Chapter Text
With an impatient rustle of the doorknob, the door to the apartment opened as Seele kicked her boots off, stripped out of her outer coat, and threw herself onto the worn-out couch like it’s the only place she won’t burn alive. Inside the safehouse was dim, a few streetlights shining through the window, the air thick and full of the lingering scent of omega heat—ripe, yet ragged at the edges. And to state out the obvious,
Seele was in heat.
Unfortunately, heat hit her like a freight train this cycle, sharper than before. It's probably stress. Probably the last mission. Probably just her luck. Definitely not because of a certain alpha that she just so happened to run into earlier while out on patrol in Boulder Town.
It would’ve been fine, yeah, with how she could just swiftly go back to her apartment and deal with this herself. But the thing is, that alpha just had to be there when her heat happened. Now, said alpha—Bronya trailed behind as she removed her shoes and arranged the coat and boots the omega had thrown behind. She stands from across the room—hands folded behind her back, gaze steady, like she’s never flinched from a fight in her life. Though Seele remembered the girl she used to be back in the orphanage. Quiet. Sickly. Too slow to manifest any alpha traits, and even slower to raise her voice.
“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Seele’s voice was hoarse, but the fire behind it was unyielding. “I can handle myself.”
“I know,” Bronya replies. Calm. Controlled. Not like those alphas Seele encountered all too well in the underworld when faced with an omega. “But you don’t have to, Seele.”
The words hit deeper than they should.
A beat. Before Seele, as stubborn as ever, spat out. “I’m not some wilting omega. I don’t need an alpha watching over me like I’m glass.”
“You’re not glass,” Bronya calmly replied before continuing, “You’re a blade.”
Silence. Heavy. Achingly thick.
Seele sat up from the couch and turned to Bronya, eyes narrowed. “Then why are you still here? “
Bronya stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “Because even blades need care when they’re worn thin.”
And Seele—burned out from fighting biology and history and herself—finally let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Don’t say things like that,” she murmured, avoiding eye contact. “It makes me want things.”
“I know,” Bronya said again, her voice softer now as if it already wasn’t before, “I do too.”
Once again, silence filled the room with an undeniable tension between the two.
After what felt like an eternity, Bronya cleared her throat, catching the other woman’s attention. “I’ll… prepare a cooling compress.”
The silver-haired woman made her way to the small kitchenette of the apartment, her footsteps padded quietly over the cracked tile floor, barely louder than the soft hum of the fan in the corner. The kitchenette was barely functional, but she moved through it with precision—grabbing a bowl, pouring cool water from the half-working faucet, and wringing out a clean cloth.
Seele remained on the couch, one hand gripping the cushion beneath her like an anchor. Her breath came in shallow pulls, too quick, too raw. Her heat wasn’t even at its peak yet, but it was surely creeping closer, waiting for her to crack and act out the inevitable.
She hated this. Hated how fragile it made her feel. Hated that Bronya, of all people, was seeing her like this.
What made her even more ticked off was that Bronya wasn’t even disgusted by it.
Well, she did look slightly stiff, but it was understandable, considering how Seele’s pheromones were basically invading Bronya’s nostrils, seducing the alpha. Though unlike most alphas Seele encountered, Bronya fought off her instincts, not wanting to take advantage of her heat. She was simply in her apartment, getting ready to use a cooling compress for the purple-haired woman.
Seele hated it, hated how it made her heart flutter.
Finally, Bronya returned with a bowl in hand. She set it down on the small, rickety table beside the couch and knelt down. “Here. It’ll help regulate your body temperature.” She looked up at Seele, gray eyes meeting purple, waiting for permission. “May I...? ”
The purple-haired woman glanced down at the other, then away with a low grumble. “Yeah. Whatever.”
Bronya didn’t take offense—never did. And when given the green light, she just dipped the cloth in the bowl, wrung it out, and gently pressed it onto Seele’s neck with careful, steady hands. The touch was cold, mercifully so. It made Seele suck in a sharp breath, the sting of coolness shocking her enough to momentarily forget the burning heat inside her.
After a moment, she muttered, “You always do this.” It was quiet, yet loud enough that only Bronya could hear due to their proximity. The latter paused before asking, “Do what? ”
“Like…” She gestured to the wet cloth, “... this! Like you know what to do, even when it’s messy, even when I’m a mess.”
“You’re not,” Bronya said, far too earnestly, so much that Seele couldn’t help but scoff, yet still didn’t move away from the cloth pressing against her skin. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying,” Bronya replied quietly, yet somehow steady and firm as steel. “You’re fighting something that was never fair to begin with. That doesn’t make you weak.”
Those words hit Seele hard .
With a swift motion, Seele turned her head just enough to look at her—flushed, damp, her hair sticking to her forehead, but her eyes still bright, burning with something defiant.
“And what, you’re just here to be my noble caretaker? The alpha who’s too good to touch an omega in heat? “
Bronya didn’t flinch. “I’m here because you matter to me, Seele. Not because of what you are.” Her gaze was firm yet also understanding and, oh, so patient. There was no pity, no judgment towards Seele for lashing out; only love and concern.
