#Daniel Brühl x reader

[andy-15-07]

The News

Summary:Y/N anxiously prepares for Helmut Zemo’s return, holding a secret—she’s pregnant. When he arrives, they share an emotional reunion, and he’s overjoyed at the news of their growing family.

Paring: Baron Helmut Zemo x reader

Words count: 2594

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

The soft hum of the rain tapping against the windows filled the quiet apartment, adding to the warm, cozy atmosphere Y/N had tried to create all day. She had spent hours preparing for this moment—cleaning, cooking, and nervously adjusting everything in the living room a dozen times.

The smell of dinner—a mix of Zemo's favorite dishes—lingered in the air, and soft music played in the background, trying to mask the excitement and nerves building within her. Y/N checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, her eyes darting to the time.

He should have been home by now.

Helmut had been away on a mission for weeks, leaving her with nothing but sporadic, cryptic messages that barely hinted at when he might return. But today was different. Today, she was certain he'd be home. She had received a brief text earlier that morning, "Coming home tonight. Don't wait up."

Of course, she couldn’t just go to bed, not with the news she had been holding close to her heart, a secret she had been dying to share with him. She glanced down at the little box in her hands, flipping it open and shut nervously. Inside was a tiny pair of baby shoes—white and soft, with delicate lace around the edges. She smiled softly to herself, a rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

She had found out a few days after he had left. The initial shock had been overwhelming, but the idea of them starting a family had slowly taken root, filling her with a joy she hadn’t expected. Y/N could already imagine Helmut’s reaction, the way his eyes would light up, the way he’d pull her into his arms, overjoyed at the news.

The rain picked up, drumming harder against the window, and she glanced outside. The city was dark, a few lights flickering through the sheets of rain, but there was no sign of him yet.

Minutes felt like hours, and the worry she had tried to suppress started to creep in. What if something had gone wrong? What if he was hurt? But no, she pushed those thoughts away. Helmut was too skilled, too careful. He always made it back to her, no matter what.

She placed the baby shoes back in the box, setting it on the coffee table and rubbing her hands together nervously. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a warm glow over the room, but it did little to soothe her nerves.

Then, finally, she heard it. The unmistakable sound of keys jingling at the door, followed by the soft click of the lock turning. Her heart leapt into her throat as the door slowly creaked open, and there he was—Helmut Zemo, soaked from the rain, his hair tousled, but very much alive and home.

“Helmut!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing to him before he could even close the door behind him. She threw her arms around him, ignoring the dampness of his clothes as she buried her face in his chest.

“Schatz…” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was a softness in his tone as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in, as if grounding himself after weeks away.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She had missed him terribly, every moment he was away felt like an eternity.

“And I missed you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. His dark eyes were tired but filled with love as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, meine Liebe.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for this man she had chosen to spend her life with. But she could see the weariness in his expression, the way his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of whatever he had gone through. She knew better than to ask about the mission, not right away. There would be time for that later.

“You’re soaked,” she said, her voice tinged with concern. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

He nodded, allowing her to guide him toward their bedroom. She helped him out of his coat and boots, and then he peeled off his wet shirt, tossing it aside. His body was as strong and lean as ever, though she couldn’t help but notice a few new bruises marring his skin.

Y/N frowned, reaching out to touch one gently, but Helmut caught her hand, bringing it to his lips instead.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her, his voice low. “Just a few scratches.”

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed with worry, but he gave her a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was trying to protect her, as always, but she could see through the façade. He was tired—emotionally and physically—but he was here, and that was what mattered most.

“Come on,” she whispered, tugging him toward the bathroom. “A hot shower will help.”

Helmut didn’t argue, and soon the sound of water filled the space as steam began to rise around them. Y/N stayed by his side, helping him rinse off the grime of whatever battle he had been through. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as she ran her fingers through his wet hair, massaging his scalp gently.

They didn’t speak, the silence between them comfortable and intimate, a reminder of how connected they were, even after all these years.

Once he was clean, she handed him a towel, watching as he dried off and wrapped it around his waist. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he pulled her into his arms once more.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with a deep, unspoken gratitude.

Y/N smiled against his chest, her heart fluttering with love for this man who was always so strong, so capable, and yet so vulnerable in moments like these. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I made dinner,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Your favorite.”

His eyes lit up, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “You spoil me, Schatz.”

“Only because you deserve it,” she teased, leading him back into the living room where the food was waiting.

They settled on the couch, plates in hand, and for a while, they just enjoyed the meal in comfortable silence. But Y/N could feel the weight of the secret she was holding, the news she was so eager to share. She glanced at the small box on the coffee table, her heart pounding in her chest.

Helmut noticed the shift in her demeanor, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is something on your mind, Y/N?” he asked, setting his plate aside.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. But then she took a deep breath, reaching for the box and holding it out to him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Helmut’s eyes widened in surprise as he took the box from her hands, his expression curious as he opened it. His gaze softened instantly as he saw the tiny baby shoes nestled inside, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for confirmation.

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m pregnant, Helmut. We’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, as if trying to process the words. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so full of joy and love that it took her breath away.

“Meine Liebe…” he murmured, setting the box aside and pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to him, feeling his love and warmth enveloping her completely. “I was so nervous,” she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion. “I didn’t know how you’d react.”

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands and looking into her eyes with a seriousness that made her heart skip a beat. “Y/N, there is nothing in this world that could make me happier than this news,” he said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “You and our child…you are everything to me.”

She smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “I love you, Helmut,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

“And I love you, more than anything,” he replied, pressing his forehead against hers. “Thank you…thank you for this gift.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other close, their hearts beating in sync. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle drizzle, the soft patter against the windows a soothing backdrop to the moment they were sharing.

Finally, Helmut pulled back, a playful glint in his eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to be extra careful on my missions from now on,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice. “I have more than just you to come home to now.”

Y/N chuckled, wiping away her tears. “Yes, you do. And you’d better keep that in mind.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers as if savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“We’re going to be a family,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. His hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, his thumb tracing small, tender circles over the place where their child grew.

Y/N placed her hand over his, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of comfort through her. “Yes, we are,” she whispered, her voice full of love and certainty. “Our little family.”

Helmut’s eyes shone with emotion as he stared down at her, his usually composed demeanor softened by the weight of this new reality. He had faced countless challenges, confronted the most dangerous of foes, and yet, this moment—this simple, beautiful moment—was enough to bring him to his knees.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family of my own… I never thought it would be possible after everything that’s happened. And now, here we are…”

Y/N smiled, her heart breaking and healing at the same time. She knew his past was riddled with pain and loss, and she understood how much this meant to him. “You deserve this, Helmut. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

He shook his head slightly, his expression one of disbelief. “I don’t know if I deserve it, but I’m not foolish enough to let it slip away. You and our child…you’re my future now. My purpose.”

She could see the determination in his eyes, the promise that he would do everything in his power to protect them, to give them the life they deserved. It was a vow unspoken, yet she felt it in every fiber of her being.

Helmut gently pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered again, the words heavy with gratitude. “Thank you for giving me this gift, for giving me hope.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with love for him, a love that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. “You’ve given me so much, Helmut,” she replied softly, her fingers threading through his as they rested on her stomach. “This is our gift to each other.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the reality of their future slowly sinking in. It was a future filled with the unknown, but for the first time, they faced it together, not just as partners, but as a family.

After a while, Y/N broke the comfortable silence, her tone laced with playful curiosity. “So… have you thought of any names yet?”

Helmut chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, breaking through the seriousness of the moment. “Already? You’ve only just told me!”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and full of joy. “Well, we should get a head start, don’t you think? We need to be prepared.”

Helmut’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he considered her words. “True. But I think we should take our time. We have many months ahead of us to decide.” He paused, his gaze turning thoughtful. “But if I had to choose… something traditional, perhaps. Something with meaning.”

Y/N nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “Something that honors your heritage, maybe? A name that connects our child to their roots.”

Helmut’s expression softened, a deep pride flashing in his eyes. “Yes,” he agreed, his voice low and serious. “Something that carries the weight of history, but also the promise of a new future.”

She could see how much this meant to him, and it warmed her heart to know that he was already thinking of their child’s legacy. “We’ll find the perfect name,” she assured him, leaning into his embrace. “One that represents everything we’ve been through, and everything we’re going to build together.”

Helmut kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering there as if sealing a promise. “We will,” he agreed. “And no matter what name we choose, our child will know they are loved. That is the most important thing.”

Y/N sighed contentedly, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. This was what she had always dreamed of—a life filled with love, a future full of hope. And now, with Helmut by her side, that dream was finally becoming a reality.

As the evening wore on, they talked about their plans for the future—the changes they would need to make, the things they would need to prepare for. They discussed where the nursery should be, what color to paint the walls, and how they would balance their new responsibilities. It was a conversation filled with excitement and a little bit of fear, but most of all, it was filled with love.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with them, and they found themselves curled up on the couch together, the warmth of the fire lulling them into a comfortable drowsiness. Helmut held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his hand resting on her stomach as if to keep their child safe even in his sleep.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart swelling with love as she watched him drift off. There was a contentment in his expression that she hadn’t seen in a long time, a peace that came from knowing they were finally moving forward together.

And as she closed her eyes, her head resting against his chest, she knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—united by the love they had for each other, and for the family they were about to start.

In that moment, Y/N realized that the future was no longer something to be feared. It was something to be embraced, something to be cherished. And with Helmut by her side, she knew they would create a life filled with happiness, love, and endless possibilities.

As sleep finally claimed her, Y/N’s last thought was of the tiny heartbeat growing inside her, a new life born out of the love she shared with Helmut Zemo—a love that would carry them through anything.

The rain outside had stopped, leaving the night quiet and still. And in the warmth of their home, their hearts beat as one, full of love, hope, and the promise of tomorrow.

[uses-for-fics]

Love is Embarrassing | Eric Bouchard

pt. 2 <~~ can be found here

YN stood in the back of the bustling film set, pencil in hand, watching as the crew adjusted the lights and the camera rolled into position. As a storyboard artist for ‘Tecto’, she had a front-row seat to the action, yet her gaze constantly wandered to the man behind the camera. Eric, the director, moved with a sharp precision, directing the crew and actors with an intensity that she admired. He was demanding, yes, but she loved being part of his vision, often on call for his constant script changes and feedback. Those were Eric’s orders.

Every time Eric called her over to discuss a scene or a shot, YN felt a flicker of excitement that went beyond the thrill of the job. It was no secret to herself—she harbored a deep crush on him, a feeling that had grown over the months working together but they never crossed that line. Theirs was a professional relationship, though every shared glance and conversation carried an undercurrent of something more.

As YN sketched, her pencil strokes tracing the sharp angles of Eric’s focused expression, a shadow loomed over her.

“Still drawing the boss, huh?” Adam’s teasing voice broke her concentration. He was the lead actor, playing Tecto, the hero of the movie, and always full of playful energy.

YN quickly closed her sketchbook, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but Adam’s knowing grin made it clear she wasn’t fooling anyone.

Whenever there was downtime on set, YN found herself sketching Eric. It wasn’t like she could help it—he was her muse, his intensity and passion translating perfectly onto the page. She'd captured him in different moments: deep in thought, laughing with the crew, even the way his hair fell messily during long shoots.

She’d grown careful about it, always making sure to keep her distance, never letting on that she spent every spare moment drawing him but the feelings that poured into those sketches were impossible to ignore. For YN, it was a quiet way of expressing her affection for him, an outlet for what she couldn't say out loud.

Adam, of course, was more observant than YN had given him credit for. During one particular scene change, he had seen her sketching again, eyes focused solely on Eric. He teased her relentlessly about it, but this time, he took it a step further. When YN left her sketchbook on her chair to head to the restroom, Adam couldn’t resist.

With a mischievous grin, he flipped through the pages. His eyes widened as he saw drawing after drawing of Eric, each one capturing him perfectly. Chuckling to himself, Adam pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures of the sketches. He knew just what to do. “Looks like you have a secret admirer.” He signed as he sent the photos to someone.

Moments later, Eric’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Eric was in the middle of reviewing a shot when he checked his phone, only to find a text from Adam. Attached were photos of YN’s drawings—of him. At first, he blinked in surprise. He had always appreciated YN’s artistic talents, but he hadn't realized she’d been using him as a subject so often.

A warm feeling stirred in his chest as he flipped through the images. The attention to detail, the way she had captured him so vividly—it struck him that YN had been quietly admiring him all this time, just as he had been doing with her.

He scanned to her usual spot. She was gone. Without thinking too much about it, he picked up his phone and dialed her number.

“YN,” he said when she answered, “I need your help with something urgent. There’s a script change I’d like your input on. Can you meet me after we wrap up today?”

YN was puzzled by Eric’s call. Script change? It wasn’t unusual for him to ask her for help, but there was something different in his voice this time. Nonetheless, she agreed, and after the day’s shoot ended, she met him at the quiet corner of the set where he waited.

“So, what’s this urgent change?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Eric hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence wavering slightly. “It’s about a new scene I’m considering. A date scene, actually.”

YN blinked in confusion. “A date scene?”

“For you and me,” Eric clarified, his eyes meeting hers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Off the script.”

Realization dawned on her. Her heart raced as she realized what he was saying. She hadn’t expected this, not after months of keeping her feelings hidden.

“I thought… maybe we should give it a shot,” Eric continued. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and, well… after seeing those sketches, I figured it was time.”

YN’s face flushed with embarrassment, but also a surge of excitement. Adam! She would have to thank him—and yell at him—later.

“Well,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “I think I’d like that.” She covered her face with her hands. “I just can’t believe Adam would send you those sketches! It’s so embarrassing.”

Eric removed her hands from her face and smiled. “Love is embarrassing but it’s worth it no?”

Their date that night was the first of many. What had started as a quiet, unspoken attraction finally blossomed into something real. On set, things didn’t change much, at least not for the public eye, though there was a new spark between them that even the crew began to notice.

Adam, ever the troublemaker, couldn’t resist teasing them both. “You know, YN, I should start charging for my matchmaking services.”

YN only rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny it—Adam’s sneaky plan had given her the push she needed, and now, she was living the scenes she’d only sketched in the past.

[a-strange-echo]

Distracting kiss

Pairing: Daniel Brühl x gn!reader

Summary: Reader is feeling lonely on the set of Falcon and the Winter Soldier and just want some attention from their husband.

Word count: ~~

Warnings: PDA, reader is mischievous, fluff, only one French sentence and one in Spanish.

Author's note: I don't think I will finish the flufftober, I have been really busy and lost the want to write, this is the first thing I have written in a few weeks so... yeah. Also, it's my first time writing for Daniel Brühl so please, be indulgent. (There are not enough fanfics about this man, I swear-) AS ALWAYS: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAGE

Author's feelings: I quite like this one, especially since it's been a while since I wrote and posted something.

The cast was on a break after the whole afternoon of shooting for an episode of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier series. There was only one scene left to shoot, and while some actors preferred to laugh together or eat something, Daniel was sitting on a chair rereading his script.

Y/N wanted their husband to spend more time with them even if they knew they technically were at work. They watched him from a few feet away. He seemed so entranced in what he was doing. His eyebrows were scrunched in a little frown they wanted to kiss away so badly, his delicate lips in a small, concentrated pout.

'He looks so cute.' Y/N thought, and they were sure they had a dreaming and love-sick expression on their face that anyone could see, but they didn't care.

"Why don't you go get your man?" A deep voice pulled them out of their reverie.

"Don't scare me like that, Seb!" They chastised with a slap to his arm.

"You just were so busy staring at Daniel that you didn't hear me talking to you." He clarified before taking a bite out of his pastries. "But anyway, go get him." He repeated as he pushed them slightly towards their husband.

"You know what? I have a better idea." They said with a mischievous smirk and departed in Daniel's direction.

Y/N sneaked behind him, being careful not to be heard. When they were close enough, they slid their arms around his neck, bending a little to be able to rest their head on his shoulder. He was a little startled at first but relaxed when he realized it was only his partner. He turned his head toward them and smiled back at them before going back to memorizing the script.

Y/N wasn't having it. They nuzzle their face in his neck before placing a slow, deep kiss on his neck, right below his ear. He leaned into the kiss, his eyes closed and a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"I love you." They whispered against his skin.

He didn't have time to fully understand what Y/N said before he felt them pull away and leave.

When they turned away, going back to Sebastian, who witnessed the whole thing, they had a satisfied smirk on their lips.

Daniel tried to focus back on the task at hand, but it seemed like the kiss sucked out all of his focus. He tried and tried to read the text, but he just found himself re-reading the same line again and again. After a few frustrating seconds, he found himself standing up and walking where he knew his lover would be: talking to their best friend Sebastian.

Y/N counted down out loud the seconds it would take their husband to go to them. And right on time, they felt two strong arms wrap around their waist and their husband's head on their shoulders. Y/N bend their arm to play with the man's hair just like he liked it with a smirk still plastered on their face.

"Hola, mi amor." He purred against their neck.

"Coucou, mon cœur." They smiled at him. "Told you I had a better idea, Seb." They teased the man who had a smile stretched on his face.

——————————

Translation: "Coucou, mon cœur" -> "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hola, mi amor" -> "Hello, my love"

[rhey-007]

𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥

Daniel Brühl x supermodel!reader | 18+ soft smut

Summary: You're a supermodel hired to model Zegna's new collection along side Daniel Brühl, but your session takes an unexpected yet pleasant turn.

Pairing: soft/sub/nervous Daniel x bubbly/full of energy reader

Warnings: 18+, soft smut, semi public sex (?), blowjob

___________________________________________

Daniel wasn't a model but he did pretty good on photoshoots when he was alone, at least he hoped so. With a partner though? That was a whole nother story. That is why he was a little stressed this time. He was going to work with one of the best, and prettiest, models in the world – Y/N L/N – for ZEGNA's new fall/winter collection.

He arrived to the set way ahead of time to make sure he would be ready when you arrive. To his surprise you were already there, waiting for him, getting your hair done.

„Daniel! "

You chirped happily, noticing him in the mirror in front of you. The man corrected his collar nervously with a smile before making his way over to you. Instead of shaking your stretched out hand, as you would expect, he kissed it gently as a gentleman should - which took you aback but you didn’t complain.

„I'm really happy to finally meet you”

„I'm glad to meet you too! "

Daniel's voice was like honey to your ears making your skin shiver. You took a better look at him as he stood near you. He was even more handsome in real life than you could've imagined. When he sat down you noticed his leg jump like crazy – he was stressed... You didn’t like that... Not because he could 'ruin' the photoshoot. No... You knew it couldn’t happen, he was too good at it. But because you were afraid of his well being.

„Hey... It's gonna be okay. You're gonna do great... As always "

You whispered with a chuckle, your hand making it's way over to his jumping leg and soothing it gently. Those actions made Daniel's heart go crazy. He felt like he would have a heart attack soon if you kept rubbing his leg.

„I hope so... Don't want to ruin your photos after all "

You gasped theatricaly.

„Oh honey! You're the star here! Not me. I should be the one scared. But I'm not, and neither should you. Cause I KNOW you're gonna do amazing! "

Daniel admired your enthusiasm and faith in him. It seemed as if you had it more than himself. He chuckled to your words while looking down and softly shaking his head.

„Okay, okay. Let's say I believe you”

„You have to believe in yourself and not believe me”

Through the whole preparation, the man noticed your flirty demeanour and affectionate touches. He didn’t mind that though, he found it nice to get attention from women - especially from you - and now he felt relaxed in your presence.

You were a flirtatious person who usually didn’t notice they flirt with everyone, but with Daniel? Ohh... You were heads over heals with that man - you were since you found out about him which was quite a long time ago - and you flirted with him purposely, hoping to take him out for dinner later.

„Tell me... Is there some lady Brühl waiting for you back home or can I steal you for a few hours after the shoot to go eat something? "

You asked between conversations. Daniel shook his head softly then turned to face you with a smirk.

