#i know i know it feels like it should be a fair trade but it isn't

[inthewild-flowers]

Odds I skip French class and use the time to do absolutely nothing

[mariocki]

Infinite list of favourite lyrics: 172/?

Band Aid - Do They Know It's Christmas? (1984)

"There's a world outside your window,

And it's a world of dread and fear

Where the only water flowing

Is the bitter sting of tears;

And the Christmas bells that ring there

Are the clanging chimes of doom -

Well, tonight thank God it's them

Instead of you!"

[aopalling]

I think I’m really jealous of my siblings (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[mypoisonedvine]

for the drabble requests- maybe zemo fucking bucky’s gf in front of him to get back at him?

(i love your work btw and i hope you have a fantastic day <3)

"You don't have to do this," Bucky reminded you.  "We can find some other way—"

"It's fine," you promised.  The information was worth it— even Bucky agreed with that, but you swallowed thickly as you stepped closer to Zemo, who wrapped his arm around your waist.

“I won’t take you here,” Zemo offered, “I’m not that uncivilized.  Unless your boyfriend would prefer to keep watch on me, to make sure I don’t hurt his little girl.”

“N-no,” you choked, “just… take me to the bedroom.”

You resisted the urge to look at Bucky one more time before Zemo walked you down the hallway to the master suite of his apartment— one of many, but this was the one where you’d been waiting for Zemo to tell you what you needed to know to find and stop Karli.  Unfortunately, he had such a creative idea of a fair trade to get that information…

You kept looking down at the floor as Zemo shut the door behind you, and a leather gloved hand lifted your chin gently until you met his gaze.

“Don’t act like it will be such a chore,” he encouraged, “I’m not going to really force you.”

“Yes you are,” you disagreed.  “I don’t have a choice— we need to know what you know.”

“I know, but what I mean is that I have a bit more class— and more respect for you— than to just grab you now and throw you onto the bed.”

He was talking that way because he knew it would make you uncomfortable; he probably knew it would make your thighs clench together, though even you didn’t know that.

“I can make it good for you,” he said with a lowered voice, and you shuddered slightly.  His eyes were piercing, his form was overwhelming; you just wanted to get this over with, but of course he intended to draw it out— for his pleasure and your humiliation.  "What's that pet name he's always calling you?  Doll?"

It sounded so different in his voice, such a perversion of the name that Bucky gave you.

"Interesting choice… a doll is pretty but, ultimately, empty.  Vapid.  Just a toy to be played with.  Do you think that's how he sees you?"

"No, he loves me,” you insisted.

"Do you think that's how I see you?" he pressed.

You swallowed.  "I think it's really Bucky that you're playing with, not me."

"Well, I don't see why those have to be mutually exclusive," he smirked.  "And I should add that if he really loves you, he would've never let me get my hands on you."

He stepped closer, pinning you against the door, and ghosted his lips over your neck.

“I can’t imagine having you all to myself and giving you away so easily… if you were mine, no other man would even look at you," he growled, his voice sending a shiver up your spine.

One gloved hand slid down between your legs, grabbing you through your pants for just a second before he started to open your button and fly.  You tried not to react when he touched you but fuck, his fingers already knew you so well.  The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to take his gloves off was… weirdly hot, and kind of insulting in a way, like he didn’t even care to touch you directly.  Though you imagined he was probably going to forgo a condom and feel you bare in the end.

"Oh, you're so wet," he cooed, sliding his fingers up and down your slit and through your folds— he didn’t need to feel it, he could hear it, that sick squelching sound as he spread your wetness around.  He let out a little sigh when he pushed his fingers into you, biting down on your earlobe.  "And so warm on the inside, I can feel it through the glove.  I can't wait to fill you with my cock."

And he didn’t; in seconds, he had you stripped and bent over the bed, though he only shed himself of his gloves and coat and left the rest on.  It made you feel even more powerless to him, being naked while he was dressed.

“I bet you want me to fuck you like this,” he posited, trailing his fingers down your back until it arched involuntarily, “so you don’t have to look at me.”

He grabbed you at your shoulders and flipped you onto your back, pouncing on top of you.  He didn’t even need to tell you what to do, you looked up at him with what little confidence you could muster as he pushed himself into you; he was thick, and he went so deep so fast…

“Oh, princesza,” he cooed, “so tight— he must not be fucking you enough, if you’re this tight.”

“W-we don’t have much time,” you defended, struggling to keep up conversation as he started to move inside you, “on missions…”

“We’re on a mission right now,” he reminded you, “and I’m fucking you.  Tell me who’s fucking you.”

