes landed in you, just like they did whenever he saw you, drawn like a moth to the light. His deep brown eyes would swallow your form, analysing your every move like it was a chess game. And as time grew, when you moved he did, in the most subtlest of ways. If you went to sort a customer out, in the corner of your eye you would see Ari making his form look bigger, squaring his shoulders and spreading his legs. You noticed every time which was just what he wanted, you couldn’t help but hate him for that for somehow always having your attention.

It was a Tuesday, the sun was just starting to fall and the street lights were flickering on as the darkness stretched down the streets making it known that it was evening. Autumn leaves were piled up on the streets, littering the concrete carpets of the outside world with hints of green, brown, orange and red from the leaves that had fallen from the trees leaving them barren. Inside the cafe, you were cleaning up. Mopping the floors while the 2 omega servers were behind the counter, wiping and cleaning the any spills or excess that had dribbled onto the counter while they handed out coffees or teas throughout the day. You were in your blue mom jeans and a long sleeve black top, you wanted to be warm at this time of year, you couldn’t help but worry for the girls you worked with who all wore skirts, how cold they would be or if an Alpha tried anything.

“Hey, ladies. Why don't you start getting ready to leave. I can hold this place over for the last 30 minutes.” You coo to the girls and their eyes light up. You watch as they quickly scramble up and begin to head to the back to clock out. You huff and put your hand on your hip, it’d be easier to send them home now before it got too dark. You put the mop back into the bucket and wheel it into the back. You see the girls putting their coats on and you smile softly. They beam brightly at you as they walk past nattering away with each other and soon, they leave bidding a sweet good bye.

As you were finally settling the cafe down, preparing it to be closed for the night as the customers were long gone on an autumn night and were probably at home snug in their warm homes watching creepy movies to get in the spirit for Halloween. You knew when you got back to your dorm you would be studying as always, making notes and expanding your ideas by searching things up. While you were in your drifted state of thinking, getting ready for all the notes you would have to take and trying to map out the specific points you would have to make you heard the cafe bell chime. The sweet bell ringing in your head and sweeping you back into the moment, someone was in the cafe and it was time to close. You feel your brain itching with irritation at someone coming in at the last minute just as you were leaving.

You push you hair back from your face before pinning it into a bun with a claw clip and wiping your face with your hands, hoping to wipe the sour look that had graced your face. As you walk out the back to the counter though, the sourness on your face soon reappeared. A look of disgust and disdain shinning in your eyes.

Stood there with his gorgeous brown locks swooped back was Ari. A baby blue button up shirt wrapped around his big muscular form, the sleeves rolled up and clinging to his biceps like a second skin, while he wore a pair of brown pants that hugged his big, meaty thighs. He was slouched onto the counter, his elbow resting on it and his hand balled up as his head rests on it. A smug grin pull at his lips as he sizes you up with his eyes lazily. You see the momentary look of disgust on his face appearing, no doubt from the fact you were a woman and you were working.

“You gonna give me my coffee, mutt?” Ari mutters his dark voice dominating the quietness of the cafe and disturbing your peace fully. You grind your teeth together and before you can utter anything out he beats you to it, further trying to reinstate his dominance over you trying to prove he was the alpha out of you two. “Or you gonna spit in it again? I don’t mind, at least I’ll get to taste you but of course you’re practically begging for it, aren’t you? You want me to taste you, to consume you.” You can’t hold yourself back from practically spitting at him, but you knew it would be no good. Not when a foul creature such as him, thrived off it. You take a deep breathe and he decides to stir the pot more, wanting to see you explode, to see you melt with submission. “Do it. Make my coffee, bitch. Follow my commands, you know you want to. You might seem tough but you just want to be ordered around. My little bitch, listening to her alpha like a good girl.”

Each word that leaked out of his mouth without filter spurred you on, you hold your chin up and finally spit back at him a taste of his own poison. “I’m the mutt?” You snort at him as you glare at him from behind the counter, your eyes clashing with his dark brown ones, a silent reprimand that if he didn’t stop that he would face consequences harsher than your words. “Then I guess that makes you the mangy mongrel that follows the status quo because you’re just that desperate for attention that you’ll follow the crowd. You think you’re in charge but you’re not. You’re just a little lost puppy that follows everyone around because you want their approval, you don’t wanna let them down.” You murmur softly but every word was fuelled with spite. You were calm but you wanted to tear him to shreds with soft words.

Ari straightens up, his hulking body stood at his full height and his hands have been rolled into fists. You watch as he flexes his long fingers before they rest down at his sides. A smirk graces his lips again but his eyes are darker, gleaming with menace and his aura is very strong and upset. You had wormed your way under his skin and you were thriving on it. He cracks his jaw and leans his shoulders forward with a terrifying look on his face. It unnerved you, the sick grin on his face and the malice in his eyes.

“Smart words coming from an alpha that would spread her legs for me just as fast as an Omega in heat. You’re gonna be mine, and when you do let me take that tight little cunt you’ll see your place as my slutty little Omega.” He coos to you and you shiver. He said it like it would happen, like it was fate, like it was set in stone. The way he cooed it to you like a lullaby, the calmness that ebbed from his body was horrifying. Your alpha was cowering at him at the pure dominance and certainty in his tone. You gulp and avert your eyes to the till, you don’t look down refusing to submit so much to him. You knew he would see you averting your gaze as a form of submission and looking down would only add fire to his ego.

You tap the price into the till and push the card reader to him and he pulls his card out scanning it. You quickly rush around the cafe and make him a coffee, refusing to spit in it. Especially when his eyes were glued to you. Everything about him gave you goosebumps and you wanted this over, now. So after rushing and making his coffee you hand it to him. Your inner alpha lets out a whimper when Ari wraps his large hand around yours that was clasping the drink. He hums as he scans you, like he could smell your panic. “Good girl.” He says, his deep voice rattling every bone in your body. He takes the drink, his fingers slowly rubbing yours as he pulls away. As he slinks his large form away he turns his head to look at you, a grin on his face and he winks at you before leaving.

The second the door closes you take a deep breath and gaze down at your shaking hand, Ari was bad news and he was planning something. After gathering your thoughts and reaffirming your control before it slips away, you head back to work closing the cafe and trying to focus on the notes you had to write up when you got back to your dorm, but Ari’s lingering scent was etching itself into your brain and the seed had been sewn. The game was officially on.

After that strange little show down between you and Ari, you had studied harder than ever. You just wanted to prove him wrong, that you were stronger than he ever was. That you worked hard and you would never back down. You were a determined girl with her whole life ahead of her and you weren’t going to let female alphas be a laughing stock any more. They were better than the male alphas that seemed to rule the world, you were concise you planned everything out and you had plans. So many ideas and steps to act out on, you’d be damned if you were going to let Ari stand in the way of that.

It had only been a week but you were heading to class. A business major, it was a scarce class with only about 10 students. You had been cursed with Ari being in that class but you refused to let that disrupt your education. As you shuffle down the hall way, your boots hitting the floor in a rhythmic way, you were stopped. There they stood. The alpha’s that you detested with every bone in your body, that made your blood swell and fizzle with hatred. Ari, the head hockey player, stood as tall as ever with a smug grin on his face as he wore his usual flannel that hugged his muscular body.

Followed by Bucky, a well known frat boy who had used nearly any and all omegas that he could get his tight grip on. His dark hair was groomed back and he stood in dark jeans and a leather coat that only just managed to fit his biceps in. He was 5’11 but he was still tall, he fit into the class jester world as he treated everything like it was a huge joke. You would have respected him as he worked hard to get into this college too, but his blatant disrespect for women left a sour taste in your mouth and made it nearly impossible to tolerate the alpha.

Finally, stood at the other side of Ari, was Curtis. Another hockey player that took the sport way too seriously. It was no secret that he had anger issues that he either took out on the other alphas when he was playing or a helpless omega that he would fuck so hard that they wouldn’t walk. His sharp blue eyes could cut through diamonds and his large figure could easily crush you. He towered over you at 6’4, and made you feel small as he was clad in his simple black joggers that hugged his beefy legs and a coat that added more to his size.

You raise an eyebrow at the trio of men before they snicker down at you, “See, I told you. She has bite.” Ari murmurs proudly to his friends, and the second those words left his mouth you could feel their eyes scanning you. You bristled at them all. “Get your fucking eyes on the floor you scumbags.” You say firmly with your chin raised and hell fire brimming in your eyes. Bucky snorted before he laughed hard at you. The sound bouncing off the walls and making your brain ache with frustration. This is why you had to make a difference, so no one would laugh at you the way Buck was now.

Bucky’s brown eyes sweep your form again as a lazy grin settles on his face, “Oh she is feisty.” Bucky practically sings to Ari. Curtis hums as he gazes at you still. You turn your gaze to meet him, a warning glint in your eyes. “She’s cute. I’d tear her apart on my coc-” Curtis mutters before Ari elbows him in the ribs a growl leaving his throat. “I said she’s mine.” Your eye twitches at them. “I’m not yours, mongrel. Watch your tone.” You hiss before you briskly push past the alpha’s and get into your lesson.