„I guess you can be my lady for the evening”

He blurted our before realizing what he just said and after he did, he turned back to the mirror, dark blush on his face. What that woman did to him...

„I would be flattered, dear”

The cheerful smile on your face made Daniel's knees weak, good thing he was sitting or he would've fallen down right there and then.

When the photographer arrived you started your job. He put you really close to Daniel. His smell was intoxicating, making you crave for him even more, and the closeness made him even more nervous than before.

You were just supposed to be casual, relaxed, have fun with it, but Daniel was rather... Stiff... And not in the good way. So after about 10 minutes of work the man behind the camera sighed heavily signaling a short break.

„Hey... What is it? "

You asked Daniel, your voice soft, one of your arms resting on his shoulder while your hand played with the hair on the back of his head. He didn’t reply, looking around the room nervously and breathing heavily. His hand ‘unintentionally’ brushed against yours, making you grab it and interwine your fingers. You smirked devilishly and leaned closer, your lips almost touching his earlobe.

„Oh honey~ There’s no need to be so nervous. What do you say for this... I'll give you a little heads up, so you would relax and later you'll get an award if you do a great job, okay?’’

‘’Wha- What do you mean?”

“oh come on! You know what I mean~ I can feel you getting excited with my every touch”

You pulled closer, your bodies pressed against each other, lips almost touching. A blush spread across Daniel’s face, making you smile from ear to ear. His eyes avoided yours, he felt unprofesional, ashamed of his state, but you didn’t mind.

‘’Meet me in the bathroom”

You whispered and placed a soft kiss on his lips, before leaving. The man took a deep breath then followed in your tracks almost immediately. He didn’t even managed to knock on the bathroom door when you pulled him inside by his clothes and pressed against the door. You locked it then slowly dropped down to your knees.

„You have to be quiet... "

You whispered then started your sinful ministrations, without any objection from Daniel, to your surprise. With one swift motion you undid his pants and pulled them down, revealing a big bulge strained by his boxers. You bit your lip, looking up at the flustered man. His eyes were dark with lust, but his body didn’t show it, it was rather shy. You took a deep breath and freed his member. He was big, both in lenght and breadth, and you liked it... You liked a little challenge.

You licked it slowly from the perfectly trimmed bush up to the tip, then without any hesitation took him in entirely. The gagging motion signaling that it’s a bit too much made you pull away a little. You started to bob your head ahead and back, occasionally stopping to rub your thumb against his tip. You could see, and partially hear, that Daniel enjoyed it as he tried his best to quiet down his moans and grunts. You tried to be as fast as you could, as you didn’t have a lot of time, but also tried to tease the man, which you would usually do. You sucked him fast, almost bringing him to the edge to then pull away, smiling brightly and softly massaging his balls, then again and again.

Soon Daniel couldn’t take it anymore and started to quietly beg for the release. It made your panties even wetter than they already were. His pleas and cries filled the room and stroked your ego. You were so proud of yourself for being able to make one of the most handsome man in the world so vulnerable and crave for your touch. Soon you decided you tortured him enough. You went as fast as you could, massaging his balls roughly.

‘’Liebchen... I-I'm close...’’

Daniel breathed out before a loud moan escaped his lips and his warm seed filled your throat. You pulled away and showed him the mess he made in your mouth, before gulping down everything. You stood up, pulling his boxers and pants up.

‘’You did such an amazing job...’’

You praised with a warm smile, cleaned yourself up and left the bathroom after placing a soft kiss to the man’s cheek. You were really satisfied with your job as later, almost every photo came out perfectly.

After the photoshoot was done, you took Daniel out for dinner and late at night, he made you his lady Brühl, just as he promised.

[hereticpriest]

Red Carpet

Relationship: Dirk Brûlée x reader

Warnings: Public displays of affection, flirting, inappropriate touching in public, light mention of alcoholism and addiction recovery, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, possessive talk, affianced couple, pussy talk (iykyk)

It was your first red carpet event. Your first truly public event, in which you were not just attending with Dirk and staying on the sidelines while he did an interview or photoshoot. This wasn’t your instagram announcement - which had had the side effect of boosting your instagram and making you thank God that Dirk had gone through your profile with you to delete all of your embarrassing or exposing posts - or any of your frequent appearances on one of his many social media profiles. You would have to face red carpet interviews, paparazzi, professional photographers, and countless reporters.

Your dress was made by Hass Idriss, a sunset-coloured orange, red and purple dress of flowy fabrics and a crystalled structured bodice in long, angular, geometric patterns. The bodice and top of the flowing train is a pale grey-lilac, which becomes orange and purple as it reaches your hips. The back of the dress is formed of two crossed strips of fabric off of which the train flows, and otherwise the dress begins at your lower back. The bodice flows down in a series of godets and crystal detailing. Normally, it wouldn’t be anything you’d ever dare to wear, but Dirk had been slowly introducing you to more and more of his fashion designer friends, which led to you dressing in much more interesting clothes at work to your boss and the gallery patrons’ delight. You were starting to embrace your body and becoming more confident in your physical being, which led you here. 

The theme for tonight’s award event was mythology, and everyone was meant to be going all out on their choices. Attendees had to submit their mythology choice and theming to the event runners, and Dirk thanked god for your quickness, as you’d managed to snag Greek mythology before too many people could sign up for it. You knew plenty about mythology as it was a popular topic in art, but you knew you looked beautiful in drapery, and you had been to Greece once for a highschool trip, and again before your mother remarried as a mother-daughter trip. Dirk, who couldn’t care less so long as he got the chance to dress up, had been happy to go along with your preference.

Dirk was proudly dressed quite similarly to yourself in flowy fabrics, a take on some sort of sun god with expertly draped fabric across his chest in one direction with a pinned broach of the sun, and a geometric patterned gold translucent fabric draped across his chest in the other direction. The bottom was flowy white pants with the same gold fabric along the outer and inner leg to create something of a peak-a-boo. That fabric also created something of a cape which Dirk had delighted in swooshing at you dramatically while he was getting ready.

Both of you wore sharp, expertly applied golden eyeliner and gold freckles, and while Dirk wore only clear lip gloss for a shiny look, you had your top lip painted pitch black while the inside of the bottom lip was shaded and the rest remained nude and glossy. You would post an instagram photo later tonight of your original lip look, which was a liquid lipstick that looked like you’d dipped your lips in liquid gold. Unfortunately, its staying power was minimal at best, and your makeup artist decided instead to go for what she referred to as a ‘Shego’ look that might make you look burnt by the sun as the partner of the ‘sun god’. You got a good photo before taking it off, and promised to post it and tag her for credit later that evening.

You may or may not have bought the black lipstick online while she was finishing the rest of your makeup because you loved the lipstick look so much. It was also, thankfully, kissproof, which Dirk had determined after thoughtlessly kissing you while passing by you to get his shoes. Both of you were wearing gladiator sandals, and Dirk’s laced up to nearly his knees while yours were mostly hidden by your dress.

Your loving boyfriend spent most of the limo ride rubbing your back, pressing kisses along your shoulder and whispering about all the dirty things he was going to do to you when the night was over. Or, in the bathroom if you kept looking so pretty and sinful, he threatened gently. He knew you were terrified of flubbing on the red carpet, and he also knew the easiest way to distract you was by teasing you with what he’d do to you with your privacy tonight. Sean was spending the weekend at Nadia’s, which meant that Dirk had you all to himself. You were fairly sure he’d make good use of it, even if you were only wearing your paint-stained sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt.

As you arrive at the event, he steps out first, then offers you his hand with a flourish of his cape that you knew was as much for him as it was for the cameras. He was very fond of the cape. As you step out of the car, he strokes his thumb across your knuckles, guiding you away from the limo and leaning in to kiss you for all the cameras to see. Gentle fingers trace the shell of your ear, then tap the sparkly purple opal earrings you’re wearing that catch like fire in the light. You’re thoroughly distracted from the flash of photographers, and are only pulled out of it when he offers you his arm.

“I’ll answer most of the questions. Speak up when you feel comfortable, ma déesse.” Dirk whispers to you, and you nod, following him up towards the doors. He pauses as a couple of reporters call for him, leading you over and introducing you as his girlfriend, his arm protective around your waist.

“Dirk, lovely to see you! This is the first time you’ve brought a date to one of these events since… well, you know. It’s great to see you with someone. How long have you two been together?” A male reporter with a curled old-fashioned moustache asks, and Dirk slides his fingertips into the open back of your dress.

“We’ve been together for four months and six days.” Dirk replies, and you snicker, patting his ribs affectionately while his fingertips slip deeper into your dress. You knew it had been four months, but the number of days wasn’t something you were tracking.

“Very specific.” The man comments with a grin that says he likes the idea of Dirk being that into his partner, though you’re unsure if that’s because he wants Dirk to be happy or he wants the drama, “your looks are obviously inspired by Greek mythology, and it looks like you’ve got a sun and sunset theme going on. Who are you wearing?”

“Hass Idriss.” You answer for him, and the reporter lights up to see that you’re engaging, “there’s an artist whose sculptures capture and reimagine key moments in Greek mythology at the gallery where I work, and I couldn’t help but be inspired. I’m lucky Dirk went along with my idea.”

“Well, it seems to me that Dirk is the lucky one. You both look stunning. Could you spin for us, please, Miss…?”

“Brülée is fine.” You reply, obediently parting from Dirk’s side to do a dainty little spin that causes the fabric to flow out like licking flames around your legs. Cameras click, and your cheeks get hot as you return to Dirk’s side. He takes your hand, twisting it so that the ring on your finger catches the light. The reporter gasps, holding out his hand as if asking for a closer look, and you let him take your hand so he can examine your ring. Photographers take multiple photos, and you giggle as Dirk kisses your shoulder.

“So quickly! You two must really be in love.” The reporter exclaims, and you beam, letting Dirk turn you to face him so he can steal another kiss.

“We are. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love her and our boy.” Dirk admits, nuzzling his nose against yours and looking at you with all of the love in the world. The reporter gives a dreamy sigh, and another one cuts in to ask.

“Your boy?”

Dirk smiles, kissing your forehead reassuringly while you slowly turn to face the reporters.

“My parents passed away a few years ago, and my younger brother was very young, so I adopted him. He doesn’t remember them very well, so he calls me his mother, not his sister. I’ve raised him on my own the last few years, but he’s… he’s really blossomed with having a guy around to give him some of the attention that I can’t always give him. Dirk is amazing with kids, I think we all know that from the show alone, but it’s all real. He’s so good with Sean and his friends.” You explain, and Dirk presses another kiss to your temple, his hand sliding into the back of your dress again.

“Does the age difference between you both concern you at all?” A female reporter asks, and you shrug.

“Dirk never makes me feel like there’s an age difference at all. He doesn’t treat me like a lot of older men treat me, like they’re superior. He’s very young at heart. He likes learning new things, and he tends to be the one helping me figure out new technology or new apps. And… well, look at him.” You shrug, gesturing to Dirk, whose smug grin only grows more smug, “He’s gorgeous, and he isn’t suffering physically from his age in any way I’ve ever noticed. I’ve always been very, very satisfied.”

The reporters chitter with laughter and the moustached one even gives Dirk a fist bump that he accepts with a laugh. You both pose for a couple of photos, then head up the red carpet a bit further for a couple more similar interviews. You see several celebrities you know as you pose for photos with Dirk, and he pauses briefly to say hello to a few people he knows while you pretend you aren’t as starstruck and unsure as you are. A hand slips into the back of your dress to give the back of your thong a tug, and you jump, then slap Dirk on the chest while he snickers and leads you into the event.

Here is where your job truly begins. Dirk has notoriously avoided these events since he entered rehab due to the alcohol present, but he trusts himself, and more importantly, he trusts you. Tonight, your job is to keep Dirk suitably distracted and make sure he isn’t tempted with alcohol. As you both approach your table, you ask a passing server for two glasses of water, and instruct them not to offer anyone at your table any alcohol. The server seems confused for a moment, but agrees, and you both take a seat. There isn’t a dinner, and the servers are really only for drinks between awards, so you aren’t too worried. You pet Dirk’s arm as you sit obnoxiously close to him, thigh-to-thigh so that he can feel you, unworried that you look clingy in that moment because you know he needs you.

The awards ceremony is long, but Dirk wins an award for his supporting role in a comedy he’d filmed before you both met. He thanks you during his speech, not for supporting him through it as you hadn’t been around, but instead for everything you’ve done since. For loving him, accepting him, giving him the experience of being a sort of father figure, and hopefully soon the role of a father as well. That earns you both quite a few cheers, and you have to work not to hide from all of the attention. Dirk returns to your side and pulls you up into a passionate kiss, murmuring against your lips that he’d quite like to get started on making that baby when you both get home.

“I love you.” Dirk whispers against your lips while several people around you down their champagne.

“I love you more. If you weren’t already marrying me, I’d ask you this time.” You tease, and Dirk laughs against your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“You already got me a ring, baby, don’t steal all my thunder.” He replies, and you both sit down together. He pulls your legs into his lap, running his hands soothingly over your thighs and knees.

“We should’ve gone to Vegas.” You retort, “I’ve already stopped my birth control. If you knock me up now, I’m going to look fat on our wedding day.”

“You stopped?” Dirk asks, and you do a very bad job hiding your grin behind your glass of water.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?”

Dirk’s Adam's apple bobs, and you bite your cheek to keep from giggling at his obvious arousal. You can already feel it pressing up against your legs draped oh so helpfully across his lap.

“We should go to the bathroom.” Dirk says quite suddenly, and you finally laugh, even as his hand tries to find its way under the skirt of your dress.

“I’m not letting you get me pregnant in the bathroom of an awards show, baby.”

“Aww, come on, mon amour. I just won an award, don’t you want to give me a better one?” He asks, and you giggle, finally pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Call the driver. I’ll let you have whatever you like as a reward when we get home, okay?”

And you do.

He takes you home, carefully undressing you both and hanging your outfits to be returned to the designer tomorrow. He carries you to your bedroom with a snarky comment about how he definitely isn’t showing his age, throwing you down onto the bed and demanding Alexa play your special playlist that you both created together. You barely protest as he folds you in half, biting your ankle, then your calf as he presses two fingers into you and presses his thumb into your clit.

“Hold your legs open, mon amour, give me room.” He commands, and you obey immediately. You promised him whatever he wanted, you’d be damned if you didn’t give it to him. You had plenty of time as the dominant partner in your relationship, and you would never say no to him wanting to take over.

“Je t’adore.” You murmur, and Dirk bends to steal a kiss, gentle as can be despite the way he fucks his fingers into you at a steady pace. They curl, stroking hard across your g-spot in a way that makes you arch and struggle, but Dirk pins your leg down on the bed to keep you spread wide open. He groans as you come around his fingers in no time flat, always eager for the times when you’re so easy to please he barely has to put any effort in.

“I can tell you’re off that shit, mon amour, your cunt is begging for me. Listen to her cry for more.” Dirk coos, rocking his fingers up and down within you to stimulate the walls of your cunt while simultaneously creating a loud squelching sound from the honey dripping from you, “So wet, love. I bet I can get you there tonight, can’t I?”

You whine, but Dirk ignores it, pulling his fingers free of you to rub against your clit aggressively. Your legs tense and twitch as he slips his fingers back inside of you. You jerk, and he chuckles, finding that perfect pace that he knows will take you apart while he leans up to kiss you. His gentle but passionate kiss is in stark contrast to the way he roughly unravels you, and you moan his name breathlessly into the kiss as you feel a particular pressure building.

“Gonna-” You gasp, and Dirk moans eagerly as you start to clench around his fingers, nearly vice-like as your hips jerk, and you squirt.

“Fuuuuck, yes baby, there it is. God, you’re so fucking perfect. Ma petite femme, squirting for me so perfectly. M’never letting you go back onto your birth control, baby. I’ll keep this pussy, my pussy, nice and full all the time, yeah? Would you like that?” Dirk asks, and you sob a nonsensical response that he seems to take as a yes. He doesn’t give you much of a chance to protest. Before you’ve even finished coming, he presses his cock into you, stretching you open in a way that’s almost mean. It hasn’t been that long since you both have fucked, but if you don’t take Dirk every day, you find it to be a bit of a stretch.

“S’too much.” You slur, but Dirk ignores you, enjoying the way your cunt seems to suck his cock in deeper.

“Non, ma belle, your pussy knows better. She wants more. She’s begging for more, can you hear her crying?” He asks, shushing you so you can hear the lewd squelch of his cock in your wet, sloppy cunt.

“Dirk, please!”

“I know, I know. I’ll give you everything you want, mon amour. I’ll fuck a baby into you, make you swell with my seed, and then marry you while you’re still barefoot and pregnant. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. So perfect. You feel like heaven around my cock, ma déesse.” Your fiance groans, pushing your legs up further so he can fuck himself deeper into you. He leans down for another kiss, licking up the drool that slips past your lips while you’re unable to stop moaning. You devour each other - starving, and desperate, and insatiable - all sharp, biting teeth and questing tongues. As Dirk gets closer, he rolls his hips deeper, holding you tightly to him as he kisses you. The angle of his hips grinds his pelvic bone into your clit just right, dragging you towards a third orgasm kicking and screaming. A loud groan slips from Dirk’s lips as he tips over the edge, and you cling to his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he pushes you over the edge with him.

You fall asleep pinned beneath Dirk’s weight just how you like it, his seed stuffed so deeply inside of you that it takes minutes before it slowly begins to leak out. Thankfully, he’s fairly sure it’s already taken by then.

[spockiguess]

The Alienist Fic Suggestion

Hey, guys! Sorry for dropping off of the face of the earth again, I fear I'm plagued with the "Fanfic Writer Curse" which sends its victims into horrible circumstances for no true reason. I will be resuming The Evangelical Counsels/Laszlo Kreizler fic, but how would you guys feel about a oneshot similar to that one? Wherein the reader is still a nun working at an orphanage, but...LAZSLO IS A VAMPIRE!!!?

I watched Nosferatu (2024) and Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) in quick succession, and I want something as painfully erotic as the ladder with Lazslo Kreizler being the star. Let me know your thoughts!

[darkficslover]

My man is so delusional and I'm loving it!!😭💕💕

𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖊 || dark!father antonio x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | tenebrae (/ˈtɛnəbreɪ/, latin): darkness, obscurity; dark place; prison (or, delusional priest develops an obsession with one of the lost little lambs in his flock)

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 3.5k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | smut (noncon), incel vibes? (which is ironic because the celibacy is very voluntary, but still) as well as yandere vibes, significant religious imagery and references, loss of virginity, blood, some misogyny (I mean, he’s a priest, so…), spanking, pain kink, creampie, very lightly implied breeding kink, 

{a/n: my gif, please don’t steal it!}

                   Antonio had always had a gift, the same one that made him such an excellent priest: he could see darkness.

He could see darkness, and he could cast it out.

Keep reading

[zemosbff]

zemo headcanons

(nsfw)

a/n: guys i love zemo so much, i want and need him so badly :( i can’t decide whether i like soft or ruthless sex the most when it comes to him lol, i feel like he has a soft side but god how i want him to just grab my hips harshly and fuck into me with no mercy … anyways …!!!!

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

⋆˙⟡- enemies to lovers <33

⋆˙⟡- constantly bickering soon turned into something more sexual

⋆˙⟡- would kiss your tears away while thrusting into you hard

⋆˙⟡- fucking you with his mask on during a mission to let off some steam!!!

⋆˙⟡- he’s soooo devoted to you and would let the world burn just for you

⋆˙⟡- massaging your shoulders after a long day while gently kissing your neck from behind

⋆˙⟡- calls you pet names in sokovian

⋆˙⟡- dom!zemo <33

⋆˙⟡- he would take you anywhere, in the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, anywhere, anytime

⋆˙⟡- “you want your baron to fuck you hm? be a good slut for me”

⋆˙⟡- he’s not one to shy away from moaning in your ear (real men moan in their girls ear!!!!!)

