#they have me screaming crying throwing up

[gracieheartspedro]

Nobody Likes A Secret

pairing: no outbreak rich older!joel miller x afab reader.

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 3k words

description: a rich wealthy playboy who becomes enthralled by his neighbor's daughter. it never ends well when he can not fathom having happiness for himself.

warnings: ANGSTY!!!!!, age gap (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her mid 20s), wealthy!joel, neighbor!joel, reader is pretty naive and delusional, taboo relationship troupe, mentions of parent death, VERY BRIEF SMUT, joel is borderline evil and very mean. joel calls reader "kid". joel is also a liar. talks of having children.

author’s note: I wrote this all in like... two nights. I listened to illicit affair by taylor swift and nobody likes a secret by lizzy mcalpine a lil much and it ended up here. sorry if I make you sad.

You creep into the large 4-car garage, seeing Joel pacing the oil-stained floor. He’s still in his work clothes, but he looks a bit disheveled. His eyes are wild, his face downturned into a deep-set frown. 

“Joel? Everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “He knows.”

You know only one person who would ruin this. 

‘This’ being an 9-month-long affair with your older neighbor. Months and months of meeting in dark corners, hardly ever seeing each other in the light. 

“How?”

Joel fumbles trying to pull his phone out of his pocket, showing you the 5 missed calls from your Dad. You stare at it blankly, tightening your jaw at the possibility that your Dad is too smart for his own good. Shit, he does know, doesn’t he? He throws the phone down on a nearby leather couch that is positioned near a workbench. Joel was pretty good with his hands, but lately his mind has been anywhere but tinkering with wood in his garage. 

“He came over an hour ago. Sat me down and told me that he was getting suspicious of some outings you’ve had over the last couple months. Said he realized you were not going to the places you said you were going to. So he assumed you had a new boyfriend or something. Then last night…”

You curl your hands into a fist. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” Joel grumbles, running his hands over his face, dragging his lower lids down in frustration, “He said that if I know anything or see anything, I am to let him know immediately. He’s worried you’re fuckin’ around with the wrong guy.”

You had snuck out of your house last night and tiptoed your way into Joel’s car, which was parked in a nearby cul de sac. He promised you a nice late dinner in the city and then he ravished you in a hotel room you two didn’t even spend the night in. He brought you home around 4 am and you snuck back into your bedroom, ensuring nothing in your home was stirred. When you woke up the next morning, your father left you a note that he wanted to do dinner with you that night. Meaning tonight. 

You know this is detrimental, and while you do not want to freak out immediately, you can not help but feel like someone is stabbing you directly in the chest. Joel’s body language is giving off negative signals, so even though you want to hug him and tell him that you can talk to your Dad, you know it’s not going to change much.

Your eyes well with tears, thinking of how this was going to ruin everything. After months and months, you thought you were being so smart.

“We can’t do this anymore,” He whispers.

And God damn, did Joel hate seeing you cry. 

But the tear-filled eyes you are giving him are warranted. You don’t turn away from him like usual. You never wanted to show him any weakness. 

This time you confront him, your nose turning upward and your eyes full of disdain. 

“You said we were being careful,” You murmur, the salty tears falling down your cheeks.

“Not careful enough.”

The bitterness tastes like blood in your mouth. You want to scream at him but keep an even tone instead, “Joel… Just let me talk to him.”

“You knew where this was gonna end up,” He states plainly, his voice not wavering. 

And maybe he was right, but you enjoyed living in a loved-up delusion. Maybe it was the sex or maybe it was the looks he gave you from across densely populated parties you were forced to go to. You would put on a show long enough to make your father happy and then you would somehow sneak away with Joel. You knew if your father caught you with the much older man, he would lose his mind, so you were always cautious. You made sure the doors were locked. The moans would stay hushed. The car was parked far from your front door. And during the time spent away from the house, you would get a girlfriend to lie for you. You were always so careful. 

“Maybe he suspects it’s someone else.” you try to reassure him, but you know it’s falling on deaf ears.

“You know he knows it’s me.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

Joel rolls his eyes. He knows that your father’s words were simply a warning. If you two continued this schtick, you know better than anyone your father would find out. You knew he already kind of had eyes on you and Joel had caught on to a couple of neighbors watching him from their bedroom windows. He gives your father credit, he was thorough. 

“We have to stop.”

You did not realize how much your heart was banking on making this work. Joel was about 25 years older, so deep down, you knew that no one would accept the relationship. But in your wildest fantasies, you imagined you two would run away together. He had tons of money, you had nothing tying you down, and it could be a perfect escape. You had brought it up one night after you snuck over to his bed and he didn’t explicitly say no. He just giggled and continued tracing circles on your bare back. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, “So you just… don’t want me anymore?”

He huffs, already annoyed you were making it seem like he had a choice.

“It was never gonna work out in the first place, kid.”

You just stare at him. The nickname hit harder than it ever has. After months of sneaking around with you, Joel only ever saw you as that. A kid. 

“Don’t call me that. Ever.”

He notices the rise in your voice and quickly realizes he made a mistake. 

“Listen-”

It’s like every terrible emotion you have ever had comes bubbling to the surface. The resentment you held towards him when he ignored your calls some nights. Or when he refused to get near you at any party. You had your grievances, but you sat there like a good girl and just accepted him the way he was.

It’s like acid in your throat, it burns. 

“No, you listen,” You snap, “You don’t get to play the kid card. You chose this just as much as I did. You told me that my age didn’t matter. You told me that you would want children with me one day. You filled my head with all this bullshit and now when shit gets real, you walk away. You’re a fuckin’ coward, Joel.”

“My reputation and livelihood is on the line for this! You think I don’t still want those things?”

“If you wanted them bad enough, you would fight for me.”

It makes his face drop. His furrowed eyebrows relax and his mouth droops down into a subtle frown. 

You do not know where to go from here. The atmosphere in his garage rises with tension, words just hanging in the air. 

The Annual Miller Christmas Party was the talk of the town. Everyone who received an invitation would proudly display the cardstock on their huge fridges and show their uninvited neighbors to brag. When Joel came over to hand deliver you and your father’s invitations, he told you to wear something sparkly. 

You searched everywhere for the perfect gown for weeks. He had only really shown you attention when forced to be in the same room as you, so you needed to be eye-catching. He was never the guy to wave to you when he was leaving for work or say a quiet hello at the grocery store. Joel was a very regimented man. He never strayed away from his routine which was usually work, hookups with random women, and sleep. He never kept a woman around for too long. You noticed the circulation of women changed every month or so. Joel never wanted to settle down. He had tried that once 15 years ago and his ex ended up with half of his company. 

But you always loved the way the man carried him. Despite his playboy behavior, you were entranced with him. You always thought he was handsome and when you came home at 25 to help your mother who had fallen sick, you knew that your crush had morphed into borderline obsession. Living next to him would be dangerous.

The dress you chose was red, which was fitting for the occasion. And of course, it was sparkly. Just what Joel ordered. 

You spent all day preparing for the evening and when you showed up on his front door on your Father’s arm, he could not peel his eyes away. You were so radiant and perfect. The twinkle in your eyes shone brighter than the glitter on your gown. 

During the night, you drank a couple of glasses of champagne and chatted up some of your Father’s colleagues. You notice Joel’s eyes following you every so often. You can vividly remember thinking, “This man wants me so bad.”

That night Joel cornered you in the hallway by the bathroom. He asked you if you were interested in literature, but really he just wanted you alone in his study. You being you, you enthusiastically said yes and followed him down the unlit corridor. Once he shut the huge wooden double doors, you knew that you would be slipping out of that gown for him in no time. 

And that’s exactly what happened. 

He drove you crazy, peppering kisses all down your body. He would groan every time he heard your shaky breath, knowing that the effect he had on you would become a dependence for him. 

When he first pressed into you, it was different than any other woman he’s ever been with. You did not throw your head back, moaning obscenities. Instead, you stared into his eyes and nodded, encouraging him to continue his movements. It was so sensual and passionate, by the time you two finished, he held you in his arms for 20 minutes. He was never one for pillow talk or aftercare, so he surprised himself.

You were different than any other woman he had ever encountered. 

You had slipped over to his front door a couple of days after the Christmas party, knocking to ask his assistant if he was home. When she brought you into his office, he told his assistant to shut the door on the way out. His eyes never left yours as you bantered to him. He loved your confidence. He bent you over his desk after 10 minutes, tugging up your skirt and swatting your ass for showing up on his doorstep looking “this beautiful”. 

Joel always made you feel so good. His dirty talk went to Harvard. He could make you cum over and over with his husky Southern accent. Every time he called you “darlin’” or “princess”, you would come undone. 

A couple of months into the entanglement, your Mother’s health deteriorated overnight. You and your Father stayed by her side when she took her last breaths. It was devastating, seeing the woman you looked up to your entire life slowly slip away. You felt like a shell of a person, unable to really harbor any feeling other than pain.

Joel called you and let you know he would not be able to attend the funeral due to work commitments. You did not care, understanding that there’s never a good time for someone to die and he had no obligation to come. You arrived at the funeral home and saw a huge arrangement of purple and blue flowers. On the card, was scribbled in his handwriting. 

“What a breath of fresh air she was. Thinking of her family, always. Joel Miller.”

When it was time for the burial, you watched a large SUV pull up right before the final words were going to be spoken. Joel hopped out the back and slowly approached, keeping his distance from you and the rest of the attendees. Once she was lowered into the ground, Joel came over to give his condolences to your inconsolable father. 

You stayed back, watching everyone except him leave. You sat in the first row of fold-out chairs, watching them throw dirt over her casket. He sat down next to you, never saying anything. His hand extended out, touching your hand that was resting on your lap. It was an unspoken thing, but you never felt more seen in your entire life. He somehow knew exactly what you needed. 

Someone next to you.

After a couple of months, you felt more like yourself. You called him one night, asking if he was available for a drive. He parked his truck in your usual meet-up spot. You crawled up into the passenger seat and asked him to drive. You did not care where. You two caught up and once he could tell you were getting back to some semblance of yourself, he made his move. He was stopped at a red light when he placed his hand on your thigh. It was the first time you had sex in his truck. That night kickstarted the affair again, which led to the secret meetings in hotel rooms. You two got more bold with your rendezvous, even taking a weekend to the mountains. You don’t even remember the lie you told your Father as to why you were gone. 

Joel always thought you were capable. He admired you for being such a dynamic woman. To be so strong and delicate at the same time was unheard of. Even though you were much younger than him, you were well-versed in everything. You were professional and smart when it came to business. All the while, you were polite and empathetic. He would frequently come to you when he needed advice about work or an opinion on something ethical. He enjoyed hearing you ramble on about things you were passionate about. And God, did he love your laugh. 

He did not expect to keep you around as long as he did. But your body was like a drug and Joel had a nasty habit. You were always eager and available, and after a while, Joel started thinking maybe it was too much all at once. When you became comfortable enough to sleep over in his bed and make him breakfast, he knew his world was tilted on its axis. 

He needed to find a way to ruin it for himself, as he had done so many times before. 

He “slipped up” one night. As he and his chatty neighbor Jeff sat outside and smoked cigars, he spoke about his desire for you. He didn’t particularly say that you two were together, but simply insinuated that he would like to have you alone. And the rumors spread quickly. Soon enough a little birdie was in your Dad’s ear, feeding him information. 

Joel kept up the act with you, even though it was not really an act. He did like you, hell, he may have even loved you. But he did not want you to need him. So when people started paying more attention to you and him, he knew his plan was set in motion. In no time, it would all come crashing down. 

“If your Dad takes this to the board, I will lose my company. Do you understand that?”

You hated that you understood stupid business jargon. You knew that Joel losing his company would be devastating. But at this point, you could not care less. Because for as long as your affair, you watched his walls fall away. He had let you in more than once and in your delusional state, you believed for a second that he would choose you over his job. 

You clench your teeth as you suck in a sharp breath, tears still streaming down your warm face. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then we just end it. This has already gone too far.”

You finally turn away from him, your eyes falling to the concrete floor. As soon as he says those words, chills run down your arms. 

“You know Joel…” You drift off, using your shirt sleeve as a tissue. You wipe away a couple of tears and glare back up at him, “I would have given up everything in my life for this. My job. My relationship with my father. Everything. And the fact that you won’t even give me a chance to talk to my Dad to see if he could spare you and this whole charade, really fucking hurts. I’m not worth that to you and that… That’s what hurts the most.”

“Babe-”

“No. You don’t get to call me that anymore. You don’t get to call me anything.”

The tears flow again as you watch him exhale, his hands on his hips. His hair is unkept and the tie he’s wearing has been loosened. 

“I’m sorry,” Is all he can say while your lip quivers. You are trying not to lose it completely. 

You just shake your head, “No. You’re not sorry.”

He was. He was sorry, but he could not let you ruin everything. 

Joel would soon know that you were everything. And as you left the back door that evening, leaving behind the scent of your perfume, he knew that the smell would somehow taint his sheets, even though you had not been in them for weeks. He already started to miss the feeling of your lips. When he tried to go about his evening, he swore he would see you in the shadows of his large house. He even thought he heard your laugh. You were already haunting him even though the death of your relationship happened just hours before. 

You moved on after a couple of years. Met a guy at your 9-5, settled down, and popped out a few kiddos. Some nights you would lie awake, wondering to yourself if Joel was really happy. You never learned the truth of his deceit. After all, your Father was just grateful that his warning to Joel led to his desired outcome, which was him being gone from your life entirely. 

And Joel would be haunted for the rest of his life. No woman. No drugs. No party. Nothing ever filled the void you left behind. And it was all his fault. Just like it always had been.

[emmyrosee]

SAKUSA ANGST??????❤️

By the time Kiyoomi gets to home, the moon is halfway past the skyline and high in space, and the bright light trickles through the blinds, carving your disappointed features while Kiyoomi jumps at the sight of you, standing firmly in the living room.