Noticing that detail, Seele’s expression faltered—just a little. Her shoulders slumped as she sighed, “That’s worse,” she muttered. “I’d rather it be from instinct. Then I could blame it on biology and pretend this ache in my chest isn’t something I chose.”
Bronya didn’t say anything. She simply looked at Seele, the wet cloth still in her hand, now resting gently on the omega’s collarbone. The silence stretched between them again, but this time it wasn’t heavy—it pulsed. It breathed.
Then, finally, she spoke—voice low, like it could crack if she wasn’t careful.
“I’m not here because of instinct,” she said, barely louder than the hum of the fan. “I’m here because… even if you weren’t in heat, even if you weren’t hurting, I’d still want to be close to you.”
She then rewet the cloth and pressed it more firmly to the side of Seele’s neck, her movements gentle, patient.
“I know you’d rather have something to fight,” Bronya continued, voice low, threading through the thick silence like a needle through cloth. “It’s easier to swing at something than to sit with what hurts.”
Seele let out a low, bitter chuckle. “God, you sound like some wise old grandparent.”
“And yet,” Bronya murmured, brushing a thumb briefly over Seele’s temple to push a damp strand of hair back, “you’re still listening."
That single touch—it was barely anything. But Seele felt it like a spark in her spine. She tilted her head just slightly, enough that the side of her cheek grazed the back of Bronya’s fingers. The latter moved the cloth to Seele’s flushed cheek, dabbing lightly, her touch still maddeningly gentle, maddeningly tender . It was enough to make Seele’s breath hitch again. Not from the cold, not from the discomfort, but from how easily this woman could reach in and stir things she’d spent years burying under bravado and survival.
The omega closed her eyes for a moment, exhausted but not from heat anymore, but from holding everything in.
“I hate that I want you here.” It came out hoarse, pained. “And I hate that I don’t want you to leave.”
Bronya stilled, fingers pausing against her cheek. “Then don’t,” she said, almost too softly.
Seele’s eyes opened, burning and heavy-lidded now. “You say it like it’s that simple.”
“It is.” Bronya’s hand moved again, this time brushing her jaw with just enough pressure to ground her. “You don’t have to earn softness, Seele. Not from me.”
Seele blinked. Her mouth parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came. What was there to say when someone looked at her like that—like she was worth more than just her status, her scars, her heat?
Bronya’s hand stilled at the side of her face, cloth forgotten, thumb brushing along her jaw. The moment stretched, thin and electric. Seele’s eyes flicked to Bronya’s lips, then away—once, twice—before finally settling there with a kind of reluctant surrender.
"You shouldn’t look at me like that," Seele rasped, her voice cracking. “I’m barely holding it together.”
"Then let me hold you together," Bronya murmured, barely audible.
And just like that, Seele snapped.
She surged forward—not with aggression, but with desperation. Her hands grabbed at Bronya’s collar, yanking her in as their lips crashed together in a kiss that was more fire than finesse. Bronya didn’t resist. If anything, she leaned in, deepening it, her hands bracing Seele’s hips with instinctive care rather than demand. It wasn’t a claiming—it was a reminder that she was there, that Seele didn’t have to battle this alone.
The kiss was raw and full of heat—not just from biology, but from all the words unsaid, all the feelings they'd danced around for years. When they parted, both of them breathless, Seele didn’t let go. She pressed her forehead to Bronya’s, their exhales mingling, hearts thundering in sync.
“I hate this,” she whispered, but her hands trembled as they curled in the fabric of Bronya’s shirt.
“I know,” Bronya whispered back, her fingers brushing strands of purple hair away from Seele’s damp face. “But I’m here anyway. Not because you need me—because I want to be here.” A pause, “And no, it’s not because of your heat,” she said in a playful tone, earning a scoff and a light jab from Seele. “Idiot.”
With a soft chuckle from the alpha, the two kissed once again, with Bronya now standing in between Seele’s legs, hands cupping Seele’s face with reverence, thumbs stroking her cheeks as if to ground her. Seele’s own hands wandered upward, slipping beneath the fabric of Bronya’s shirt, fingertips pressing against bare skin, craving that steady warmth.
Pulling apart again for air, Seele then licked her swollen lips and whispered, “You’re going to ruin me.”
Bronya smiled faintly. “Only if you let me.”
And Seele—heart thudding, pulse erratic—smiled back. “Guess I already did.”
Bronya gently guided her backward onto the couch, careful, slow, patient. The streetlights still filtered through the window, casting a serene light around them in the apartment. The air remained thick, but the tension had shifted—from unbearable restraint to something warm and unraveling.
Hands wandered. Mouths explored. But it wasn’t frantic. It was sensual and passionate. Each touch was a promise, as if to say, ‘You’re not alone. You’re not glass. You’re wanted.’
And in that quiet, blistering haze, Seele didn’t burn alone anymore.