⋆˙⟡- you can’t tell me he’s not a muncher …

[nxtaliaistyping]

Need Baron Zemo to fuck me with the mask on :(

Authors note: omg i'm not really into the mcu anymore, but nothing can stop me thinking about this man I need him so badddddd (and daniel bruhl in general tbh)

18+ nsfw, villain kink, mask kink, fingering, rough sex, brief mention of killing

Thinking about being his girl, his pretty thing that sits in his lap while he drinks the most expensive wine in his expensive penthouse (just because he's on the run, doesn't mean he can't be in style)

You know who he is, the things he's done, but you just don't care. Not when he caresses you so gently, cooing soft words in your ear of how beautiful and enchanting he finds you, how much you fill the empty void left within him after Sokovia fell and everyone he loved was wiped out.

And if anything, he's too gentle. Not wanting to frighten you, the poor little lamb that you were, cuddling up to such a dangerous man every night. So he attempts to shield things from you, what he's done and what he's capable of.

But that changes one day, you feel the compulsive need to find out more about your lover, or at least see what he's like when he's the ruthless and strategic criminal that you've been told about. This leads you to following him, not an easy task, but you see how readily he is able to get his hands dirty. Tracking down some old HYDRA agent that has information that is useful to him, and you watch in slight horror and slight awe how he interrogates the man.

Although you have to look away at certain parts, hearing presumably the agent's body hitting the cold ground with a soft thud. While you try and leave quietly, you underestimated how much planning had went into his operation, because on your attempted escape you feel a large hand grab your upper arm, yanking you towards him with force and the start of a threat before he stops.

"dragă? what are you doing here?" he asks, his tone still slightly deeper than usual as you stare into his brown eyes; the only facial features visible while he wears the dark purple mask.

As you stumble over your words, telling him that you wanted to see the real him, he can't help but notice the slight flush of your skin, the way your chest rises and your lips part. In that moment he finally understands.

"Oh...I think I understand now. My little girl likes that i'm so dangerous, hm?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk behind his teasing lilt, his head cocked to one side as you nod, embarassed.

Soon enough, he has you pinned to the wall, hand stuffed between your thighs as he fingers your tight cunt from under your skirt. You whimper and whine at his treatment, and he revels in the fact you're so depraved, so naughty, and all for him.

"Do you like this, hm sreco? I was going to take this mask off, but I have a feeling that isn't what you desire." he rasps against your ear, and you nod breathlessly at how right his assumption was. All you can do is look up at him, clenching and making a mess around his fingers as you whine.

When he pulls his fingers away, he doesn't give you time to recover before you find yourself bent over a wooden crate and his cock is forcing its way in your pussy. He's never treated you as roughly as this before, but something about his girl loving how ruthless he is, wanting him to keep his goddamn mask on, flipped a switch in him as he starts a rough pace. The echoes of his hips slamming into your ass make you flush with embarrassment, gripping the edges of the surface for dear life, pretty nails he paid for digging into the wood.

"So filthy for me, my little girl is nothing but a slut." he groans out, squeezing your ass before giving it a harsh spank. The rhythm of his cock railing you has your eyes nearly crossing, as you try not to think about the fact you're fucking an older man after he's literally just killed someone.

When he cums, he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, feeling the way you tighten around him and squeeze every last drop out. As his breathing returns to normal, so too does his headspace as he rips the mask off quickly, pulling out to shush you gently and hold you in his arms.

"There we are dragă i'm here, i'm right here. I'm sorry for being so rough."

Taking you home, he'd spoil his good girl with a bath and food, but in the back of his mind he's already planning out how he can fuck you like that again.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

[loki-quinn]

SQUEE!! Daniel brühl confirming my headcannon that Zemo is so into fashion... IS JUST YES

I love the interviewer for asking!!!

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

[andy-15-07]

A Love Unscripted

Summary: Daniel and Y/N, co-stars on a film set, experience an intense connection that quickly blossoms into love. As they navigate their deepening relationship, they find that their off-screen romance becomes the greatest story of their lives.

Paring: Daniel Brühl x reader

Words count: 2907

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

It was a bright, crisp morning in Berlin, and the air buzzed with excitement as the cast and crew gathered for the first day of shooting. This was no ordinary film set—this was the next big project from a critically acclaimed director, and everyone knew it had the potential to be a masterpiece. The title of the film, still under wraps, hinted at a deep, emotional journey that would challenge both the actors and the audience.

Y/N arrived on set with a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling the weight of this opportunity. It was their first major role, and although they had done their fair share of indie films and theater, this was different. The script had resonated deeply with Y/N when they first read it, and they knew this role could be a turning point in their career.

As Y/N stepped out of their trailer, adjusting the costume that already felt like a second skin, they noticed a familiar face on set. Daniel Brühl was speaking with the director, his warm, easygoing smile lighting up his features. Y/N had always admired Daniel’s work from afar—the subtlety of his performances, the way he could convey so much with just a glance or a slight change in his expression. Meeting him in person, however, was something they hadn’t quite prepared for.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked over to where Daniel and the director were chatting. As they approached, the director noticed Y/N and smiled broadly. "Ah, Y/N! Perfect timing. Come meet your co-star."

Daniel turned towards Y/N, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes met Y/N’s, and there was an unmistakable spark—a connection that went beyond the usual pleasantries of a first meeting. Daniel’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put Y/N at ease.

“Hi, I’m Daniel,” he said, extending his hand.

“Y/N,” they replied, shaking his hand. The touch lingered a bit longer than necessary, and Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in their chest.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Daniel continued, his voice smooth and genuinely kind. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to ignore the heat rising to their cheeks. “Well, I hope I can live up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you will,” Daniel said, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “I watched some of your previous work. You’re really talented.”

Y/N was caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

Before the conversation could continue, the director clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get started! We’ve got a lot to cover today.”

The first scene they were shooting was a pivotal one—an intense confrontation between Y/N and Daniel’s characters. The air was charged with anticipation as the crew set up the shot. Y/N took their position, trying to focus on the character’s emotions, but found themselves distracted by the fact that Daniel was standing so close.

Daniel, sensing Y/N’s nervousness, leaned in slightly and whispered, “Don’t worry, just be in the moment. We’ve got this.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. As soon as the director called “Action,” the transformation was instantaneous. Y/N slipped into their character’s mindset, and the world around them faded away. The scene required them to confront Daniel’s character, emotions running high as they delivered their lines with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

Daniel was incredible. His performance was raw, powerful, and it drew Y/N in, making it easy to react naturally. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and it crackled with intensity, as if they had known each other for years instead of mere minutes.

When the director finally called “Cut,” there was a moment of stunned silence on set. Y/N blinked, coming back to reality, and noticed that the crew was staring at them with something like awe. The director had a wide grin on his face.

“That was fantastic!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “The chemistry between you two is electric. If we can capture even a fraction of that in every scene, we’ve got something truly special here.”

Y/N glanced over at Daniel, who was still looking at them with that same warm smile. “You were amazing,” he said softly, his eyes full of admiration.

“So were you,” Y/N replied, feeling the flutter in their chest return.

As the day progressed, the initial nerves melted away. Daniel and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm, their connection both on and off-screen growing stronger with each take. Between scenes, they would chat about everything from their favorite films to their experiences growing up in different parts of the world. They discovered they had a lot in common—a shared love for classic cinema, a penchant for exploring new places, and a mutual respect for the craft of acting.

During lunch, they found themselves sitting together, away from the rest of the cast and crew. It wasn’t intentional, but it felt natural, as if they had always gravitated toward each other. As they ate, their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing remark.

“You know,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair, “I didn’t expect to meet someone who’s as passionate about cinema as I am.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth in their heart. “I could say the same about you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s rare to find someone who really understands what it’s like to lose yourself in a role, to feel that connection with the character and the story. I can tell you’re someone who does.”

Y/N looked at Daniel, their eyes meeting once again. There was something in his gaze that made their heart skip a beat—an intensity, a depth that went beyond mere attraction. It was as if they were seeing each other, truly seeing each other, for the first time.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice soft but sincere. “There’s something about this project, about working with you… It feels different. Special.”

Daniel’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his hand gently covering Y/N’s. “I feel it too,” he said quietly. “I think this could be the start of something really wonderful.”

The rest of the shoot passed in a blur. Days turned into weeks, and with each passing moment, Y/N and Daniel’s connection deepened. Their scenes together were electric, filled with a chemistry that was palpable to everyone on set. Off-camera, they spent more and more time together, often finding excuses to stay late after a day of shooting just to talk, to be in each other’s company.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of filming, they decided to take a walk around the city. The night was cool, the streets quiet as they wandered aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing. Daniel seemed more relaxed than usual, his usual charisma softened by the late hour and the intimacy of the moment.

As they walked along the Spree River, the moonlight reflecting off the water, Daniel suddenly stopped. Y/N, who had been in the middle of a story, turned to look at him in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked, concerned.

Daniel smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation bubbling up inside them. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

The question caught Y/N off guard. They stared at Daniel, their mind racing. Did they believe in love at first sight? They had always thought it was something that only happened in movies, in the stories they told on screen. But as they looked into Daniel’s eyes, so full of sincerity and something deeper, something that felt a lot like love, they found themselves reconsidering.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied honestly. “But… I think I might be starting to.”

Daniel’s smile widened, and without another word, he took a step closer. The distance between them disappeared as he gently cupped Y/N’s face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat as Daniel leaned in, his lips brushing theirs in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of unspoken emotions.

The world seemed to fade away in that moment. There was no film set, no crew, no cameras—just the two of them, standing by the river, lost in each other. The kiss deepened, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through their entire body, a sense of rightness, of inevitability, as if this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they shared a quiet moment of connection.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met,” Daniel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “So have I.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. It was a perfect moment, the kind that Y/N had only ever experienced in the movies they loved so much. But this wasn’t a script, and this wasn’t a role. This was real, and it was happening to them.

As they walked back to their hotel, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like they were living in a dream. But it was better than any dream they could have imagined—because it was real, and it was theirs.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions, both on and off set. Their relationship blossomed quietly, just under the radar of the curious eyes of the cast and crew. Though they kept it professional during filming, it was impossible to hide the subtle glances, the shared smiles, and the way their hands would brush as they passed each other by.

Y/N found themselves falling deeper for Daniel with every passing day. He was kind and considerate, with a sense of humor that caught them off guard and made them laugh when they least expected it. They had never felt this way before, and it scared them as much as it thrilled them. But there was a comfort in Daniel’s presence, a sense of safety that made them feel like everything was going to be okay.

One afternoon, they had a rare day off from shooting, and Daniel suggested they explore the city together. Berlin was full of history and culture, and though Y/N had been there for weeks, they hadn’t had much time to truly experience it.

They spent the day wandering through art galleries and museums, stopping at cafes for coffee and pastries. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Daniel seemed to know all the best spots, the hidden gems that only locals frequented. He would tell stories about the city’s history, pointing out landmarks and sharing little anecdotes that made Y/N feel like they were getting a private tour from someone who truly loved the place.

As the day turned into evening, they found themselves at a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The candlelit atmosphere was intimate, and Y/N could feel their heart racing as they sat across from Daniel, the flickering light casting shadows across his handsome features.

“This place is beautiful,” Y/N said, looking around at the warm, inviting decor. “How did you find it?”

Daniel smiled, a little shyly. “I’ve been here a few times. It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. I thought you might like it.”

Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand in theirs. “I love it. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Daniel’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he began, his voice serious.

Y/N felt a flutter of nerves in their stomach. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but… I can’t help the way I feel. From the moment we met, I felt this connection between us, something I’ve never experienced before. I don’t want to scare you off, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in their throat, their heart pounding in their chest. They had felt it too, but hearing Daniel say it out loud made it all the more real, all the more intense.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but… I think I’m falling for you too.”

The relief in Daniel’s eyes was palpable, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He stood up from his seat, moving to sit beside Y/N, and pulled them into a gentle embrace. Y/N melted into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against theirs, the steady beat of his heart under their cheek.

For a while, they just sat there, holding each other, letting the world outside fade away. It was as if time had stopped, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble of happiness. They talked quietly, sharing their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities. It was easy to be vulnerable with Daniel, easy to let down the walls they had built around their heart.

As the evening wore on, they decided to head back to the hotel, their hands intertwined as they walked through the quiet streets. The city was alive with the soft hum of nightlife, but Y/N only had eyes for Daniel, who looked at them with such affection that it made their heart ache in the best possible way.

When they reached Y/N’s hotel room, they lingered outside the door, neither of them wanting the night to end. Daniel brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, his touch tender and full of longing.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly, his voice full of emotion.

Y/N nodded, their heart racing. They opened the door, leading Daniel inside, and as soon as it closed behind them, he pulled them into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the emotions they had been holding back, all the desire and affection that had been building between them since the day they met.

They stumbled toward the bed, their lips never breaking contact, and as they fell into the soft sheets, Y/N knew this was where they were meant to be—wrapped in Daniel’s arms, lost in the feeling of being loved and cherished by someone who saw them for who they truly were.

The night was a blur of whispered words and tender touches, of shared laughter and quiet moments of connection. When they finally drifted off to sleep, tangled up in each other, Y/N felt a peace they had never known before. It was as if all the pieces of their life had finally fallen into place, and they knew, deep in their heart, that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

The next morning, they woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Daniel was still asleep beside them, his face peaceful and relaxed, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they watched him. They had never felt this content, this happy, and they knew they had found something special, something worth holding onto.

As Daniel stirred awake, his eyes meeting Y/N’s with a sleepy smile, they leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” Y/N whispered, their voice full of affection.

“Good morning,” Daniel replied, his voice husky with sleep. He pulled Y/N closer, his arms wrapping around them as if he never wanted to let go. “Last night was… incredible.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, their heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t want this to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Daniel said, his gaze serious. “I meant what I said last night. I’m falling for you, Y/N, and I want to see where this goes. I don’t care about the logistics or what anyone else thinks. All I know is that I want to be with you.”

Tears pricked at Y/N’s eyes as they looked into Daniel’s sincere gaze. They had been so afraid to let themselves fall, but now that they had, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want that too,” Y/N said, their voice choked with emotion. “I want to be with you, Daniel.”

He smiled, a smile so full of warmth and love that it took Y/N’s breath away. “Then let’s make it happen. We’ll figure it out together.”

And so, they did. As the film production continued, so did their relationship, growing stronger with each passing day. They faced the challenges together, navigating the complexities of a public relationship in a private world, but nothing could diminish the connection they shared.

When the film finally wrapped, and it was time to say goodbye to the set and the characters they had brought to life, Y/N and Daniel knew that this was just the beginning of their story. They had found something real, something lasting, and as they walked hand in hand into the next chapter of their lives, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next, as long as they were together.

In the end, it wasn’t just a love story scripted for the screen—it was their love story, one that would continue to unfold in ways they could never have imagined. And as they looked into each other’s eyes, they knew that this was the greatest role they would ever play, not as actors, but as themselves, deeply in love and ready to take on the world, side by side.

[uses-for-fics]

Balance | Eric Bouchard

Pt .2 to Love is Embarrassing x

The next few days on set were nothing short of surreal for YN. The date with Eric had been incredible! Simple, quiet, but filled with an intimacy she had only ever dreamed about. They’d sat at a small café, tucked away from the chaos of the city and their work, talking for hours about everything and nothing. She learned things about him she hadn’t known before, like how he loved reading mystery novels and how he often second-guessed his directorial decisions, despite his confident exterior.

Now, back in the chaotic world of 'Tecto', they were faced with a new challenge: balancing their personal feelings with the professional boundaries they had maintained for so long.

Eric was as professional as ever on set, his sharp commands cutting through the air as the crew worked to get through a particularly grueling action scene. YN was seated in her usual spot, sketchbook in hand, as she watched him orchestrate the chaos. She couldn’t help but smile to herself—he had no idea how attractive he looked when he was in his element.

As soon as their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them. YN quickly averted her gaze, focusing on her sketches again. The last thing she wanted was for the crew or, worse, Adam, to pick up on anything. She hadn’t forgotten how quickly Adam had caught on to her feelings before.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Adam’s voice came from behind her, causing YN to jump slightly. 'Speak of the devil.' She thought. “Still sneaking glances at each other when you think no one’s looking?”

YN scowled, trying to play it cool. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Adam slid into the chair next to her, a grin plastered on his face. “Sure, you don’t. Listen, I’ve been watching you two dance around each other for months, and let me just say, it’s about time you made a move. I can’t take credit for all of it, but I’ll graciously accept a thank you gift at some point.”

She sighed, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break through. Adam had become somewhat of a constant nuisance—one that she weirdly enjoyed. He had this infuriating ability to tease her just enough to make her blush, but never enough to push her over the edge.

“Anyways,” Adam continued, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “just a friendly reminder to be careful. You know how people talk. Last thing you want is the whole crew gossiping. Not saying some people are noticing but people are noticing. It's kind of hard to not notice when your eyes have literal hearts in them when you stare at Eric.”

YN scoffed. “I do not have heart shaped eyes, you asshole but I know what you mean. We’re being careful. I promise.”

Adam gave her genuine smile. “Good, because if Eric gets in trouble, I’m blaming you.”

YN shoved him lightly, laughing as he got up and sauntered back to his mark, ready for the next take. Despite his teasing, Adam’s words stuck with her. They had to be careful—more careful than they’d been so far.

As the shoot dragged on into the late afternoon, Eric called for a break, and YN decided to step outside for some fresh air. She found a quiet corner near the trailers, away from the hustle of the set. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm glow over the lot. She leaned against the side of a trailer, flipping through her sketches absentmindedly.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Eric.

'Meet me by the craft services tent? I need a break. :,)'

She smiled and tucked the phone away before making her way over. The craft services area was mostly deserted, with only a few crew members milling around, grabbing snacks. Eric stood near the back, sipping coffee and pretending to study the catering options.

When YN approached, he glanced at her, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ve been craving some peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet on a film set? Good luck with that,” YN teased, stepping closer.

They kept their conversation light, discussing the shoot and the next day’s schedule, but there was an unspoken tension between them. She could feel it in the way Eric’s eyes lingered on her a little longer than they should, in the way his hand brushed hers when he handed her a coffee cup.

“How’s everything going with the storyboards?” Eric asked, his voice soft as if he was trying not to disturb the fragile bubble they were in.

“Good,” She took a sip from her coffee. “I’m almost done with the next sequence. The action scenes are a bit tricky, though.”

Eric nodded, his eyes fixed on hers. “You’re incredible at what you do, YN. I hope you know that.”

Her heart fluttered at the compliment, but she didn’t want to let it show too much. “Well, I learned from the best,” she said, smiling.

Before they could continue, a voice called out, interrupting the moment. “Eric! We need you on set!” Daniel looked a bit more frazzled than usual not even noticing the woman standing next to Eric.

Eric sighed, glancing at YN apologetically. “Duty calls.”

She nodded, giving him a small, understanding smile. “I’ll see you later?”

As he walked away, YN couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. She was falling for him more and more each day, but there was a part of her that worried about what this meant for her career, for their relationship, (if she could call it that) and for their work. They had to keep this under wraps, but every time they were alone, the lines between professional and personal blurred a little more.

The next few days passed with the same delicate balancing act. YN and Eric kept their relationship under the radar, meeting during breaks or after hours when no one was around. The strain of keeping things secret started to weigh on them both. YN felt like she was constantly looking over her shoulder, worried that someone—especially Pat, the studio's rep who kept fucking with Eric's vison of the film—would figure it out.

One evening, after the crew had wrapped for the day, YN found herself back in the quiet corner near the trailers, her go to spot to relax at this point, trying to unwind after a long day. She didn’t hear Eric approach until he was right beside her.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning against the trailer beside her. His face was tired but still held that warmth she had grown to love.