"Jeez," he snickers, putting his keys on the counter. "You scared me, baby, what're you doing up-"

"I know, Kiyoomi."

His brows furrow in confusion, but behind his dark pools, you see shame. And his eyes always gave him away. “What? What’re you talking about?”

You blink lazily, “I saw Hinata. You weren’t with him. Told me you never even texted him.” You shake your head, “if you’re going to commit adultery, make sure you have all your bases covered.”

He stays silent for a moment, letting his eyes cast down and avoiding your judgmental, hurt gaze. A hand comes up to scratch the back of his head, pick at a hangnail, jam into his pockets, anything and everything to not meet your betrayed looks.

“How long?”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not pull that manipulative shit on me,” you say exhaustedly. “Don’t start with that nonsense. I want to know how long. And I want to know who.”

He finally meets your eyes, “I made a mistake-“

“No no. New couples make mistakes,” you snap, hoping that by yelling out your frustrations you won’t cry the hot tears swelling in your waterline. “We’ve been together three years, you don’t get to make those kinds of mistakes, you don’t get to tell me not to worry about one person, then cheat on me.”

When he slowly lowers his hands, guilt struck in his gaze, you feel bile rising up your throat.

“It’s… your PR manager. Isn’t it?” You chuckle. “Your “work babe”? The one you assured me was over and done with?”

“No no, you’ve got to listen to me-“

“After I specifically begged you to tell me it wasn’t true, after you assured me nothing funny was going down, after you told me you’d gone to their house to fire them-“

He looks away. Darts his eyes again. Your hands come up to cover your mouth, “oh my god… you… went there to be with them- YOU WENT THERE TO BE WITH THEM WHILE I WAS HOME? WAILING OVER YOU?!”

He says nothing to defend himself, and you scream and jump up and out of your seat, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it. He shields himself with his arms, ducking slightly from your swings, but he doesn’t say anything. Nothing to change your mind, sway your thinking or deny, deny, deny anything.

“You lied to me!” You sob, finally losing your composure. “You lied square to my face, for what! For THEM?!”

“Baby, listen-“

“DONT FUCKING CALL ME THAT, SAKUSA!” You shriek, throwing the pillow down and meeting his teary eyes with your enraged ones. “Don’t FUCKING start with me!”

He calls your name in an attempt to calm you down, extending his arms to create distance, “it was a mistake, I made mistakes.”

“And that’s a crock of shit.”

“I thought I was missing something, and I thought they could give it to me! Honest! It meant nothing, just meaningless dates and kisses to try and fill something inside that I needed, and-

“You are not helping yourself right now, Sakusa,” you pant.

“I wanted to leave them, I swear on my mother-“

“And you couldn’t manage to do that.”

“So now what?” He chokes. “So-So-So are we just done? Three years just gone?”

“Because of you.”

“I’m not going to let this happen,” he sobs, collapsing to his knees and wrapping his arms around your legs. “Please, don’t leave me. I’ll fire them. You can go with me.”

“Clearly firing them isn’t going to make a difference,” you snarl. “Since your tongues been down their throat and god knows what else.” You shake him off your legs and continue to look down at him in distain, “I’ll have the boys send for my things. I’m staying with Osamu. Do not contact me anymore.” You shake him off your legs, and he looks up at you like a kicked dog.

“No-“

“Yeah, you don’t get to say no, anymore,” you snap. “Since clearly you had a hard enough time doing it for them. I’m taking control of the situation now. You will never make a fool out of me again.”

“Please,” he begs, “I hated it, I hated all of it, I-“

“Stop lying, Kiyoomi,” you shake your head. “It’s not worth it. You’re not going to sway me.”

At that, Kiyoomi stops. His eyes blink a line of tears down, his hands rest in his lap, and his bottom lip trembles. You take a deep breath, “please let Osamu in when he comes for my belongings.”

He says nothing. He merely continues to stare up at you desperately, pleadingly, and you scoff before making your way down the hall to grab your packed bag. “Unreal,” you hiss. “You are unbelievable.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he chokes. “You can stay here, I’ll leave, I’ll go to Bokuto’s, he’ll-“

“He’ll let you in and stay with him after you have the nerve to cheat on me?” You scoff. “Bokuto is not an idiot. He’s not going to just ignore the shitty things you do because you’re his teammate.”

Kiyoomi knows that if you walk through that door, you’ll never come back. You know it’s tearing him up inside, you see it in his exhausted features and you know it in your soul.

Good.

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Boo

Prompt: You end up taking Jack and your daughter trick or treating while Aaron is stuck at work.

Note: I know this Halloween inspired prompt is a little belated but the amount of fluff is worth it. 🥰

“I want that one!” your daughter yelled, grabbing the bigger candy bucket from Jack’s hands. A frown appeared on his face but he seemingly held himself back from acting out. The little 8 year old had way more patience than you did at his age, clearly taking after Aaron’s constant calm and controlled demeanor.

“Hey,” you spoke, crouching down to her level. “Jackers is your brother and you need to be nice to him. We don’t yell and take things away from each other.” She looked back and forth from him to you, an expression of disapproval evident. “Why don’t you try asking him nicely if you can have the bigger bucket, ok?”

You and Jack waited as she stayed silent, clearly struggling with the idea to be polite. Finally, she turned to Jack and spoke. “Can I have Jack?”

He looked over at you and then to the smaller identical bucket by her feet. “Yeah, ok.”

You sighed in relief and gave them both a big smile. For a second, you thought there was gonna be a tantrum happening before you even got a chance to trick or treat but luckily Jack came to your rescue, being the bigger man.

“See, wasn’t that nicer than yelling at Jack?” She just nodded, avoiding eye contact, probably embarrassed that she was in the wrong. “Ok, now let’s go get some candy!”

Like a switch, they were both back to being happy and excited as they ran to the door. You grabbed both of their jackets that you knew they were gonna want later on as well as your little tumbler of wine. That was your treat for the night.

Before leaving the house, you came over to Jack and plopped a king sized Snickers bar in his bucket, giving him a wink and smile once he noticed. He pretended to zip his lips shut and throw away the key, making you laugh.

The first couple of house went smoothly, your daughter clutching onto Jack most of the time, not convinced with the suspicious looking decorations outside of some of the houses. You sent a picture of the two of them to Aaron, knowing he’d want to see how they were doing even if he couldn’t be there.

Aaron: They look adorable. How far have you gotten?

You: Still on our street, but making great headway. Jack is excited to get to Wicker street where he knows they give out the bigger candy.

Aaron: Smart boy. I see he let his sister have the bigger bucket.

You: Yeah, he handled it very well. Reminded me a lot of his father. (;

Aaron: Love to hear that. Gotta go but I love you.

You: Love you too.

You put your phone away just as you heard your daughter scream and watch as she made a beeline for you, leaving Jack in the dust. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?" you asked bending down. She looked absolutely terrified as tears began streaming down her face and the little tiara on her head struggled to stay attached. Instead of answering, she just pointed over to the porch that she had just ran from. You knew then what she was referring to when you saw the dog dressed as a big spider. It took everything in you not to laugh out loud.

"Oh honey, it's a just a doggy. He's dressed up for Halloween just like you." You brushed the hair out of her eyes while she continued crying, completely unconvinced that the dog was not a gigantic spider there to eat her and waited as Jack came back over. He inspected the scene before him, obviously aware of what happened and proceeded to pull a pack of gummy worms out from his bucket of goodies.

"Here. I got you worms," he offered, forcing the candy into her hand. Just like that, the crying stopped immediately as she played with the package, trying to figure out how to open it.

"That was so nice of your brother. Can you say thank you sweetie?"

"Thank you," she repeated. You gave Jack a ruffle on his head and pulled him in for a hug. He was literally the sweetest boy you knew.

"Alright, Jack. You want to lead the way to the next street?" He shook his head in excitement and wasted no time in showing you the way.

After walking up to the first house and receiving two big chocolate bars, he was practically racing to the next house for more.

"Not so fast Jack, stay close." you told him, scanning your surroundings, knowing anything could happen. Your daughter followed in step with you, busy gnawing on some gummy candy that you were sure was gonna end up keeping her up all night. Just before you all reached the next house, someone caught your eye. The tall figure was a bit far away but became increasingly clearer, the closer you got. Jack was the first to identify him.

"Daddy!"

You watched him run ahead and into the arms of your husband, who was still dressed in his work attire. In that moment, you were entirely grateful to the Bureau for their strict dress code. The dress pants, FBI windbreaker, and holstered weapon had you thinking all kinds of dirty scenarios in your head you'd like to play out with him but for the sake of your toddler children, you decided to indulge your fantasies later.

You and your daughter walked over, a gentle smile on your lips as he set Jack down to give her a hug. "Well this is a pleasant surprise." you greeted, giving him a kiss once he came back up.

“Case wrapped up sooner than expected. Figured the team could use an early night considering the occasion."

You pulled him in for another kiss, this time, a slightly longer and deeper, earning a curious hum from him. "What was that for?"

Absentmindedly, you played with his tie and looked up at his boyish expression. "I just really like your Halloween costume."

Being the ever observant special agent he was, it didn't take long for him to understand what you meant as a knowing smirk played on his lips. "I see."

"Daddy, up," your daughter demanded while pulling on his pant leg, interrupting the moment.

“Of course sweetheart.” He propped her up on his hip and gave you one last look before turning his attention to them. “Lead the way Batman,” Aaron spoke to Jack in his costume.

All of you followed after the young boy, it not taking long for both of their candy buckets to fill up and their sugar high to come crashing down. Your daughter had fallen asleep in Aaron’s arms on the walk back and Jack walked hand in hand with you, his pace a lot slower than earlier.

Once in the house, you helped Jack separate his candy while Aaron put your daughter down for bed. "The Twix are my favorite. Dad can have the pretzels and you can have the lollipops," he offered, pushing the less interesting candy towards you.

“Alright. I’ll keep all of your candy in a very secure safe place,” you reassured him, putting his little pile into a ziplock bag. “Why don’t you go get changed into your pj’s and brush your teeth.”

He listened without a fuss, a tired yawn making its way out of his mouth as he shuffled down the hall, passing by his dad who gave him a high five.

You watched him make his way over to you, a playful glint in his eye, his arms snaking their way around your waist before he placed a gentle kiss against your neck. "I thought I could run us a bath. Maybe give you a massage afterwards." His murmured words sent a shiver through you, your body reacting immediately. You turned to face him, your hands slowly pulling down on his jacket zipper, your eyes locked with his.

Leaning in, his lips met yours with a burning passion you loved. Like that was the last kiss he'd ever have. His hand cradled your head, fingers entwining in your hair and as he stepped closer, the faint smell of cologne from that morning still lingered on his clothes, overstimulating your senses. Your hands rested themselves on his torso, grabbing at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it right off his body as his breath hitched, telling you he felt the same way.

"Daddy!" Jack called from down the hall, bringing the both of you back down to earth. He was probably waiting for his nightly bedtime story you made sure to give him, all cuddled up in his bed, surrounded by his numerous stuffies and dressed in his Batman pajamas.

You pulled away from Aaron, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

"Wait for me," he spoke lowly, stepping back from you before heading towards Jack's room, ready to give the shortest bedtime story ever.

[livelaughloveluffy]

yearning - roronoa zoro

a/n: maybe it's because of my green hair, but zoro's been on the brain badddddd recently and i can't stop thinking about him and wanting him, so because i can't hold this man and tell him how much i love him, here's this fic instead 😭😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

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

one sleepless night on the thousand sunny, you could not longer stand the tossing and turning in bed, and decided to step outside to get some fresh sea air, enjoy the night sky, and the sounds of the crashing waves.

however, the second you stepped outside of the girl's dorm, your eyes were drawn to the brooding green-haired swordsman with a bottle of sake in his hand, left alone on night watch.

zoro was a man of few words; one of extreme loyalty, strong morals, and utter devotion to those important to him. it was easy to be a bit intimidated by him, from his strength to his appearance, and he wasn't exactly the most approachable straw hat. but you couldn't help but feel drawn into him.

•♡•

while exploring an island, luffy had accidentally run into some marines on patrol, leading to an all out battle while you and the crew ran for your lives, yet again.

and this time particularly sucked. as you were cornered, outnumbered, and weak from battle injuries. and as a group of marines were getting ready to close in on you, a sudden flash of bright green, the sound of spilled blood, and men collapsing around you so fast you could barely process what was happening.

•♡•

your heart skipped a beat when you thought about how zoro put himself into harm's way without hesitation, disregarding his own injuries, to save you. and knowing that it wasn't just you he would do it for, how he would put his life on the line for any of the crew members, how he wouldn't care about any hurt or injury he had to endure as long as no one else felt that pain, because he could bear it instead.

the swordsman refused thanks for his help in the battle, and any attempt of it was instantly shut down with his gruff voice murmuring "it's nothing.."

so when he frowned at his empty bottle of sake, sighing at his sudden lack of alcohol for night watch, you found yourself sneaking into the kitchen, grabbing another bottle, and gently walking over to him. the soft whisper of a small request "can i join you for a glass?" slipped out of your mouth.

and as the one-eyed swordsman turned his head, looking at the sake in your hand, then giving you his iconic smirk before replying "sure, if you can keep up with me." your heart warmed, your body relaxed, and for a moment, everything else in the world was absolutely perfect.

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tags ♡: @3v37773 @dindjarins1ut @thepotatocatto @irethepotato @dreamcastgirl99; want to join the taglist? click here!

a/n: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH CRYING SCREAMING AND THROWING UP THAT I CAN'T HAVE THIS IRL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i had so much fun writing this so i hope yall love it as much as i do

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[l0vema]

Bliss and Backshots

A/n: not proofread. Seokmin from the back has been a recurring thought for so long now j had to write it down😭

Dokyeom had you face down ass up, crying tears into your favourite bedsheets. You couldn't take it anymore. Gripping onto anything you could get your hands, you ground yourself into his hips. He was gonna be the end of you.