After ten minutes and settling into class, you were busy noting everything down. As the professor turns back to his computer to leave everyone to write their notes up, you feel your phone buzz and pull it put. A text linger on the screen from a sweet omega that you worked with. Her name was Valeria and she was short, chubby and an overall sweetheart, The most gorgeous brown eyes to ever grace a face and freckles surrounding her face like she was the night sky and they were stars. She was a very good friend and often asked you to chaperone her places, purely so she didn't get taken advantage of. She was smart and you liked that.

[Will you join me to go to a Hockey match tonight? My brothers playing and I want to cheer him on!]

You gaze at the notification and way up the pros and cons in your head. If you went then you’d have to see that awful alpha trio. But if you didn’t go, anything could happen to Valeria. You sigh, you weren’t going to be stopped seeing a sport because of three egotistical men who thought they run the school. You were above their childish games, this would be a small way to revel and you would revel in the power. With a smile on your lips at the idea of this subtle power play, you respond to her.

[Absolutely V! I’ll meet you outside your dorm at 5!]

And with that your first step had been made, and you were excited. But that feeling soon dispensed when Ari trailed in through the door before he strolled over and sat down next to you. He was so casual with everything he did, never having to worry because he knew his parents could just pay for him. Anything he wanted. From expelling someone he didn’t like to getting top grades. The world was his oyster.

He fakes a cough before dragging his head to gaze at you. He chuckles and smiles down at you like you were an ant and he was the boot about to stomp you down. “Sorry about the guys earlier. They won’t touch you. Not when I’ve had my eye on you. I mean, there’s a special collar and everything for you, mutt. Can’t wait to wrap it around your neck and claim you as my bitch.” He whispers into your ear and you have to hold back a snarl because unlike him, you couldn’t get away with everything and you couldn’t pay your way out of it. Instead you had to grin and bear it and he knew that. In fact he used that to his advantage whenever he got the option,

As the lesson drained on you could feel your mind twisting in agony at holding back retorts of disgust back at the vile creature that had decided to situate himself next to you. In the grand scheme of things, it would be worth it. Every come back you had to gulp down would have made a difference and Ari’s precious money would run out while you ruled the world. But you had to take it one step at a time. With a sigh, you clear all your things up after taking your notes and turn to Ari, a look of nothing in your eyes as you regarded the man because you saw him as nothing. He scoffs, “Watch yourself. You may be an alpha but you’re still a woman. You’ll be bred, mutt. I’d suggest quitting while you’re ahead.” He mutters before he gets up and slinks out of class leaving the threat to hang in the air. You gulp and shake your head, you’d come too far to quit and you were certainly not going to listen to a spoilt mongrel. Never.

It was busy at the hockey stadium, the seats were crowded and the variety of people that blended in with the scene made it look like a sea of people. The scents that lingered were so mixed, sweet smells that rose from all the omegas that came to see the Gods that cruised on the ice with a brutal force. To the betas that were simply there with friends or wanted to watch the sport, all over shadowed by the smell of the alphas. From the hockey players that stunk of aggression and sweat to the alphas that were hopped up on adrenaline from the bets. Overall, it was a very stuffy place to be and you slightly regretted coming, But you had made your mind up and you were not leaving Valeria alone, that and you had a point to make.

You and Valeria sit in the cold, plastic chairs that left you with an uncomfortable back but you couldn’t complain. It was probably the overwhelming amount of people and the increasing anticipation that was swelling in your chest. You were anxious and tense to see Ari’s gorgeous face drop into a murderous look when he clocked eyes on you, you weren’t scared you were just uncertain. But every subtle move in a large chess game made the players tense and nervous, this was just one step in the grand scheme of things.

As the sounds of blades cutting through the ice screeched through the stadium everyone’s attention soon turned to the game. You could see the three alpha’s you despised. All a hulking mass on the ice and in their uniform and you couldn’t help but gulp at how imposing they appeared. They could wipe you out with a simple swipe and no one would care. But you had to swallow that fear and squeeze it in your stomach to stop the bile from crawling up your throat. You were just as strong. Maybe not physically but you could easily outsmart the ape-ish men.

Throughout the game you wrung at your hands, twisting them as every scene you saw filled your heart with more terror and regret. You had watched how Ari had practically destroyed the other player. Not just in points but physically too. You couldn’t help but flinch at every bash against the stadium walls as you watch the trio of men bully a poor alpha into it. The blood that painted the ice was far too much for a simple hockey match, it was practically a death sentence to be on the ice against the team. They would wipe you out and skin you without a care, or at least that’s how it seemed. The brutality they shared against the other players seemed so personal all while they somehow looked elegant. It was sickening and Valeria shared the same sentiment as she watched her brother get slammed into the stadium walls, his head bouncing against it with a thud while Ari stay trained on the puck after mercilessly beating the younger alpha up.

Valeria let out a cry of fear as the medics swoop in and drag her brother off the ice, she gazes at you desperately and you give her a look of concern, throwing your arm over her shoulders to help calm her for a moment as she cries softly. “P-please can you go check on him. They don’t let Omegas back there.” She pleads and you find yourself agreeing to please her. You give her one last cuddle before working your way through the crowd and slipping into the locker room. Just as you walk down the hall way to them though, you hear the sound of the Hockey match ending.

Cheers and screams echoing all around you before you hear the stomping of boots coming down the corridor behind you. Within seconds you scan the are and jump into a janitor closet and hold your breath, your heart racing so loud in your chest. You felt like a spy, no, more of a peeping tom. You cover your mouth with your hand as you hear the boots pounding against the ground and the deep voices of men cheering, But, you hear one pair of boots pause directly outside your room and a deep rumble of a laugh bouncing off the walls, Ari’s laugh. Without warning you watch as light from the key hole disappears and a click sounding out before the light returns. Ari had locked you in. Your chest grows tight at the realisation of it all. You remind yourself to stay calm, Valeria knows where you are or roughly and when you don't return soon she’ll come looking for you.

That’s what you told yourself, oh how wrong you were. As the darkness crept into the hall ways and the sounds of everyone leaving drove itself into your head you felt like a doll, You were a sitting duck and now that the door was unlocking, you realised the metaphorical farmer was here to shoot you. As the door is dragged open at such a slow pace is makes your stomach turn to knots, you gulp rather taking the gun from a farmer than this. Stood bright and tall at the other side of the door was Ari, Curtis and Bucky.

They all chuckle down at you and tilt their heads. “What’s wrong, mutt? Scared of the dark or were you just sad you missed out on peeping?” Ari’s deep voice rumbles out and you feel the fire inside you burn immediately at that. Your fight filling your veins and you pathetically kicked at Ari’s ankle. Bucky’s face crumbles at the sign of your disrespect and Ari takes a step back chuckling menacingly. Just as you were about to hiss out a warning, Curtis’s big hand fists your hair and he begins dragging you back to the locker room with the men all following. “Stupid fucking girl!” Curtis barks out before he pushes you against the lockers and you let out a whimper as your ribs collide against the cold metal and knock the wind out of you.

Before you can recover, Bucky’s hand is gripping your hair and pushing you to your knocks. You gasp and gaze up at the men, regretting it now. All three towered over you as you sat on your knees. Each one of them was unzipping their flies and pulling out their hards cocks. Ari grins down at you smugly as he jerks the tip off and swipes some precum off the tip. He pushes his finger towards your lips and when you move to turn your face, he utters something so softly that you would have been fooled if it not for the promise of the end of your life. “Open your mouth mutt, or I’ll get you expelled. Say that you cheated on a test.” Although he had cooed it down to you, he made it known that he could wipe your education out in the blink of an eye without any remorse. So, you close your eyes and fight back the bile clawing at your throat again and part your lips.

His thick finger intrudes in your mouth as he swipes his precum on your tongue and you gulp. You know his rules and you know what he wanted from you, at least you thought you did. As you lean forward to wrap your lips around his thick, pink tip, he tuts at you and taps your nose like as if he were reprimanding a dog. You gaze up at him with bleary eyes, the tears already leaking down your face. “I have my friends here mutt. Don’t forget that. They deserve some attention too. After all, we just had a very tiring game, we need to get our stress out.” Ari continues to use that same soft tone and it irks you. You weren’t a pet, you were a woman, one in a terrible situation and if this was a small step to one day making a big difference, then you would suffer through it.

They form an almost triangle formation, all their cocks firm and dripping in excitement. You close your eyes and loll your tongue out and within seconds you can feel the tip of a cock sliding along it, soon followed by another and another. They were practically spilling their precum all over your tongue. You gulp before leaning forward and beginning to suck eagerly at Ari’s cock. The groan he let out was beautiful something from the sweetest melody that has ever left someone's vocal chords. You gulp that thought down though just as soon as you begin to gulp Ari's cock down your throat. You bob your head in a steady rhythm before he grips your hair and pulls you backs and guides you open, wet mouth onto Bucky’s desperate dick.

You trail your tongue all the way down Bucky's shaft before he directs you to his balls. You suck one into your mouth, ignoring your dignity that was slowly slipping out of your fingers, out of your soul. You could hear Bucky’s whimpers of delight before his hand begins to steadily pump at his cock as you slurped on his balls.