“Hey,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Rough day?”

“Something like that,” he admitted. “I’ve been thinking…”

His voice trailed off, and YN’s stomach twisted with sudden nerves. “About what?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “About us. About how we’re hiding, sneaking around. I don’t want you to feel like this has to be some kind of secret.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t feel that way, I just… I don’t want to complicate things for you. For either of us.”

Eric met her gaze, and for the first time since they’d crossed that line, his calm, collected exterior cracked. “I don’t care about complications, YN. I care about you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. YN felt her breath catch in her throat as she stared at him, trying to process the weight of his words. She had known, deep down, that this was more than just a casual thing, but hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way she hadn’t expected.

“I care about you, too,” she whispered.

Eric smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then maybe it’s time we stop worrying about what everyone else thinks.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, soft and tentative at first, as though testing the waters. YN melted into the kiss, her worries forgotten, her mind consumed by the moment.

When they finally pulled away, Eric rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmured. “One way or another.”

And in that quiet moment, YN knew he was right. No matter what challenges lay ahead, they would figure it out—together.

[nocapesdahling]

Put that Pen Away

Laszlo Kreizler x GN! Reader

My Masterlist

Summary: You come across a man writing in books in your bookstore and have to put a stop to it. Yet you can’t help but think he looks familiar and for a book vandal, he’s surprisingly charming. 

Warnings/Tags: Fluff; Modern Laszlo Kreizler; Featuring Laszlo’s glasses

Word Count: 667

A/N: This one is a bit short, but I’m very excited to be dipping my toes back into writing and a sweet and silly fic featuring Modern Laszlo seemed like a perfect place to start. Hope you enjoy!

You were walking the aisles of the store to see if anyone needed help and to make sure no books were out of place when you saw him. You first noticed his profile, bearded with a lovely nose, his neck wrapped in a scarf and a pair of clear circular glasses rounding out the look. What really made you stop however was not the fact that it was a handsome profile, but that he seemed familiar somehow.

As you gathered yourself and walked closer, the next thing you noticed was he had one of the books out open on one of the tables as he leaned over it. And he wasn’t reading it. Oh no, he was writing in it. Writing in one of your store’s books. That was unacceptable, it was defacement of the highest order. That poor book. Handsome familiar profile or not, you couldn’t let that stand.

“Excuse me, sir. You can’t write in the books. Please don’t do that.”

He sighed and it sounded world weary, like he’d been caught writing in books before and he was tired of people stopping him. Well good, he should be. He should have learned his lesson the first time.

He had the audacity to finish whatever it was he was writing before gently closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf. You made a note of where it was for its later removal and held in a shudder at the thought that he might have written in others.

He turned to you and you moved your eyes away from the books to take in his face. The gasp you let out was hopefully inaudible. It was Laszlo Kreizler. The Laszlo Kreizler. The author whose books you’d devoured since he published his first Alienist novel, reading them again and again, and the man you’d had a slight crush on ever since seeing his author photo at the end of book one. Well if you were being honest with yourself, it was a little more than a slight crush. However, it was nice to fantasize about people you’d never meet, and a famous author was a harmless person to have a crush on. It’s not like you ever thought you’d meet him in real life. Your favorite author was here in your store, and even more handsome in person. Somehow. And he was writing in books?!

“Can I do it if I’m signing my own books?”

You then realized what aisle you were in. Mystery and Thriller in the K’s. He’d been signing his own books. He hadn’t been defacing anything after all. You were giddy in your relief and smiled at him without thinking.

He was patiently watching you. His dark brown eyes behind his glasses were piercing and seemed to take in every detail as he analyzed your face and expressions. At your smile, his cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away.

“Yes, that’s okay Dr. Kreizler. That’s wonderful. It’ll be such a nice surprise for buyers. I may have to ask you to sign mine while you’re at it.”

His blush was impossible to hide now and he cleared his throat, his accented voice hesitant. “You know of me? You’ve read my novels?”

You smiled again and gave him a once over. His author photo really didn’t do him justice. “I’ve read all of them multiple times. They’re some of my favorites.”

“Oh… well, it’s nice to meet a fan.” He looked down for a moment before making eye contact again and smiling back hesitantly.

“It’s even nicer to meet you, Dr. Kreizler. Do you do this sort of thing often? Come to bookstores and sign your books?”

“Yes, I have been doing it for years now though I am not often caught.”

“Really? That’s amazing. I’d love to hear more about it and any of your other signing misadventures over coffee. What do you say, Dr. Kreizler?”

“Coffee sounds lovely. On one condition.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“That you call me Laszlo.”

Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve posted in ages, so I hope you all liked it and please let me know if you did! 

If inspiration strikes, then I might end up writing a sequel to this about their cozy coffee date because I love the idea of drinking a hot beverage and talking about books with Laszlo. 

My Masterlist

[rose-l-20]

His Biggest Weakness - Baron Helmut Zemo x Female! Reader

SUMMARY: He was very serious on his "NO PETS" rule, but he just couldn't say no to you.

WARNINGS: Super fluffy, established relationship, softZemo!, German pet names, age gap (reader is 26, Helmut is 45), cute af kitten! the characters are technically speaking German, but it's written in English (minus the pet names and some words sprinkled in).

Helmut was currently sitting in the library of the (since the fall of Sokovia) "Zemo manor", located on the outskirts of eastern Germany. The smell of old books, and lavender was a welcoming aroma. He was sitting at a desk close to the huge window, needing new scenery from his at times stuffy office. The view of trees, birds and the warm sun brought peace and serenity to his soul. His fingers, soft and skilled, glided across the keys of his laptop.

As the Baron finished his last email, his stomach told him it was time to get some lunch downstairs. closing his laptop he stood up and headed out the door, turning left down a long hallway. Politely knocking on the door as he entered the room, eyes landing on the beautiful woman sitting sitting in the cozy four poster bed. Warm Coffee in one hand, with her other scrolling her own laptop. a look of adoration rested on her facial features.

"Mein Schatz?" his voice clear and meaningful, glistening (e/c) eyes raised from the screen. "Yes, mein Hübscher?" you replied, Helmut sat next to her on the bed to see what his love was so enamored by. adorable kittens of different breeds covered the screen.

Helmut was super stern with his no pet rule He had stated that as much as he would love to have a cute furry friend following him around, he knew it would be a big responsibility to care for it.

Nevertheless, he knew he was in trouble when you looked at the screen and back to him. "Can we please get a kitten?" your head fell back, nose facing the celling with your free hand four-finger-pointing the screen. "Prinzessin, you know my rule about pets" Helmut kindly reminded you, your shoulders sag at the reminder, but you weren't going to back down. "Helmut..." you dragged.

'Oh no, it's begun!' Helmut thought to himself. "When you go on your business trips, I get so lonely. A kitten-then-cat will help me have company while your gone!" coffee cup placed onto your respective side table, hand gripping his silk sleeve as you brought your body closer to his. Helmut's eyes fought to not look into yours, but he lost.

Your lower lip was jutted in a pout, and your eyes were wide and pleading. 'Scheiße' he was struggling hard. "Schatz, let's go have some lunch ja?" body rising from the plush bed. "THAT WASN'T AN ANSWER!...Hey!" you called out as he vanished from your sight. Shutting and picking up your laptop you followed after him. He was a spec down the hall, heading down the stairs.

entering the grand kitchen, you placed the laptop on the table by the equally as grand window. "Liebe, are you feeling like a panino with a side of grapes, or leftover soup from last night with a toasted cheese sandwich and a side of watermelon?" he asked as you stood next to him by the vast fridge. "The last option, and a proper answer please", you put your hand on your hips. He smiled softly, "alright, I'll let you know by the end of the day ok?" he grabbed your cheeks and gave your lips a tender kiss. "Ok!" you beamed.

"Now, do you want to handle the sandwiches or watermelon?" he laid out the ingredients on the black marble bench.

"hmm? I'll handle the watermelon" you replied as you got the knife and cutting board out. "Wunderbar" Helmut reacted.

----

The sun had set, the noise of the day had become quiet as you finished brushing your teeth and removing your sheet facemask. you swapped your loungewear for some loose cotton pajama shorts and one of Helmut's soft long sleeve t-shirts.

you slipped into bed as Helmut placed his book on his side table, opening his arm for you to slide into his side s you do every night. "So, it's the end of the day" you say as you settle into his warmth.

"it is..." his fingers ran through your freshly washed hair. "...and I have come to a conclusion. We can get a Kitten, but the kitten needs to be a short hair. That is my only requirement." your body shook happily as you hugged him tighter. "YES! that is completely ok, I have been looking at this tabby girl look!" you opened your phone and pulled up a screenshot of the kitten. The photo had an email, phone number and information of the cutie. "can you please zoom in on the email? I'll send an email to the place now" the brunettes fingers typed on his phone. While you watched his fingers glide, your whole body was buzzing with excitement.

"I am not going to be able to sleep now, I am elated!" your cheesy smile melted Helmut's heart. He pulled you close, and ran his fingers through your hair with a chuckle.

"you know how to get into my head, and I know how to get into yours. so relax, sleep. I'll see your beautiful eyes tomorrow."

"Oh you're a smooth man, Gute Nacht, meine Liebe"

"Gute Nacht, mein Schatz"

----

A few days had passed, and now you were walking into the adoption Centre to collect your kitten. The two of you had been to see her, and you both fell in love instantly. You had bought a carry crate and all the essentials on your way home. You were greeted by the same receptionist, who took you to a room with a German sign which translated to 'Adoption Collection'.

you entered the first door and were welcomed by a gentleman who handled the department. Helmut conversed with the man, and handled the correct paperwork. The receptionist tapped your shoulder politely and asked "this will take a couple of minutes, would you like to help get her in the crate?" You nodded, and informed your boyfriend on your movements. He smiled at your excited face "Ok, have fun!" before continuing the paper work.

The woman opened the door for you, and you made immediate eye-contact with your furry baby. You approached the wall of adopted kittens calmly as to not frighten both yours, and the others. getting out a key, the woman opened the door for your kitten and motioned for you to pick her up. The kitten smelled your fingers, and relaxed at the familiar scent. The kitten emitted gentle meows, as you pet the top of her head. You went to place the tabby into the crate, getting onto your knees and saying words to calm her.

"Have you decided on a name?" The receptionist queried. "Yeah we are calling her Mia, very short and equality sweet" you responded as you fixed the supple pastel yellow blanket around her.

"Oh my god, that's lovely! She definitely is a Mia" Her hands clasped together. "Danke!"

Helmut walked into the room, his eyes warm as he asked "is Mia ready to go?" you hummed a yes and headed out of the room, approaching the main area. The two of you thanked the staff and headed to Helmut's black ML Class Mercedes Benz. Helmut's large hand opened the backseat door, and you placed the crate behind the driver seat. You made sure the seatbelt was secured around the bottom before settling next to her behind the passenger seat, and placing your own belt on.

"You know you'll have a long time to be with her right?" The man humored. You let out a small chuckle and explained "I am providing moral support, as cars can be intimidating for kittens" you put your hands up in defense. The Baron shook his head with an amused smile while gently closing the door.

The drive went smooth, your hand was stroking Mia's fur threw the crates opening on the top and peaceful music emanated from the car's radio. You three got home and started setting the furry ball of cuteness up in her own space in your office, which was attached to your bedroom.

Hours went by as you played with her, she took naps on your laps, and got familiar with where her food, water, and litter box was. You felt bad when you needed to leave the room to eat or drink yourself.

The sun started setting through the window, filling the room with gold, orange and pink tones and Helmut turned to you and said

"You really are my biggest weakness"

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

AHH my first Zemo fic!

I am content with this piece, I have always pictured Zemo having a tabby cat so I love this concept!

[hereticpriest]

Alpha Mine

Relationship: Laszlo Kreizler x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Explicit, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega Laszlo Kreizler, Alpha Reader, Trauma, Childhood Trauma, Dynamic Discrimination, Period-Typical Views on Gender and Dynamics, Dynamic-Based PTSD, Healing, Not Actually Unrequited Lust and Love, Scent Kink, Praise Kink, Knotting, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Breeding Kink, Mpreg.

Dr. Laszlo Kreizler was looking for a typist to work at the Kreizler Institute.

You knew it might be your only opportunity. Dr. Kreizler had a reputation for surrounding himself with queer cases, and having wildly unpopular ideas about what was and wasn’t appropriate socially. He was an Alienist, and thus a man immersed in the latest scientific inquiries. If anyone were to offer you a job, it would be him. If anyone were capable of looking past your… affliction, it would be him. Not solely because you were a woman, which was queer enough on its own. No, you are something far worse than a working woman.

You’re an Alpha.

Biologically, you knew it was completely normal for a small percentage of the population to be both female and Alpha. It was no more or less rare than male Omegas. Most of the population - about 60% - were Betas. The ideal, frankly, for many. Devoid of pesky extra hormones and impulses, a Beta can live a relatively normal life without the pressures of an Alpha or Omega. Betas have scent glands, but their scent is weaker, less obtrusive, and their nose is not as keen as the other designations. Betas have only their primary gender characteristics to worry about. Secondary gender has little to do with their lives.

Alpha males are less rare, and idealised by the wealthy elite who can afford to handle their more difficult impulses. They’re stronger than a normal man, with scents as aggressive as their impulses, and anger issues abound. Omega females are similarly idealised, though still held to the same standards, if not stricter, than a normal woman. Prim and proper and never lifting a finger to do more than birth babies for a strong Alpha. One can even raise their station considerably by virtue of being a strong Alpha male or a fertile Omega female from a lower class family that might entice a higher class mate. 

Male Omegas and female Alphas are more rare than their counterparts, and often looked down upon in high society. Your parents had been certain you would be an Omega like your mother before you. So certain, in fact, that they had sent you to an Omega prep school - education provided to young Omega ladies to prepare them for their future life, and the submissiveness that would be required of them. Even unpresented, your parents had been able to enroll you based on your mother’s designation. When you presented at age fourteen, you were surrounded by Omegas, and completely shell-shocked. You were thrown into a rut completely out of your control, and had to be dragged bodily from the building by several Beta men who performed security for the school.

Locked in your bedroom, you ached, nearly tearing yourself apart with need and confusion and disgust. After a week of torment, you were finally released from your confinement to face the wrath of your parents. Your ‘little episode’ as they called it, had been reported upon in the society papers, and you were made a mockery of on multiple fronts. First, that you were female and an Alpha. Second, that you had been placed in an Omega school in the first place. Third, that you presented there, were thrown into a rut, and had to be dragged through the streets like a rabid animal.

You had not entered the light of society since, at your parent’s behest. They cared for you, to a point, however they were now tasked with finding a male Omega for you to mate with. They could have tried to find you a Beta, who likely wouldn’t care so much about your designation, however your parents were of a purist breed. Alphas and Omegas mated as far back as designations had existed. You almost thought they might break the streak just to get you pawned off on someone else. Your reputation had improved since your presentation, thankfully. No one stared, and mostly, no one gossiped.

You were, however, bored. Bored of being confined. Bored of taking rut blockers and bathing yourself in scent blockers just to never leave the house anyways. Bored of seeing nothing but the small neighbourhood around you. Bored of life. So, you decided to get a job. You hoped that having a purpose beyond ‘wait for someone to find you an Omega to rut into the ground until one of you gets pregnant’ would spark some joie de vivre in your bland, grey life. An unwise decision, according to your parents, but one they weren’t going to interfere with for now. You know that they assume you’re going to fail, and that’s likely the only reason they’ve allowed it.

On a cold Autumn morning at half past eight, you walked into the Kreizler Institute in your most demure but professional dress, high collar pulled up to cover your bare neck and contain some of your scent. Despite being bathed in scent blockers, you were paranoid about an incident. Your reputation couldn’t handle it. Nor could your sanity.

“Hello, I’m here for an appointment with Dr. Kreizler at quarter to nine?”

The receptionist looks up at you for a moment, studying you curiously, then sighs as he stands from his desk. His bland, calming Beta scent fills your nose as he approaches to lead you along, and you do your best to breathe and calm your racing heart. You’re led to Dr. Kreizler’s office, and the receptionist knocks twice, then leaves. His calming scent abandons you, and the nerves creep back in.

“Come in.” An accented voice calls from inside, and you tentatively open the door, doing your best to look as passive as possible. Signs of aggression in a male Alpha might be forgivable, but the same was certainly not to be said for a female Alpha. Even the slightest sign of confidence could be interpreted as aggression by many, and you were trying to make a good impression. You peek around the door to see a man sitting alone at a desk in one of the most beautiful offices you’ve ever seen. It’s quite grand, lined with countless bookshelves that you want to peruse though you’d never dare. The furniture is opulent but comfortable, and the room is far more spacious than you expected.

Dr. Kreizler himself is of average height, with a sturdy build. His facial hair is perfectly groomed, and you imagine he takes great care of himself in every way, for his appearance is immaculate. His clothes are obviously expensive and well-tailored, and he chooses his outfits to suit him quite impressively for a man of science. You’d always imagined they’d be more dowdy and less handsome. He looks at you with no real warmth to him, but he’s calm and collected, and not necessarily cold.

“Ms. L/N, I presume?” He breaks the silence, and you step into his office hesitantly, nodding.

“Yes, Dr. Kreizler. Lovely to meet you.” You reply, and he nods, gesturing towards the chair across from him. He doesn’t try to get up and pull it out for you, which you appreciate since there’s truly no need. He’s about to be your boss, hopefully. You don’t expect him to treat you like a delicate lady when you’re anything but. You sit in the offered seat, smoothing out your dress and offering him a polite smile. He smells medicinal in the way of scent blockers, but they must be quality like yours, for you can’t get even a whiff of his designation.

Somehow, you secure the job. Dr. Kreizler blinks when you tell him your designation, looking you over for longer than is necessarily comfortable, but otherwise has very little reaction. He surveys your typing skills, backhandedly praises your knowledge of medical terminology, then gives you a dubious but curious look when you admit to reading his works. When you prove it by quoting him, he softens, seemingly noticing how much you’ve bristled from having your knowledge discounted. He tells you you start tomorrow, and that a requirement of your job is that you take rut blockers and apply scent blockers, which isn’t a problem since you already do both of those things. You depart with nothing more than a handshake and a nod, heart nearly beating out of your chest with excitement for the job you’ve managed to land yourself.

~

Nearly eight months pass in the blink of an eye. You grow closer to Dr. Kreizler, who appears to be the only person willing to treat you normally despite your queer designation. He trusts you and your opinion, asking you endless questions about yourself. He treats you better than anyone else you’ve ever met despite his moods, and always apologises after a day when he’s been particularly snippy, which you appreciate. He notices sometime into your employment your fixation with biting yourself when you’re nervous. First, chewing the skin around your nails, which escalates into biting your thenar eminence when your parents put pressure on you to quit your job and stop making a fool of yourself.

One day, he dares to ask about the news in the society pages. He’d been thirty-one at the time, and expressed a certain sadness in regards to how you’d been treated. It isn’t easy to talk about, but he listens as if you’re riveting, and you’ve never had someone find you interesting in any way that wasn’t cruel. You tell him about how you’d been prepared to be an Omega your entire life. You knew what to expect - the hormone changes, the physical changes, the emotional volatility. You were ready for it. And then, one day, you became something wholly different than expected with zero preparation for how to be that thing. You felt something akin to a monster, only worsened by how you’d been confined with Omegas when you presented.

Dr. Kreizler listens with a certain sympathy on his face as you explain that you’d tried to leave the room when their scents got overwhelming. That you didn’t want any of them, nor did you want to attack or hurt anyone. The only reason you’d even fought the security guards back then was because one of the Omegas was crying, big fat tears rolling down her face, and you could fix it. You knew in your gut that you could, and that you were supposed to. Already, raspy, unused little chuffs were rolling in your throat, subvocals full of comforting tones. Alphas were meant to make Omegas feel better, to protect and nurture not just your mates but any vulnerable person who needed you. It was instinctual. They tried to stop you from doing what you were meant to do, and your body took over. You weren’t going to hurt her - you had no sexual feelings towards her whatsoever. Then, your rut set in, caused by the crying and the aggressive action against you by those security guards, and the scent of hundreds of unmated Omegas.