It had been 2 hours since you got into bed but dokyeom's stamina has never let up. 3 orgasms, a breakdown and some breathing exercises later he was still going. Egging you on with his, "you're so beautiful, I know you have more in you, cmon babe let me hear you."

Now, you were screaming as you shook with cries. Your legs felt like jelly, your head was pumping but your stomach was fluttering and your whole being in euphoric bliss. You fucking loved this man.

He grabbed your elbows pulling you flush against his hard chest. He'd been working out these days and knew the effect his growing muscles had on you. How it brought out a near primal part of you. Using this knowledge to his advantage he started throwing you around more in bed. Showing off for you. Now that your body was up the tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn't do anything but accept your fate. To be fucked to oblivion.

"Baby," brought you out of the mess in your head and babbling nonsense. Dokyeom was kissing your neck, "stay with me babe, one more and you're done."

"Please i- please," you were begging but for what? You didn't even know. He had you out of your mind in pleasure. Your legs began shaking, breath coming out in short breaths, dokyeom could tell you were close. He fucked into you faster- the way you like it. Arm travelling to your nipple to pinch and tug. You went lightheaded. Mouth agape. A deep moan bubbled from the most hidden part of you. Only seokmin ever brought this side out of you. You were on towards your 4th orgasm but still rutting your ass into him to get yourself to the finish line. The tears never stopped. "Yes, yes, yes yessss baby i- yess" you say your mantra just as you reel forward in ecstacy. The coil in your stomach snapped. You were still holding onto seokmins forearms as you continued riding yourself down from the highest of all the highs you've had tonight. Once he had held you till you calmed down from the overwhelming feeling, your boyfriend continued his actions fucking your cum back into you. You're dripping but he doesn't care to stop. His own high in sight he fucks you to overstimulation. "Seokmin-ahhh I can't-" you're cut off by your own sounds of pleasure. Who were you to stop him from fucking you when he does it so well. He squeezes your ass as he let's himself spill into you. Holding you still for a moment to take breaths and calm himself down you hear him , " I will never get over this ,you're amazing," which pushes a laugh put of you. You were a pillow princess to the core. Doing nothing as he makes you see stars is your expertise. If he loves you doing nothing who were you to complain?

Dokyeom sinks fully into the soft mattress pulling you in to kiss sweetly. You stare into each other's eyes, comfort and home written all over his sparkly ones.

This is what you'd been waiting for. This deep type of love that translates to every aspect of your interactions. A typr of love that you'd begged for from childhood. Seokmins type of love.

L0ve, M.A

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

We moved on from Buck being the one to meet Kim at the station too fast. Way too fast.

Because hey, what would you do if the dead wife or a doppelgänger dead wife of your best friend-partner-almost love of your life showed up at your place of work with brownies? Would you ignore the date you scheduled in favor of driving over to your best friend’s place to knock urgently on his back door because you’re so afraid that something is happening to him. And you know that something is happening because the doppelgänger of his dead wife just showed up to the firehouse with brownies like it was just another Monday. You think you might have to push him to talk, but it feels more like your best friend was just waiting for someone to see him, and he is just as dumbfounded as you, and maybe even as scared for himself as you are for him. So you tell him that he needs to break it off with the doppelgänger of his dead wife, but you know that it’s more complicated than that, your best friend’s feelings, even though you trust him to do the right thing and end it with her. But you’re still not through the shock of seeing the doppelgänger of your best friend’s dead wife standing in the fire station, heart beating, lungs expanding, and so you think that maybe your best friend is still in shock too, and you don’t want to push too hard at his grief-wound. So you leave it for now, and you don’t come back to it until it blows up in your face, and your best friend’s face, and his son’s face too.

So yeah, I’d say that Buck probably has a lot of regrets too about the Kim situation. He’s a fixer, no matter how hard he tries, and they lost the kid both of them love more than anything over the situation. You can’t tell me that Buck hasn’t been screaming crying throwing up about it since May. Fuck that.

It doesn’t matter that we don’t get characters’ inner thoughts (usually) on this show. Buck met Kim, and he talked about it with Eddie twice. That’s crazy. That’s certifiably insane. It’s been six months. The midseason finale is tomorrow. There is no excuse for Eddie and Christopher still not speaking. This is no excuse for Buck and Eddie still never discussing Kim or at least Chris leaving. These characters are not meant to be this horrifically repressed. It is strange. It is out of character. Kim showed up for about four episodes and disappeared into the ether. I want to know what the hell is going on with this storyline.

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

Chelsea, before i start my essay (brainrot). I want you to know that coming back to this hellsite (affectionate) was worth it. Your updates are fucking amazing and I am so proud of you for making this series.

She raises her eyebrows, turns away, you knew she was thinking one of two things, wondering how you managed to befriend an alpha before her, or that someone you called a ‘friend’ would let you scent them. Basically, that you were a slut and she was better than you.

YOU HAVE MADE AN ENEMY OUT OF ME TODAY, MADAM.

Are you really going to make me beg?

WHY NOT? YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU BEG.

“From your friend?” Renee's voice breaks into your head.

WHY IS SHE HERE AGAIN?!?!? I WAS HAVING SUCH A NICE TIME.

“You’ve been ignoring me. This was the only way I could think of to hear your voice.”

gagshhduabBsgusbdhhahad AAAAAHHHHHJJ, CHELSEAAAAAAAAAA, I NEEEED HIMMMMMMM.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did sweetheart, so I can fix it.”

IM SO SO SO SORRY TO TEETH! BILLY....AND AOP!BILLY .....AND TO ALL THE PREVIOUS BILLY-S BUT THIS BILLY IS MY ACTUAL FAVORITE. I LOVE HIM. I WANT HIM. I NEED HIM. HE YEARNS LIKE NO OTHER. ITS LIKE TEETH!BILLY BUT WITH HALF OF THE OBSESSION OF IN THE SHADOW OF YOUR HEART!BILLY 💖💖💖💖💖 I WILL (maybe, sorta) GLADLY BETRAY THE OTHER BILLY-S FOR THIS ONE.

“Please.” is his low, grovelling response.

AHSGSHAHSHSHHAHSHHHHHHAHAHHA

“I’m holding you to that, alpha.” You answer, whispering it so that Renée doesn’t overhear you.

FUCK RENÉ. NO, YOU KNOW WHAT. IM CALLING HER RENESME OR CHUCKESEME.

this is her in my mind now.

You'd never thought of Renée as a friend in any means, but you'd never seen her as any type of adversary until this very moment, as you watch her smile up at William, her neck tilted to the side slightly in offering.

...so she has chosen death 😌 What peace knowing she will bite the dust soon 🖤

There he goes again, making you want him.

A crime, honestly. It should be illegal.

It’s almost like you’re his omega, walking beside him as he confidently guides you into the hotel, nodding at reception and heading straight to the elevators.

Denial runs deep 😭😭😭😭

“You look…” He lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly, “I can’t find the right word. Beautiful? Divine? Bewitching. Radiant...”

Its giving Gomez Addams and I am here for it. Now kiss her all over to complete the lewk 😭🖤

“I just wanted to see you smile.” He says.

THE NEED TO BITE HIM IS SO STRONG RIGHT NOW. I AM FERAL. NOBODY TOUCH ME.

Don't give up on us, omega, we're soulmates, I can feel it.

I HAVE A TOMMY GUN AND A DREAM. THE DREAM IS I PUT BULLET HOLES THROUGH YOU.

He lets out a breath, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. The look of leashed delirium in his eyes when he finally opens them.

Unleash it, please. I am begging.

THEY UNLEASHED IT FOR A LITTLE BIT AND I AM SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP.

“Goodnight, Omega.” He finally says, after a few moments of silence.

HE KNOWS. I KNOW HE KNOWS.

Absolutely, no words. This update is worth every fucking wait. Also, please pray for me. I had to download the picture of that cursed doll. 😭

Objects in Motion

Part 4!

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

No warnings this is wholesome lmaoooooooo

His scent lingers on you when you walk into work on Monday. Despite how hard you'd tried to wash it off, it clings to your skin, seemingly unwilling to let you go.

Secretly, that delights you, emphasizes the strength of whatever there was between the two of you. It’s equal parts giddy, and terrifying.

That an alpha like him- that he could be interested in you, you have to resist a groan of delight as you wait for the elevator to get to your floor.

The doors slide open and you let out a long sigh, making your way slowly to your desk, smiling and forcing yourself to greet your coworkers.

You were already exhausted by the idea of working, wishing you were still in bed, hidden under piles of blankets to shield you from the world. Maybe a certain alpha would be willing to join you.

Or maybe… maybe you were better off never thinking about him again. 

Honestly, you'd probably be doing him a favour, your situations couldn't be more opposite, you couldn't imagine him ever seeing where you lived, it might hurt you to see the pity written across his face.

Worse, you'd just be a burden to him, he'd probably feel obligated to take care of you, and if things didn't work out- you shudder- you didn't even want to think about it.

But God, you were so attracted to him that it hurt. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and the ways he would touch you, the ways he might feel, the size of him-

You blink in surprise, feeling a small flush of pheromones around you. Damn, work was the worst place for this.

At the same time, you catch sight of Renée, the only other omega in the department, making her way toward you, her desk situated nearby.

She glances at you, gives you a subtle nod while dropping her stuff, before pausing, and turning to you.

“You smell like an Alpha.” She says, no question in her tone.

Renée was the type of person to speak somewhat kindly to your face, the perfect facade of caring, but you knew people, and you knew that she would find a way to work this interaction into office gossip.

“I made a friend.” You answer inexplicably, trying to keep a poker face, knowing that shyness would do you no favours here.

She raises her eyebrows, turns away, you knew she was thinking one of two things, wondering how you managed to befriend an alpha before her, or that someone you called a ‘friend’ would let you scent them. Basically, that you were a slut and she was better than you.

“Well, I hope you have fun.” She says, smiling over at you sweetly. 

“Thanks.” You mutter politely, tugging your headset on, and getting ready to start your day.

Your phone pings in the middle of the morning peak hours, and you pause speaking to glance down at it, seeing yet another message from the alpha himself.

He’d been sending texts all weekend, texts that you had been ignoring, though you weren’t exactly sure why.

You shake your head, apologising for your pause, before resuming your work.

When the call ends, you take a bathroom break, pulling down your notification bar to see what he’s said.

You catch sight of all the other messages before, sighing as guilt fills you.

I hoped you had a nice time, sweetheart, I’d like to see you again.

Omega?

Please don’t feel shy about the car, I wanted it too.

Are you ignoring me?

Good morning, sweetheart. Let’s have dinner.

Are you really going to make me beg?

It was almost hard to breathe, the way he seemed so desperate for you. You could almost feel his desire through the phone, like an ache in your chest, sticking like tar to the back of your throat.

Denying him might be the hardest thing you've ever had to do, but it was for the best, you decide as you lock your phone. You would not be played for a fool ever again.

He calls during your lunch break, you swallow and flip your phone over, muting the call while you eat your small packed lunch.

Why wasn't he getting the message? Would it really be that hard to free yourself of him?

You don't get any more messages or calls after that, and you assume he gives up when you hear nothing else from him for the rest of the day.

Your transit home is bitter, the thought that you'd successfully chased an alpha away hurts, like you knew it would.

He might have been amazing, he might have been warm. You tip your head back on the bus, taking in a deep breath and exhaling agony.

Worse, his scent fades even more the next day, and where you'd been trying to scrub it from you over the weekend, you cling to it now, wishing it would stay just a few days more.

You stop, surprised, when you see a single sunflower sitting on your work desk in the morning. 

It's in a little transparent vase, and your heart gives a violent uptick as you approach, reaching for the little card you see pressed under the vase, raising it to your nose, taking a deep breath.

Your eyes roll back in your head at the pure scent of him. He'd probably rubbed the harsh little card against his scent gland, trying to get your attention by any means necessary. 

You go so weak in the knees that you're forced to brace a hand against your desk to support you.

You draw back, flipping the card open, finding one word written neatly in his hand.

Please

You bite down in the corner of your lip, smiling. Guess you hadn't chased him away after all.

Was this good? Was this bad? You didn't know, all you could feel is your chest fluttering at the idea that you'd pushed this Alpha away as hard as you could and he was still here, trying to calmly approach, not overwhelming you by physically getting into your space, but letting his actions speak for him, reminding you that he was still here.

Could you hope that his feelings were real? That he really cared about you, where other Alphas had only themselves in mind?

“From your friend?” Renee's voice breaks into your head.

You turn, dropping your hand as if you've been caught.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, turning to busy yourself with work, feeling her eyes glued to the back of your head.

When you finally settle in, staring at the flower, you frown, remembering the way the second alpha you'd been with had used your own desires against you. He'd twisted your need to be cared for, making it seem like your only purpose was to serve him. Adam had left you aching for crumbs and hating yourself for it.

You could almost cry from the memory, that alphas could be so cruel, so manipulative, that it was always a game and you needed to keep your cards close to your chest.

Why, would William be any different?

Why were you wishing with everything you had, that he was?

You bring the card up to your nose, breathing in his scent, hoping.

.

You’re staring at his unopened messages yet again, trying to figure out what to say to him when the phone on your desk rings.

You straighten, grabbing your headset, tugging it on before answering, giving your quick, jovial greeting.

There’s a long pause, that alerts you to the fact that this call might not be totally normal.

“Omega.” The voice finally says, and your mouth drops open in surprise.

“William?” You ask, almost choking on your words, “You- these calls are recorded for quality purposes.” 

“You’ve been ignoring me. This was the only way I could think of to hear your voice.”

Jesus Christ, you could feel your heart palpitating in your chest.

“We shouldn’t be talking on this line.” You respond shakily.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did sweetheart, so I can fix it.”