Yet again you get dragged away, but this time by Curtis. Before you can even flash him a hateful glare his cock is speared down your throat making you gag. He didn’t care though, Curtis was far too aggressive and it was shown in sex as he face fucked you. Tears streaming down your face and you could hardly breathe from your nose because of the snot. But none of the men cared. That was until Ari dragged your mouth off Curtis’s cock. You didn’t see the malicious look that Ari flashed Curtis, you were too busy being hunched over coughing and catching your breath.

That didn’t last fro long though as Ari’s large palm cupped your chin and directed it upwards, you kept your eyes closed as you heard the men shuffled. Ari opened your mouth wide again, and your jaw ached so much by now, they weren’t small men and they definitely weren’t packing small. Each cock was big or thick in it’s own way and each one made your jaw ache more and more. Now you were dreading which dick was going to be buried down your throat.

However you soon heard all the men groaning and saw a bright flash of light behind your closed eyes. You peeked an eye open and horror is painted on your face as you see Ari recording this on his phone, all three men gathered around you jerking off as they pointed their release at your face. This was terrible. Before you could even get up to run or stop this, Curtis let out a groan and his cum shot out and landed on the left side of your face. You immediately close your right eye which you had peeked open as a chain reaction occurs and Bucky paints the right side of your face.

But Ari went above and beyond and pulled your open mouth around his cock and pushed all the way down until your nose was nuzzled into the thick bed of pubic hair he had. “Fuck, that’s so good. See this mouth is better used to suck your master’s cock rather than talk.” You gagged and the tightening of your throat around his cock was all it took before he came down your throat. After a few minutes, he dislodged himself from your throat and turned his phone off from recording. You cough in the ground, tired and humiliated. You barely noticed them moving around. Bucky and Curtis dressed and cleaned. They give you a pat on the head while a satisfied smile clings to their face and they wave Ari goodbye.

You didn’t even realise Ari cleaning your face up of the cum that had been painted on it like you were a whorsh masterpiece. How he gave you water and even somehow got you an Uber home. You just felt helpless this was a bad situation to be in, even if you were wet from it that meant nothing. As you lay in bed, still in your daze you question how many female alpha’s in the world were subjected to this. Was it worth it in the end?

It had to be worth it. You got above and beyond it meant you could stop this from ever happening again, and that was all the motivation you needed. You rewired your mind and took some deep breaths reminding yourself to be strong. But first you would sleep before retrying, you needed to rest so that when you were awake you’d be ready to fight one small change a day.

The coming days after passed in a blur. A strange state that you were left in after your humiliation, after your assault- you stopped that thought immediately. You didn’t even want to remember it, you wanted to live in the emotionless blur that the days had seeped into. Your phone was crowded by texts and you just didn’t have the heart to answer any of them, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask for help and loose your role as the woman who others would come to. That’s what you told yourself, but there were numerous reasons, each one more depressing and degrading than the last. It had only been a week since the incident and yet you had holed yourself up in your dorm room, it was becoming a mess and it reflected your mind. Th blankets that were piled up on the floor were the big thoughts that you were ignoring.

You had dragged yourself to work but you had stayed in the back the whole time, not having the will to go round front and serve people. During that time you had smelt all three alphas come into the cafe. Bucky was the first to enter, you could hear him talking and flirting with the omegas and your stomach was filled with dread. It was like you could feel his eyes seeking you out even though you were hidden. When he left, you would have breathed a sigh of relief but the bile that filled your stomach travelled and you could only vomit in the toilets.

That happened with them all, but the worst was Ari, who came in on Friday. His scent was a lot stronger and it was slightly sour, almost like you could taste it. The curdling in your stomach kicked up like rotten milk would. Ari was angry. You hadn’t seen him all week, choosing to neglect class and instead doing it online instead, and your professor was so kind and sweet. He understood that although Ari had been secretly bribing him, you had finally broken and you needed space. Yet every day you had class, Ari sat in his usual seat next to yours excited to see you. To brag to you and show you the video he had against you. But you didn’t show, and the more he didn’t see you the more frustration would leak into his veins making him tense his muscles and clench his jaw. He hated that you were avoiding him.

You were shaking in the back when you heard his deep voice rumble through the cafe, it was so dark and threatening even if he was ordering a coffee. Everyone could sense it, they could see how tense he was, his eyes darting around the cafe, hunting for your form. He could smell you and it was driving him crazy. Where were you? Ari grinds his teeth as the little omega serving him shakily makes his coffee. His eyes shoot to her form and a dark look overtakes his face. He clears his throat, “Faster. I have things to do.” He grunts out and glares at the girl. She gulps and hurriedly gives him it.

He leans forwards and smirks, “Tell your little manager that if she keeps avoiding me, she’s in for a world of trouble.” His murmurs softly almost cooing down at her, but his eyes were flaring with hatred and warning. And soon turns on his heel putting the fresh coffee in the bin and marches out. All you could do was stare blankly, you heard every word and you felt yourself falling deeper into the hole that had caved itself into your mind. You wanted to sink until no one could find you again. Despite it all, you stayed strong, as strong as you could. You worked hard in your studies still and kept your work in line. You threw yourself into anything and everything to keep distracted. Including an omega group on campus that wanted to be stronger than their hormones and they were very happy to accept a female alpha that was going to help them stay strong.

You had been to one group meeting and it was so inspiring to see that they were trying to overcome the sexism that ran rampant all over the campus and society. You were happy to help build upon their ideas and even helped introduce new ones. So far they had come up with an app, a special dating app for omegas to use. It was simple but if you put in an alphas name it would come up with any recorded offences they had and just general info so then omegas would know in the future who they might spend their heat with or might mate with. You had added in the idea of logging on any crimes they had done, just so they knew what kind of person they would be partnered with. It was simple but it would make a big change in the omega dating world and you were proud to help.

Another week had passed and you found yourself at a classic frat party, people were drunkenly slobbering all over each other either through kissing or speaking. You couldn’t help but cringe at it all where had everyone's self respect gone? You were sat in the corner drinking out of one of the crappy red plastic cups that seemed to be almost dreamlike in your hand. You didn’t want to be here, so whey were you here? You pause and gaze down at the liquid in your cup before you glance back up and meets the eyes of one of the omegas from the group you had recently joined. She was shy and hidden in on herself and a deep look of sadness gleamed in your eyes and you understood why.

During you weekly meeting, the omegas had all suggested they go to a party with all types of people, and they would all have a red button. The premise was simple, if the omega was overwhelmed they would press the red button and everyone would gather round and would evacuate the party. It seemed like a good idea, a way to stand up and finally go to a party without being seen as sex object. So you all agreed happily, wanting to test this red button theory and see how well it worked.

Yet it had crumbled so quickly, after a few drinks some of the girls hit the dance floor which was just a large living room with all the furniture pushed to the side, but mixed with forty people it turned into a crowded dance floor. The red buttons that were favoured so much were now forgotten as they grinded against sleazy alphas. They were lost causes and the odd few that were left had fled the scene disappointed and scared at the outcome of their idea. Yet you were still sat there, across from Kari. She was a sweet girl, she was dressed in a cute white dress and cosy brown cardigan but despite her looking cosy and warm she was shaking. She was just so scared about the outcome, at how easily her friends gave into their hormones.

You sat patiently, keeping an eye on her. You agreed to stay with her until her Uber came and she was very thankful for it. This way, if she were to give into her hormones, you could step in and direct her away. That’s why you were stuck in this hell pit of sadness. Next morning all these omegas would be left, hanged to dry like a forgotten pair of socks on a washing line. They deserved better but in the end there was nothing you really could do. They consented and you were jealous that they had the chance to consent. Why not you? You shoved that selfish thought down and gulped down the rest of your drink, it was nobodies fault but Ari’s, Bucky’s and Curtis’s.

You push your hair back from your face and gaze at Kari, “Let’s wait outside, okay angel?” You coo to her and she nods eagerly, she hides her soft hands in the sleeves of her cardigan and fists it anxiously before she stands up and gazes at you desperately. You stand up and leave your cup on the table, before reaching your hand out and intertwining it with Kari’s hand. You navigate out of the crowded frat house, your head already easing up the second you stand outside as the cold air wraps you up in its embrace and grinds you back down to reality.

You squeeze Kari’s hand and turn your head to flash her a reassuring smile while squeezing her hand softly again. She smiles shyly back at you as you walk down the large porch and head towards the road. You could hear the loud, blaring music that was echoing out of the house and your face twists into one of disgust. You hated it all, you understood people having fun but whatever went on in that house would turn into sadness in the end. Besides you had better things to do, you had ideas in place. How you were going to create a great business one day and instead of only focusing on profits you would take care of the workers. You would let women’s voices be heard and let them climb the tower to success just like you would.

A genuine smile graces your face after the first time in weeks over the idea of creating such a powerful environment and as you walk with Kari you can’t help but begin to tell her about it. You watch her eyes light up as you go into more detail, a feeling of hope blooming from you both as you unravelled more of this idea. You felt that boost that you had been missing, that push to ignore what had happened and actually do something for once. In the future you could get justice, but for now you would have to grit your teeth and bare it, even if it hurt. It would be worth it for omegas like Kari, for strong alpha women like you and the beta women that were often left behind.