Your instincts had been made a mockery of in the papers. You were turned from a scared fourteen year old girl into a wild animal maddened by her impulses. It was framed as why women shouldn’t be Alphas - your emotions were too volatile to be mixed with the fire of aggression of an Alpha, or so they said. Dr. Kreizler reaches out at one point, touching your arm so gently you could barely feel him, and you realise that you’re crying. He apologises for the sensitive subject, but you can see in his eyes that he wouldn’t have stopped prying if he had more questions. He’s kind, but his curiosity sometimes makes him just a little bit cruel, prone to poking and prodding until he gets what he wants.

Only a day or two later, he finally tells you why he understands and empathises with you so much. He’s an Omega. Like you in reverse, he’d been believed to be an Alpha from birth, and was sent to an Alpha prep school. Your stories were mirrored, except that his presentation had been significantly more discreet. He’d presented young, while visiting home for a weekend, with only his family in the house. You envy him for a moment, swiftly followed by relief that he hadn’t had to endure what you had. Unlike you, his designation was able to be hidden, and very few knew the truth.

It bonds you. Both of you, oddities, controlling your designations as best you can in a world that finds you unusual and distasteful at the very best. You are a constant ball of tightly wired control, but you allow yourself small intimacies with Dr. Kreizler. You tell him more. He inquires as to the nature of your biting habit, and you admit to the level of control you need to have at all times, and that the biting was always a compulsion but has only grown more frequent and harmful as you got older. Thankfully, you haven’t bitten anyone else. Dr. Kreizler calls it self-harm, and you do not refute him, though you do tell him that you aren’t trying to hurt yourself. Dr. Kreizler makes attempts to curb your habit, but the gloves he gives you only dull the pain and keep you from biting the skin around your nails.

Not long into your employment at the Kreizler Institute, the doctor begins solving crimes with John Moore, an Alpha who struggles with his own warring physical and emotional needs. You like him, at least partially because he doesn’t try to posture at you and prove his dominance as the biggest Alpha in the room. You wouldn’t want to have to be involved in a fight like that, because you aren’t sure who would win, and you know it would be worse if you did. Then comes Sara Howard, the calmest and strongest Beta you’ve ever met in your life. You like her quite a bit, and you like her even more when she, when told your designation, simply shrugs and asks you if your female nature makes you less of an aggressive arse than a typical Alpha. The Twins come along shortly after, and to your surprise, the good doctor demands you join them as well. You take notes and type them up for the team, and copy ‘borrowed’ police documents without a hint of shame.

Suddenly, before you even realise it has been so long, spring is upon you. Your least favourite season, with rain clouds looming high in the sky every other goddamned day. You begin keeping a spare bottle of scent blockers on your desk at work just to reapply when you have to go out in the rain. Which is, regrettably, often. On one clear day, you head out with Dr. Kreizler to examine a crime scene not too terribly far from the Institute. You hold his arm politely, poised and elegant the way you’re meant to be as a well to do woman - Dr. Kreizler always gives you the confidence to play the role you’ve always been meant to play, despite your lack of surety. You needed to play your roles in public, and you especially needed to keep yourself buttoned up to avoid attention.

You meet John and Sara at the crime scene, and Sara sticks close to you while John draws the scene and Dr. Kreizler makes observations that he expects you to write down despite the speed at which he makes them. Thank goodness for Sara, filling in any blanks of words that you might’ve missed. By this point, John no longer tries to protest your involvement at crime scenes, though he always gives Dr. Kreizler a judgemental look when he shows up with you. You’re not bothered by the blood and gore, despite Mr. Moore’s concerns. The smell is a bit much on your sensitive nose, but blood doesn’t turn your stomach the way it does for others (him included). The nature of the crimes - the murder of young boys who were only children - was more disturbing to you than the gore itself. You were very curious about the crimes, in fact, though you did your best to keep that to yourself to avoid appearing odd.

Eventually, Dr. Kreizler determines he’s seen enough, and he offers you his arm as he turns to leave, the motion casual now after so long travelling the city together in the name of criminal inquiry. John does the same to Sara, but she pointedly ignores it, stepping out through the door behind you both. Only a few minutes into your walk, the skies turn, the clouds grow dark, and it begins to pour rain down upon you. Together, you all run towards the shelter of a covered overhang between two buildings, and you ring out your clothes as much as you can, panic sparking in your heart. You’re soaked through, and it's dangerous to catch a chill, however your concern is not for your health.

You can already smell yourself. The woodsy, spicy scent rolls off of you, made worse by your nervousness. John sniffs the air as subtly as he can, but you notice him, and your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment and nervousness. The scent of figs, geranium, vetiver, cedarwood and citrus fills your nose, sweet and tangy, with a hint of floral. Your tension eases, and you take a deep breath through your nose, instinctively soothed by the scent. And then, you seem to put two and two together.

Dr. Kreizler.

Sweet and floral like an Omega. The scent was your boss, and his scent soothed you in the way of compatible Alphas and Omegas. Shit.

Shit shit shit.

You step back from the Omega and press your wrist to your nose, huffing on your own scent gland just to try and drown out the smell of him. The good doctor gives you an odd look as he squeezes some of the rainwater out of his shirt, unaware of the dilemma you’ve found yourself in. Your good fortune doesn’t last. His pupils dilate quite suddenly, and he sniffs, then rubs his nose as if unsure what he’s experiencing. His brows furrow, and he takes a deep breath through his nose to try and process the scent. Finally, his gaze settles on you, and you don’t recognise the look in his eyes. It’s heavy, and you feel the weight of your designation settling around your shoulders as you finally connect his expression to one you’ve seen before.

Hunger.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and John raises an eyebrow at you. A myriad of emotions cross your boss’ face in a flash, but none of them seem particularly negative, always accompanied by that intense hunger. The doctor lifts a hand to delicately pluck open the top button on his shirt, and then the second, showing off his bare neck. You can see the soft bump of his scent glands, and your body burns with the knowledge that he’s exposing them to you. It’s a blatant invitation. Unbecoming of an Omega, typically, but not unheard of. John sucks air through his teeth, and your hackles raise instantly as you position yourself between John and Dr. Kreizler.

“What exactly is going on?” Sara asks, her voice tight with some amount of distaste at being out of the loop.

“It’s-” John begins, taking a half-step closer to you, then cuts himself off as you give a quick display of your teeth. He retreats back, his gaze slowly trailing over the doctor before he rips it away and turns his back on you to instead face Sara. You’re only distracted from him by the preternatural awareness of someone leaning over your shoulder, a deep inhale only an inch or two from your scent glands startling you. Dr. Kreizler’s eyes are nearly black when you look back over your shoulder at him, panic and hunger swirling together in your gut as you observe what you’ve done to your intelligent and calm boss. This is your fault. He’s fine around John, who wears only light scent blockers if any. You’ve done this to him - devolved him to his baser instincts.

“Dr. Kreizler…”

“Laszlo.” He corrects you, tipping his head back and to the side to expose his neck to you, and a high-pitched, awkward ‘Oh!’ slips from your lips. Your cheeks are on fire as you look away from him. He reaches out, skimming his thumb over the scent gland on your right wrist, an intimacy that was reserved for mates or family. The tangy scent of slick reaches your nose, and you panic, pointedly keeping your eyes away from the prominent hard line in his trousers. John pats you on the shoulder gently.

“We’ll leave you here, I suppose. I should get Ms. Howard home. I trust you’ll be able to get each other home safely, yes?” He asks, and you gap at him.

“Yes, thank you, John.” Laszlo replies for you, and you only nod when he gently nudges your ribs. You start to take Laszlo’s arm, but he takes yours instead, and you turn your gaze to the sky as his crafty fingertips stroke across the slight bulge of your bicep. Like male Alphas, you were gifted with a certain strength that went far beyond what any other woman your size would be capable of. You hid it well under clothes that were just a little bit bigger, which is only made clearer when Laszlo stares at your arm in surprise as you walk. His pupils are already blown, eyes half-lidded with blatant desire, but the scent of slick gets stronger and you get more and more protective. You reach up to your neck, unbuttoning the collar of your shirt and giving it a shake to disperse more of your scent, hoping to cover up the scent of his desire.

It earns you looks, but it’s worth it to avoid anyone else being able to smell the slick on your Omega. You wonder if it’s running down his thighs. You wonder if he’s hard as a rock in those perfectly tailored trousers of his. You wonder how sweetly tangy his slick would taste should you follow his silent requests and bend him over the first chance you get. There’s a couch within maybe twenty feet of the front door of his house - you could bend him over it, pull those expensive trousers down over his round little ass and spread him open. Lap up the slick pouring from him and stroke his pretty little cock until he falls apart. You could make your Omega cover his own couch in cum, then get him to lick it up while you make him fall apart on your knot where he belongs.

“Alpha.” Laszlo murmurs, and you blink, finding yourself just outside the door to Laszlo’s home. You look at him, surveying his somewhat disheveled appearance, his eyes wide with hopeful desire. The smell of slick and ripe Omega fills the air, and you shake your head to clear it. You were calling Laszlo your Omega in your head. Claiming him. You were being an overbearing Alpha, drowning this poor Omega in your scent and forcing him into this needy state. You bite down on your hand, sharp teeth sinking through your skin like butter and filling the air with the fresh iron scent of blood. The pain grounds you, cutting through the hormones and thirst, and satisfying the ache in your jaw to bite and claim and make Laszlo yours.

“Go inside, Omega.” You insist, mouth stained with blood, opening the door for him from behind his back so he can’t see what you’ve done, and he heads inside with the clear expectation that you will be following him, “Goodnight, Laszlo.”

“Wait-” He begins as he notices the scent of blood, turning to see you sinking your teeth back into your hand as you slam the door closed behind him and run. You get home in record time, and instead of going through the front door, you scale the wall through the backyard to your window then sneak into the bathroom to scrub yourself raw in the bathroom. You normally don’t sleep in scent blockers, but you do tonight, and you take an additional dose of rut blocker just for safety. Now that you know how good Laszlo smells - now that the scent of ripe, virgin, needy Omega is stuck in your nose - how are you supposed to go on without bending him over his desk?

You bite your hand until your brain goes fuzzy, then wash the blood away in a bit of a trance, bandaging yourself up. You crawl into bed in a daze, burying your face in your pillow and falling into a deep, exhausted sleep.

~

Walking into work the next morning is unnerving. You’ve bathed yourself in more scent blocker, and brought an additional dose of your rut blocker to take midday just in case. You’re wearing a dress with a high collar just for further coverage. A couple of people throughout the Institute take a second glance at your bandaged hand, but you ignore it, focused on getting to work. Without your left hand, typing will be slow going, but you can manage. You resolve to act as if yesterday didn’t even happen, and you hope that Laszlo won’t be too angry with you. You’ll apologise again if he seems angry.

You stand before the large door to his office, hesitating to take a steadying breath before you push it open. Laszlo stands by his desk, dressed elegantly in a white shirt, an ornate dark green vest with gold threading, and a pair of black trousers. His glasses sit at the end of his nose, and he’s reading through some of the papers you’ve typed up. He looks up as you enter the room, and you freeze as he smiles at you, warmer than you expected in the best case scenario. He puts the papers on the desk, circling the desk to sit his bottom on the edge of it.

“Good morning.” He greets you, and you blink, then nod your head quickly and head for your desk.

“Good morning, Dr. Kreizler.”

“I told you to call me Laszlo. I still desire that today.” He replies, with a weight to his voice that you know is meant to imply something more, but you’re too anxious to even acknowledge him. You hurry to your desk, and miss Laszlo frowning at your back in consternation.

“Of course, Laszlo, I apologise.”

“Is your hand-”

“I took care of it. Thank you.” You reply shortly, rubbing your good hand over your hot cheeks, then flipping open his journal and getting back to work. Laszlo tries to talk to you a couple of times throughout the day, but you keep it professional as much as you can. He sweeps past your desk at one point, and you feel the ghost of his fingers across the back of your neck. You shiver, glancing at him, and he makes and holds eye contact with you before demurely dropping his gaze to the floor. His submissiveness sparks something in you, and you have to swallow hard and take deep, soothing breaths to calm down. You turn back to your work, and Laszlo huffs an annoyed breath behind you.

~

Several days pass, and you fall into a steady rhythm with Laszlo. You’ve begun reapplying scent blocker throughout the day to avoid bothering your boss, and despite the way he looks at you, you think it might be working. He hasn’t made any kind of moves on you so far, but you can feel his gaze burning into you, and it always makes you nervous. One evening, you visit his home with John and Sara to discuss the case, and Laszlo makes a brief trip to the bathroom before returning, smelling so strongly of ripe and ready Omega that you find yourself biting your cheek to keep from growling at John.

The other Alpha seems as confused as you, and even remarks privately to Laszlo that his scent blockers have worn off, but Laszlo simply shrugs.

“Am I not allowed to take them off in my own home, John?”

Mr. Moore has nothing to say to that, but he keeps his eyes on you as Laszlo sits on the other side of the couch you’re perched upon. It takes every ounce of control in your body to avoid biting through your hand again, and when it very clearly becomes too much, John gives you a tidy excuse to go home by rounding up Sara and departing with you both. Much to Laszlo’s disappointment.

~

A knock upon your door is not what you expect two days later while your parents are attending a party and event outside of the city. You open it tentatively, almost afraid of what you’ll find, and John Moore stands upon your doorstep. In his arms is a beautiful bouquet that he appears to be trying not to sniff too much - given the slightly red state of his nose, you assume he might be allergic. The flowers are beautiful, but as a well-to-do lady, you know their meanings as keenly as you know your own soul.

“Mr. Moore, may I ask why you’re attempting to court a fellow Alpha? It isn’t unheard of, of course, but my parents would never allow-”

“No!”

“Beg your pardon?”

“No, sorry, sorry, they’re not from me.” John replies shortly, then hands the bouquet over, “Laszlo asked me to deliver these for him.”

“Laszlo. As in, Dr. Kreizler.” You state blankly, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do you know any other?”

“Of course not. John, Dr. Kreizler has no real interest in me. This is surely a mistake.” You insist, trying to give the bouquet back, but he shakes his head firmly.

“No, you can discuss that with the good doctor yourself. I’ve done my part.” John insists, and you frown as he stalks away quickly, sneezing at the bottom of the steps. You close the door, carrying the flowers inside and looking them over.

Borage, to deliver a blunt or direct message. Pink camellia, to convey longing. Red carnations to convey heartache, and edelweiss for devotion. Nasturtium was a blunt choice, conveying conquest and a foreseen victory in battle. Savory to add spice and convey interest. Red roses for love and seduction, and red tulips to convey passion. Red hyacinth for intense passion and adoration, jasmine for sensuality, and orchids for seduction.

The message of the bouquet is shockingly blunt. A bouquet like this would be inappropriate, and should you tell anyone about it, you’re certain Laszlo’s reputation would be damaged. You stroke the petals, carrying the bouquet up to your bedroom and splitting it into smaller bouquets. One goes onto your vanity, another on your night table, and a third in a vase on your windowsill.

In return, you leave a bouquet of your own on his desk. Blue saliva, to convey that you think of him fondly. Chamomile to request patience in your lack of surety. Fennel for flattery. Apple blossom, to convey your preference for him over others, and clematis to show appreciation for his mental prowess and beauty. And then, to send a clear message, you attach tarragon for lasting interest to lavender for distrust and rue for clear vision. You want to make it clear that while you hold affection for him, you distrust his lasting interest and that his thoughts are clear. The following morning, you come in to a single flower on your desk.

Blue hyacinth for constancy.

~

Over the next couple of days, Laszlo is a bit gentler in his pursuits - for you can call them nothing less, with how keenly he observes you and tries to gentle your heart to him. He pries no less than he used to, but he does his best to stop before he goes too far. He asks you questions about yourself, talks to you about your interests, compliments the way you’ve styled your hair, and compliments your work. He wears a lighter scent blocker going forwards instead of the near-impenetrable one he wore before. It gets you more used to his scent instead of being completely overwhelmed every time he takes it off when you go to his home after working on a case. You’re beginning to wonder if perhaps he is serious about his intentions. You’ve never heard of an Omega pursuing an Alpha like this. Short term, certainly, but usually only while they’re in preheat and wanting a specific Alpha. It’s been just over two weeks now, and he has not relented.

You go into work a couple of days later to find a small box on your desk, and you open it slowly, hesitant, only to find a lover’s eye pendant inside the box. You recognise the colour in an instant. You also recognise the portraiture. John Moore painted this, and it is Dr. Laszlo Kreizler’s honey-brown eye. John has perfectly captured the very light crow’s feet at the corner of Laszlo’s eye, and his lovely long lashes that you’re somewhat envious of. The portrait is beautiful, and you stroke your fingertips across the gold frame, a small smile pulling at your lips. You put the pendant on, tucking it down into the bodice of your dress, holding it against your chest as if it might become a part of you with enough contact.

Laszlo watches from his desk, a smug smile on his face as he shuffles through his papers, pushing his glasses up his nose when they slip down. You’re so pleased that you don't even protest when he invites you to Delmonico’s with John and Sara, though you know you’ve trapped yourself.

“Your parents thought you were going to be an Omega?” Sara asks at one point through the evening, and you agree, awkward but not necessarily uncomfortable divulging in the present company.

“They did. I was… quite a surprise.”

“Did they have a nesting dowry for you?” Sara asks softly, as none of these matters pertain to her and you know she is endlessly curious about them. You smile fondly at her sincerity, and the lack of judgement she’s shown you.

“That might, perhaps, be the only benefit of them thinking I would be an Omega. I have a nesting trunk from when I was a child.” You reply, and you politely pretend that you don’t hear Laszlo’s sharp little intake of breath. Sara laughs, a wide smile on her face as her gaze darts over to Laszlo, then back to you.

“Oh, that’s very special.”

“Indeed. My father has also set aside a suitable nesting dowry to compensate for anything missing. I also…” You trail off, cheeks getting hot as you become a little embarrassed.

“What is it?” Sara presses, and you give the tiniest shrug of your shoulders.

“Well, I was taught to embroider, of course. But I also learned to knit, and sew. I made a baby blanket when I was younger, and little matching booties and a little hat.” You admit, and Sara gasps with delight, leaning closer to you over the table. You notice John also leaning in, a soft look in his eyes that you’re especially fond of - he’s so sensitive, he makes your heart melt, “I’ve been working on a blanket as well, for… well, most of my life since I presented. I’m almost finished, in fact.”

“That’s wonderful.” John comments, and you smile demurely, “What a lovely gift for your future Omega. I envy you the skill - I’m sure many Omegas would be thrilled with such an offering.”

“It must take you so much time.” Sara adds, and you nod your agreement.

“Oh, it does. I work on it every night after work. I had a lot of time after presenting - my parents didn’t let me go out much, for obvious reasons.”

John frowns a little, as does Sara, but she reaches across the table to cover your hand on your glass.

“You’re a welcome addition to our team. I’ve never met an Alpha with such strong control over their instincts.” Sara muses, and you bite your lip, guilt flooding you as you think of what you’ve done to Laszlo. Certainly, his behaviour is your fault, right? He wasn’t interested in you before you smothered him in your scent.

“It is a constant struggle.” You admit, turning your head as you hear a small clatter and smiling fondly at the sight of an Alpha with his arm protectively around his heavily pregnant Omega. She waddles, cheeks aglow with motherly mirth, her hand cupping her round belly as she squeezes between tables. Her Alpha pulls out her seat, tucking her in at their table, and you sigh happily at the clear love between them. You turn your gaze back to the table to see similar looks on John and Sara’s faces, though Laszlo instead looks surprisingly… sad.