Ohmygod, you clear your throat, adjusting yourself in your seat with the way his voice is affecting you.

“William-”

“-I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to see you again, even if it’s for you to tell me you want me to leave you alone. I’ll beg if I have to.”

You blink, mouth parting, unable to speak.

“We shouldn’t.” You try.

“Please.” is his low, grovelling response.

Your breath hitches as he continues on repeat, slow, drawing out each word with his voice echoing through your headset, sending shivers over your spine.

“Please, please, please, please, please-”

“Okay.” You stumble out, “Alright.”

You hear him sigh a breath of relief.

“Let’s have dinner tonight. My treat.”

“I don’t-” You start before cutting off, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “-I have nothing to wear.”

“Don’t fret little one, I’ll pick you up after work. I’ll take care of everything, you just have to withstand my company for one night, and if you really want me to, I’ll leave you alone after.”

“I’m holding you to that, alpha.” You answer, whispering it so that Renée doesn’t overhear you.

He hums over the line, a little laugh after a few moments.

“Thank you, omega, see you later.”

You mumble your goodbye, ending the call on your side.

It warms your core for minutes after, unbelievably turned on by him, unable to deny the way you were feeling, you bring the card up to your nose once more, breathing him in.

.

He sends you a quick message a few minutes before your work day ends to tell you that he’s waiting in the lobby for you.

You feel a nervous twist in your stomach as you close your files, and pack up your things, glancing over to see that Renee hadn’t come back from her trip to the bathroom just yet, normally bidding her goodbye before you leave.

You wonder if you should bring the sunflower with you, but you figure it would be fine here and you can just take it home tomorrow. On the other hand, seeing it here really did make the day more bearable. 

You decide to think about it later, heading for the elevator, your bag in hand.

You catch his scent as the doors slide open, smiling wistfully as bergamot surrounds you, tugging you to him.

You round the corner and stop short in shock.

You'd never thought of Renée as a friend in any means, but you'd never seen her as any type of adversary until this very moment, as you watch her smile up at William, her neck tilted to the side slightly in offering.

It's a very bold move, to openly present your scent gland to a possible stranger, and you glance up at his face, noting his expression.

His eyebrows are pinched, mouth turned down into a frown, confusion maybe, perhaps a hint of distaste.

You didn't know you were good at reading lips until this moment as well, but you know without a doubt that he says the words ‘I'm sorry, I'm not interested.’ despite how far away you are.

 Then, he turns, eyes meeting yours as if he knew exactly where you were.

He mutters something you think is ‘excuse me,’ before he begins walking in your direction.

In a well pressed white shirt, tucked into charcoal grey pants, he approaches you with even strides, never breaking eye contact, making you feel the intensity of him as he draws near.

You feel your spine stiffen, head angling upward the closer he gets, until he's standing before you, drinking you in.

“Hello, sweetheart, thank you for giving me another chance to see you.”

You gulp.

“D- don't make me regret it.” You stutter out, trying to stand your ground on your boundaries.

“Never.” He promises, extending his elbow out for you to take. You eagerly oblige, reaching up to grip his bicep securely, maybe a little bit more than necessary.

You keep your head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone on your way out.

He's not driving this time, guiding you toward a very big SUV, with blackout windows and a cozy leather interior.

There’s so much room, enough for him to extend his legs when he slides in beside you, closing the door and tapping twice on the partition separating the two of you from the driver.

“Wow,” you murmur, looking around, even noticing a small fridge in the space across from you, “This- is this yours?”

He hums.

“Technically, they belong to the company, but I get to use it when I need to.”

You blink, realising that he was trying to be humble about it.

Smiling, you turn to look at him, eyes widening when you realise how close he’d gotten to you when you were distracted.

“You smell like me, omega.” He whispers into the space between you, his dark eyes searching yours, leaning in, he presses his nose to your hair.

You hear the soft inhale, your body stiffening, trying to resist your own instinct to present your scent gland to him. His own scent fills the space around you, and his shaky exhale brushes your ear as he leans away.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not pleased by it. You have power over me, sweetheart, I hope you know that.”

Your breaths sharpen, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you bite down harshly trying to recenter your thoughts.

How could he say something like that so easily? As if it were in his nature to be so… devoted.

His gaze dips to your mouth, lingering there for a long moment before he smiles softly.

“How was work today?” He inquires, leaning back further, taking a few deep breaths, in what you can only assume is an attempt to calm himself.

It was great, you want to say, but the words won't come out with the way he's looking at you, as if you're his next meal, or his deity.

You can't decide.

“Omega?”

“Good.” You blurt, losing control of your thinking, did you even really have a good day? You don't have the brain power to remember.

You turn your head away, blinking, trying to… think. It was hard to focus on anything other than him, the way he was filling your head with primal static, the urge to obey, to succumb washing over you.

“I’m sorry,” You finally say, dropping your head into your hands, “being around you isn’t easy. It’s hard to control myself.”

You feel pressure in your throat, tears springing to your eyes, a dam on the brink of bursting.

His hand presses securely between your shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” He says calmly, you turn your head to find warm, encouraging eyes.

Oh, you think to yourself as you follow his instruction, breathing in softly, feeling those primal desires soften under the guidance of the very man causing them.

“There you go,” His voice makes your stomach flutter, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, little one.”

There he goes again, making you want him.

What would it cost, to reach up and kiss him? To press your fingers into his jaw while your mouths meet, to feel him like that, to exist with him in that way?

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing, living in that thought for a few moments.

When he’s sure you’re calm enough, he smiles.

“Now, let’s start over- was your day actually good?”

You feel amusement rise inside of you.

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “No one yelled at me, so I call it a win.”

He blinks, his expression turning sorrowful.

“People often yell at you?”

You nod.

“Customer service… is an excuse for small people to make someone else feel small.”

Something changes in his eyes, sorrow moulting into something else- his jaw tightening.

“I don't like the sound of that.” He admits.

You offer him a wry smile.

“That's just how things are, I guess. This is what I have to work with.” You stop yourself from complaining more, worried that it might upset him to hear the way people treated you, to hear them make derogatory comments, to question your intellect as if you'd personally inconvenienced them.

His hand moves from your shoulder, tracing its way up to the back of your neck, and then to the side, his thumb in perfect reach of your scent gland and your brain goes hazy at the thought.

Instead of your gland, his thumb reaches up to stroke the edge of your jaw calmly.

“What happens if someone is too aggressive? What's the protocol? Do you transfer them to a manager?”

You gulp, remembering one time that happened, you'd gotten reprimanded after.

“Yeah that's the protocol, but I think it's best if I solve the problem myself, and get approvals on my own. It's not usually good to waste my supervisor's time.”

His thumb gently stroking your cheek lulls you, fits you into a space where you feel safe to talk about these things.

“Does anyone at your job yell at you?”

“Not… yell,” you hesitate for a moment, enjoying his caress, “they're just… warnings. I'm- I try to do my best to avoid that.” You huff out a breath, “I guess I got yelled at once, when I first started, but not after that.”

You gulp, glancing at him, the soft fire in his eyes as he studies you, his thumb dipping, circling the spot right above your gland.

Your lips part, your mind begging you to reach out to him.

The car slows to a stop.

You take a deep breath, eyes widening when you scent the mixture of pheromones in the air, you might as well be begging him on your knees with how potent it was. It sort of surprised you that he was able to resist it.

You want to say something to him, anything to fill the silence that swarms in as your eyes meet his, but your brain is blissfully blank, not a single cohesive thought other than how badly you wanted him.

He gives you a patient smile.

“We’re here.” He says.

“Where?” You ask softly.

“Hotel,” He answers softly, “I rented a room so you can get dressed and meet me in the restaurant for dinner.”

Renting a room? On a second date?

“Oh…” You mumble, trying to figure out if you needed to clarify your boundaries for him again.

You don’t get the chance, the door opens and you have to busy yourself with stepping out instead of addressing your concerns.

He extends his hand for you to take, and you do so eagerly, aching even more when you feel his large hand interlocked with yours.

It’s almost like you’re his omega, walking beside him as he confidently guides you into the hotel, nodding at reception and heading straight to the elevators.

The doors close and you can feel your body throbbing. Was he expecting more from you than you were ready for?

“William?”

“Yes, Omega?”

You blink, looking up at him, unable to voice the words, the topic of conversation is too sensitive, the words can barely leave your mouth. Your mind races to find something else to ask.

“Do you- um- live around here?”

He tilts his head for a moment, maybe sensing your hesitation.

“Not really, I live close to where I work, home to office you know?”

You nod, smiling, before facing forward once more, a slither of discomfort in your spine.

You can feel his eyes on you, no doubt trying to read you while you debate whether this was a good idea or not.

When the doors slide open, he begins speaking again.

“I hired a stylist, to help, if that’s okay, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He guides you down a well lit hallway, and stops at a door before turning to face you.

“Is this okay? Or is it too much?” He questions softly, and you dip your head, unable to meet his eyes.

“It’s a bit much.” You mumble, looking down at your shoes.

He bends his body, smiling as he manages to fit his head into your line of sight, it pulls a small smile from you too.

“If you could bear with me, omega.” He whispers so softly that the words kick off a yearning need in your head, “I have a surprise that will hopefully make up for it.” 

You tilt your head up, and he moves, straightening his body to remain in your line of sight.

“Okay.” You surrender, trying to allow yourself to be swept up by him, even temporarily.

He gives you a pleased smile, hindbrain preening in response that you’ve made alpha happy. He turns, knocking on the door.

After a few moments, an omega with a kind smile opens the door. He introduces her as Maria, and you spare him one more glance before you step into the room, nodding when he says he’ll see you on the roof in two hours.

.

The elevator plays soft music as you travel upward, the sound of your own breathing heavy in your ear.

You weren't sure you'd picked the right dress, a little self conscious that you'd chosen something that might be too juvenile.

The strawberry dress had been too beautiful, your eyes had been drawn to it the moment you saw it, and no matter how hard you tried to convince Maria that it was a bad idea, she'd insisted that you picked the dress you most loved. 

You really did like it, the tulle and the colour, and the cut of the dress going so low that you'd skipped your bra and used boob tape to hold your cleavage in place.

You weren't sure how painful removal would be, Maria had suggested baby oil, you just hope you had some at home.

She'd fixed your hair into soft curls,  and she was really nice about what you liked and didn't, and by the end of it, she felt more like a friend helping you than a stylist being paid to do so.

The elevator doors open, and you cautiously step out. You take a deep breath through your nose, catching the faded scent of him, and following it.

Down a short hallway, and into a large open restaurant space. It was quiet, void of anyone, tables and booths empty.

You frown a little, confused as to why a restaurant this opulent would be closed. Sure, it was still daylight out on a weekday, but it didn't make sense to you on a business level.

The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, with a large pane of glass in the middle of the room, blurry with falling water.

The soft sound invites you, and as you get closer, You make out a wavy silhouette behind the glass.

You step around it, finding William facing the window, looking down at his phone.

He's dressed pristinely in a dark blue shirt, black pants and shoes, though the top buttons on his shirt are open, giving off a more casual vibe than his work shirt from earlier.

You watch him take a slow breath, and then lift his head in realisation, turning to look at you.

You smile at him as he turns, fitting his phone into his pocket in one swift moment, slowly approaching you.

He doesn't say anything, and you're too afraid to see repulsion in his eyes to keep looking at him, so instead you study his attire as well, admiring the way he looks, noticing the delicate silver chain shimmering around his neck as he moves.

He says your name, and you glance up at him with wide eyes as he stands before you.

He takes another slow breath, and raises a hand to push some of your hair away from your scent gland, the tips of his fingers just gently brushing it, eliciting an almost violent shiver of pleasure. 

“You look…” He lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly, “I can’t find the right word. Beautiful? Divine? Bewitching. Radiant...”

Delight bubbles inside of you until you can't resist a pleased smile.

“Thank you, Alpha, you look very nice too.”

When you say his title, you watch his eyes darken, his scent growing a little stronger in the space between you as his body calls out to yours.

You can feel it, the heat between you, the promise that he would take care of your every need no matter what.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you swear his words have a double meaning.

You nod, because you can't say it out loud, that you were starving, famished, not just for food but for the pleasure of his company, for the pleasure of him.

He guides you to the far end of the restaurant, towards a secluded corner, where there's a table waiting for you. 

You don’t get a chance to study the table because you’re distracted by a large… object covered in a velvet shroud. 

You walk around the object, preoccupied with it, turning to look at William with your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“It’s my surprise,” He explains, stepping closer to you so that you can breathe him in, “I hope you like it.”

You look at it, the velvet shroud going up high, hanging precariously from the ceiling you think, one firm tug might bring it down.

When you look back at him, he’s got his eyes on you.

“When can I see what it is?” You ask eagerly.

He blinks, as if coming back to himself, glancing at the object as if he’s just remembered it.

“Take a step back,” He instructs, waiting until you comply to give another directive with a low voice.

“Close your eyes.”

Your heart pounds, excitement and anxiety war within you, the former winning over as you let your eyes close.

You hear footsteps, and then a tug, the sound of the shroud falling and the wind it generates as it does, caressing your face.

There’s a moment of silence, where your impatience fights you to open your eyes before he says, but you try your best to wait for William’s permission.

“You can open them now.”

You gasp in shock when you recognise what you’re looking at.

There’s so much gold, the painting glimmers in the light of the falling sun, you take a step forward, unsure of where to begin your examination. 

You tilt your head, studying the little flowers first, eyes roaming up to examine the clothing of the two subjects in the portrait, then the hands, the different colours, the flowers in her hair, the leaves in his.

A larger, male subject, pressing a kiss onto his lover’s cheek.

The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt.

“It’s beautiful, so much like the real one.” You murmur absentmindedly.

“It is the real one.” 

You pause, unable to register his words, before turning to him in shock, lips parted.

The alpha’s pleased expression grows into a smile.