You both sit on the curb of the road, happily talking. Dreams and ambitions flowing through you both and a sense of pride leaps out your heart at how proud this omega was, how strong she was. After all the excited chatter, the Uber finally pulls up and you help her to her feet before hugging her tightly. She kisses your cheek and your heart flutters. She was a good woman and she deserved the world and you hoped you could help give her some of it. You stand back onto the pathway and give her a sweet wave as you watch her drive away. You would have gone with her but she was on the other side of campus and half way through your conversation you had noticed your phone missing. No doubt you had left it inside at the crappy party, so with a deep breathe in to encourage yourself you marched back to the party.

As you shoved your way through the mingling bodies that littered the house, you sauntered into the living room and your eyes glazed the scene before you headed towards the corner where you and Kari were sitting before. But just as you were about to approach it, you could feel every hair on your body stand up and a lump in your throat forming. You could smell them, all three of them. But before the bile could coat your stomach, you remembered the hopeful look in Kari’s eyes as you spoke about the future. And this was a step towards it, making your presence known and stepping down on the dirt that proclaimed themselves as the kings of the school.

You square your shoulders and straighten your back, your chin raised high and you turn on your heel a look of hatred flaming in your eyes. It as Bucky, holding your phone as he regarded you with a look of lust. His body language was relaxed but you could see how excited he was just at seeing you. You raise an eyebrow at him and responds with a smug smirk. “What’s wrong, Doll? Not excited to see me? I was looking all over for you. Curtis was too, he was just so sad that our freshly bloomed daisy wasn’t there for him to get his stress out. And don’t even get me started on Ari, all he’s done was rage at everyone. He’s so pissy and all because of you.” You seethe at him, looking at his dark brown locks and you square your jaw. “Give me back my phone.” You command and all you get in return is a laugh.

However, before Bucky could chortle out a response the party fell silent and Bucky stiffened before he relaxed a smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips again. You were confused for half a second before you smelt it. The searing anger that could only be produced by Ari. Bucky grins as he gazes over his shoulder watching the angry God approach you both. You could feel your heart hammer and you were close to having a panic attack but you just couldn’t afford to lose this battle, for Kari and for yourself. You gaze up at Ari’s hulking form, he stood behind Bucky with a dark look on his face that would destroy every ounce of strength of hope that clung to your bones.

“You found our little mutt. Curtis will be glad to know I’m about to put her in her place after avoiding us.” Ari grumbles out and Bucky chuckles at him. The look you receive from Bucky rattles your bones, you both know something big is about to go down. You’re about to be punished by the frat God and no one will help you.

You gazed at the other alpha that had so happily assaulted you, you watch with a sense of fear ready to fun or fight but you were cornered. Cold feelings of dread immediately gripped your form as Ari turned back to you and sized you up. He smirked as he always did, it seemed so easy to him to pull his lips into that evil look where you knew something awful was going to happen again. You couldn’t afford it again, you couldn’t lose that little spark but with every breathe that left your lips in his presence you could feel that little light being snuffed out. Bucky let out a chuckle and pat Ari firmly on the back, “Teach her her god damn place. Put your bitch in her place.” He mutters with a grin on his lips before he saunters away looking around for an Omega to pass the time.

“So, my little mutt can make it to a party but not to see me.” He mumbles before he lets out a bark of laughter, malice was dripping off every musical note that left his lips. He let his head roll down to gaze down at you through his strong nose. His gaze was so very cold it was like ice seeping into your veins and it left you gasping for air. “I have a very pretty video of you choking on my cock like a good little bitch. Now..” You couldn’t breathe at his words, your fate was sealed and you felt so hopeless. The little spark was downed out now. “You can stop avoiding me, be my good little girl and bow down, or I can send this to professors and around the school and get you kicked out of here without so much as blinking.” He cooed it to you like it was a lullaby and without thinking, the last part of you that was screaming in your head had won.

You raised you hand and it was almost in slow motion, such a delightful moment that your entire body sang praises about, as you punched him. The sound of the punch reverberated in the room and everyone fell silent. You felt giddy, excited, so much so that you felt yourself getting wet at giving him some pay back rather than laying down and dying. Ari’s head snapped to the side and he rolled his jaw cracking it almost like he, too, was savouring such a momentous moment. The moment died quickly though. Within seconds of you feeling like a hero, you fell like a villain as his large hands slid into your hair and gripped it tightly. You whimpered in pain as he fisted your hair but you soon let out a cry as he dragged you outside. No one stepped in, no one watched. It was too late for you and your destiny was sealed.

As you round a corner outside he pushed you and lets go of your hair sending you barrelling into the side of a wall, just as you recovered and looked around noting that he had dragged you into an alleyway, you heard Ari let out a sick little chuckle before you looked up and got a firm knee into your ribs. You hunch over and gasp for air before you get a knee swiftly to your face. You don’t know how your nose didn’t break, all you knew was that you were giving up. You crumpled on the floor sobbing and you gazed up at him. Blood dribbled out your nose and your face was red. You felt bruised and battered, even if it was only two hit, they were hard. He was a strong man and he was a hockey player, you didn’t stand a chance. “You’re such a fucking pest in my side. You would be perfect as my bitch. But you just have to open your fucking mouth like the desperate little mutt you are. You have to speak for the attention you’re so god damn desperate for. And then you had the nerve to punch me, with your soft little fucking hands. You should be ashamed to call yourself an alpha. You have done nothing but be a pain in my ass. At least if you were an omega, all I’d have to do is mark you. But no, you have to have it all. You want it, then you fucking got it.”

You couldn’t even hear him, all you could hear was a monotonous tone that rang in your head and you focused on that as a feeling of numbness consumed you. Yet just as you were about to fully give into it, Ari’s large hand grasped you jaw and he tutted at you before he gave a harsh slap to your face. A whimper leaves your lips and you let out a noise of anguish. This was overkill, you both knew it but he just wasn’t satisfied. “A full fucking year! That’s how long I’ve been pining for you, you dumb bitch! I learnt you schedule, everything about you! I listened to your shitty bands to understand you, to get you to bow down. Hell. I even started learning about business class when I didn’t even need it. But no! Wasn’t good enough for Miss. I’m so up my own ass! I’ve had enough. You’re mine. I have done everything for you and it’s time you repaid me.” He hisses out to you, his steely gaze burning holes into you crumpled form that was so tired and numb.

As you lift your head to gaze up at him, you watch his eyes dilate. He lets out a moan that he swallows, “I can smell you. You’re so fucking wet for me.” You can’t even bring yourself to stop him and his lies. You were wet earlier from teaching him his place but it back fired so badly. Humiliation engulfs you as you feel him wedge his shoe between your thighs. “Hump.” He hisses and you swallow a gag and finally manage to shake your head. He quickly leans down and garbs your hair again, “Fucking hump it like the desperate mutt you are or I swear to god that video goes around and I’ll pay for your life to be a living hell.” Ari promises you and you swallow the last sense of your pride and dignity.

You lift your hips before rubbing your clothing covered cunt against his shoe. You feel your eyelids flutter closed in shame but also pleasure. Through your jeans and your panties you can feel your clit rubbing deliciously against Ari’s shoe. As you hump him, your hand drag from the floor and crawl up his leg, clinging onto his calf like it was a carousel and the ride you were currently experiencing was one so unique you would never forget it. Your lips part and a small gasp leaves your lips as Ari tilts his foot upwards putting just the right amount of pressure against your clit. He adds a bit more and his hands card through your hair before he gently pulls it back and tilts your head up to face him.

You gaze up at him with half lidded eyes, One half closed from pleasure and the other from pain. The tears that gleamed in your eyes added a sparkle to them that made Ari adore you even more as his pet, how could he not? You were his toy, you just needed a firm hand even if it did break you. He would pick up the pieces and put you back together because he owns you and no other woman could compare in his mind. So as he analyses your face with adoration dripping from his soul as he takes in how beautiful your sparkling eyes were in the dim street-light. He could see the bruise that was forming a ring around your right eye, the blood that dripped out your nose and blended in with the blood from your busted lips. Such a beautiful mess that only he could ever appreciate and understand, proof of him puttying you in your place.

It was like Ari had plucked the wings off of an angel and watched it crumble and fall down to the ground in a heap in shame and sadness, and the groan that left his lips fell in sync with yours as you kept humping his foot. You let your eyelids flutter again before you hear Ari groan again, and for a moment you feel yourself snapping out of this sadistic nightmare. Your skin crawls and you stop moving your lips. Adrenaline pumps through you like cold ice enveloping your blood, without thinking your fight or flight instincts kick in and your teeth sink into Ari’s thigh. Your teeth coat with regret and blood and you scrunch your eyes tight as the world comes crashing around you. Ari’s knee met your cheek again in a much harsher blow and you were left wiped out on the floor, you let out a pitiful cough and blow splatters out.

Every part of you was aching and you felt your mind slipping. The zip of Ari’s flyer being the symphony to the loss of your mind, like a crow cawing on the day of a death or the wedding song echoing down a church while the forgotten bride sits there numb because her groom ran away. You couldn’t even stomach up the emotion to be jealous of the groom running, you now knew Ari would never let you go. Your fate was sealed and you fist the cold rocky ground and rest your forehead against it as the last tear you can muster leaves your eyes and caresses your cheek before leaning onto the cement.