“Laszlo?” You ask quietly, and he blinks, looking at you with a certain longing in his eyes that makes you squirm in your seat.

“I always wanted to be a father.” He admits, quiet enough that it’s nearly a whisper. You stare at him for a moment, shocked at his vulnerability, and slide your hand across the table to brush your fingertips across his knuckles.

“You will be, one day.” You promise him, and you only realise after saying it what that sounds like. You want to correct yourself, but Laszlo gives you a look so soft that you melt, your heart pounding in your chest. You pull your hand away, turning to look at the others, until a familiar scent reaches your nose. You freeze.

“John.” You murmur, and he nods to indicate he smells it as well.

“What is it?” Sara asks, and you swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

“Dr. Kreizler, I believe it’s about time that I escort you home.” You state instead of answering her, and his pupils blow before your very eyes. He stands swiftly, and the scent gets stronger, sweet and tangy slick begging to be bred. You crudely dip your fingers in the water glass in front of your plate, rubbing at your scent glands until the blocker begins to wear off. John watches with a certain knowing sadness in his eyes, while Sara frowns, out of the loop.

“I will handle the bill.” John states, and you nod your thanks to him. Your scent fills the air, and you slip an arm around Laszlo’s waist possessively, leading him towards the entrance to the restaurant. Once out of sight of the dining room, you tuck Laszlo into a dark corner, unsure how you’re going to make it home with him in this state.

“Laszlo, dear, I need to scent you in order to get you home safely. May I?” You ask, and Laszlo shivers visibly, tilting his head to the side for you.

“Please.” He whispers, and you cup the back of his neck, rubbing your chin against his scent gland delicately. Your other hand sweeps down Laszlo’s back, and you feel your cheeks burn as you touch a wet patch that you realise means you’re touching his ass. Your hand will smell like his slick until you wash thoroughly - the scent of slick lasts for ages. Laszlo is like a furnace against you, and you do your best not to be too obvious about your body’s reaction to him as you hold him like something precious in your arms. And he is. God forgive you, he is. You know you’ve done this to him, and it is a betrayal of his trust in you that you’ve manipulated him somehow into losing himself like this. And yet, it feels so right to have him so close to you. His scent combined with yours is heavenly. How could sin be this sweet?

“That should last you for a little while.” You whisper, pulling away reluctantly with every ounce of strength in your body, and Laszlo whimpers. You are gentle but firm as you lead him from the restaurant, his hand holding your bicep tightly.

“I meant it.” Laszlo murmurs, and you startle at the sound of his voice, so focused on walking towards his home.

“Pardon?”

“The flowers. I meant it.”

You let out a quiet sigh, petting his hand on your arm gently, soothingly, “I know, Laszlo. I know.”

This time, when you leave Laszlo at his home a short few minutes later, he makes an attempt at getting you to come inside instead of leaving him alone.

“This is what I want. And it is what you want, whether you will admit it or not.” He snaps when you begin to protest, and it takes everything in you to restrain from baring your teeth at him for taking that tone with you.

“What I want is not important. Go inside, Laszlo. You’ll think about what you truly want a bit more clearly in the morning, and appreciate my restraint.” You insist while backing away from him, turning to flee not a moment later. Thankfully, you’re faster than him even if he did try to chase you, and once again you enter your bedroom through the window. You bathe in silence, trying to figure out what to do with yourself. Shame fills you as you slide your hand between your legs, your other hand against your nose, breathing in the scent of Laszlo’s slick like the disgusting monster you know you are.

~

There are gloves on your desk. You’ve finally removed the bulk of the bandage on your hand, but you find it constantly irritated by everything you touch, and clearly Laszlo has noticed. Even last night while eating dinner, you’d struggled with holding your fork and knife without the bandage protecting the sensitive bitemarks. You lift the gloves, sighing at how soft they are, but the scent rolling off of them hits your nose and makes your face burn.

He’s scented them. Rubbed his pretty little chin on them until they smell so strongly of him that you want to bury your nose in them and huff for dear life. And yet, you can’t, because Laszlo is watching you keenly, and has been since you walked through the door to his office. You wonder if he regrets giving them to you. You wonder if he’s finally come to his senses, and realises you’re an overbearing Alpha knothead. Perhaps he’ll fire you.

You spiral until the door to the office opens, and John steps into the room with a lead. A prostitute he knew had indicated that her friend had heard something about the case and was willing to talk to you all. You stand with your notebook, following the men out of the office and down the street, your head buried in the clouds enough that you don’t even notice John and Laszlo whispering feverishly to each other. In fact, you don’t notice much until you’re brought into a rather high class brothel. Immediately, you smell the scent of ripe Omega and virile Alpha, and you instinctively posture in an almost mirror of John Moore. A young woman catches your eye, smiling with faux-shyness, though she straightens up as she notices obvious signs of your designation. You stand aside from the others, taking notes as you go, writing quick descriptions of anyone who looks at you three for too long.

“Here for business instead of pleasure, Alpha?” A young, redhead Omega woman asks, approaching you with a sultry smile on her face. You offer her a faint nod, lips quirked up into a smile as you try to look benign and uninteresting. She only seems to smile wider.

“I’m just taking notes for my coworkers.” You inform her, and she hums, sweeping a hand across your lower back as she circles you. You stiffen, but don’t remove her hand, painfully aware of appearances and how you may come off as aggressive even in these sorts of situations.

“You know, I almost didn’t even notice you. All these Alphas come in here, puffed up like peacocks, scent rolling off of them like they dumped a bottle of perfume over their heads. And then there’s you.” She smiles coyly, skimming her hand over your bicep where it bulges under your puffy sleeves, “I can’t smell you at all.”

You swallow, watching her intently, “Not at all?”

“Not even a little bit.” She pouts, leaning in far too close to your neck and breathing in deeply, and the only thing that stops you from yanking your wrist out of her delicate grip is the many eyes on you both, “not even up close. You must wear the really good scent blockers. You smell even less than a Beta.”

Your mind reels, and your growing panic begins to ease somewhat as you’re distracted by putting your thoughts together in a coherent order. You blink into awareness as Laszlo steps between you and the Omega woman, his hand pulling hers away from you, the slightest hint of a hiss slipping through as he breaks the contact.

“You’re making her uncomfortable.” He informs the Omega as if she didn’t realise, and she pouts.

“Aww, I’m sorry sugar, I can make it better for you if you like?”

Laszlo bares his teeth at her in a threat display that sends excited shivers racing down your spine, and you rub his arm gently to soothe him.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You murmur to him, and he leans into your touch, “Did you get what you needed?”

“I did.”

“Then, let’s go. I’m sorry I couldn't help more.”

John joins you both and you all leave together, with the artist quickly filling you in on the conversation they’d had with his acquaintance’s friend. You listen, but your mind is warring with conflicting thoughts, until finally, you stop midstep.

“Are either of you able to smell me?”

“Pardon?” Laszlo asks, but John looks almost knowingly at you. There’s an understanding in his eyes, and it makes you uncomfortable, like when you find something out that everyone else appears to know.

“No, we can’t smell you. Aside from when the rain washed off your scent blocker, I’ve never got even a whiff of your actual scent.” The artist informs you with a gentleness to his tone, and you nod, the truth sinking in.

“Ah.”

“Quite.” John agrees, and you nod thoughtfully. Your worldview of the last couple of weeks tips on its head. How is it possible that you’ve been influencing Laszlo’s hormones and feelings with your scent if he isn’t even able to smell you? And if it isn’t possible, and thus you haven’t been influencing him, then what does that mean? What is going on? Does that mean that Laszlo actually does want you? Does that mean that all of the displays from Laszlo are real? What are you meant to do about that?

You’re the Alpha, but he’s the man. Suddenly, the rules become so much more complicated. Do you propose courtship, or does he?

You should, certainly, as the Alpha. But will he be offended if you do? He’s been pursuing you this entire time, surely that means he’s intending on proposing courtship to you, right?

What gift do you give him to propose courtship? It’s traditional to give something deeply personal and, preferably, luxurious. This gift represents what you want from the courtship, and can be largely symbolic instead of personal - expensive fabrics for comfort of home, jewellery for wealth of life, exotic foods for abundance of resources, children’s items for a large family. The options are endless. These gifts are not returned by the Omega if they should reject a courtship proposal either. Many Alphas nowadays only give an Omega something truly special if they know that their intended will accept them - otherwise, they go with something less personal and more symbolic. What if you give him something special and he doesn’t want it? What if he doesn’t want you?

Panic sparks, catching fire in your veins and boiling through your blood. You can feel your heartbeat pounding. You can feel it. The throbbing pulse of it in your ears drowns out all other sound. Your heart is a frightened bird in the cage of your ribs, frantically slamming against the walls of its enclosure and breaking its neck against the bars. 

You’re spiraling. Based on the looks on Laszlo and John’s faces, you’re visibly spiraling. You feel yourself moving but have no control of your own limbs. John grabs you suddenly, wrestling your arms down to your sides as the fresh scent of blood fills the air, and a sharp pain breaks through the anxious fog swirling in your mind. You roar as you’re restrained, instinct and panic building upon each other as you are guided into an alley out of view. John chuffs soothingly against your ear, big chest practically vibrating against your back with the effort of calming you down as he gets your wrists into one hand. The other grabs the back of your neck to squeeze and scruff you like a family member might scruff a younger Alpha. It breaks through some of the panic, and you take a deep, ragged breath of cold, fresh(ish) air to try and calm yourself down. Laszlo’s warm hands cup your face, and you lean into his palms, his quiet purring finally breaking through that last instinctive fight or flight response that had sent your mind into overdrive.

“Las.” You whisper, and he rubs his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away the tears streaked upon your face. The scent of iron sticks in your nose, and you kick yourself when you notice you’ve bit down around the scent gland in your wrist the way you used to when you were younger and far more fearful. Or had you ever really grown out of the fear? Had you ever actually healed from the trauma of your presentation? Or had you simply learned to cope as best as you could while maintaining the appearance of sanity?

“Shh, Alpha, we’ve got you.” Laszlo promises, and you nuzzle your cheek into his palm. John chuffs softly, and you shiver something fierce as he rubs his chin against your scent gland in the way an older brother might - a little too rough, but affectionate and soothing.

“I… I think I’m okay.” You whisper, and John slowly releases your arms, rubbing your shoulders to help work out the inevitable pins and needles. You turn towards John, rubbing your chin over his scent gland gently, and the chuff you let out is a little choppy and disused. He’s blushing when you pull away, and his warm, woodsy scent sticks to you, blending with your own in an interesting way that feels very comforting. It wasn’t completely unheard of for two Alphas or two Omegas to get together, though it was certainly not the norm, and wasn’t a well-regarded decision. It was somewhat interesting to find how well your scent blended with John’s, in a way that to some might indicate you were sexually compatible, but to you felt far more like a familial relationship. You didn’t smell anything like your Alpha father, but your scents blended well, just as your scent blended well with your mother’s.

“You stink.” Laszlo informs you with an almost playful sneer, and you laugh at the disgruntled look on John’s face as you offer Laszlo your arm and let yourself by led from the alley, finally feeling like yourself again. 

~

Just over a week later, you place a box upon Laszlo’s desk. For once, you’ve managed to make it to the Institute before him, and you adjust the phthalo green gift box a couple of times to make sure it looks perfect. You adjust the ribbon, fluffing the bow up, and nearly jump out of your skin when Laszlo clears his throat behind you. Your cheeks burn as you slowly turn to face him, clearing your throat before you start talking, hoping to cut in before he has a chance to speak and throw you off your plan.

“I know that I might not be the ideal partner, and that you might have reservations about both my societal standing with regards to my recent and past public embarrassments, and my capability as an Alpha. But… but, should you accept me as your Alpha, I would love you in whatever way you desire to be loved. Not in the way that someone, or many someones, determine is the best way for you to be loved. Not in the way that I want to love you, Laszlo, but however you wish to be desired, pleasured, revered, and adored. I will give you anything you ask for - no, anything you desire at all, for I will endeavour to meet your needs before you even have cause to ask. I will always respect your intelligence, and swear to never make you diminish yourself to improve my own image. I will worship you in place of the God so many pledge their soul to. I will protect you, and any family we may or may not have. I will share in this life with you, should you… should you simply want me to.”

Your breath comes shaky, your nose stinging as you bite back a more emotional response, and you finally lift your gaze from the box in your hands to look Laszlo in the eyes. He looks soft. You pray he isn’t upset with you. You pray you’ve read this right. You beg every deity you’ve ever heard of that perhaps, just this once, you’ve gotten it right. Just this once, you’ve managed to convey yourself in the way you wish to be perceived, free of any chance of misinterpretation.

“You’re asking to court me?” Laszlo asks, his voice so soft, it’s barely a whisper. An exhale of shaky breath, disbelieving, and you swear you can almost hear his heart pounding. Or perhaps it’s your own, combined with wishful thinking that you could perhaps affect him as much as he affects you.

“I am.” You breathe, then hastily shove the gift box into his hand, a hint of panic in your movements. You’re the worst Alpha, too anxious to portray the smooth, easy confidence that so many Alphas are seemingly born with. Laszlo clears his throat, stepping past you to set the box on his desk and open it slowly. Inside, he finds a long jewellery box and a wider jewellery box. In the wide box lie a gold and emerald set of cufflinks and matching tie pin. Folded underneath it is a handsewn handkerchief of phthalo green, embroidered with both his initials, and your own, in gold thread. In the longer box, he finds an ovular gold locket wrought with intricate scrolling, which contains a portrait of you, and on the other face, a piece of fabric that is so heavily scented by you that you’d be shocked if it ever wore off. A small clip keeps it clasped inside, allowing it to be removed and re-scented when necessary.

You wet your lips as Laszlo goes through each item in the box, and you feel your chest tighten as he comes across the handkerchief, which you’d dyed and sewn yourself, and painstakingly embroidered your initials upon. You’d also scented it, and your cheeks grow hot as he brings it to his nose, breathing you in. You have to grab the edge of his desk to ground yourself when you see his eyes roll back in his head.

“You made this for me?” He whispers, and you nod hesitantly.

“I… I wanted my first courting gift - should you accept me, of course, I wouldn’t presume that you don’t have other options…”

“I do not have any desire for other options. Finish what you were saying.” Laszlo interjects, and you take a shaky breath.

“I wanted my first courting gift to… well, it’s a bit of a cheeky message, I suppose. I apologise. It is simply that… Well, appearances can be deceiving.” You murmur, pressing your thumb gently into the tie pin, which unclips into two pieces to show a sharp blade of metal hidden within. Not a dagger, but enough to do damage and defend oneself. The cufflinks, you show him, contain a hidden compartment in which you’ve hidden two small folded pieces of paper. One is the words which end nearly every German fairytale, which you quite liked for its morose nature and odd romance.

Und wenn sie nicht gestorben sind, dann leben sie noch heute.

‘And if they haven't died, they are still alive today.’

The second is a quote from Gustave Le Bon’s The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind which you had spoken with Laszlo at length about in the early days of your work with him. The quote was one which you quite liked, and Laszlo teased you for enjoying it so much. It had been one of the first times that you had ever heard him laugh. Even then, you’d remarked upon how much you liked the sound.

An individual in a crowd is a grain of sand amid other grains of sand, which the wind stirs up at will.

The secret of the handkerchief is not difficult to find - You’ve embroidered a simple message upon the bottom right hand corner of the handkerchief in phthalo green thread, making it difficult to see but obvious to the touch. ‘You hold my heart in your palm.’ He rubs it between his fingers several times, staring at the message to try and see it against the softer fabric. Eventually, he tucks it into his vest pocket, then picks up the chain of your last gift. Laszlo rubs his thumb over the face of the locket, and you smile as he examines it for several moments before looking up at you.

“And what secret does this treasure hide?”

“You’ll find it.” You reply softly, “you need not answer me immediately. All of this is yours, should you want me or no-”

A warm, large hand cups your face, still wrapped in the delicate gold chain, and you gasp as his thumb traces your lower lip. The locket thwaps against your collarbone, and you stare into Laszlo’s honey eyes until he leans forwards and presses his lips against yours. Your first kiss is dry, and perhaps a little awkward, for you’ve no idea what to do with yourself and frankly hadn’t been expecting it. Both of your breathing is loud, shaky, practically panting through your noses as you smooth your hands over his waist to hold onto him. Finally, he releases you, then strokes his fingertips over the imprint of the chain of his locket on your face.

“I accept your proposal.” He whispers, “Come home with me tonight. We have much to discuss.”

Cheeks on fire, you brush your fingers across his cheek, brushing through his beard to stroke the line of his jaw, “I would… very much like to scent you. May I?”

Your Omega - you can say that now that he’s accepted, so long as you can keep his interest long enough to convince him to mate you - tips his head to the side to expose his scent gland to you almost demandingly. You lean in, breathing him in and gently rubbing your chin against his scent gland, and Laszlo gasps as you swipe your tongue across the soft bump. His pheromones are tangy and electric on your tastebuds, and while some might find it a little unpleasant, you chuff against his skin with approval. You only lean away from him when he gives a disgruntled chirrup, but before you can panic, your Omega buries his face in your neck and rubs his chin against your scent gland.

“You smell so good.” You whisper, and Laszlo purrs against your skin, chest vibrating something fierce as he tries to encourage your body to override the scent blockers you’d applied that morning. A whine rises in his throat, and you feel the need to fix it, and make your Omega’s distress go away.

“I’ll wash it off.” You mumble, and his purring kicks up a notch. You kiss his forehead, his temple, and then his orbital bone, “I’ll be right back.”

You return from the bathroom, freshly washed as best as you could, to see Laszlo sitting at his desk wearing his courting gifts proudly. He gestures to the door, telling you to lock it, which you do with a bit of reluctance simply because you would never want him to think that you only want him for sex. His left cufflink rests on the desktop, and you circle his chair, picking it up and putting it on for him with gentle hands. Once you’re done, Laszlo gently encourages you into his lap, and while you hesitate to sit on him, you settle on kneeling on either side of his thighs to keep most of your weight off of him. Laszlo immediately takes the invitation to nuzzle into your scent gland, and he moans softly at the smell of you, his left hand squeezing your hip tightly. He rubs his chin aggressively against your scent gland until his beard smells like you, and you’ve begun to smell like him as well. That blending of scents soothes you, and you relax against him, nearly jumping out of your skin when Laszlo licks your scent gland and moans quietly at the taste.

“Enough.” You mutter, leaning in to catch his lips again, and kissing him soft as butterfly wings, “I’m going to court you properly, Las. And as much as I want to worship you and show you how much I want you, I won’t until we get towards the end of our courtship.”

Laszlo groans quietly, squeezing your hip tightly, then gently pushing, “Get up, Alpha. We will discuss this tonight.”

~

Later that evening, you find yourself draped across a large, comfortable sofa in Laszlo’s home with your Omega laying with his hips between your legs and his head nuzzled against your chest. You comb your fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently across his scalp, and he purrs loudly, melting you into a puddle of happy goo beneath him. When you first arrived, you both had tried to talk briefly about your firm stance of not having sex until later in your courtship. Laszlo was firmly of the opinion that sex would only strengthen your bond, and that he was well aware that you felt for him beyond the sexual desire between you. You, on the other hand, wanted to prove yourself to him as a good, nurturing Alpha that wanted him for more than just a pretty little Omega to knot.

In the end, you promised to table the discussion for now, and instead pulled him onto the couch with you. Laszlo was touch-starved, and you were adamant about fulfilling his very clear need for some snuggles. If you were being honest with yourself, you may admit you were a little touch-starved as well. Nothing felt more satisfying than having your Omega’s weight on your chest, his weak arm tucked between him and the back of the couch, and his good arm wrapped around you. Feeling the tension in his body bleed out of him as you pet his hair, and the way he nuzzles against your chest needily, his purr almost deafening - nothing could be better.