“You, Zemo,” you gasped.  “You’re… fucking me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed proudly, moving a little faster already.  You were fighting not to show that it felt good, that it had been far too long and this was what you had been craving for weeks.  Not him, specifically, you wanted your boyfriend, but your hole couldn’t really tell the difference; if anything, your body responded more to the rough yet practiced way Zemo was taking you.

The first time you moaned— soft and subtle, but still audible— Zemo chuckled a little bit and you felt your face really heat up.

“Such a good girl,” he praised.  “Are you good for him?  Do you do whatever he wants?”

“S-stop talking about him,” you begged.

“I figured he was what you would think about to get through this,” Zemo explained.  “Do you want to just forget about your poor old boyfriend?  I can do that.  I can make you forget he ever touched you.”

That was how you ended up on your hands and knees, getting fucked within an inch of your life; he was treating you like a whore, and you knew damn well that you deserved it.  You tried to convince yourself this was about the mission, a trade for information, but all that started to get more and more distant each time he slammed his hips into your ass and filled you completely.

“You belong to me now,” he grunted, and you played along in hopes to get this over with soon.  

“Yes,” you moaned, “yours— Helmut…”

He laughed for a second.  “I wasn’t sure if you knew my first name.  Do you remember your boyfriend’s name?”

You whined and dropped your face into the pillows.  “James,” you sighed, “it’s James…”

“Does he fuck you like this?”

You weren’t sure what he meant— on your hands and knees, from behind, so hard you see stars, so disrespectfully— but it didn’t really matter, because the answer was all the same: you shook your head, and Zemo laughed again.

“You wish he would,” he noticed, and you shamefully nodded.  “You want him to treat you like a slut.  Because you are a slut.”

“Yes,” you croaked out.  “Yes, god— aren’t you almost done?”

“Does he make you feel silly for asking him to treat you that way?” Zemo wondered, totally ignoring your question.  “You’re probably terrified to admit what you want.  You think he might look at you differently.”

You hesitated, and he did that thing where he read your mind in the silence better than if you had just answered honestly.

“Oh,” Zemo realized, “he already does.  Did you go too far?  Ask for something and now he’s wondering what kind of girl he’s gotten himself mixed up with.”

Fighting back tears, you were thankful Zemo couldn’t see your face now, it would give everything away.  Amazing how he was inside you and you were still fighting to keep some secrets, some dignity.

But this was the Baron, and he was going to take whatever he wanted… he was going to take both.

“Tell me what you asked him to do to you, princesza,” he instructed, and for some reason you felt helpless to obey.

"I asked him,” you breathed, “I asked him to… put it in my ass."

Zemo chuckled, biting down on your shoulder lightly.  "But he hasn't yet?"

You shook your head.

"Has anyone?"

You shook it again, gasping when you felt his fingers trail to your other hole.

"Then let's make sure I can ruin you for him just that much more."

Pulling out of your pussy, you felt his cock press against your other hole; you’d wanted this for so long, and you knew there was a chance you would hate it in real life since you’d never tried it before…

He pushed inside you, slowly at first, and you loved it… you hated that you loved it.  

Your pussy was dripping in seconds, your moans loud and deep as he filled you in a new way.  You couldn’t describe it, it wasn’t quite like what you thought it would be— it was even better than when you were alone and put toys up there, it was so different.

Pulling you back by your hair, he forced your head to rest on his shoulder and your face to look up at him; his eyes were dark and blown out, his mouth open in a fast pant.  You could only presume you looked even more wrecked, you certainly sounded ridiculous but you couldn’t stop your moans now.

"I wish he could see you like this,” Zemo groaned, “I wish he could see the look in your eyes, he'd understand then how much you love being split open on my cock."

You whined as you tried not to imagine the look on your boyfriend's face if he were forced to watch this.

"I bet he can hear you, don't you think?" Zemo purred as he licked over your pulse point.  "Moan a little louder for me, darling, say my name so none of us forget who is making you feel so good."

“Helmut,” you gasped.  “Helmut, keep fucking me… please…”

He threw you down onto the bed, exactly the way he promised he wouldn’t, and laid on top of you as he fucked you into the mattress— rough, fast, brutal, ruthless.

“Oh god,” you cried, gripping the pillow tightly as he ravaged your virgin hole, the pain balancing just right with the pleasure until your toes curled and your body erupted into goosebumps.

"Tell me where my cock is, angel," he demanded.  "Say it!"