“What do you mean this is the real one? The real one’s in Europe somewhere.”

He nods, as if to agree with you.

“Vienna, yes.”

You turn to examine the painting once more.

“...How?...Why?”

“I think you’ll find that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make your eyes glitter like they are right now.”

Me? You think in shock, looking away, down, towards the floor, unable to process the implications of his words.

He takes a step closer to you, catching your attention, you turn to him just as he reaches you. 

For a long moment, all you do is look into each other’s eyes. You take a slow breath, breathing in his citrus smell, the bergamot chasing after you.

You turn your head back to the painting, studying it while you feel his eyes on you.

“It’s gorgeous, Alpha, thank you.” You feel so much emotion, that it fills your throat and threatens to spill out.

Your lip wobbles, glancing up at him for a moment, and then turning away when you realise that he can probably see the tears in your eyes.

You feel his hand on your arm.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why the tears?”

“It’s stupid, sorry.” You take a deep breath, sighing when he extends a handkerchief to you that you accept gratefully.

His hand moves, to wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Talk to me.” He whispers, his breath disturbing your hair.

“No one’s ever-” You let out a little laugh of delirium, “-No one’s ever done something so thoughtful for me.”

He hums, as though he understands, sympathizes with you, he wraps his arms around you, tucks your head into his chest.

His scent wraps around you, soothing you almost instantly, your eyes flutter shut as you register the beat of his heart below your ear.

“I just wanted to see you smile.” He says.

You do.

.

Dinner comes in a few moments later, and he guides you to the table just behind, with soft, comfortable chairs to settle into. He even checks in on your level of ease, inquiring about the brightness, and whether or not it was satisfactory. You smile softly, calmly reassuring him that the area was perfect, the tint on the windows keeping the intensity of the light low. Dim and comfortable, you can’t really ask for anything more.

The first course is a light broth, and you're a little confused that they brought this out without having you look at a menu.

It's definitely refreshing, to not have to struggle with a decision on what to eat, but you're not sure if to ask William about it, in case it's just some rich person custom that you're unfamiliar with.

In any case, this arrangement pleases you because it means you can stare at The Kiss in admiration while the sun sets, casting a soft orange glow around the room, enhancing the mostly gold painting.

“Will you tell me about it?” William asks, and you spare a shy glance at him.

He tilts his head in the direction of the painting. You swallow your food, gathering your thoughts to answer.

“It's inspired by the painter and his lover, it's one of the most popular paintings of an alpha and omega pairing. There was a… speculation that they were soulmates, but I'm not sure how true that is. Some people think that because the omega is turning away, that the kiss isn't consensual… but I don't think so, she seems… happy to me.”

“You don't think they were soulmates?”

You turn to William.

“Not really, I don't… believe in the soulmate theory.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“No?” He says curiously.

You shake your head.

“It's a little unreal to think that there’s some kind of perfect match for a person.” 

“It's not necessarily a perfect match like in the movies, it's a suggestion of… compatibility really.” He says.

You blink, studying his expression, wanting to express your disbelief that he would believe in something so farfetched but not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It's not even a perfect match, it's the way the theory specifically targets alpha and omega pairings. As if omegas aren't already bound by their biology enough, someone had to come up with an idea to hold us back even further by romanticising the concept of an alpha match.” You keep your tone calm, so that he understands you're not upset.

He tilts his head in contemplation.

“You don't like the idea of being with an alpha?”

You swallow.

“That's… not what I mean. I just don't like being forced into thinking that it's my only option in search of companionship.”

He makes a face of contemplation, seeming to understand where you were coming from.

Plus, it was a trick alphas had used with you in the past to encourage you to stay in toxic environments.

Don't give up on us, omega, we're soulmates, I can feel it.

You had been fooled before, it would not happen again.

William studies you for a long moment, and you gaze back evenly, before he smiles, tilting his head once more to lighten the mood.

“You make a good point, but still, I can’t help but point out the ways alphas are made for omegas, of course a pairing between them would be stronger.”

His words take you aback, it's the first time someone has ever made the comment that alphas are the ones made for omegas, usually they say it the other way around.

“Maybe…” You concede, unable to stop yourself from thinking about his words. You wonder for a brief moment if he was made for you.

It sends a warm feeling across your chest.

You turn your head, looking up at The Kiss.

“My past experience has made me skeptical about the entire theory, Alphas before have used it to keep me compliant.”

He lets out an audible breath, and when you turn your head to look at him, you find his fists curled and his head dipped low.

The scent of anger hits you, spicy in the air, like a mix between smoke and hot peppers.

“Alpha?” You whisper in concern, worried that his anger is directed toward you.

Tentatively, you reach out, fingers shaking slightly as you touch one of his clenched fists.

He relaxes the fist, turns his hand upward so that his palm is pressed upward into yours. Your palm tingles where you touch.

“Angry on your behalf, omega,” He tries to explain with a low voice, “You shouldn't have had to go through that.”

Realisation washes over you. The smell of his anger excites you now that you understand it's not directed at you.

You feel butterflies, you feel warmth, you suck in a deep breath to get some semblance of control over your hindbrain.

“Thank you, Alpha.” Your voice, almost a purr.

He blinks, studying you,  his eyes shifting from surprise to pleased as he realises the effect he has on you.

The sound of footsteps coming your way makes you draw back.

The second course is lobster pasta, creamy and delicious and you try extra hard not to make yourself messy while eating it.

“What do you think?” He asks between bites of his food.

You look up, eyes wide as he gazes back at you.

You swallow your food, thinking hard about what to say.

“I'm still skeptical about the soulmate theory, but maybe you're right that it does exist. Looking at the painting up close, you see that gold aura surrounding both of them? I think that's supposed to represent their bond. They loved each other, there's no question there.”

You watch a smile pull onto his perfect face.

“I meant the meal, sweetheart.”

Your face grows warm.

“Oh… It's good!” You look down at the plate shyly, “Yeah.”

He chuckles. 

“You're very cute when you're shy.”

You bite the edge of your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He grins down at you and something warm settles in your stomach. You wanted to kiss him.

Maybe you could, maybe he would let you. 

In this beautiful dress you feel like you're not yourself, your insecurities washing away under his gaze. For the first time, you’re just an omega, enjoying the company of an alpha that you hope could be yours in time.

You think about being in his arms, the way he makes you feel, his ability to soothe you, the ways you hope he would sate you.

You suck in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before your pheromones give away your needy state of mind.

Should you take him up on his offer to be his Omega? Would it be possible to balance that? How would it even work?

“William?” You say softly.

He pauses his movements to look at you.

“Earlier- Maria called you ‘Billy’- made me wonder if you were friends?”

The corner of his lips pull into an affectionate smile, you try really hard not to worry about the other omega.

“Maria is mated to my brother, Frank. She owns a small salon on the east side, I thought she would help you feel comfortable.”

That's so thoughtful, you think.

“Yes, she was amazing, thank you.”

If this was a trap, then it was well set, you couldn't see a flaw, you didn't have any reason to think he could be like other Alphas.

“Everyone has called me “Billy” for as long as I can remember. My real name had never really appealed to me until I heard you say it.”

You give him a warm smile, your stomach fluttering at the privilege you didn't realize you had until now.

You wanted this so much that it terrified you. To be his Omega- what would it be like? To have unrestrained access to him, to be able to scent him as you please, to be scented in return.

He sucks in a sharp breath, leaning away, it catches your attention. Your eyes widen when you realise your pheromones are heavy in the air.

His eyes roll shut, he lets out a shaky breath, fingers curling because of you for the second time tonight.

It doesn't help, the look of him, barely restrained, fighting his nature with every ounce of self control only makes you want him more.

“I'm sorry.” You whisper, scared to break his focus.

He lets out a breath, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. The look of leashed delirium in his eyes when he finally opens them.

“Don't be.” He responds, his voice so deep that it almost makes you shiver with how pleasing it sounds.

You suck in deep breaths too, to calm yourself, eyes drifting to the painting to let it distract you.

You certainly were a match, there was no question about it, the urge to tear at each other was there, the only thing holding you back was social etiquette, and your internal reservations.

The effect your heat must have had on him- you almost feel sorry for what you might have put him through. 

Dessert is a caramel drizzled pecan cookie, soft and chewy, the right amount of spices and sugar that makes you lick your fingers afterwards with the knowledge that it was the best cookie you've ever had.

You catch him looking at you with kind eyes and you try your best not to shy away from his gaze.

When you excuse yourself to the restroom, you try to look like you know where you're going, at least until you're out of his eyesight, and then you wander around the empty restaurant until you find a sign pointing you in the right direction.

You’re in one of the stalls when you hear loud voices and footsteps.

“-my god! That is literally the hottest Alpha I’ve ever seen in real life.” A first voice says, on the side of a little too high pitched for your sensitive ears.

“I knoooow,” The other person responds, “I would literally do anything he asked me to do.”

You pause, feeling a little strange to interrupt their obviously personal conversation by stepping out.

“I heard from Tim that he rented out the entire restaurant for the night just to impress some omega.”

Wait, were they talking about William?

You hear the stall next to you open and close, the taps turning on.

“No, I think they had to clear the restaurant for the night because of the painting and something about security.”

“Oh, that makes sense, the amount he must have paid to get all that done in one evening. God, I would jump him literally after dessert.”

You hear a groan, the sound of water as the taps turn on.

“I know right? I’ve been totally scenting the air in hopes that he gives me a second look. Nothing too obvious, only subtle enough for him. I really, really hope…”

The rest is unintelligible as the voices fade.

You wait a few more moments to make sure they’re really gone before you unlatch the door and step out.

It’s a lot of information to have overheard, and you’re not really sure what to think.

You step up to the sink, washing your hands methodically, reaching for a little towel to dry your hands, before looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

You smile at yourself, hindbrain preening that Alpha had gone through such lengths to capture and hold your attention. That maybe, Alpha wanted you, really really wanted you and no other omega would do.

He’s standing at the painting when you see him again, the table has been cleared, and you watch him as he focuses on the canvas in front of him.

He turns to look at you when he catches movement in his peripherals.

You’re very skittish to approach him, your mind spinning at a mile a minute, trying to both overthink and under simplify the actions you want to make.

The expression on your face must worry him, his eyebrows draw together as he studies you.

“Is everything alright?” He asks calmly, and you lift your head, studying his face of concentration.

You part your lips, trying to speak, no words able to leave your moving lips.

He dips his head, trying to make sense of the nothingness escaping you.

His scent fills your nose, the citrus, the bergamot, a very new touch of spice that pushes your hindbrain into desperation.

“Alpha.” You whisper softly, a touch of yearning in your voice, tilting your head up to press your lips to his.

It’s an instant, and total erasure of any higher thought. The way his mouth feels against yours, like something ancient and primal finding its way back to each other again. A familiarity that your mind and body has been searching for from the day you presented. 

It’s over too soon, even though it feels like it lasted forever. Time slows as you lean away, looking up at him, searching his eyes for any sign that you’ve made the wrong move, the ghost of his touch tingling at your lips.

You listen to the depth of his breathing, your heart hammering anxiously in your chest, awaiting his reaction. You catch a flare of his scent, the citrus notes deepening and your hindbrain eases your anxiety, a response that tells you that Alpha is pleased.

Finally, he makes a low hum, stepping forward, one arm winding around your back so that your bodies are pressed flush to each other.

“Omega.” He rumbles in response, fingers under your chin to tilt your head, guiding your mouth to his once more.

His mouth is insistent, pressing back, meeting every move of your desire with a response of his own. He moans, his warm breath on your tongue as the kiss grows into something… more.

Losing yourself, your hands cling to his shoulders, finding balance as you rise onto your toes, desperate to taste him, to feel the ache of yearning ease with each move of his mouth.

His lips are soft, sinful, you can feel his barely restrained movements, his hand gliding to grip the back of your neck, trapping you in place as if you could ever think about departing from his embrace.

Your scent gland tingles, spilling your need into the air, your body trying its best to entice him.

His mouth grows more insistent, demanding, and you find yourself responding, lips parting, tongue reaching out to gently graze along his bottom lip. 

His hold on you tightens, fingers gripping your hip deliciously, desire pooling low in your stomach in response.

Both of his hands cup your face, kisses slowing as if he's trying to find the strength to stop but unable to.

You smile into the kisses, each one more meaningful than the last, until finally he pauses, looking down at you with a pleased expression on his face.

His thumb glides along your lips, the scent of both your desires intermingling heavily in the air.

“I take it then, that you don't want me to leave you alone after this?” 

You huff out a laugh, almost rolling your eyes.

He grins too, before leaning in to get one more kiss.

“Maybe,” you murmur softly, “Maybe I don't.”

He hums in agreement, dipping his head, unable to stop himself from getting yet another kiss.

Your heart feels so full in your chest, it feels like you're going to burst with the flood of emotion. He doesn't push you into anything, avoids touching your scent glands though you know you both want him to. You can feel his fingers tightening their grip on your cheek and jaw, trying their hardest not to wander.

His scent grows more potent in the room, and by the time you leave, the betas in the restaurant are giving him their largest doe eyed stares.

It's a shame for them that he barely spares them a glance, his hand settled on the small of your back to put you at ease by making you feel protected.

His scent overwhelms you in the car, but you've been aching and wet for a while and you've just kind of gotten used to the discomforts of unresolved desire. You know without a doubt that you're going to have to relieve this ache inside of you by yourself tonight, and it's definitely going to be his name on your tongue the entire time you do it.

You take a long look at him beside you, and you wonder if he would be doing the same.

Tucked into his side, it's easy to tilt your head up, and press your nose to his scent gland, breathing him in, hearing him groan in response, your body tingling.

He doesn't stop you, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip hard to stop yourself from kissing the spot on the base of his neck.

It's surreal, the time you spend with him, that when he stops at the wrong building, it's like a punch to the gut.