You press your lips to the top of his head, and he coos, leaning his head back to blink up at you so that you press your lips to his forehead instead. His long, pretty lashes brush against his skin as he closes his eyes, purring and nuzzling closer to you. Gentle as can be, you kiss his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, and then the tip as well. You brush your lips across his cheeks, then tip his chin up, making eye contact with your Omega before you lean in to kiss him properly. Your lips move softly against his, deepening just a little when Laszlo tilts his head and pulls your lower lip into his mouth. With a soft chuff, you nip him softly, lapping at the roof of his mouth, and laugh as he gasps at your audacity.

Apparently he enjoys your audacity, because he cups your face, kissing you hard and licking into your mouth clumsily but eagerly. You sigh happily into the kiss, eyes rolling back in your head as he sloppily kisses your chin, sucking and biting your lips, his hips pressing ardently into yours. Laslo moans at the pressure against his erection, clearly already rock hard and leaking slick. You pet his cheeks, running your nails through his beard as you catch and suck on his tongue. You’re lulled by his purring, practically in a trance as he kisses you, your skirts pushed up nearly to your hips and your bloomers on full display. A soft moan slips through Lazlo’s lips as he ruts between your legs with little pulses of his hips, his knee pressed under your thigh to keep your legs spread.

“Las, darling.” You murmur against his lips, and he whimpers, biting your chin when you break the kiss, “you’re getting over-excited, little Omega.”

“Need you, Alpha.” Laszlo moans against your lips, and you sigh blissfully when he tilts his hips, the line of his cock rubbing perfectly against your cunt even through your layers. It feels so good - too good - and you struggle to regain your self-control. Laszlo’s nostrils flare as he catches the scent of your arousal, spicy and warm, and he groans, already starting to move to get a better whiff. You grip his hips to stop him and roll the both of you over, adjusting to make sure his arm doesn’t get trapped, and Laszlo gives an eager chirrup as you sit atop his hips.

“Relax, Omega. We’re just cuddling.”

“We could be doing more.” Laszlo reminds you, grabbing at your hip and looking up at you like he wants to devour you. You smile despite yourself, leaning down to kiss him again, then nipping the tip of his nose.

“We need to talk, Las.”

“I know. Where would you like to begin?” He asks, and you get up from the couch, pushing your skirts back down. Laszlo sits up so you can sit down, then drops his head into your lap so you can resume petting his hair.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to be a proper Alpha. I want you to understand what you’re getting into. I don’t want you to be… to be disappointed in me. I don’t want you to be unhappy with me, or suddenly realise you don’t want me. That’s why I want to abide by more traditional courting rules, despite the lack of… need for them, I suppose.” You murmur, and your Omega sighs quietly, like he expected the topic but hoped you wouldn’t bring it up as well.

“I know what I’m getting into. I know you. I know your fears, and your desires. I know the little things that bother you day to day, and how easy it is to bring you joy. I know the way you feel about yourself, and what you are. I know the trauma that weighs on you regarding your presentation, and I can empathise in a way that few others could. I understand how you feel about your responsibilities as an Alpha, and how your caring nature has affected that view. I know that you believe that your father is a bad example of an Alpha because your father did not show the same care and love to your mother as you do for me when they had been together since they were young adults, and we only just began courting. I know that unlike seemingly every other Alpha I have ever met - including John, who I consider a very good example of an Alpha - you believe that I hold all the power in our relationship. I know that you suffer from a severe need for control, not of others, but of yourself. Induced by your presentation, and the subsequent ridicule you received, and executed in many ways including your self-biting habit. I know that you would hurt yourself before you ever hurt me, either emotionally or physically. I know that I trust you enough that you are one of the only people who know the truth of my arm.” Laszlo practically rants to you, his voice gentle but passionate as he shifts up until his lower back is resting against your thigh, his upper body resting against yours and his head pillowed on your chest. You wrap your arms around him to support him, rubbing his arm with one hand and his stomach with the other.

“I want to give you the chance to change your mind. Once I have you, I won’t ever be able to bring myself to let you go, Laszlo. Already, the idea of having to let you go is… is nearly inconceivable. You have to have the chance to know me and… and choose not to keep me. Otherwise I would never forgive myself for claiming you, knowing that if you regretted it, it would kill me to release you.” You admit, and Laszlo takes a shaky breath, clinging a little tighter to you.

“I won’t change my mind.”

“Neither will I.”

~

You wake to hazy light filtering through the gauzy curtains, and the warm weight of Laszlo nestled against the front of your body. He’s curled up tightly, your knees scooped behind his to press yourself firmly against his back, and your arm is looped possessively around his waist. You’re dressed in a pair of Laszlo’s sleeping pants and an old shirt of his, unprepared for this impromptu sleepover that you’d been conned into by your Omega, but you won’t complain about getting more time to hold him. You nuzzle your face into the curve of his shoulder, breathing in the sweet floral smell of him straight from his scent glands, and he relaxes in your embrace. There’s a tangy note to the air that registers more and more in your mind as you wake up, blinking your eyes open to look at the warm expanse of Laszlo’s freckled and beauty-marked skin before you.

Something stirs in your chest, and you feel the sharpness of your own fangs against your lower lip as you chuff instinctively. The beast inside of you awakens having your Omega so close, and you tamp down on your impulses as best as you can even as you feel a swelling and growing between your legs. It’s not an extremely familiar sensation - you haven’t often played with your anatomy the way you can as a female Alpha - but you recognise it enough not to panic. The tangy scent settles in the back of your throat, coating your tongue, and you finally connect the dots. The spice of your own arousal begins to fill the air as you stroke your hand in slow, deliberate circles on Laszlo’s stomach.

“I know you’re awake, naughty little thing.” You whisper, and Laszlo purrs, turning his head to look at you with lust-blown pupils.

“Alpha.” He murmurs, practically a moan, “I can feel you.”

“I know you can. You’re tempting me with this sweet Omega cunt, aren’t you?” You growl, running your hand over his ass and squeezing gently. A new wave of tang fills your nose, and you nuzzle against the back of his neck, licking a stripe up to his ear.

“Need you.” Laszlo purrs so prettily, tilting his head to expose more of his throat, and you take the invitation to rub against his scent gland possessively.

“I can smell it on you, Las. So, so needy. How did I end up with such a ripe little Omega slut?” You croon, and Laszlo arches against you with a whimper, “Must’ve done something right to get a chance with a sweet little thing like you.”

Laszlo shivers, grabbing your hand to force it under his shirt, and you splay your fingers out over his belly possessively. His body hair tickles your palm as you stroke over planes of bare skin, chuffing softly against his neck. He rocks his ass back into your pelvis, and you gasp against his shoulder at the firm pressure against your growing erection. As soon as he feels it properly, Laszlo moans, reaching back to try and touch you. You’re not quite fast enough to grab his hand, and you groan as it closes around your cock, the pressure too much and simultaneously exquisite.

“Gentle, Las, gentle.” You murmur, and Laszlo lets go, rolling over so he can grab at you a little softer. He slips his hand under the waistband of your borrowed pants, and you gasp for air as he rolls his thumb over the head of your cock. You look down at yourself, and thank God that you look relatively how you expected. The last time you’d seen your cock was during your first rut, in a miserable week locked in your room as a teenager. Since then, you had gotten hard a few times, but never looked at yourself as you took yourself in hand or humped a pillow. Your cock is large, as is typical of an Alpha, with a rounded bulge at the base that would later swell into your knot.

“Want it.” Laszlo mumbles, and you laugh quietly, hooking your fingers in the edge of his waistband to slowly pull his sleeping pants down under his cock. He moans as you close your hand around him, stroking in slow, gentle pumps of your hand. He’s leaking slick from his cock, coating your hand and easing the glide, but you are far drier, and it’s a little uncomfortable. You guide him onto his back, laughing as he gives an eager whimper as you pull his sleeping pants down out of the way. You press your cock against his, wrapping your hand around the both of you and setting a firm but eager pace. 

“I’m going to make you come, Las. Can’t have anyone smelling all this slick pouring out of my sweet little Omega and thinking your Alpha isn’t taking care of you. Is that what you want? You want people to think your Alpha isn’t taking care of you? Am I neglecting you?” You coo, and Laszlo shakes his head, clinging to his bedsheets.

“No, Alpha, you’re not neglecting me. You’re taking good care of me.” Your Omega insists, and you nuzzle against his throat, rubbing your chin against his scent gland.

“Needy thing. Such a little slut, I don’t know if you’ll be able to make it through the courtship period. I’m surprised I didn’t wake up to you climbing onto my knot.” You tease, and Laszlo groans, his cheeks pink as he stares up at you with half-lidded chocolate eyes.

“Close. Alpha, please, close!” Laszlo groans, and your laugh is laced with love and affection as you stare down at your Omega.

“Mine.” You whisper, and he nods frantically, bucking his hips up into your grip.

“Yours. Yours!” Laszlo cries out as he reaches his orgasm, coming across your fingers and his own stomach. You prop yourself up above him, letting go of his cock and instead jerking yourself off above him. Laszlo pants for breath, his good hand stroking up and down over your side as he stares hungrily at your cock.

“So fucking pretty. Can’t wait to claim you, Las, can’t wait to make you mine.” Your pace falters as you get closer, the scent of spent and happy Omega sending you reeling. Your breathing is heavy, practically panting for breath as you rut into your hand.

“Come for me, Alpha. Want it.” Laszlo begs, and you groan, spilling across his trembling stomach. He’s covered in you, his own cum drowned out by your heavy load, and you nuzzle against him lovingly as you lick the sweat from his throat. You drop your hand, swiping your fingers through your cum and rubbing it into his scent glands while Laszlo stares up at you with wide eyes. Once he’s covered, you tear your shirt over your head and clean up his stomach. You pull up his sleeping pants, then your own, peppering kisses across his face.

“I need to go home to change, sweetheart.” You murmur as you roll him onto his side and snuggle up against his back, “let me feel you for a little while before I go. And you better not wash that off. I want everyone to know who you belong to, and that I’m keeping my Omega happy.”

~

You spend almost every night at your Omega’s house for the next two weeks despite your parents’ concern for what remains of your reputation. You’ve moved your nesting trunk to Laszlo’s spare bedroom, along with a suitcase of your clothing and other belongings to avoid having to go home in the morning before going to work. Every night, you curl up around your Omega, showing him the love and affection he so desperately needs. You help him dress every morning, eat breakfast with your hand holding his weaker one, take a carriage to work with him, and leave with him every evening. You give him a music box at the end of the first week of courtship, and you can’t help but smile every time you hear the gentle tinkling of it.

At the end of the second week, you give him a silk phthalo green robe that made you think of him, heavily scented just for him. He wears it every morning from then on, and you beam as one lazy Saturday, he puts on the gramophone in his family room and walks around in his robe. You sneak up behind him, slipping an arm around his waist and using the other to grab his hand and spin him to face you.

“What are you doing?” Laszlo asks, and you grin, guiding his weak hand to your hip.

“Dancing with you.” You hum teasingly, and he rolls his eyes at your cheek, letting you bully him into a fairly acceptable waltz. Neither of you are particularly good dancers, but you make it fun, and you delight at the small smile that tugs at his lips as you use your strength to lift him just barely off the ground so you can spin him with you. When you put him down barely a second later, he lifts his strong arm and spins you, and your heart beats wildly in your chest at his playfulness. You both dance around together happily, laughing when you trip on the edge of the carpet and nearly topple the both of you over.

After a few minutes of dancing and nearly an hour of recovery cuddling on Laszlo’s sofa, you both get ready for your day and take a walk through the park. Lunch is a picnic of snacks you made for the both of you, and Laszlo reads to you while you trade between giving him a piece of food, and then yourself. He smiles every time you try to feed him mid-sentence, unable to help himself despite his obvious distaste for being interrupted every few seconds. On your way home, you stop by a jeweler to pick up your latest gift for Laszlo, and he demures at your side as you are handed a ring box. He tries to peek over your shoulder to see what lies inside when you pop it open to look at it and approve the piece, but you turn away from him, tutting.

“I’ll give it to you in a minute, sweetheart, have patience.” You coo teasingly, and he has to work not to pout since you’re both in public. When you get back home (when did you start calling it home?) you lay with your head in Lazlo’s lap while he reads to you, and you glance up at him through your lashes to catch him glancing at the pockets of your poofy navy dress. The next time you look up at him, you catch him staring again, and you giggle, startling him out of his reverie.

“You really want your present, don’t you, sweet?”

Laszlo purses his lips, and you grin, sitting up.

“I suppose I should give it to you, shouldn’t I? You’ve been very patient.” You muse, pulling the ring box from your pocket and opening it with a flourish. Inside lays a stunning cameo ring modelled after yourself, the lines smooth and reminiscent of a marble statue. It’s white on a backing of black stone, and the ring is made of gold with delicate scrolling. Inside the band lies your initials, a possessive statement just for him, and you watch his face soften as he studies the ring carefully. A heady sigh leaves his lips as he strokes the pad of his finger across the cameo of your face, his eyes going half-lidded.

“This is… stunning. It must have cost you a fortune. You didn’t need to-” Laszlo begins, and you cut him off with a raised eyebrow and a huff.

“I wanted to. I want to spoil my Omega, and show him how much I adore him.” You interrupt him, and you watch his eyes go half-lidded and dreamy.

~

It begins with a trip to the opera. In the last week of your courtship, you had been sleeping at your parent’s home more often, preparing your things to be moved and finishing up your final gift for your Omega. Laszlo had warned you early on that he didn’t have a nesting trunk of his own for various familial reasons, though his mother had given him a blanket that she treasured. To compensate, you had gone through your entire trunk to see what might be missing, bought several expensive fabrics that you thought Laszlo might like, and arranged for a shopping trip with Sara and John to give him what he should have had to begin with. In order to distract Laszlo while Sara and John schemed up his surprise, you had made the mere mention of being interested in going to a show. Your Omega jumped on the opportunity with open arms, arranging for you both to go to dinner and the opera together.

It began with the opera, but now, had somehow led to you being pushed up into a dark corner during intermission while Laszlo shoved his hand under your voluminous skirts to stroke his fingers against your cunt. You bite your lip to keep quiet as Laszlo strokes his fingers across your clit, murmuring praise against your throat as he works you into compliance. You’re on half-doses of your rut blockers and heat blockers in preparation for the end of your courtship, and the evidence is obvious in how you can’t keep your hands off of each other. Laszlo had even tried making a case for why if he fucked you, it wouldn’t count, because there wouldn’t be any knotting involved. His desire to bend and rewrite the rules was duly noted, but you were adamant about waiting.

Less so now, with two of the good doctor’s fingers buried in your cunt, his skillful thumb rubbing devastating circles around your clit.

“Las, someone is going to catch us.” You moan quietly, and Laszlo purrs, nipping at your scent gland.

“Not if you stay quiet.” He retorts, and you scoff at his brazenness.

“You’re meant to mingle during intermission, Las, someone will notice us missing.”

“They won’t find us. Let me make you feel good, Alpha, you spend so much time devoted to my care - shouldn’t I be able to devote a little to yours?” Laszlo asks, and you chuff, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Please, Las.” You moan, and his purring gets louder as he moves his fingers faster, lapping at your scent gland eagerly. Pressure builds inside of you, white hot pleasure compounding until a swift flick of Laszlo’s thumb sends you tumbling over the edge. You bite down on Laszlo’s shoulder to avoid being too loud, trembling against him as he guides you through your orgasm. Panting for breath, you run your fingers back through Laszlo’s hair and pull him up into a proper kiss.

“You’re so beautiful when you come.” Your Omega whispers against your lips, and you sigh blissfully, petting his tummy lovingly.

“S’been a while since I came like that. You’re so obsessed with my cock.” You murmur, and Laszlo scoffs, gripping your hip tightly. Heat shoots through you, burning under your skin as your Omega nips and sucks your lower lip into his mouth.

“I want all of you. I can’t wait until you finally let me sink into your warm, tight cunt.” Laszlo corrects you, then pops his fingers into his mouth to clean them while you stare with blown pupils and half-lidded eyes.

“We should get back to our seats. Intermission should be over soon.” Laszlo comments, and you nod obediently, following him in a satiated and happy daze. He’s smug and you know it, but you don’t mind it after getting to come in the middle of an opera show.

~

After a lavish dinner, Laszlo snuggles up to you on the carriage ride home, blissful with the knowledge that in only one more day, he’s able to stop taking his heat blockers. After that, he’ll never need to take them again if he doesn’t want to. One more day and he can have his Alpha’s knot, and get the chance to experience fucking his Alpha in his nest, and maybe even finally become a father. He can’t take his hands off of you now that you’ve got him used to being touched whenever and however he likes. He’s never considered himself anything close to spoiled before, but now? Now, he knew he was overindulged. Every night without you in his bed was a struggle, and this last week, his sleep had been poor at best.

“Las? We’re home.” You murmur, and he sits up a little, just the way you say ‘home’ sending butterflies through his stomach. He slips from the carriage, offering you his arm and smiling at the way you take it without any offense. He loves that you take such good care of him, but he also loves that you let him care for you without acting like it’s some sort of insult to your designation. You let him push you around, most especially when you both are playing, even allowing him once to scruff you and push you down onto the bed beneath him. Caged in by his body, you let him bite into your shoulder, his still-clothed hips rutting against your bottom, treating you like you were his Omega instead of the other way around. No other Alpha that he knew of would be so confident and self-assured in their designation that they would allow him that. You let him bend you over however he likes, pinning you down beneath his weight and threatening against your ear to tie you up. He loves to see you beneath him, most especially when you’ve removed your corset and he can feel the soft curve of your back under his hands.

Omegas love soft things, and you are the softest thing he’s ever touched. Skin soft as silk, lips like flower petals, breasts plush like the expensive pillows on his sofa, and hair always well-cared for and smooth because of how much effort you put into brushing it every day. He covets you. Laszlo can’t imagine not having your softness now that he’s luxuriated in it for so long. He thinks about you so often it almost distracts him from his work - your scent, your voice, the way you hold him, the way you sneeze, the way you laugh when you don’t expect to find something funny, and the way you smile when you see him and your eyes sparkle like you’ve never seen anything more beautiful in the world.

Laszlo opens the front door for you, biting back a grin at the dainty little curtsy you give him with a cheeky smile on your face. He follows you inside, and you pause, giving a very unconvincing gasp that instantly draws his attention. He pauses partway through removing his coat, almost instinctively giving a confused chirrup before he asks what’s wrong. He finishes removing his coat, hanging it, then approaching you to help take yours off as well.

“Oh! What is this?” You ask, and Laszlo raises an eyebrow at your odd, theatrical tone. He slips his arm around your waist from behind to peer over your shoulder, pressing a couple of kisses to the curve of your neck. In the centre of the floor lies an ornate trunk of dark wood with gold clasps. He raises an eyebrow, lifting the latch with all the care one might use while handling a bomb, and opening the trunk trepidatiously. The green lined interior protects its contents, though they won’t be in the trunk for much longer - considering the look in Laszlo’s eyes, it’s obvious that matters little to him, for he’s white-knuckling the lid.

“You did this for me?” He asks in quiet awe, and you giggle, while John and Sara step out from around the corner. They’d complied with your flare for the dramatic despite claiming Laszlo would be unnerved by the surprise until it was revealed to him.

“Not without the help of your friends.” You reply, touching his lower back and beaming as he reaches into the trunk. The first thing he pulls out is a pillow made of fabric so soft it feels like butter, but filled with stuffing so firm that it is evidently made for support. Sara steps forwards, rubbing the scent gland on her wrist against Laszlo’s in a quick, platonic show of love.