"I-it's in my ass!" you choked out, saying it much louder than you meant to since he suddenly pinched your clit right as you started to speak.

"And you like getting fucked in the ass, don't you?"

"Y-yes, fuck, it feels so good," you babbled, cockdrunk and mindless— finally turned into the slut you always knew you were.  "Don't… don't stop, I'm gonna come."

“Louder, princesza,” he ordered.

“I like being fucked in the ass!” you repeated with a sharp cry.  “I’m gonna come— I’m coming, please, please Helmut!”

He reached under your body and rubbed your clit fast and hard as he slammed into you, his free hand gripping your hips tight to make sure you took every inch.  Much, much too quickly, you were spilling over the edge, your cunt soaking the sheets beneath you both as you sobbed out your orgasm.

You were still in a haze when Zemo pulled out and stuffed himself back into his pants, dragging you out into the hall while you were still naked and sore, bruises forming in the shape of his hands.

Zemo tossed you unceremoniously into Bucky's arms, smirking at the both of you while Bucky couldn't even meet your gaze.

"You should thank her, she just saved your mission," Zemo informed Bucky flatly.  “And you should clean her up.  We have to leave soon.”

[marvel-trash-bin]

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

~

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

~

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[kyyuri]

to be or not ! -yang jungwon

27 ! love (written)

★彡 synopsis: what happens when y/n, who is hopelessly pinning over her best friend, jungwon- gets betrayed by not one, but both of them ?! and what happens when jungwon falls for her despite all odds ?

word count: 1.3k

taglist 2 ! open <12 slots left> may or may not have a taglist 3 :( so send an ask if you wna be added and ill add u once im back from hiatus <3

perm taglist open

a/n: take this as my hiatus gift before i go missing for another 1.5 months ? exams are honestly such a pain in the ass :(

you stood in front of jungwon’s front door. as much as you hated how you gave in so easily to help jungwon, you still decided to knock on the door, knowing how yujin isn’t going to come help the poor boy anytime soon. “yn ? come in… ” he looked so pale and yet so adorable with his teddy bear pjs and a long soft blanket draped over his body. “here’s the notes for today.” you handed him a stack of papers. with a grateful look, he muttered a quick thank you and reached for it, leaving the teddy bear he was clinging onto under the blanket exposed to your eyes. it was the bear you bought for his birthday years ago. it honestly shocked you how he kept it for so long and likely cuddles it to sleep. “you still keep it ?” eyes directed at the plush in his grasps “yeah. why wouldn’t i ?” jungwon asked with an innocent look on his face. choosing not to answer, silence fell upon the both of you again.

as he made himself comfortable on his bed once again, he looked at your awkward figure that’s standing by his bedroom door. he chuckled “why are you acting so weird ? this isn’t the first time you’re in my house.” “it’s the first time im here as someone that isn’t your friend.” you almost felt bad instantly for the comment you just made. “i’m sorry..” he muttered softly “i really am i-” before he could finish, you decided you’ve heard enough today, “I’ll go make some soup for you, just rest jungwon.” unknown to you, jungwon said softly, “ i hate it when you call me jungwon…”

having been to his home often in the past, it didn’t take you long to find the ingredients and utensils needed to whip up his favourite soup. it only took a while before the soup was ready to be consumed by the sick boy when there was a knock on the door. Preparing mentally for yujin’s arrival, you cursed yourself for not leaving once jungwon apologised. “hee ?” “yn, please hear me out.” “okay you have five minutes.” heeseung grabbed the bowl of soup “ I believe jungwon would want to hear about this too.” with you following behind, the both of you headed upstairs. “how are you feeling, jungwon ?” surprised, he sat up, “ im doing ok hyung, what brings you here ?” “ i figured i have something you might want to see.” placing the bowl of soup on the bedside table, he pulled out a pink envelope and places it on jungwon’s lap. “ you should open it and see what shenanigans your lover has been pulling.” inside held a delicately decorated piece of parchment paper.

“heeseung oppa,

i really really really like you. i think you know that. i also think that you like me back. after all, youve been nothing but nice to me. it must be hard keeping your feelings hidden, but we dont have to do that anymore. yn is just using you to get to jungwon and im using jungwon to get to you. i believe it would be a fair trade. yn isnt good for you. i am. give me a chance and i’ll show you what true love is all about. oppa, i hate it when you look at other girls the same way you look at me. i hope you can make me someone special~ i will break it off with jungwon if you agree to give me a chance, give US a chance. what do you say, my love ? meet me after school ?

ily <3 yujin”

from the way jungwons face fell slightly, you could tell he was disappointed. “i.. kinda saw it coming but.. kinda didnt… i suppose i was in denial… but.. but it doesnt.. hurt ?” the two of your head turned towards jungwon in shock. his own girlfriend just admitted that she was using him and there was physical evidence yet he didnt feel upset by it ? heeseung didnt seem to understand either.