This is where you'd lied and told him you lived… because you were ashamed of your real address.

“Can I walk you to your door?” He asks politely, warm reassurance in his eyes that he simply wants to make sure you're safe.

“No.” You answer hastily, smiling in an attempt to put him at ease, “I'm alright, thank you.”

You glance down at your strawberry dress, anxiety filling you at the thought of being seen in something like this, that it might catch attention you didn't want.

“It's cold outside, do you want my coat?”

You blink up at him in surprise.

He gives you a teasing smile, reaching for a garment on the seat in front of him, producing a familiar coat and extending it to you.

You swallow, accepting the coat on autopilot, face heating as you remember the things you did with this coat during your last heat.

You bring it up to your nose, hindbrain in control, taking a slow inhale of his scent.

Fuck, it was delicious. Your mouth waters as you meet his dark eyes.

“Thank you, Alpha.” You purr, sliding the coat on, over your dress, watching his eyes darken further at the sound of your voice.

He reaches up, trapping a lock of your hair between his fingers, twisting it, tugging on it gently as his hand slides down.

He looks like he’s deep in thought, but you’re just not sure about what.

“Goodnight, Omega.” He finally says, after a few moments of silence.

Stepping out of the car, leaving him behind, your limbs grow heavy with protest the further away you get from him.

When you make it into the building, you finally see his SUV drive away.

.

There’s an ache to leaving you behind that leaves Billy both confused and captivated.

He lets out a slow breath, sinking into the seat, head tipped back. 

Keeping himself in check had been the most difficult thing he’d ever experienced. To look at you, was to want you, and to want you, was to need you. Every look, every touch, every smile on your mouth was a lesson in self control. 

He was unbelievably afraid of scaring you away, that his control would slip, and his desires would show, and they would terrify you into leaving.

The ways he wanted you, the ways he thought about you. He lets out a soft groan, tugging at his shirt to get himself more air, but all he can smell is you.

He wants the feel of your bare hips in his hands, the taste of your skin in his mouth, his lips over your scent gland, your pitiful little whines filling his ears as he takes his time with you, discovering every way one human can make another fall apart, so that he can put you back together again.

Thoughts, that were maybe too insane to be thinking after a second date. Thoughts that would make you run if you knew just how close he’d been to actually carrying them out. No Omega, had ever made him hurt with the fear of rejection quite like this before.

That solid ache in his chest to be in your presence was only getting stronger, and then you'd kissed him.

He lifts a hand, pressing it to his mouth, remembering the way your lips had felt, the way your scent had sweetened. He resists a groan, your scent calling out to him like a beacon in the dark.

With his eyes closed, he could feel a pull, drawing him in the opposite direction of where he was going.

His apartment is lonely. The silence is loud, the smell is all wrong. He fits himself into his single sofa chair, large enough that his pretty Omega could fit herself into the space beside him, or on top of him if she’d like. He sips on the whiskey in his hand, an attempt to ease his nerves, to make the wrongness of his place feel a little less so.

He lets the silence fill him, wonders what you’re doing, thinks about texting you. He opens his phone and sees all his sent messages.

Billy hesitates.

Maybe he should wait, let you reach out this time, whenever you were ready. 

Puts his phone down, thinks about you more, groans when he catches your scent on his clothes.

It hurt to wait. It made his chest burn with the notion that he couldn’t just reach out to you, because you might draw back.

He presses a hand to his chest, tries to take a deep breath and be patient.

The whiskey is almost finished when he feels his phone vibrate.

He picks it up, and smiles.

.

.

.

[grape-jucie-dog]

It's Grape back at it again with a depressing idea for Athena because she's just very easy to break 💀

The recent Helluva Boss actually gave me this idea-

Spoilers for those who haven't seen the new episode and would actually like to watch it at some point, but for those who don't wanna watch or just don't care for spoilers, feel free to keep reading (Spoilers are in read, the idea for Athena is in blue for those who still wanna see the idea)

So in the episode, Blitz gets a really terrible vision of dead Millies that are trying to attack him (Each Millie is a way she could've died in previous episodes). Eventually he gets away from them, but he ends up running into his mother, who as some may know, passed away when the circus caught on fire. In this hallucination, he basically watches his mom burn in his hands. Millie (the real Millie) ends up finding him freaking out in a room, and he goes on about how he makes everyone's lives worse.

Now picture that, but with Athena. Imagine she's dealing with another nightmare, made even worse because of the fever she's dealing with. Imagine it's Pallas that's trying to get her, or Odysseus, or maybe even both. The two of them are calling Athena out on all of her flaws, maybe even throw in other gods in there. Gods she doesn't have a good relationship with, like Ares and Aphrodite and Poseidon, and have Zeus be there. All of these people in this dream are representing different feelings:

Ares is her anger and frustration

Aphrodite is her struggles to comprehend how much she cares for Odysseus and Telemachus

Poseidon is her pride and her arrogance

Odysseus and Pallas are examples of the people she's hurt, Pallas is crying, Odysseus is enraged

Zeus is her struggle to remain the perfect daughter he once knew, to be flawless like he wants her to be.

And suddenly, she sees Metis. Or at least, what she believes Metis would look like. She runs into her mother's arms, taking the form of a teenager, crying about the horrible dream she's having. But this isn't Metis, Metis doesn't exist anymore. She melts away into a puddle, melting in Athena's arms. Athena screams, pleading for her mother not to go, screaming about how sorry she is for everything.

Someone wakes her up in the infirmary, trying to help her, but she pushes them away. She doesn't want to hurt anyone else. She knows she makes everything worse, everyone she's known, everyone she gets close to, she only hurts and frustrates them.

[fall0utmind]

Medical Leak AU CH9

On a roll this week!!!!

ao3 here / medical leak au tag on tumblr

Hope you guys enjoy this one, I loved writing it. We are so nearly done now wooooo!!!

Let me know what you think :)

Chapter 9: Redemption (~5k)

The sound of motorcycle engines is humming in his veins. The smell of leather lighting up every synapse. It’s better than any high he’s ever had.

He guns it off the line but misjudges slightly and drops some positions. He ends up swerving to avoid a collision in the middle of the pack and bites his tongue to hold in a shout. Pole to 10th in a corner. Fucking typical. He keeps his head down and pushes on.

Marc knows he can put on a good performance, he can feel it in his bones, the same way he knows that he can be world champion again, that he has the strength to continue in the face of adversity. The world will throw its gauntlet at his feet, but Marc continues to pick it up, bloodied and bruised from the battles that came before. He refuses to give up, taking the hard line at every turn, making moves through the pack. By turn 5 he’s in 4th, just Jorge, Enea, and Pecco ahead of him. In his peripheral, he catches a flash of yellow, Bezzecchi riding by his side. His stomach gives a sickening lurch at the lurid colour, Valentino’s yellow. His mind threatens to fixate on the memories of him but he squashes it down as small as possible. He refuses to let Valentino wreck anything else. This race is his. He will think about Valentino after.

He feels good, the bike is dancing to his tune, not fighting him on every corner like the last few years on the Honda. He’s not on the quickest bike, but he sure as hell will back himself as the best rider. He gives it hell on the next lap, battling hard and clinching a place from Enea. He almost loses the front on the same turn as yesterday, his elbow and knee brushing against the tarmac before he slings himself upright, heaving a deep breath.

He lets out a manic laugh. He feels alive.

On lap 20 he breaks the gap to Pecco and Jorge, hunting them down like prey. He passes Jorge fairly easily, whipping around him on a tight corner line, body tucked close to the track.

Pecco puts up more of a fight. They battle through the penultimate laps, trading positions once they have dropped Jorge. A glance to his right reveals that the Italian is beside him. He grins, pressing down on the throttle.

He throws everything at the last lap, taking every corner on the edge, tucking himself flush against the bike on the straights. He’s pulling away from the red Ducati; it slots in behind him on the last few turns. Marc is too far ahead now, head bowed as he approaches the start/finish straight.

The emotions that rise when he crosses the finish line threaten to overwhelm him. They bubble up and explode as he pumps his fists in the air, screaming at the top of his lungs. He ducks his head to press against his bike, fighting the tears that want to fall.

On the cool-down lap, it feels like every rider on the grid congratulates him. Marc flips his visor up to meet Pecco’s eyes as he swerves closer for a fist bump. Aleix shouts praise at him, audible even over the wind which whips past them. Even Bez rides adjacent to gesture happily to him.

He does cry when he pulls up to the number one spot. It’s been so long. After everything, it feels like redemption. His team, his family, pull him into their arms, screaming at him and slapping him all over. Marc is crying and grinning and laughing. Alex is there, tugging him into a long hug, kissing his head as they pull apart. Dani and Jorge wrap their arms around him and whisper praise into his ears. Dovi leaps over the fence to tug him into a hug. It makes Marc laugh and laugh until he can barely see straight through the dampness in his eyes and the ache in his stomach.

Pecco and Enea have pulled into the second and third-place slots respectively. They both embrace him, congratulating him quietly. Marc smiles at them, small but honest. He feels like he has broken through a glass ceiling somewhere. He doesn’t know what that means. Some of the Factory Ducati team slap his back as he passes; GiGi grins at him knowingly.

He is on top of the world.

He barely registers as they are escorted into the back of a car. Marc tries to keep his feet on the ground. He dances onto the podium, drinking up the atmosphere as his team whistles from below. He allows a real, beaming smile to engulf his face, stretching wider as he looks up at the sky. Despite the predominantly Italian crowd, he can’t hear any boos, Marc wonders what that means. They cheer when he receives his trophy and get louder as he is drenched in champagne by Frankie, Pecco, and Enea. All of them are grinning proudly at him. He feels a little drunk.

(He hasn’t had a sip yet)

As the podium celebrations die down, something catches his eye. In the crowd, standing to the side is Valentino. Marc chokes. Valentino never watches a podium when Marc is on it, even if one of the academy boys has won. Valentino does not look away, staring at where Marc is glowing on the top step, champagne and sweat glistening on his skin.

Vale looks like he has seen a god.

Marc feels off-kilter, something akin to hope blooming within him.

*

Rules dictate that Marc has to endure another media session after he is swept off the podium. He temporarily pushes Vale to the back of his mind as they are herded into the usual post-race routine. The media pen is as busy as usual, and the sickening dread has returned in full force. He considers ignoring any questions related to his mental health in prior years, but then he remembers the interactions from this morning. Marc decides that he will no longer be ashamed.

Instead, he stares directly into the cameras as he confirms the truth of the articles. He stands tall and says he is proud of himself for overcoming his challenges. He desperately hopes it inspires others to reach out for help. He smiles as he details that he is doing much better now, thanks to the support of his family and professionals. When he asks for respect and privacy, he thinks about all the damage this has caused. He knows there will be people who never look at him the same, their cruel words will now always take a certain tone, and from now on he will be the rider who almost died by suicide. He makes peace with it.

Marc frowns at the cameras, considering for a second. He thinks of Valentino standing at the bottom of the podium and decides. He steals himself and does what he should have done years ago. For once, he hopes it goes viral. Marc must lay out the pain caused by the people who have manipulated the truth. He bites his lip.

“My life has been dramatically changed across the last 11 years in this sport. It has been the most incredible opportunity, but it has also been the hardest time of my life. I have been slandered by the press, stalked, and harassed. It has been a rough ride, some of the most painful moments of my life. A lot of it is due to words rather than crashes or injuries. I will always be more than the comments and the press, but I am a real person, with real feelings, and a family who love me.”, he states.

He smiles slightly, feeling vindicated and continues.

“The people who say these things must live sad and shallow lives and should find a more productive use of their time. I will no longer sit and take it. I am an 8-time world champion. I have come through hell and back and have the scars to prove it. You do not get to sit and comment on me until you have been through similar.”

He smirks, his PR training has gone out of the window. The reporter looks shell-shocked. Despite it all, the pain and the lies he has relived this weekend, Marc is grinning to himself as he walks away.

When he arrives back at the garage, his press officer wisely doesn’t say anything. He detects a slight hint of pride on her face and grins widely. He knows they will talk about it another day, but for now, he allows himself to get sucked into the team celebrations. A sea of blue surrounds Marc, his little family that he now calls home. Someone is blasting music out of a speaker. Marc is singing at the top of his lungs, bouncing around with Alex, and pulling his crew into the celebration.

Before long, the booze is brought out. Two guys from the team grab Marc, holding him tight as they drench him in champagne, making him splutter and squirm in their arms. He is covered in the sticky liquid, wiping at his eyes in a failed attempt to see. Dani, Dovi, and Jorge are still with them, watching on with proud expressions. Another bottle of champagne is dumped over Marc’s head, and he cackles loudly, his elation spilling over. He has missed this. Marc drinks some of the sweet liquid from the bottle being poured into his mouth. Once he is released, he turns his attention to Alex and the crew, and an evil smile is on his face. Marc aims for revenge but somehow gets more drenched in the process. He couldn’t care less; happiness bubbling inside of him.

He feels like a weight has been lifted, in more ways than one. He won a race again; he effectively told the media to fuck off. He giggles a little, champagne going straight to his head and making him giddy. He hands the bottle to Dovi and Dani, goading them to drink some before he thoroughly soaks them straight after. Jorge glares at him for that. Marc can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

It’s Alex who shows him, once the champagne has been put away and the towels handed out. He shoves his phone into Marc’s hands with no preamble. Marc squints at the screen and almost chucks the phone back at his brother. On-screen, Valentino is giving an interview, it’s clearly from this weekend, after the race.  Marc wonders what the hell Alex is thinking. He shoots his brother a look, silently asking.

“Just listen to it”, Alex implores.

Marc sighs, unimpressed by Alex’s demands. He doesn’t want to see whatever Valentino has said to the press; he’s sure it won’t be nice. He presses play anyway. Once the video loads, Marc can’t tear his eyes away. Valentino looks deflated as if the wind has been stolen from his sails. He looks sad. Marc strains his ears to listen intently to Valentino's rapid Italian, shock punching him in the stomach as he registers exactly what he is saying. Valentino compliments Marc’s race and his win, even suggesting that races like this were what made him one of the greats.