“It’s supportive. For your arm. I hope it gives you some much-deserved comfort.” She hums, rubbing your tricep as she steps up next to you, “I don’t have a particularly strong scent, but I did scent it for you. Your Alpha told me you’d like that.”

Laszlo shivers, and you rub his lower back supportively. He puts the pillow down, picking up the first blanket in the trunk, a silky thing that runs through his hands almost like liquid.

“I thought you’d like the colour. It’s… well, it was for a dress, but I asked if it could be hemmed and made into a blanket for you because it’s so soft, and the blue is so unique.” John explains with pink rising in his cheeks, “The tassels are made with one of my old shirts, and I scented it too. Your Alpha insisted it was okay.”

You hum your approval despite how unusual it is for an Alpha to allow their Omega to nest with materials from a non-familial Alpha, squeezing Laszlo’s waist as he processes these gifts from his closest friends. Laszlo pulls a thinner sheet and pillowcases from the trunk, which you indicate are a gift from Teddy, and then a thicker winter blanket that came from the Isaacsons and his staff. Finally, at the bottom of the trunk lay his final courtship gift. He recognises it immediately although he’s only seen it once, very early in your time working for him. He had visited you at home while your parents were away with family, desperately needing notes you had taken of the case to confirm a conclusion he had come to over dinner. It was too late at night for a man to visit a woman, but propriety had never been one of Laszlo’s key skills. You had been working on the blanket when he arrived, and he caught sight of it when you invited him inside. He’d been stunned by the embroidery work, and covetous even then when he only knew you as his employee, and the gentlest Alpha he’d ever known.

Now, he holds the delicate blanket in his hands, rubbing the embroidery between his fingers and marvelling at how soft it is. He nuzzles his face against the fabric, breathing in the heavy warm smell of his Alpha, noting how different parts of the blanket have traces of variations of your scent. He can smell a younger you working on this blanket throughout your life, preparing it for your future Omega. For him. He thinks of you then, gentle hands carefully, painstakingly sewing, dreaming of having him to yourself one day in the future. He wonders if you imagined anyone like him when you dreamed of your Omega while a younger you worked on the blanket. He can smell the anguish of your just-presented self starting the blanket as you languish in your isolation. He can smell the hope of your young adulthood, the lack of surety as you reach the age most young women are mated, and the hopeless despair as you drift closer to the age of spinsterhood. More recently, he can smell your desire, your hope, your happiness, and most key of all, your love.

“You finished it.” Laszlo murmurs, and you smile, nuzzling your face into the back of his shoulder.

“I did. It is part of why I slept at my parent’s house for a time, despite how much you complained about it and tried to get me to reconsider.”

“I didn’t complain that much, szerelmem.” Laszlo corrects you, and you snicker, rubbing his hips as you press yourself up against his back even in the presence of your friends. Neither Sara nor John seems upset about it.

“I’m sure you believe you didn’t. You didn’t have to listen to it all day while trying to type up your notes at work.” You mutter against his shoulder, and Laszlo scoffs playfully, stroking your hand on his belly.

“Home smells more like you.” Your Omega comments after a moment, a smile growing on his face as he begins to put the pieces of what you’ve done together. He’d been dreading the move, worried about looking useless in front of your parents, as he wouldn’t physically be able to carry as much as you.

“John, Cyrus, Stevie, the twins, and Sara were kind enough to move my belongings into your home.”

“Our home.” Laszlo corrects you, twisting his head a little and kissing the high point of your cheek even though John and Sara were right there.

“Our home.” You agree with a smile, “say goodbye to your friends, little Omega. We’re going to go through your nesting materials and start building your first nest.”

Laszlo’s breathing instantly deepens, and you nuzzle your nose behind his ear as he swallows, then clears his throat. As he turns, John puts his hands up immediately, cheeks pink.

“Yes, right, well, I’m happy for you both. I… uhm, I hope the nesting goes well. I will escort Ms. Howard home.” John insists, his embarrassment clear. Sara laughs, but for possibly the first time you’ve ever seen, she accepts John’s arm and, based on her body language, appears to escort the Alpha from the Kreizler home. Once the door closes behind them, you slip your hands under Laszlo’s vest to pull his shirt out of his trousers, then skim your hands up under both layers. You splay your hands across his belly and he sighs blissfully as you rub your teeth against his scent gland.

“Go upstairs, sweet thing. I’ll bring all this upstairs so we can strip the bed and get your nest ready, okay?” You purr, and Laszlo shivers excitedly, then heads for the stairs at a quick pace, his cheeks pink with desire. You watch him go with a smile, bending and lifting the trunk easily despite its solid weight. Laszlo’s honey-brown eyes stare down from the landing, and you can’t help but smirk as he licks his lips before he continues up the steps at a quicker pace. You follow, leisurely, the sound of your Omega’s loud purring from the bedroom reaching your ears despite the distance. As you enter the room, you find he’s already nearly stripped the entire bed, and you croon praise at his eagerness as you set the trunk down next to your own. Laszlo preens, opening the trunks while you finish stripping the bed and securing it against the two walls. Together, you line the bed with pillows, then trap them in place atop the bed with a secured sheet. Once that is finished, you back off, petting Laszlo’s arms and helping him take off his vest so he’ll be more comfortable as he works.

A nest is an Omega’s role, and they take great pride in them. It’s an instinctual process, seeming to come naturally to them, and you’d seen countless Omegas work on them when you were in prep school. You yourself had tried, but you didn’t have the same passion for it. That maybe should’ve been a sign. Laszlo, you know, has never built one before, but his eyes light up as he begins to tuck blankets into place. First, thicker layers to protect the shape of his nest and provide comfort. Then, he moves on to softer layers that will feel good against his skin. Pillows are added for extra plush, and you’re happy to see that he finishes the bed with the blanket you made for him. You praise him throughout the process despite understanding very little of his decision-making, knowing he needs to hear how good he’s doing. He’s doing this for both of you - it should be appreciated as the gift it is. As the gift he is. It’s a long process, made longer by the way that Laszlo keeps pausing to adjust, tuck and re-tuck blankets, and fluff pillows. Finally, however, he appears to be happy. His purring is near deafening as he sits in his nest, feet tucked under him as he surveys his little kingdom like a little prince.

“Look at you, sweetheart. You’ve done such a good job.” You croon, and Laszlo tips his chin up proudly, “Can your Alpha come in?”

“Now.” Laszlo insists urgently, and you obey, crawling up into the nest carefully to avoid messing anything up. He kisses you the moment you’re close enough, and you sigh happily into it, pulling him closer.

“Such a good Omega. Are you excited for your first proper heat?” You murmur as you kiss the point of his cheek. He nods eagerly despite a hint of trepidation.

“Nervous, but I am excited.”

You smile.

“May I confess? I am too. But, I can’t wait to mate you and make you mine. I can’t wait to give you children, however you want them.” You purr, and Laszlo groans quietly, his hand fisting in your dress.

“Take this off?” He asks, and you raise an eyebrow. It takes a moment before you concede. He’s been so good this entire time, and you know he wants so desperately. He’ll probably be in heat by the morning at this rate. Who are you to deny him? You let him help you strip out of your layers, and you don’t stop him when he gets to the last piece of fabric blocking you from his sight. He takes it off carefully, with your help, pupils blown to the size of saucers as he takes you in. You help him with his shirt, and then his trousers, pausing at his undershirt.

“Are you sure, Omega?” You ask, and Laszlo agrees before you can even finish the question. He presses you back into the nest once he’s as bare as you, both naked as the day you were born despite it only being early evening. You let him take control, fueled by the elation of finishing his first nest and getting his Alpha’s enthusiastic approval. He purrs as he licks his way into your mouth, devouring your lips in his eagerness, his hips gently rolling into yours as if he can’t help himself. You gently push him back, and he whines, but you shush him as you stroke his cheeks and kiss his nose.

“Does my pretty little Omega want to mount his Alpha?” You ask, your voice soft and velvety, and Laszlo groans weakly.

“Please. Please, Alpha, need you. Let me, please, I’ll be good.” He begs, and you smile at the unbridled lust in his eyes as you crawl onto your hands and knees, then sink down until your face is pressed into the soft fabrics of his nest. Presenting for your Omega. You’re shocked you aren’t struck by lightning immediately.

“Fuck.” Laszlo mutters, and you’re shocked at his cursing, but you’re more shocked by the feeling of him rubbing his cock against your cunt sloppily.

“Gentle, sweetheart.” You murmur, and he nods as he presses the head into your soft warmth. It’s bigger than your fingers. Bigger than anything you’ve had before, but you’re eager and wet enough to ease the glide. Nowhere near as wet as an Omega, but enough to let Laszlo thrust his hips and not hurt too badly as he sinks all the way in to the hilt. There’s a bit of a pinch, but you grin and bear it for your sweet Omega.

“Feels so good. You feel so good, Alpha, oh god.” Laszlo breathes, kissing his way up your spine as he crawls over your back to use his weight to force you further into the nest.

“Nice and slow, Omega. You’re my first, remember? I’m all yours.” You coo, and Laszlo practically sobs against your shoulder, nodding his head mindlessly.

“Mine. So warm. So soft, Alpha, I need-” He cuts himself off, groaning and balancing as best as he can, “can I move? Please!”

You stretch out beneath him, getting comfortable on your knees before nodding with a blissful sigh. Laszlo takes a moment to find the right pace for him, choppy and short thrusts to start that seem to be mostly born out of desperation at the intense feeling of being inside of his Alpha before he finally gets a hold of himself and slows down a little. He’s thicker than the average Omega, but average in length, and he fills you perfectly as if you were meant for each other. Soft moans fall from your lips as he begins to thrust deeper, slower, supporting himself on his good arm as best as he can. You push up a little to give him something to lean on, supporting his chest with your back, and he presses kisses against your neck in appreciation. 

It feels like heaven to have your Omega inside of you. He’s so eager, hips rutting into your ass and drawing little ‘ah ah ah’s from his lips with every thrust. You groan for him, and he moans in response, nuzzling his face into your neck to try and cope with how good you feel wrapped around him. You reach between your legs, stroking your fingertips across your clit in loose circles, then tighter as you build yourself closer to your orgasm with every thrust. Your Omega’s angle has him rubbing against a spot inside of you that feels like heaven, and you shiver as you get closer and closer, your cunt fluttering around Laszlo’s cock. You don’t expect him to last very long, and he doesn’t, but you’re not surprised. This is also his first time, and he’s been waiting a very long time to finally get to come inside of you - you’re honestly a little surprised he even lasted as long as he did.

When he comes, it is far more than you were expecting. His hips stutter as he fucks his cum deeper into you, and you moan as that sudden feeling of fullness triggers your orgasm, sending you reeling. You press your face into the sheets, practically drooling as your Omega floods your cunt with his spend, and part of you hopes it takes just as much as you hope it doesn’t. You know Laszlo wants to carry your first baby, and you’re bound to put pups in him during his heat - it would be inconvenient to be pregnant together, even as much as it would be blissful. 

You groan with surprise as Laszlo’s sharp little teeth sink into your mating gland from behind, his hips pressed tightly against your ass like he’s trying to keep everything inside you with his weight alone. You’re claimed. Your Omega has claimed you - made you his and only his, so long as you claim him in return. Blood trickles down your throat, but Laszlo chases it, licking it up with that clever little tongue. You sink deeper into the nest, happy little chuffs escaping you as newly-mated bliss sinks in bone deep. 

“You’re going to get oversensitive, my little Omega. You can pull out, sweet, it’s okay.” You purr, and Laszlo adjusts on his knees as he laps at your new bond mark. Finally, he pulls out of you, then curls up around your back with his hand stroking your hip and belly.

“I love you.” He murmurs, exhausted, and you smile as you snuggle closer to him.

“I love you too, Omega. Sleep. Your heat is going to settle in soon.”

He’s asleep before you finish speaking.

~

You wake to the scent of tang and sweetness cloying and heavy, filling your nose and sinking into your brain almost like it’s taking control of you. You blink awake, breathing in deeply, and a heavy weight rubbing against your soft heat tells you everything you need to know.

Laszlo’s heat has settled in, and your little Omega is desperate.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” You croon, and Laszlo moans in response. You sit up and find your Omega achingly hard, his thighs and the blankets beneath him soaked with his slick. Licking your lips, you pat his hip, “Up. Present for me if you want my knot, Omega.”

Laszlo’s on his knees in an instant, legs spread and sunk down into his nest so eagerly he looks desperate.

“Sweet little slut. Look at you.” You praise him, stroking his hips, smacking his pert little ass, then sliding your hand between his legs to cup and stroke his cock, “God, you smell fertile. I can smell how badly you need my knot, Omega. You’ve soaked your new nest.”

Laszlo whimpers, and you grin, settling in behind him and swiping your tongue over his twitching hole. A fresh wave of slick rolls down his perineum, and you coo mockingly as you lick it up.

“Never seen an Omega this slutty, Las. I could put my big cock in you in one thrust and it wouldn’t even hurt you. No prep. Is that what you want? Want me to fuck you nice and ruthless?” You ask. Your Omega nods against the blankets, drool pooling under his pretty little mouth as he moans for you. You stroke his cock gently, grip loose and lazy as you roll the flat of your tongue across his hole.

“Need it, Alpha!” Laszlo cries, and you chuckle, biting his asscheek.

“Need it, huh? Need my cock in your tight little Omega cunt? What’re you gonna do if I don’t give it to you?”

“I’ll die!” Laszlo insists dramatically, and you laugh as you get up onto your knees behind him, rubbing your thumb across his twitching, leaking cunt. The head of your cock sinks into Las so easily it’s like he’s sucking you in, and his heady moan is loud and pleading, drool pooling under his mouth. You take it slow despite being able to feel that you don’t need to - Laszlo is truly deep into his heat already, sleeping through his preheat just like you’d hoped. He’s wet enough that his slick squelches as you pull out then sink back in deeper, displaced by your cock and welling up around the rim of his perfect hole. You lean over his back, adjusting your hips to let yourself sink deeper, and Laszlo sobs as he feels your knot pressing against the rim of his cunt. 

“Please! Alpha, Alpha, please, knot me, I need it!” He begs, and you nuzzle against his neck as you pull out, then push back in nice and slow. Laszlo’s cunt clenches up around you, trying desperately to milk you as he comes for the first time of the day. You pet his hips, praising him for making a nice little mess of his nest, then pull out of him and thrust in again without giving him a chance to breathe. He sobs for more as you begin to fuck him in earnest, deep and a little rough, but nowhere near the fast sloppy thrusts of a rut-crazed Alpha. You’re mindful enough that you’re able to treat him right, dropping a hand between his legs to stroke him as you fuck deeper into him, your cockhead kissing his cervix.

“You want my pups, Omega?” You tease, and Laszlo moans wordlessly, his eyes rolling back in his head as he presses back on you in answer, “Ohh, good answer, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck a baby into you, make you round with my seed. I’ll keep you nice and knotted your whole heat so you have no choice, yeah? Is that what you want? Your Alpha to fuck her knot into you and keep you brainless on it until your heat passes?”

“Yes!” Laszlo cries, and you grin against the back of his neck as he comes again, covering your hand as much as the nest. He watches with half lidded eyes as you lift your fingers to your lips and lick them clean, and you giggle as his cock gives a weak throb in response. He’ll be hard again in a minute, but you don’t give him the chance to recover. Instead, you use your knees to spread his legs further, lifting his hips a little and setting a brutal pace. You want your Omega brainless on your knot, and you’re going to get it. You want to relish in the experience before your rut settles in and makes you wild.

“You feel so good, Las. So fucking good. Sweet little virgin Omega cunt so tight around me I don’t even know if I’ll get my knot in. You’re so wet. Such a good little breeder slut, slick dripping down your thighs, fucked out around my cock with every fucking thrust. S’getting creamy.”

Laszlo pushes back on you eagerly, and you groan as your knot slips past his rim, then back out, and the reaction is immediate. Your Omega cries out as he rocks back on you, and each time your knot slips inside, he sobs with relief. Each time it slips back out, he moans with frustration.

“Want my knot?”

“Yes!”

“Want me to bite your pretty little neck, make you mine?”

“Yes! Please, Alpha, stop teasing!”

“Gonna milk my cock with this perfect Omega cunt?”

“Alpha!” Laszlo’s cries grow more desperate, and you pull him back against you, pushing his head to the side so you can sink your teeth into his mating gland. He screams, and you push your knot into him one last time as you finally come together for the first time. A guttural groan rattles your chest as you lick his mating bond clean, your hands stroking down over his body to pull him closer. Your knot swells, locking you both together, and you use your strength to carefully move you both onto your sides so you can snuggle up against your mate while you fill him up. Laszlo moans quietly as you rub his belly, feeling the slight bulge as you pump him full of cum.

Soft snores fill the air as you relax into your nest, and you kiss Laszlo’s shoulder, proud to have put him to sleep on your knot. You know it won’t last long. You can already feel your rut setting in.

“Rest while you can, sweet thing. I’m going to make you a father, just like you asked me to.”

~

Your vision is hazy. Desperate, hungry, thirsty, love, need. It all burns through you as your rut sets in, and you hold Lazlo tighter to you as you fold him half, his knees nearly up to his ears. You’re knot-deep inside of him, fucking your own cum out of his sloppy hole as he cries out for more, more, always more. Your perfect little Omega. All yours.

“Mine.” You growl, and Laszlo sobs a loud ‘yours!’ in response as you fuck his rim with your knot. Over and over again, feeling it stretch around you, wanting you to lock with him again. You’ve filled him countless times already over the last couple of days, putting him to sleep on your knot as many times as you can to give him just a brief break. Bathed him, fed him, rubbed cream into his body and then did it all over again every single day for nearly a week. It isn’t a surprise. Being on suppressants this long is ill-advised. Normal heats and ruts only last a few days once they’re regular. Four at most.

“Alpha!” Laszlo cries, and you kiss his mating bond, forcing your knot into him and pinning him there, then wrapping your hand around his cock and stroking it until he screams as he covers his belly in cum. His chest vibrates as you growl your release, your knot locking into his soft body for hopefully the last time this heat cycle.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet.” You murmur, and Laszlo pants for breath, nuzzling his cheek against yours. 

“Love you.” He whispers, and you kiss him softly, and briefly since he’s already struggling to breathe.

“Love you too, Las.”

~

Laszlo Kreizler walks into the Institute three months later, hand cupping his rounded belly, while you fuss over his every step. He looks unimpressed, mouth in a tight line as you growl at an orderly that drifts too close. Neither of you are going to be able to work much longer - Laszlo is growing quickly with his first pregnancy, and you’re an overprotective mother hen. You rarely let anyone near him aside from John, Sara, Cyrus, Stevie and the twins. You barely let him out of your sight, and you know he’s getting a little sick of it.

“Alpha.” Laszlo hums to get your attention, and you turn to him instantly, your arm tightening around him as you hang on his every word, “you’re making it hard to walk.”

“You don’t have to walk.” You retort, and Laszlo raises an eyebrow, “I can carry you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!”

“No! We’re in public.” Laszlo snaps, and you pout, nuzzling his mating bond.

“We don’t have to be. They know you’re leaving soon - everyone is ready for it. We could go home. I could take care of you. Rub cream into your belly and do that thing you like.” You tease, only to get a smack to the arm.

“Preposterous. I can work longer than this.” Laszlo insists, and you sigh, pecking his temple.

“Whatever you say, Las.”

He makes it another week, and only because of his stubbornness.

Many months later, he gives birth to your first child, a baby girl with dark hair and honey eyes who cries her lungs out from the moment she takes her first breath until the moment she’s laid upon Laszlo’s chest. He holds her, and you hold him, nuzzling your nose into his sweaty neck as you tell him how much you love him. How perfect he is. How perfect she is.

“What will you name her?” You ask quietly against his ear, and he purrs, stroking his daughter’s tiny little hand.

“Adelaide.”

“Adelaide it is, then. Adelaide Kreizler.”