“won. im here !” a sing song voice came from the door. “what the fuck are the both of you doing here ?” she shrieked. “baby did they hurt you ?” she cooed towards jungwon. “were we not allowed to visit our friend ?” heeseung sneered at her. “o-oh of course y-youre allowed.” she sheepishly turned away. “baby how are you feeling ? i brought you your work from school.” she said, completely ignoring your presence. “dont’ baby ’me. you dont deserve to.” it honestly shocked you how jungwon was finally standing up for himself against yujin. after justifying her actions on her behalf for so long, it felt refreshing to see jungwon fight back. “what ?” a hint of annoyance appeared from her voice. he picked up the pink envelope and flung it towards her. yujin’s face drained of blood. “yea. its your love letter.” “i was framed ! it wasnt me !” she frantically pleaded. “yn ! she tried to frame me ! it was you wasnt it ? you witch !” she pushed you off the corner of the bed. “yn !” jungwon rushed to your side immediately, not giving a damn about what yujin think. “thats enough yujin. its time to leave.” heeseung took yujins bag and threw it at her, causing her to stumble upon impact. “i showed jungwon the letter YOU wrote to me. stop trying to ruin yns reputation. its not going to work. i appreciate the fact that im likeable but not the face that YOU like me. for the last time..leave yn alone !”

a sniff was heard. knowing that yujin was crying, jungwon didn’t hesitate to make her cry even more. “please leave yujin. you’re not welcomed here any longer. and for the record, whatever we had going on between us, its over. you’ve crossed the line way too far this time. its time to humble down. you can take your leave now. thank you.” he opened his bed room door and signalled for her to leave. with one last glare towards you, she stormed out of jungwon’s room.

everything that had happened today was too much for you to even process. first, you though heeseung had betrayed you. next, you head to jungwons house and heeseung showed up as well. then the whole love letter fiasco happened and now jungwon and yujin were no longer a couple ? it hurts your head honestly. “i think i’ll take my leave too. rest well jungwon and hee, im sorry for the way i acted earlier today. i’ll see you around.” you grabbed your stuff and gave them both a final wave before heading home.

once you had left, jungwon buried his head in his hands. “why didn’t it hurt when yujin left hyung ?” he was in so much distraught over this matter. “you dont love her as much as you believe you do. rather, i have every reason to believe that you have feelings for yn.” heeseung chuckled. “i-i have feelings for yn ? thats… impossible.” “how so ?” “im not sure… but i know i dont ! because around yujin, i feel different from when im around yn !” heeseung chuckled once again. “but you dont love yujin… you know what that means right ?” it was as if the realisation had finally dawned on him. “i-i love yn… all this time..” heeseung gave the poor confused boy a pat on the back “take care of yn’s heart. its fragile. it killed me that i didnt have a chance with her but im glad that its you that stands a chance. not any one else in this world.” heeseung stood up and with that he bid his farewell to the lovesick kid.

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[memryse]

many thoughts about Scar in Last Life

We all know Scar is one of the standouts of Last Life; he’s always been one of the key players ever since 3rd Life, driving conflicts and shaping the course of the server. His chaotic nature lends itself perfectly to 3rd/Last Life, and he seems to have only refined it in the hiatus between seasons.

In 3rd Life, Scar was more of a subjective villain. From his own perspective and Grian’s perspective, he wasn’t scary at all! The two of them were just having fun and causing problems – sure, they threatened people, but their dumb antics together made them just feel like two friends messing around; their POV was lighthearted until the final session, really. From other perspectives, however (particularly Dogwarts’ POVs), that was not how the two of them came across. They felt malicious, scary in how casually they approached such a bloodthirsty game. They’d laugh as they took lives, showing no care for anybody but themselves – they’d betray their allies in a heartbeat without an ounce of remorse, and the rest of the players knew it. Scar wasn’t someone to fear from his own POV.

Since Last Life began, however, Scar has become very openly malicious. Even watching his own POV, it’s hard to see him as anything but a villain – his own comment section is full of people commenting on how scary he suddenly seems. I want to expand on some of these villainous moments, because holy fuck, Scar.