One of the greats.

Marc thinks he might have hit his head, maybe he’s in a coma and this is some weird dream. On his screen, Valentino looks into the camera and says that Marc is brave to have faced all his life adversities and come out smiling, which the average person would not be able to manage. The real kicker is what happens next. Valentino apologises, live on air. Claiming that he was sorry his actions had caused such turmoil in Marc’s life and asking the media to respect his privacy and be kind. Marc drops the phone.

The cynical part of Marc’s brain screams that Valentino is being superficial, an easy way to make himself look good. The rational part admits that the Valentino he knows could never apologise in private, let alone in front of millions of people in a public interview. He’s serious about this. This is his way of proving he is sorry. It makes him feel hesitant.

(It makes him feel a tiny bit pleased and possessive that Valentino would admit that in front of everyone).

He bends down to pick up the phone, smiling sheepishly as he hands it back to Alex. Deep down he knows it is an olive branch from Valentino, but he will have to do more than that to win Marc’s trust back. The older man has caused too much hurt to be fixed in one simple interview. At this point, Marc doesn’t know if he will be able to rekindle their friendship, no matter how much he loves Valentino.

*

Once the track celebrations have died down, they make plans for the evening. Soon enough, Marc finds himself strolling into a local club with Alex in tow. The lighting is low and red, very red. It casts everything in an atmospheric hue which screams drama and sex; Marc grins at the thought. Strobe lights shine in time to the throbbing bass, illuminating the floor in flashes. Opposite the entrance is a large bar stocked with every type of alcohol Marc could think of. A sprawling dance floor is already filled with writhing bodies. Across the room, tucked into a quieter corner, there are elaborate tables and booths of plush leather with golden details. Marc guesses this is what money buys.

He beelines to the bar, dragging Alex with him. He has to lean over the counter to shout his order, smiling at the bartender who stares with wide eyes. When they return with his drinks, Marc promptly chugs the first of the two drinks he ordered. He grins as he places the cup down, unabashed. Alex reaches around him to take his own drink before he tugs Marc back onto the floor.

They make their way towards the table which the team have claimed, Marc, clutching his drink in one hand and holding onto Alex’s shirt with the other. People cheer as the brothers approach, slapping Marc’s back and shouting greetings at them both. Dovi is already there and when their eyes meet, he raises his drink in a toast. Marc sips some of the sweet alcohol, allowing himself to relax. He is still in the afterglow of his win, practically buzzing with it. The weekend has been tough, but after 3 years without a win, he deserves this.

Most of the Gresini team are here to celebrate Marc’s victory with him. Marc takes the time to search the vicinity for familiar faces. He lights up when he spots Frankie walking towards the group carrying more drinks and pulls him into a warm hug. There are also several other teams and pilots, Marc thinks he sees Pecco in the distance. The alcohol is free-flowing from pretty early on in the evening, so it’s not long before Marc is feeling loose and tipsy. He allows people to grasp him, shouting congratulations in his ear. Marc feels happy.

Dani and Jorge turn up half an hour late, looking slightly flushed. Dovi smirks at them but Dani steps on his foot before he can comment. Marc and Alex grin. No one says a word.

They lose Alex at some point. Upon a quick scan of the area, Marc spots him chatting away with Franco, which is certainly a turn of events. Alex is talking excitedly, hands moving rapidly as he does. Franky is watching with rapt fascination, his face slightly awed. And gross. Since when were they a thing? He makes a mental note to grill his brother at a later date. Preferably once he’s drunk. He looks away. A head of brunette curls catches his eye in the crowd, Marc really hopes that’s not who he thinks it is. He swallows around the discomfort in his throat and suddenly feels way too sober. Consequently, he offers to get the next round, forcing his friends to come with him.

Dovi slots himself against Marc’s back as he orders, talking to Dani and Jorge animatedly as he does so. Those two have given up being subtle at this point, Jorge’s hand on Dani’s waist as they talk. Marc is happy for them; they seem to be made for one another with their shared understanding of each other’s lives and passions. It is a good fit. They are sickeningly domestic; Jorge looks at Dani like he’s the whole universe. It makes Marc’s chest ache a little.

He focuses instead on handing each man their drink, indicating that the bill should be added to his tab. Dovi takes his drink and smacks a kiss onto Marc’s cheek, laughing when he pulls a disgusted face.

“Thanks, babe”, Dovi says, amusement colouring his voice. Marc sticks his tongue out.

Jorge scoffs, “Get a room, guys.”

Dovi grins back at him, a little sharp around the edges.

 “Ah, maybe we will”, he retorts.

Marc smirks, chipping into the teasing conversation, “It will be right next to yours”.

Marc laughs, loud and delighted, at the grossed-out look on Jorge’s face. Dani starts giggling, muttering something about Marc probably being loud. Marc doesn’t deny it. He’s still chuckling to himself when he realises that the others have fallen oddly quiet. Dani is staring at something over Marc’s shoulder, his eyes wide. Marc turns to look behind him, only to stumble when he sees Valentino a few steps away, his face sour.

Valentino closes the gap a little more, eyes flicking between the group of four. He looks way too sober to be here. His eyes look dull without their trademark spark of humour. Marc wonders why he’s come. Valentino’s voice is calmly controlled when he asks to speak to Marc but even he cannot conceal the flash of irritation when Dovi replies first.

“No, Rossi. Leave him alone for once in your life”, Dovi seethes.

Valentino looks like he’s going to argue, the familiar anger building behind his eyes. But to Marc’s surprise, he exhales harshly, dropping his gaze to the floor before he turns on his heels and stalks away.  It leaves Marc feeling adrift, the haze of alcohol lifting and leaving behind pure confusion. What could Valentino want so badly and why did he leave without a fight? It was so unlike him.

He thinks back on the interview from earlier, the easy way Valentino had praised Marc, had defended him. Now this, his uncharacteristic calmness and walking away from an argument. Marc doesn’t understand what it means. He puts his head in his hands and groans. Things could never be simple, could they? He turns back to the others, who are staring at him with looks of sympathy and pity. He can’t stand it. Instead, he gestures to the tables, determined to forget about it all for the next few hours.

*

Marc has lost track of the number of drinks he’s had; at some point, people had begun pressing them into his hands- the perks of winning. He’s been dragged onto the dance floor by someone and is happily swaying his hips to the beat. He had lost his friends a while ago, he assumes they are back at the table rather than dancing (too old or something). Instead, he finds himself with a very drunk Bezzecchi and a substantially more sober (although definitely tipsy) Pecco.

Bez is careless as he happily dances with Marc, his hands all over the Spaniard as he bounces to the music. When they had first bumped into each other on the dancefloor, Bez had fluttered around awkwardly, as if unsure about what he was allowed.  Pecco had pulled Marc into a tipsy hug, grinning at him and staying by his side and Bez had taken this as permission. It’s no secret that the Italian is a touchy person, and clearly, he now feels content to be as close to Marc as physically possible. Hence Marc is dancing with two Italians who can’t keep their hands to themselves. He is too drunk to care. He feels eyes on him all evening, burning hot attention. He cannot identify who it is. 

At some point, Celestino joins their group. Marc is unfamiliar with the younger rider since he has not yet made the step to the higher class. But Bez is clearly fond of him. The two are plastered together from the minute he arrives, giving Marc some needed breathing room. He laughs at their clinginess. They were clearly made for each other, he says as much to Pecco, who just laughs knowingly. Marc cannot help the sense of contentment he feels, alongside the slither of sadness that he has been missing out on this. He is not sure he can lose the fondness he has gained for the other riders this weekend. He hopes he won’t have to.

Bez turns to Marc, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Can you stop Vale from being so grumpy? I do not want to do more laps next time we train”, he slurs, drawing out the ‘e’ in Valentino’s name.

“What?”, Marc asks.

“I don’t know. He has been moody all day. Pecco is not talking to him, Luca is being odd. Now he is staring daggers at us for no reason. I do not like it. I want us to be normal.”, Bez grumbles. Marc thinks he sounds a bit like a child when he is drunk and cranky.

Bez frowns, as if deep in thought.

“Although you can stay.”, he decides.

“I like you more than I thought. He is obsessed with you though. It’s always Marc this, or Marquez that. Anyone would think he was jealous with the way he goes on-”

Bez’s monologue is prematurely cut off by Pecco slapping a hand over his mouth, preventing him from saying much else. But the damage is done, Marc stands with his mouth agape, staring at the Italians. Belatedly, Marc thinks it's rather sweet that Bez already appears fond of him, although that could be alcohol speaking. His brain is stuck on the idea that Valentino is obsessed with him, that he talks about him, and that the boys think he is jealous. Jealous of what, Marc is not sure. Thinking about it makes his head spin. Suddenly, he feels like he desperately needs some fresh air.

He turns on his heel and pushes through the crowd, distantly aware of Pecco scolding Bez in his periphery. He’s hot and sweaty when he eventually escapes the dance floor. He picks his way across the room, stumbling out the back, which is blissfully empty. He gulps in the fresh air, allowing it to cool his clammy skin. Marc is too drunk to fathom the words Bez has just said.

Marc doesn’t know how long he has been standing there, staring into space, when he hears the door open and close behind him and the warm press of another body. He jerks backwards, his eyes bugging when he realises that Valentino has joined him. The older man looks worse for wear, yet somehow still gorgeous. His normally startling blue eyes are clouded, and he is swaying slightly on the spot. Marc groans internally. Now is the worst possible time for this to happen. Marc has consumed far too much alcohol for this and Valentino undoubtedly has too.

“Marc,” Valentino says his name like a prayer. It makes Marc shiver slightly, much to his dismay. Valentino clocks it immediately, whispering his name again and stepping closer.

Marc inches backwards.

“Marc, Marc please listen to me”, Valentino pleads.

“What do you want Vale?”, he responds. His voice is deeper than he expected. He clears his throat. He kicks himself for letting the nickname slip out. Valentino takes another step forward and sinks to his knees.

Marc freezes, his mouth hanging open as he stares at where Valentino is kneeling in front of him. He feels hot under the collar and really, he should not be turned on by this, not now. Not when it’s Valentino.

His eyes are wide and so, so blue as he looks up at Marc, the outside lights illuminating his face. He looks ethereal. Marc is so fucked.

“Please, Marc”, Valentino begins.

“Just give me a chance, I would do anything. I have been an asshole, such an asshole. Cazzo, I promise I didn’t know. I will have the journalists fired. I will make sure whoever leaked this loses their jobs. I will do anything.”, Valentino pleads.

“You had nothing to do with this then. You didn’t set your people on me again?”

“I didn’t know. I was blinded by my jealousy and inadequacy. I am so tired of channelling my anger into something that happened years ago. I promise I'm going to work on it”, he is slurring now, looking more defenceless than Marc has ever seen him.

Marc sighs, torn between his heart and his head.

“And the text”, he whispers.

“What text?”, Valentino asks, confusion marring his voice.

Marc pulls out his phone, showing Valentino the singular message he had received earlier in the weekend. His face drops when he sees the number.

“Bastard”, Valentino seethes. Marc watches him carefully, but only sees the truth in his eyes, he sighs.

“Someone, you do know, I assume?”, Marc enquires.

Valentino nods slowly, he winces slightly, shifting on his knees, still peering up at the younger man.

“Uccio. He has led me astray for too long. He may be my best friend but he holds a grudge.”

Marc raises an eyebrow, challenging Valentino.

“That’s rich coming from you.”, he comments. Vale winces.

“Just give me a chance. I will do anything you want Marc. I will spend every second of the rest of my life proving myself to you. I miss you. I miss your smile and your laughter. Every time you walk past, I cannot help but stare. When you get on a bike it is like I am a moth drawn to a flame. You are addictive to me. I will no longer hide from it. The past is the past. It is behind us, now I am asking for your forgiveness. Forgiveness I should have sought a decade ago. I will not stop until you can see that I mean it. However long it takes.”

Marc is saved from replying as the door bangs open. He startles at the noise, whirling around to see who it is. Luca stands in the doorway, rooted to the spot, gaping openly at Marc and his brother, who is still on the floor. He glances between the two, before setting his gaze on Valentino.

“Valentino what are you doing?”, he says slowly, as if talking to a child.

“What does it look like I’m doing” Valentino hisses back. “You said I should get on my knees and beg if I have to. So here I am.”

Marc can only watch in stunned silence. He turns to Luca

“Is he sick? Dying? Being blackmailed?”, he asks, a pleading tone in his voice.

“Nope he’s just drunk and stupid”, Luca replies, shaking his head at Valentino, who has finally clambered back to his feet.

(Marc isn’t disappointed)

(He isn’t)

“Ah, Okay.” Marc murmurs, still baffled. Valentino scowls at Luca but before he can comment, Luca has him by the arm and is pushing him towards Franky, who has stuck his head outside the door. Alex isn’t far behind him, peeking over his shoulder at the commotion.

“Look after him”, Luca demands. Alex and Franky have moved fully outside now, coming to stand next to the others, watching Valentino warily.

“But-” Franky begins to protest. Luca cuts him off.

“You can fuck Alex after, I’ll sort him out in a minute. I need to talk to Marc”, he grouses.

Marc groans but then looks at his brother, smirking as Alex turns bright red. He is unable to resist the quip.

“Be safe little brother. You know use a-”, he starts. Alex slaps a hand over his mouth, glaring. It makes Marc giggle, his inner turmoil momentarily forgotten.

“Shut up, Marc” he grits out, but cannot help the fond amusement that radiates off him. Marc continues to giggle, unaware of Valentino’s lovestruck face as he is handed over to Franky. Alex rolls his eyes and leaves, patting Franky and whispering something in his ear on his way back inside. The two Italians follow, Franky almost dragging Valentino away.