Ari’s large paws grip your hips as his knees sink to the floor, the crunch of the cement being heard sliding under his shoes and he gets into his position. He flips you and you blank eyes gaze up at his, all you could see was the hatred that lingered as well as his sickening gaze of love. His eyes flick down as he tears your top of without a second thought, the sound was deafening and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine when the cold air caresses your skin. But not before the disgusting sensation of Ari’s hands soon travelled upon your skin, It was like being burnt. His hands were so warm against your ice cold skin.

You could feel his breathe against your neck, it was shaky with excitement. He tore your bra off without hesitation and for some reason you were thankful he didn’t look yet that part of you died as soon as you through it as you felt Ari begin to map out a destination on your skin with his lips. His hands were tearing at your trousers, it was like it was nothing to him. His brute strength was beyond your comprehension. A moan leaves your lips though before you even have chance to continue thinking about this giant’s strength as he wraps his lips around your nipple and begins to gently suck.

His other hand massages your breast before he moves his thumb to gently run over your nipple and the sensation that tingles down your spine at the subtle touch results in another moan leaving your lips. It was like he knew your body, and of course he did. You were the apple of his eyes and he had seen every part of you even if you didn’t know. He has memorised every vein, every inch of skin for his hands to feel, his lips to worship and his tongue to taste. Ari could feel his heart swelling with pride as he hears your moans surrounding his ears like a hug of delight. His thumb and forefinger pinch your nipple before he begins to roll it, all whilst he’s suckling on your other nipple his tongue flicking against it. You keep your eyes closed and pretend that your body is separated from this scene. Even if it felt good and the ice that ran through your body was instead turning to heat, you didn’t want this and your mouth no longer worked, either because you had been moaning so much or because of how swollen your lips were.

When he switched to lavish your other nipple with his tongue, you couldn’t stop moaning any more, but your mind was disconnected. You were floating in a void of darkness while your body tingled with delight at Ari’s touches. You could feel his spit coating your nipple and when he pulled away and blew on it, you gasped at the cold. You peaks were well presented and Ari wished that he could keep this as a picture. He was all over you and he was filled with absolute arrogance at how easily you had submitted to him. Your moans were forever engrained into his head like it was a holy prayer and he would always worship you to get to hear you sing your angelic verses. “My good girl, see you sound so much better when you whimper than when you’re barking. My pretty bitch, not a little mutt any more. You have an owner and I’m gonna spoil you.”

You could hear Ari’s words echoing in your head but they were soon silenced by the deafening tone that screeched in you head as his hands skated down your stomach and under the band of your panties. He groans, and his breathe gets heavier. He tears through the final piece of fabric and his long, thick fingers trail down before tracing your wet folds. He dips them in for a moment and brings them to his face, he sniffs them and his pupils dilate even more making his eyes seem like pure black. His tongue peeks out his lips before he licks at your juices that coat his fingers. A deep rumble leaves his chest, and the alleyway seems to shake at it. “Fuckin’ beautiful. The sweetest nectar. That’s why you’re so mouthy, isn’t it? Because you knew you tasted God damn divine.” You couldn’t even muster a reply to him, your head was turned and you were counting the small stoned that littered the ground. This was the end and you knew that Ari had won. “Present for me.” He commands but you couldn’t even move you body. Your limbs were heavy and bruised and Ari’s patience was so thin it snapped a mere second after his command left his lips.

You felt his large paws grip your hips as he turns you, he drags the scraps of clothing from your body leaving you bare to the cold, night air. You knees scraped against the cement and grazed them, your chin rested on the gravel as he twisted and turned you into you were in the right position. He drapes his body over yours, the heat from his skin blistering yours with disgust. His lips gently kissed your ears as he whispered sweet words of devotion but you focused on the tone that continued to screech in your head. You gulped as your felt him nudge you legs wider from behind, you closed your eyes tightly within seconds as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing between your folds and his groan vibrates against your back and you finally manage a tear that falls down your face and onto the cement as he slides his cock into your tight little cunt.

Ari’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth falls agape as some drool leaves his mouth, he had torn down heavens gate and was finally in the place he had craved for years. He was in heaven, he was buried so deep in your snug little cunt. You could feel him stretching you, you could feel every vein of his cock as your pussy was wrapped around him. Your stomach felt full and empty all at once, you were either going to throw up or pass out. Ari’s large hand grabbed your chin as he pressed his bearded cheek against yours. “Mine. This is mine. You are mine. How could I ever have called you a mutt when you’re literally just a pup. My little pup who needed training. Sweet little cunt on my sweet little bitch. The places I’ll take you, the things I’ll spoil you with, you’ll never want for anything again.” He coos through groans and panting breaths.

He moves his hips and the thrust rocks your entire body, your knees grazing against the cement again this time tearing through the graze and pulling blood out. You let out a soft breath as he pulls out but soon your eyes roll back as he pushes back into the hilt. Ari let out such delicate moans and groans at every thrust he delivered to your fragile body, You were just so tight and wet, and the heat from your pussy was absolutely delicious. His hand falls from your face and falls to the pavement, practically clawing at the floor with every movement he anchors to your body. The wet squelches echo down the alley from your wet pussy and Ari’s balls finally slap against your clit making you let out a pathetic mewl that only stirred him on. It only made Ari want more of that precious little noise, he needed to have that noise injected into his heart so that every time it beat he would remember you giving in to him.

You could feel every hit of his balls just momentarily adding pressure to your clit that would make you moan and drool. Ari had enough of this, ho he had to wait for every thrust to make you moan. He moves his hand to between your legs and instantly begins to rub your clit, polishing it like a prized jewel. You cried out and Ari’s heart rate sky rocketed. Nothing could ever compare to this, to you. As he continues to rock his hips like a desperate mad man, he soon begins changing from his soft caresses on your clit to now circling it aggressively. He was abusing your clit and the sounds that you felt leaving your lips, they didn’t sound real. They sounded fake, and how you wished they were because you knew that the whispers of pleasure that were leaving your lips would only boost his ego, only encourage him.

Ari could feel the sweat that lined his body, how it was falling onto your skin, making both your scents combine. Two alpha’s now mating. A forced submission that Ari wished he could regret or feel guilty about but he simply couldn’t, not when you were finally his. He could feel you clenching around him before you let out a gasp and came around him, every time his cock speared into you a ring of your cum was around the base marking him as yours. He could feel every hair on his body prick up as he began to reach his climax. He moved his head and pressed a small delicate kiss to your neck, your scent gland. He was about to do something rare. He was about to mate another alpha, a very hard thing to do, but he had already put himself as being the most dominant out of you two. He knew you were his fate and he would never want another.

As he licked your neck with a slow pace, his hips were moving faster and he gritted his teeth together mid lick as he growled. This was it. His hands gripped your hips and he pulled you up before sinking his cock deep into your cunt, the tip pressing against your cervix and his balls rested against your clit. His seed pumped into you, filling you up. You could feel it leaking into you, but before you could even begin to comprehend his cum leaking into you, his teeth sank into you neck. Your eyes flashed white as you passed out in a heap on the floor, Ari’s cock still speared inside of you as it began to expand and knot, tying you together. His teeth coated in your blood as the bond between you snaps into place. It struggles at first rejecting the idea of to alphas being together, but Ari’s will as stronger, he knew what he wanted and he was having it. He exhaled all the breath from his lungs before taking another breath of pure contentment. He had you in the palm of his hand and he knew the clean up after this was going to be huge. He had to take care of you now. He was your mate even if you hated it. “Good pup, gonna take care of you. Promise.” He coos to your unconscious form and squeeze his body tighter against yours to keep you warm and safe in his arms.

When you finally came back to reality through the haze, you gazed down at your hands and counted your fingers before you saw the bedsheets under them. A deep red bedding was wrapped around your form, something you had never seen or owned. You slowly tilted your head up and your eyes scanned the surroundings. This place was luxurious, deep wood furniture and floors surrounded the room. It seemed almost regal. You mind spiked with memories from that night the second you smelled Ari. His scent was every where. In the room and on you and you felt your stomach turn immediately. You rushed to the bathroom on wobbly legs that barely seemed to hold you. You reached the toilet and instantly began hurling. As you emptied your stomach a hand wrapped gently around your hair and kept it away from being covered in your vomit. It was like your blood curled in seconds as you sensed who it was, you hadn’t even heard the sounds of the shower when you woke up. Ari gently rubs your back and whispers words of support and when you’re finished you rest your head on the toilet. You sob quietly. “I know, pup, I know. I’m sorry and I know you hate me. But this was for your own good.” He murmurs.

Within seconds your turn around and begin throwing punches at him, or you tried to. He wraps around your wrists and he pulled you onto his lap as he wears only a towel around his waist. You claw at him, desperately wanting to cause just one second of pain to him like he had done to you. After a few minutes the fight is torn out of you again and he picks you up, cradling you in his arms like you were his most prized love. The only thing he had ever needed. And he did, he needed you, you were his everything. So he would accept every bite, every mean comment, every slap you threw at him just so you would be okay again. He leaves you on the bed as he rushes around the room and gets dressed into a pair of boxers and a tank top. He sits on the end of the bed and gazes you. Your knees were pulled to your chest and you were vacant and his heart ached. He had caused this and even though it hurt, he knew this was needed.