In session 1, Scar is certainly a prominent figure, but we mostly get to see his classic silly Scar antics. Sure, he plans on “selling souls”, but it feels like the equivalent of his reputation points in S1. We still don’t get the sense of him going full villain arc yet. He allies with Joel and commits a crime, and we all expect another lighthearted Scar scam which definitely does not go to plan.

And that is what happened… sort of. He’s immediately caught by Scott and Pearl, etc etc etc. The two of them cheerfully agree a scheme to try and kill Jimmy, but that casual discussion of murder is as bad as they get.

Session 2, Scar is chosen as one of the two boogeymen, alongside Joel.

Things go decidedly not to plan immediately. The two of them had agreed last session to try and kill Jimmy, and were supposed to be trusting enough to tell each other if they’re the boogeyman – and yet what does Scar do? Immediately try and push Joel into lava. He’d betray Joel without a second thought – already a contrast to 3rdLife, where upon turning red Scar threw flowers at Grian and asked if they could still be friends. He doesn’t succeed, of course, and Scar and Joel realise they’re both boogeymen, before parting ways.

Scar heads to the nether, where he immediately decides to deceive Etho and Bdubs into thinking he’s weak and has no food, so that he can get close to them nonthreateningly or something. I’ll talk about this more later, but here we get to see what a good liar Scar actually is. People want to assume that he’s all bark and no bite, that he’s a schemer who poses no real threat – when Scar plays into this, he can be reallyconvincing.

The next big moment I want to talk about is, of course, Joel’s trap. The first thing to comment on here is that Scar cries “Joel, are you trying to kill your best buddy?!”, and I can’t work out whether this is Scar acting to diffuse suspicion, or genuine surprise that he’d pull the trap when Scar was right there, but either way it definitely has the former effect. None of the Southlanders suspect Scar in the slightest. Until Scar murders Mumbo in a matter of seconds.

What’s really horrifying about this is that Scar had been begging Mumbo to ally with him just last session. And yet here… not only does he go for Mumbo without hesitation, his reaction afterwards is downright chilling. He just laughs, and tells the others “Welcome to Magical Mountain!” – it’s really quite like a movie villain in how little he seems to care. He doesn’t actually say a word about killing Mumbo; again, despite having desperately wanted to ally with him. To Scar, this was nothing more than an opportunity. Or maybe it’s all a show to him. Maybe it’s both. Scar doesn’t actually care about winning this game – to him, it’s more fun to put on as good a show as possible, and drag as many people down with him as possible (which is definitely a “cc!Scar being a good entertainer” thing, but it translates very well into being a LL!Scar character trait too).

He then hands Joel some supplies, and with the exact same level of nonchalance, tells him to go burn Scott and Pearl’s house down. I’m… getting the sense he enjoyed burning down Etho’s castle in 3rdLife.

Not much of note happens during his subsequent conversation with the Southlanders beyond him failing an initiation spectacularly – after this, he heads back to Joel. They chat from opposite ends of a broken bridge, which is quite a poetic scene honestly, representing the gap between their lives, the destruction of their alliance, etc. I’m just here to talk about Scar’s villainous moments, though, so let me point out one specific line from this conversation.

“I did avenge you, to be fair - Mumbo, I burned him to death, which was enjoyable. I heard him cry, so it was- yeah, that was a thing.”

Just… what the fuck, Scar? What? I know he tried to push the “red lives are psychopathic and feel nothing except a small sense of happiness when people die” in 3rd Life, but this was definitely a lie or at least an exaggeration, because 3l!Scar definitely had a much wider range of emotions than that. Either way, here he doesn’t even have the excuse of being a red life; this is just active malice, pure and simple. Bdubs had a similar level of pride in his boogeyman kill, but I never got the sense that he enjoyed it like Scar did.

Scar goes off to visit Scott and Pearl, and figure out whether they have the enchanting table or not. Note the emphasis on simply figuring it out, not actually getting the enchanting table. Here’s where I want to talk about Scar being a great liar: he fully convinces them into thinking that he was willing to trade lives for the enchanting table, and then he convinces them that he’s so desperate to get the table that he’ll lie about Joel burning their house down. The thing is, Scar had no intention of ever getting the table at that moment – he wasn’t going to trade lives for it to begin with. He’d try his luck at threatening them, but nothing more. He got exactly what he wanted out of that situation: proof. Meanwhile, Scott and Pearl were left believing they’d outwitted him, that they’d called his bluff and bullied him into leaving. They never saw his true intentions, never saw him as an actual threat. Scar is much smarter than people believe, which only makes him all the more threatening.