Luca has his hand on his forehead when Marc glances back at him, looking way more stressed than anyone should on a night out. He looks up at Marc and smiles, looking slightly embarrassed.

“You did well today. You should be proud.” Luca remarks with the kindness Marc has come to know him for. He smiles at the younger, who goes on.

“I’m sorry about Vale. He is trying you know? I know my brother normally has his head up his ass but I’ve never seen him this crazy about anyone but you. I get it if you can’t do it anymore. But I know love when I see it”, he blurts.

Marc is stunned. Love? Surely not. His heart aches in his chest. Before he can question it any further, or dispute it because there is no way that Valentino loves him, Luca turns and leaves, undoubtedly to go find Vale and take him home. With that, all Marc can do is get spectacularly pissed.

So, he does.

He knocks back drink, after drink, after drink. He doesn’t see Alex again for the rest of the night, Marc makes a face at the thought of where he has gone. Luca has taken Vale home. Marc has stayed with the others, celebrating with the team into the early hours. The way it should be. Yet he can’t help but feel like something is missing.

He stumbles back to his motorhome at some stupid hour. Jorge and Dani make sure he gets back safe, taking him from the club back to the track before they head off to the hotel. His memories feel hazy as he tries to fit the key into the lock, failing several times until it finally clicks into place. He remembers doing shots with some of the academy boys, dancing with Fabio (he vaguely recalls being on a table), and sloppily kissing someone. He’s pretty sure he told Dani and Jorge that they’d be great parents one day since they were looking after him so well. Dani had laughed hard whilst leaning on Jorge, who was blushing. Marc feels happy. So happy. He pointedly does not think about Valentino.

Once he is in the motorhome, he staggers through the front room and into his bedroom. He falls into bed after stripping off most of his clothes and drifts into a dreamless sleep.

[ctrldoll]

VVV

Pairing: König/F! Reader!

Genre: Fluff & Angst!

Word Count: 2,184!

PEACE AND BLESSINGS TO YOU, MY LOVE! <3

“OH, HOW I WISH THEY’D LEAVE YOU ALONE.” [Name] sighed as she held the young man close to her chest as his heart beat rapidly. The young couple rested in the treehouse built in König’s home after school, bothered by yet another bullying by a group of boys who loved to pick on König. 

A packet of expired milk was thrown at him while the bullies rode away on their bikes. Luckily, the leader didn’t dodge the hard throw of the boot at him as [Name] swore up and down while running to collect her shoe and aim once more. 

Her heart tore when she looked back to see the defeated look on her love’s face as he used pieces of tissue from his bag to clean his face of stray bits of chunks and even more of them on his shirt. “Let me help you.” She whispered, caressing his damp cheek and holding the roll.

“I am so sorry, Kö. I wish I could help you more.” The young woman held him tighter for a moment as a stray tear from her eye dropped down to his cheek. “Meine Puppe, weint nicht, weint nicht.” “My doll, don't cry, don't cry.” He lifted himself from her hold and spread his arms around her, comforted by her warm frame as she hugged back, smelling the scent of his freshly dried shirt and breathing it all in. It smelt like sunlight.

“How’s home, Puppe?” König asked, holding her on his chest as they watched the bird pecking at a wooden branch across the window. “It’s a bit low, Honig.” Honey. “It’s the month of my father’s anniversary, after all. She’s always in her room unless she has something urgent to do. I have to bring her food sometimes too.” You sighed sadly as you recalled, pushing your head into König’s warm chest. König rubbed his hand on your back as you teared up. 

Your father passed while on a mission due to an ambush. You recalled the expression your mother made as his best friend stood at the door, holding a letter with his right hand and an army hat with his left as he requested entry. It was sombre, awaiting breakage. 

You stepped out into the sitting room from the hallway where you hid on time to see your mother crush to the floor from her seat, holding her screams with her palm as she sobbed. A letter swiped across the room as the friend dropped down to calm her, and you ran to wrap your shaking arms around her while you wept. The news was obvious even if you didn't hear it. 

“I miss him, Kö.” You said as you wept, grateful for his presence. He tightened his hold on you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. “I wish he never enlisted. I know he went with what his heart wanted, but I’m selfish. I wish he had stayed here. With me, with us.”

König’s heart hurt with every sniff and shake [Name] made as she cried silently, the pain syncing with her action as guilt overcame him.

“The summer’s going pretty great, right? No more school, no more bullies, and no more assignments! Gosh, I’m glad we've finally graduated!” You danced around the secluded field of the park while König sat on the grass, a gentle smile on his face as he watched you. 

You plopped down to him and rested your head on his upper bicep, smiling as you soaked in the freedom of finally doing whatever your heart desired. König smiled at the hopefulness you exuded but couldn’t stop the tension he felt from his decision. He thought he’d be brave enough to inform you, as it was a warm day in one of your favourite spots. 

He had to tell you. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“[Name]?” He started. “Yes?” He felt cold, the air was thick, and he wished to run away, but he felt held onto by stone. Likely his guilt.

“I want to enlist.” “What?” [Name] quickly looked at him as shock set over her. She was quick to stand, König following her as she began to unravel. “W-why would you want to?” “I need to find myself, [Name]. I feel that who I am might be there.” König responded, stepping closer to you, who stepped further from him. 

“Why can’t you find it here? You can apply to be an officer if such a life excites you. It’s safer, too.” You desperately tried to convince him as your eyes watered at the determination in his. “Ich werde es dort finden, Liebling.” I’ll find it there, Darling.

“What if something terrible happens to you, Kö? What if you die?” You felt a shiver run through your body when you uttered the word, stressed as you recalled your father and the fate your Love was willing to encounter. “Please, please don't go. We’ll figure it out here. Please? ” You pleaded, crushed when he turned away to avoid you. “I have to go.” He cringed at the wail audible in your throat as you struggled to hold it in, tears threatening to slip out.

You mustered the strength to speak despite the slight trembles your bottom lip began to make. “You know what this means, König.” His heart dropped, aware. “I don’t think I can continue this. It’s alright if you enlist, but I can’t be with you anymore. It’d be so much to bear.” You tears threatened to pour as you spoke, hurt increasing as each sentence fell from your lips as you watched him bow his head down in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise; I understand.” König said, sharing in your feelings as he sunk in guilt at the spare tears that coated areas of your cheek. You crushed into him for one more hug, tightening your hold on him as tears freely fell from your eyes. You felt droplets drip onto your scalp and forehead as he held you tightly in his arms. 

You clinged onto one another’s warmth for one last time under the hot summer sun.

Paper drank the ink of your pen as you struggled to write the letter once more. Would he find it inappropriate to see it was from you and toss it away?

“Ugh.” You groaned, throwing the stained paper away. Who were you kidding? Why would he want to see you again after you left him?

You groaned at the low rumble in your stomach, rolling your eyes as you stood. “I forgot to go grocery shopping, didn't I? Fast food? Fast food.”

You stood in the line, surveying the lit menu above you as many others did, watching as an advertisement passed from slide to slide.

“Cookie Crumble & Caramel at €3.55!” Nah, too sweet for the moment.

“Sweet & Spicy chicken with []’s glazed sauce and large fries at €10.99!” I’m not really in the mood.

“Double Double offer of large and regular fries, two large burgers of choice, and a box of chicken with two large smoothies of choice at €25.99!” Too much. I don't have anyone to eat this with.

You moved back and bumped into someone. “I’m so-rry.” You paused your words, eyes widening. You thought you'd never feel him again; only in dreams did you believe you'd see him once more. 

“König.”

“[Name].”

Words ran dry in your mouth, and the awkwardness clutched onto you. He felt the same, eyes rotating towards a painting, then back at you.

Gosh, he got even more handsome.

The sweatshirt he wore did his body justice. His muscles peeked underneath the thin material, and the fabric stopped right underneath a muscle and cozed well. You bet that you could count the number of veins on sight if you were just a bit nearer. His abs are prominent as well, with just a bit of fat peeking out on his lower stomach. His sweatpants were average and hugged his waist comfortably. 

Forgetting your hunger for oil, another one occupied your mind. 

“How are you?” You asked, slightly flustered as you tried to calm your mind. “I’m good. How are you?” He responded with a slight smile. 

Gosh, you got even more beautiful.

Your face, although a bit mature, was lush as ever with life, your voice more pleasant than the one he grew accustomed to hearing whenever his anxiety set in, and your body, days, remained a pleasurable sight in his eyes. Each slight movement of it, from your breath to your gaze on him filled him with an unspeakable want. You were more firm in your step, too, adulthood having seeped in. 

“Are you on break?” You asked, inwardly wincing as you felt the question was too personal when it was audible. “Ja, actually.” He responded calmly, himself tearing away from his want as well, cooling your nerves. 

“It’s going well so far.” König said, and you were relieved that you wouldn't drag on the topic for much longer. 

“I’m glad to see that you’re well, König.” You smiled forcefully, stepping forward when the man in front of you left the counter. While ordering, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. He could see you, hear you, and certainly see how nervous you were. He always saw through you. 

“Here.” You brought your credit card out, but it was held. “Let me.” König said, giving his card to the cashier. “No, no, it's alright.” You stopped insisting, finding it inappropriate to the people behind you, thankful. 

“To-go or here?” “Here.” The connection between your brain and mouth cut the minute you saw him.

“Thank you.” You choked out, holding your ticket. You wondered if you should just inform a worker that you were planning to get the meal to-go when they called you for it on the red tray, but when König’s frame in the distance walked in your direction, you didn't want to leave.

“You’re welcome.” König observed you from across the table. His gaze was piercing, confident from that of his younger self. You couldn't help the feeling of wanting it to continue despite your nerves.

“How long do you intend on staying here?” You asked, looking elsewhere for a moment as you calmed yourself. “A few weeks.” He responded, gazing at you.

“How's everyone?” “Mum's alright. She’s decided to take up baking in a club among the women in the neighbourhood. Your mum and her make an amazing team. You should really try out the cupcake recipe they made together.” You chuckled, amused yet unsurprised at how he still cared for your family. Ties weren't broken as easily as you thought.

“I tried it out last night. Ja, it's pretty good. Our mothers make a formidable team.” König chuckled as fond memories engulfed him. 

Looking at you, he remembered the silly declaration he made to his mother in his teen years after a few forbidden sips of beer brought by his cousins, slurring as she held a warm towel to his forehead while his head rested on her hips, swallowing her scolding for the morning with scrunched brows.

“I'll marry her. You'll see. She's amazing, Mama. Perfect in every way for me. I love her so much. Mrs. [Name] [K/L/N]. It's so fitting, isn't it, Mother?”

“I'm going to get in a lot of trouble for this, aren't I?”

Determination swept his mind for a moment, his boyish sentence ever relevant as he took in your presence. Younger him was correct; his last name suited you.

“I can't wait to see what they will come up with next.” You chuckled, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I love the bond they have sustained over time, though.” 

“Well,” You awkwardly peered down at the ticket you held and looked at the TV nearby, “our meals’ ready. I'll go get it.” You moved to step out, but König held your arm. “I’ll get it. I'm much closer to the counter.” “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” “I don't either. You’ve done a lot for me today. Let me, please.” 

Caution was tempting to throw to the wind the more he held your arm, his warm hand reminding you of past touches, igniting a flame in you. 

König gazed at you a moment before he let go, leaving with a quick smile from you. “See? It didn't take aeons to arrive, and I'm alright.” You teased, placing his food first on his side before your own. His dish was massive in comparison to his own, but you didn't expect anything else from him. For a moment, you remembered the Kartoffelpuffer you made whenever you got a chance to for him. His amount was larger by one or two pancakes, and he always commented on how good it was.

“I'm glad I’ve gotten to see you.” König blurted out, looking directly at you with a tinge of nervousness he could never hide from you. “I’m glad we’ve met today as well.” You softly smiled, words hidden underneath your gaze at him.

If it weren’t for the public space you both were seated in, more would have been expressed.

Potatoes are God's chosen vegetable! They can be turned into nearly anythinggg!!! (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♡ ♡(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

[inpursuitofnunchi]

WHAT AN ABSOLUTE BANGER OF AN EPISODEEEEE

The pining is reaching a pinnacle y'all, i had literal heart palpitations at the cliffhangerrrr

The 개쌔끼 ex is gonna show up next week and make choisseung jealous AF and I AM PRAYING TO THE DRAMA GODS FOR A CONFESSION 😌😌😌🥺🥺🥺

Also Cho Han cheul never disappoints 😭😭😭 DAD OF THE MILENNIUM...I SOBBED SO HARD at his adorable conversation with seokryu 😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

[ruushes]

consulting the giving-yourself-a-superhero-name expert 💀🗡️

[hinamie]

itafushi nation how r we Feeling!!!!!!!!!!!

[meziniart]

you guys will never guess

[snap-my-kneecaps]

To further add emotional distress to this already emotionally distressing image, apparently Crosshair is crying here..

If you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and scream in the corner for a while

[vaperarmand]

i’m literally soo addicted to the idea that armand continues to visit daniel and make him forget for decades after they first get together. armand needs to read everything daniel’s ever written and needs to own signed copies of all of his books and needs to be there in the background from all his major life events. he’s there as a shoulder to cry on at the end of his first marriage, and again at the second. he’s the stranger at the bar who daniel tells about his daughters even though his relationship with them is crumbling. i need armand to be obsessed with daniel in every way he can manage and daniel to reciprocate every time. i need daniel to start aging and armand to be more excited every time he sees signs of it, and daniel — before he remembers — is confused and flattered and fond of the beautiful young man who curiously combs through his gray hairs and prods at his new wrinkles. and every time daniel remembers he's more angry, more hurt, more willing to beg (or demand) for armand not to do it again. and it gets more difficult for armand to do it every time, but that doesn't stop him. why should daniel remember how much he loves him?