He gulped and gazes down at his hands. “You were out for a week, But the bond formed and I know your mind isn’t handling it well-” You cut him off as your voice echoed out into the room in a hollow voice, “You raping me didn’t help.” The hopelessness in your voice left his stomach aching. “Yeah…” He whispers and gazes down at his hands. “I’m sorry, But I patched you up and I went to your dorm, got everything you needed.” He murmurs, he turns his head daring to glance at you, but you're still in the same position and for a brief moment he feels bad before he remembers this was necessary to make you his. To break you. And the guilt washes away from him. The silence was killing him, he gulps and speaks again, “I’ve moved you in with me, and I called in at your work. You don’t have to work again, but- um- I knew you wanted to earn your business degree, so I left that alone. I just brought the notes from the classes you missed today. Everything else is um non negotiable. You’re mine-” He winces at his word, “You have to stay close, I don’t want you working. I’ll provide and I know you want to as well but I can’t let you. That’s a command.” He whispers it, but the command was still firm. It was set in place and your life had ended. He paused and gazed at you, but all you did was breath from your nose in response. He was frustrated but he swallowed it down, he had to build you up again before he broke you.

He stands up and begins to pull on some trousers and a flannel top, he pushes his hair from his face and analyses you. “I have to go out, I have practise, As your alpha I command you not to harm yourself. That is an order.” He says firmly. He knew you wouldn’t run, you couldn’t. He clenches his hand as he fights back the urge to kiss your forehead and reassure you, and instead spreads his fingers out and grabs his hockey gear and leaves you.

It hadn’t been long, at least to Ari it hadn’t, but as his practise went on he had a looming feeling of dread swiftly travelling down his spine making him shiver. And as more time went on he got more and more distracted by the game until he felt a sharp pain in his heart, like a rubber band had been snapped. You had disobeyed one of his commands so without a second thought, Ari had ran to the locker rooms and gotten changed ignoring everyone else’s shouts of confusion of disappointment. He could feel his heart in his throat, hammering away and making him feels sick to the stomach. How could you disobey him already? He needed to retrain you or punish you. He drove past speeding limits before he pulled up to his apartment that was nearby the school. He barges his way through it and he doesn’t see you frozen in your spot on the bed but he instantly picks up on the sounds of the shower running.

The scene that greeted him had him rolling his eyes, you were such a pathetic alpha huddled into the corner of the shower as the water poured down on you. He clenched his fists and rolled his neck before his long legs dragged him to the shower, He squatted and the water poured down on him, soaking his clothes making them tighten around his strong form. He tuts and tilts his head as he gazes at your blank face. “Disobeying me already? We don’t want to be punished again, do we?” He coos and a smile splits across his face is sadistic anticipation in hopes you do want to be punished again. His eyes scan you ad watches as you shrink in on yourself and he sighs in frustration before he drags you onto his lap and pushes some wet hair from your face.

His large hands cradle your face, firm but gentle. He scan your face and a glare settles in his eyes, “You’re not even trying. Stupid fucking pup. I’m working my ass for you here. I tried to be nice, to make you feel at home despite you only being a pet. But no. It’s still not good enough for you.” He hisses into your ear but you barely acknowledge him until you hear his breathe directly against your ear. “If you don’t start acting like the strong alpha you claim to be, then I’ll fucking leave you on the side of the road with nothing. Understood?” It isn’t a threat, It's a promise you can hear the sincerity dripping off his tone and it makes you shiver. You gulp and nod your head in compliance because you had no other choice. You were trapped.

So, you gazed up at the shower head that poured the water down onto you both and closed your eyes and for a brief second you saw your future and it was glorious. Even though you were in a dark spot right now, you would claw yourself out of it and claim yourself as the true alpha you are no matter how hard it was. You had to escape Ari. You just needed to bide your time, have a plan and prepare.

Months had passed and every time that you built yourself back up to being strong and establishing yourself as a good alpha, Ari would make it known that you were nothing. Either by making you submit to him and making you spread your legs or being subjected to humiliation as you were shared between him, Bucky and Curtis. Every time you tried to help the omega group, Ari would have Curtis and Bucky ruin it and every time they would drink and party afterwards while Ari fucked you hard and left you a hollow shell.

You were stuck in a hell pit. Ari, Curtis and Bucky saw you as a special toy, one they would never grow bored of. After all they all grew up together in high school, they shared everything together and you were no different from the trophies they won at hockey games. They had a deep brother hood, Ari had always taken care of both the men. Bucky and Curtis grew up rough and their homes even rougher, and Ari grew up rich and sheltered and would often offer for them to stay with him when they were younger. This kindness Ari had shown had ended up in the men swearing a loyalty to each other. A bond and a brotherhood none of them would ever break as they were far too loyal and thrived off of each other’s dominance and they all strived to push each other. You stood no chance when Ari set his eye on you and wanted to break you. When Ari wanted you, so did the other two, but they wanted to help push you to Ari. They wanted their brother happy so if that meant having you suck their cocks while they filmed, they would happily accept. They wanted to break you but they wanted to support their brother too, they would never complain.

But after months of this abuse you grew tired and soon began becoming desperate and started searching for a plan and when you found one you began mapping everything out: See, your running plan was smart and cunning, after a lot of healing and still a lot more to come, you realised that being Ari’s mate wasn't the end of the world. Rather it was the start of it. Because you no longer had a job it meant you could take another class and you did, you took a computer class. You had researched Ari’s dad’s company when he would go to hockey practise and you had your eyes on the prize. When you got your degrees and finally married Ari, you would take over the business at the first female Alpha. Ari didn’t stand a chance. You were ready, and his father was getting close to death. You knew Ari would agree because of the rocky start to your relationship and how he would do anything to amend it. This was your high road, your way to victory and glory where you would prove everyone wrong. Of course it meant playing along a bit, but you were doing it with easy now days. You and Ari had sex often and you found yourself liking some of the presents that he had spoiled you with.

But whilst you were being cunning, Ari had his plan in motion too. It was simple and an easy one, one that could wait with time. He would knock you up. He knew you were ambitious and you would no doubt try and rub the company and it would be fun to watch you do it. But all it took was one baby and you were out of the game. And the second you were put, Ari would be back on top. As the leader of the company, as the true alpha between you both. And you wouldn’t ever complain because you would be too busy doting on your child, inspiring it to make a change one day. That’s all it would take and he was well on the way to winning.

So as you stand so proudly in the crowd and throw your graduation cap in the air bursting at the seams with excitement over the changes you were about to make, you had no clue that it would be so short lived. As days later you would find out that Ari had won again and you were pregnant with his child, forever sealing you as his.

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rosenclaws · 4 months ago

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Different Side of the Track || 50's Greaser!Logan smut

summary: All your life your parents had created the perfect image of their daughter that you were forced to fit into but when you went off to college and came back with a degree they were nothing but ashamed. Claimed that it wasn't a ladies place to be educated like that. So why not ruin their good family image even more and sleep with the older hot and mysterious man with a motorcycle.

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, fem!reader, breast play, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, borderline abusive family, sexism, harassment from a group of assholes, violent Logan.

wc: 4.6k

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a/n: It's my birthday! So to celebrate I wrote this fic because I couldn't get the idea out of my head and god he's hot. Also I didn't really try to do proper 50's talk because I'm lazy and I cannot handle all the research jaldfk;s. This ended up a little angstier than normal, as my fics usually do lol. The ending isn't my favorite but I tried im sorry asdfjkl. Okay anyways I really hope you like it!

You truly hated this town. College was a breath of fresh air and while it wasn’t always easy, it was better than home. You got your degree, proudest day of your life. Even if your parents didn’t show up. Even if you had to smile in the picture by yourself, watching everyone else celebrate with their families. Your parents never understood your want to go to college.

You thought they’d be proud but if anything they were ashamed. They think that a woman pursuing higher education was unladylike. That a woman's place was to stay at home and take care of the kids. They were embarrassed of you, refused to acknowledge any of your achievements.

You wished you could have stayed in your college town but then you got the letter. Your grandmother had passed and you needed to come home. You were heartbroken. Your grandmother was the only one to support you, and helped you when you worked countless hours at the diner to pay for it. She celebrated when the acceptance letter came in and she gave you the biggest hug when you left.

Coming home was a no-brainer, needing to be here for her funeral but now you’re stuck at home with your parents and life is miserable. You were counting down the days until you could get out of here again. You spent as much time as you could out of the house.

Going to work, dreaming of another life. Doing literally anything you could to stay out and away from your parents. That’s how you found yourself here. Taking midnight shifts at the diner to stare at the man sitting at the counter.

Logan. It was sewed onto the patch on his jumpsuit. You don’t even know his last name but you do know that you want to know everything about him. He worked at the mechanic shop right across the street. He was dark, brooding, mysterious. He didn’t talk to anyone. Just ordered one black coffee and sat there with the paper. This was a small town and you had never seen or heard of him before.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth there pumpkin.” You feel a hand on your jaw and you swat it away. Betty, your coworker was grinning like a madwoman. She was a sweet old lady who has worked at this diner for longer than you’ve been alive.

“Oh hush.” You look down at your order sheet. Sketches of your patrons fill the empty sheets. Mostly drawings of Logan.

“I don’t blame you sweetheart, he’s a dreamboat if I’ve ever seen one.” She sighs dreamily as she looks at him.

“Who is he?”

“Not sure, rolled into town one day. Plenty of rumors, though, say that he was an army guy. Some say that he’s running from the law.” You gasp at the idea.

He couldn’t be a convict could he? You’d never met anyone like that. Though, you feel yourself grow curious instead of fearful. Your whole life you lived in the perfect world. Perfect family with a lot of money and a perfect reputation to uphold. You got the perfect grades, had the perfect friends and still your life felt anything but perfect. You craved something more, needed it. You couldn’t live the rest of your life as someone's housewife. That wasn’t your dream.

“Looks like he needs a refill..” Betty nudges your arm and pushes you forward. You eye the apple pie sitting in the case and steal a slice. No better way to get a man to talk than give him pie right? Clearing your throat you head over and put on a smile.

“Hi Logan.” He looks up from the paper with his usual stony face. A beat passes and he doesn’t speak.

“This is for you, on the house.” You place the pie down in front of him. You shift nervously in your spot as you pour coffee into his cup. He’s never told you his name, does he think you’re a freak or something?

“It’s on your uniform, you know. Your name.” You wince at how horribly awkward this feels. He looks down.

“That supposed to be me?” He grunts out. You tilt your head in confusion before following his gaze. Your guest checks with drawings all over them. Drawings of Logan. You slam your hands down and stuff them in your pocket.

“No! I mean, yes but it’s nothing. Just drawings I. I’m sorry.” Logan just looks at you and you walk off in shame.

Mentally kicking yourself as you sulk back to the kitchen. Betty takes over serving him as you silently wait on the remaining people. By the time your shift is over your back aches and you’re still replaying that moment in your head.

“See you tomorrow Betty!” You say as you put on your coat.

“Hold on dear, this is for you.” She hands you a napkin and winks. Confused, you open it up to see messy handwriting.

Thanks for the pie doll

-Logan

Logan has come by every night since then. Ordering one black coffee and you sneak him whatever pie is left. Sometimes it’s apple, other days it’s pecan. Today’s pie is pumpkin. Just in time for the fall season. He’s still a man of few words but he’s always polite. Pays and says thank you with that handsome voice of his. You’ve gathered some information on him. Mostly from the town gossip.

The group of boys, greasers who would often come by and cause a ruckus, idolized him. He drove a motorcycle, fixed cars, and smoked like there was no tomorrow. In some weird way he’s become their parental figure. Not that he really gave a shit but he worked with them at the shop and he took care of them when he needed to. He strolled in again today. This time he looks at you and throws you a wink. It’s a little routine the two of you have now. Not much talking but it’s nice. You think you’ll be able to get him to open up soon enough.

“Thanks doll.” Logan says as he sits on the worn stool. You hand him his coffee and pie, already prepared just the way he likes it.

“So, do I get to know your last name yet?” He smirks and takes a sip of his coffee.

“How about you fetch me a napkin first. Then I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes playfully and he smiles. The door jingles and you hear the sound of obnoxious laughing. You look up to see the jerkiest looking boys you’ve ever seen. They wore letterman jackets that seemed too small and talked too loud.

One of the boys, a blonde guy who seemed vaguely familiar whistles at you. You hold back a scoff as you walk over to their table. They’re looking you up and down with a gaze that makes you shiver. Absolute jerks.

“Hey sweetheart, why don’t you be a good girl and get us some milkshakes.” You clench your jaw as you jot down their order.

It dawns on you that you know exactly who that guy is. David Scott. He was in your high school class. Quarterback, the popular guy every girl in school wanted, and the worst human being you’ve ever met. He was nothing but a no good bully. It seems fitting he’s never truly moved on from this town as he was dumber than a bag of rocks. Logan catches your eyes as you head back to the counter. Preparing their order and trying to tune out their annoyingly loud voices. Before you head back with their order you top off Logan’s coffee.

“You know drinking this much caffeine can’t be good for you.” You say.

“And yet you’re still serving me.” He shoots back. You shrug your shoulders and smile, he’s got you there.

“Hey! You done serving grandpa over there.” Logan growls and his grip tightens on his cup.

“Ignore them, they’re nothing but a bunch of idiots.” You say under your breath. You bring the tray of drink over and set them down.

“Anything else?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“Nope.” David whispers something to his friend before moving his hand and spilling his shake all over you and the floor. His friends burst out laughing and you bend down to clean up the mess. Counting down the seconds until they leave. You’re too focused on cleaning to hear David whisper to his friend.

“Watch this.” You hear the stool fall and suddenly you’re pushed to the ground.

“Get off me!” You turn around and see Logan holding David by the collar of his shirt. Teeth bared and a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Logan!” You scramble to your feet as he shoves David into the booth.

“Think you’re funny bub? You’re lucky she’s here or I’d beat you to a pulp.” He growls, eyeing his friends who are now cowering in fear. You stand stunned as Logan seems to command the room.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to scram or I’ll make good on my promise.” He rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit and grins. You’ve never seen a group of boys in so much panic.

“And don’t forget to pay.” Logan says with a smirk. They throw down more than enough money and bolt out the door.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” You say softly as Logan seems to calm down.

“Fuckin’ idiots.” He shakes his head and gently pushes you away from the mess.

“Broken glass doll, gotta be careful.” Silently the two of you clean up the mess, him scooping up the glass and you cleaning the table.

You watch carefully as he handles the glass, watching to make sure he doesn’t cut himself. You see a piece of glass slice his hand and you hurry to the back to get a band aid. However when you come back the cut is gone, maybe it was just strawberry? The clock strikes 4am and the new waitress comes through the door, relieving you of your duties. He waits for you to clock out and walks you out the door.

“Thank you again Logan.” He just shrugs and lights a cigarette.

“Let me walk you home.” He offers and you accept. The walk is silent as you head to your home. You eye his cigarette and he notices. He holds it out to you and you take it. Taking a puff and immediately coughing it back up. Logan chuckles as he takes it back.

“Never smoked before?” You shake your head and he just smiles. Figures.

You’re much too sweet to have done anything bad. Just looking at the houses around him he knows that you’re as high society as they come. When you reach your house Logan stands on the sidewalk, watching as you walk up the driveway. You look at your door and then turn around to hurry back to Logan. Leaning in you kiss his cheek and he almost drops his cigarette.

“Bye Logan.” You bite your lip as you slowly walk back. As you walk through the door you hear him call to you.

“Howlett, my last name is Howlett.”

Your sweet night with Logan turned sour the minute you woke up. Your parents were down at the breakfast table. Scowling with disappointed looks on their face. Oh great what else is new.

“You need to quit.” Your dad says and you laugh.

“What?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for us to tell people you’re working at a diner? You come home smelling like smoke? It’s insulting the family!” Your mother hisses and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You knew they were cruel but to hear those words from your own mother. It hurt.

“I am an adult, I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“As long as you’re living here you do. Now go down and tell them or I will.” Your father stands and stares you down. You feel so fucking helpless. It’s true. You’re stuck here and the money you’ve saved up isn’t enough to get out of here just yet.

You storm out of the house, letting the tears fall once you’re out of their view. The walk to the diner is miserable. You don’t want to quit, you like your job. Tears fall as you tell your manager, apologizing and leaving with your tail tucked between your legs. You hated this. You longed to be free and now you’re trapped at home.

Sitting on a bench outside of the diner you let yourself cry. Not wanting your parents to see any sign of weakness from you.

“Hey, everything okay doll?” You look up and see a blurry Logan from your watery eyes. He’s got grease and oil on his face and suit. Wiping his hands with a rag. You shake your head and Logan sits next to you.

“My parents made me quit.” He scoffs in disbelief.

Oh Logan knows all about your father. He wasn’t sure until last night but once he saw your house he knew exactly who your family was. Flaunting their money and status to spit on those lower than them. He serviced your fathers car a few times. Adding pointless upgrades. On the bright side he charges him double and your father doesn’t even bat an eye.

“That’s bullshit.” Logan says angrily. You’ve told him about your life. How disrespectful your parents are. How stupid they can be, anyone should be proud of their daughter getting a degree but they think it’s shameful. You’re smart, pretty, a real perfect girl.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say in such a defeated tone.

“You can always spend time at my work, don’t know if it’s the kind of place you’re used to hanging around but-” He gets cut off as you lunge at him. Hugging him tightly as you seek comfort in his arms. He freezes but slowly places his arms around you. Your perfectly crisp and clean dress was now dirty by his hands but you don’t care.

“I owe you so much Logan, you’ve been a real life saver.” You don’t want to let go. He’s toned, even with the jumpsuit over him. He’s strong and his arms are so warm and welcoming.

“Don’t worry about it doll, can’t stand to see a pretty girl like you so upset.” You lean up and kiss his cheek again. He grins as you scoot closer to him. Suddenly he pushes you back. You’re confused until you see your father pulling up next to the diner. Oh god did he see anything?

“You quit?” He asks, glaring at the dirt on your dress.

“Yes. I quit.” You say unhappily but he doesn’t care. He shifts his eyes to Logan.

“What happened there?” He says accusingly, you know your father wouldn’t hesitate to threaten Logan despite Logan being much stronger. It’s the egotistical nature of him.

“She fell, I caught her.” Logan lies so easily. Your father hums and drops it to your relief.

“I need you to look at my car tomorrow, something’s wrong with the brakes.”

“Got it.” Logan says casually and you can see your father roll his eyes. He drives off leaving the two of you on the bench.

“Say, why don’t you come by with your father tomorrow. I’d be happy to show you a few things” Logan offers, a flirty tone to his voice.

He walks off before you can respond, needing to get back to work. You throw the idea around in your head as you head back home. There’s no denying that Logan is hot. Really hot. He’s everything your parents hate. Lower class, older, doesn’t care about their status. It would drive them insane if you started to hang around a guy like him.

Though you don’t want to just use him to get back at your parents. You really do like him. It’s a win win in your head. Smiling to yourself you already start to pick out your outfit for tomorrow.

Ready to cause a little chaos.

Your father didn’t understand why you wanted to come with him but you gave him so stupid excuse and he bought it. Your father pulled the car in and threw the keys at Logan. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Logan does it for you. Despite Logan being much more knowledgeable about cars, your father still talks down to him. It’s rude and classist and you hate it.

“I’d like to stay, you know, make sure nothing goes wrong.” Your father scoffs but leaves you be.

“He’s real lucky I don’t punch his lights out.” Logan mutters as he pops the hood of his car.

“I’m really sorry, you don’t deserve that.” Logan shrugs. He’s used to it by this point.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me.” He leans over and kisses your cheek.

He wipes off a seat for you to sit on and you watch him work. There’s something about the way he moves that’s just…attractive. His muscles strain in his jumpsuit, sweat drips down his face. And the noises, god the noises. The grunts when he moves something heavy. Then he does the unthinkable. He unzips his jumpsuit, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. Leaving him in just a white tank top.

Now you really have a show. You don’t know how much time has passed and you don’t care. Slowly the garage empties as people head to lunch until it’s just you and Logan. Logan can feel your eyes on him. In fact he loves it. Your cute face is staring at him like a piece of meat. He can see you shift on the leather stool. He can smell how bad you want him. It’s desperate, almost pathetic how badly you want him. He stands up, making sure to flex his arms as he sets down the wrench.

“You alright doll, you look a little hot?” Logan feigns concern as he steps closer to you. Placing his hands on the workshop table. Caging you in.

“I’m okay.” You eye his chest shamelessly, eyes traveling down to the bulge in his suit.

“Yeah? I don’t know…” He slowly takes your sweater off. Leaving your arms bare and your cleavage on show for him.

“I’m not sweet doll, not gonna treat you like a good girl.” He growls in your ear and you whimper. Oh you need him bad.

“I’ll break a sweet thing like you, but something tells me you want that.” You grab his face and smash your lips to his. It’s messy and dirty, teeth knocking against each other as you fight for dominance. Logan slips his hands under your dress, lifting you up to the workbench and stepping in between your legs. Your hands are locked in his hair. Tugging hard as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth. His hands rip your dress at the top. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses until he reaches your boobs.

“Fuck.” He squeezes your chest roughly, purring at the feeling of them in his hands.

“So cute.” He says with a wink as he leans down and bites your nipples roughly. He promised he wouldn’t be nice and he meant it. He shamelessly grinds his bulge against your wet panties.

“Dirty girl, letting a no good mechanic touch you like this. What would your daddy say hm?” He taunts as his hands move to slip up your dress. Pulling your panties down and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Who fucking cares?” You spit out as you grind your hips. Soaking his suit with how wet he’s made you.

“Oh, pretty girls got a mouth on her.”

“Just hurry up!” You whine as you slip your hands under his tank top.

Lifting it over his head so you could get the view of his muscular body. He unties his jumpsuit and yanks it down, letting his hard cock free. To your surprise he picks you up and brings you to your dads car.

“Turn around.” He lifts your dress up and bends you over the hood of the car. His hands run across your ass, squeezing and admiring the view as he slowly grinds his cock along it. The tip of his dick slides in and you moan.

“Yeah, feels good doesn’t it doll.” He says cockily as he renders you utterly speechless.

The stretch is unbelievably amazing as he bottoms out. You whine as you feel every vein, every twitch of his cock inside of you. He’s so big. Everything about him is big. His presence, his arms, his cock. He was just big. He barely gives you anytime to adjust before fucking hard into you. Your hands claw for anything to hold onto. The hood of the car is too slippery so Logan just pins your arms behind your back instead.

“Naughty, naughty girl.” Logan huffs as he leans down to bite your ear. His pace is relentless. Pounding the words right out of you.

“Letting me fuck you on your daddies car.” He puff his chest out proudly. He’s tearing you apart on your asshole fathers car. Making you moan his name as he desecrates his car.

“Feels so good Logan. Oh god!” His cock hitting that perfect spot in you every time. Over and over. It’s unrelenting. You involuntarily shift your hips. The pleasure becomes overwhelming.

“Where are you going doll? I’m not done with you yet.” He lets go of your hands and grabs your hips, pulling you back on his cock with a bruising grip.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg wildly as you move your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Not planning on it.” He tilts his head back in pleasure as he pounds into you. He feels you clenching tightly around him. Your legs are quivering under him. There’s grease smudged all over your body, your face.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the windshield. You’re completely disheveled, hair a mess. Makeup smeared and clothes torn. You look absolutely filthy and you love it. You can see Logan’s abs flexing as he thrusts his hips. His hands run up your sides. Taking you by the shoulders to slam you back on his cock. A weak cry leaves your throat with every thrust. Finally you break. A desperate, strangled moan as your body quakes. Shaking and rocking you right to your core.

“That’s it doll, I’ve got you.” He leans down and nudges his nose into your neck. Kissing softly as his thrusts slow just for a moment. Letting you breathe. You’ve never felt more happy in your life.

Logan kisses the side of your head as his hips grow sloppy. Chasing his release and savoring the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With a loud groan he pulls out and finishes on your ass. Your eyes close as your body feels like it's melting. You can barely stand. Logan wipes you down with a clean rag, loving how fucked you appear to be.

“I got you.” He gently picks you up and brings you to a bench. Laying his clean jacket over you as you will your legs to stop shaking.

“You alright?” He’s got a devilish grin on his face as he redresses himself. Somehow it’s like he’s back to normal while you’re wrecked.

“Perfect, oh my god you’re amazing.” You lean back into the bench and sigh happily.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You shoot up and see your father storming towards you angrily. You’re a mess and you don’t think Logan can lie his way out of this one. He’s angry. Really angry.

“You are nothing but a disappointment and you have been ever since you were born! A disgrace to the whole family! To the town! Doing such horrible things with the likes of him.” He snarls as he points at Logan. You’re stunned into silence.

“I have the right mind to never let you out of the house again you ungrateful little-”

Logan steps in front of him and he tries to hit Logan right in the face but fails miserably. You gasp as Logan pushes him against his car. You watch as boney claws shoot from his hands. Your father squirms in fear as the tips of his sharp claws grow closer to his neck.

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan growls.

“You’re a real fucking dick and a sorry excuse for a father. If I ever see you come near her again I’ll fucking kill you.” He lets go of your father and watches as he runs away. Yelling about mutant freaks. Logan turns back to you, a cold look settling on his face when he sees your face. Now you know his secret.

“You’re a mutant.” You say in awe. To his shock you reach out for him instead of running away.

“I am.” You admire the claws, how amazing.

“Beautiful.” His mouth gapes open as you pull him closer.

For once someone is looking at him like he’s normal, like he’s not a freak of nature. He longs for this but he knows your dad won’t go down quietly. He’ll tell the whole town.

“Look doll, you’re too good for this town. You’re too good for me.” He brushes your cheek softly.

“I can’t stay here anymore and you need to go home. Pretend you never met me. You’re a smart girl and you have a bright future ahead of you.” Logan takes his hand away and walks away.

“Logan!” You throw off his jacket, you're limping slightly but you refuse to let him go. He’s quick on his feet, already shedding his work clothes for his normal ones. A leather jacket thrown over his tank top. His motorcycle is out back. He’s got a backpack already packed and ready to go. Like he was waiting for this moment to happen.

“Take me with you!” You stand in front of his bike.

“What?” He asks in disbelief.

“Please, I hate this town. I have money saved. I can help but please don’t leave me.” You move closer to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Logan. I’d give it all up to be with you”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s not your choice. It’s mine so please, take me with you.” He wants to say no. To leave you here. It would break your heart and his but it’s what's best. But a part of him wants to be selfish. He could protect you, he could take care of you. But he fears you’d regret it eventually.

He’s overthinking and you can tell. You grab his jacket and kiss him gently. He groans as he slips his arms around you.

“Please.” You beg softly.

“I can’t promise you the life you’re used to.” He warns but his resolve is slipping.

“I don’t care.” He sighs and kisses you again. It’s becoming addicting. You’re completely addicting.

“Hop on doll,” He throws his leg over the bike and waits.

You waste no time jumping on behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he revs his motorcycle. You lean into him and smile. He stops so you could say goodbye to Betty and grab a bag of clothes. He waited at the door, a grin on his face as his claws were proudly shown off to your parents.

Then he drives. Away from your horrible family and the horrible town. Your future is uncertain but with Logan, you’re confident things will work out.

He’s all you need.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut

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