And finally, he goes on to prove this intelligence even further. He figures out that Scott and Pearl planned to trade for the enchanting table simply by seeing Scott ask Lizzie if she’s home in chat. He then goes to visit Lizzie, and she tells him she declined their offer. What’s notable about this scene is how much less belligerent Scar is than usual: he readily accepts what Lizzie says for once in his life and leaves without being too annoying about it. He later talks about lulling the others into a false sense of security, letting them think he’s not after the enchanting table anymore; that makes me think his visit to Lizzie was purely to confirm that the offer was even made, and he’s now certain that she accepted it. It’s not hard to work out, especially if he noticed her life count.

So, all in all, if you’re not scared of Scar in Last Life, you most definitely should be.

Did I forget to mention he’s currently tied for the highest life count on the server?

[myhockeyworld87]

Let’s Play Pretend - Matthew Tkachuk - Part 2

Word Count: 10,911 

Warnings: Language, talk of sex (nothing specific this chapter)

Notes: Here we go with Part 2. When we last left these two, Matthew had just told everyone including you, that you guys were now engaged. Let’s see how everyone takes the news, including (y/n). 

Sorry I’m a day late with this. What can I say trade deadline killed me mentally. As always I hope you guys enjoy this. If you do, hit me with some feedback. It’s always welcome. Happy Reading!!!

Let’s Play Pretend Masterlist

"WHAT?"

That lone word when said by three people in unison definitely had an impact on Matt. He practically jumped as it rang in his ears. "Matt, we never talked about being engaged." You were pretty sure you'd remember something like that.

"I just…" he stuttered but only for a moment. "It makes more sense than just dating. It shows that I'm committed and working towards having a family. You know putting down roots, just like dad said."

"I'm positive I didn't say you two should get engaged. I'm not even sure that would be believable Matthew." Keith stated and you definitely had to agree.

"Why wouldn't it? It's not like I haven't known her my whole life. We'll just tell people that we've always had feelings for one another and once we acted on them…it just felt right."

"But…" It was your turn to try and mutter some sort of sense into Matt. Only for some reason, you'd suddenly become speechless. It's not like you hadn't fantasized about getting engaged to him or even being married. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't, but you most definitely didn't want to go through pretending that you were.

Chantal finally voiced her concerns, before you could spit another word out. "Matt, I'm just not sure this is all fair to (Y/N). You're asking a lot of her."

Matt squeezed your hand, the one that he'd been holding ever since you'd left the bedroom after agreeing to be his fake girlfriend, not fiancé. "I know I am. We talked about it. And I'm going to owe her everything if we pull this off. But we can do it. I just know it."

He sounded so hopeful, after thinking that his world had crashed and burned most of the evening, you didn't have the heart to tell him you didn't think you were up for this. "(Y/N), are you sure you want to do this?" Keith asked.

No, you wanted to scream. You weren't sure you could do this at all. The next couple of months were probably going to be your version of a dream in public and a nightmare behind closed doors. Yet still, you found yourself saying. "Yeah. I'll do anything I can to help."

"See," Matt said, that smile growing a bit wider at your acquiesce.

"But…" you added quickly before Matt could say anything more. "We need an exit strategy. We obviously can't keep fooling everyone forever."

"True," he agreed.

"And what if you or (Y/N) meet someone that you want to date? Have either of you thought about that?" Chantal asked being the only voice of reason in this whole thing since you couldn't voice your own fears.

Matt seemed to contemplate the matter. It was something he hadn't thought of. "It won't be forever. Just till the end of the season. Then over summer, we can just say that we realized that we're better friends and all that." It wasn't the greatest ending, but at least he wasn't cheating on you or something.

"It could work." Keith finally chimed in. "But no one can know. Not your teammates, or your friends, not even the rest of the family."

"Well, that will never work," Chantal said. "Taryn and Brady will never believe it, and we can't expect (Y/N)'s parents to just up and think her and Matthew are engaged, after not even going out on one date."

"The fewer people that know the better. It's less of a chance of anyone finding out." Keith insisted, and you had to wonder if he wasn't right.

"Dad's right. I'll think of something to tell Brady and Taryn. Let's face it, if they believe it, so will everyone else." Matt had a point, especially where Brady was concerned. If the other part of your inseparable trio could believe you were engaged anyone would. "Do you think you can lie to your family? I know I'm asking a lot of you already. If you're not comfortable with this, we can tell them the truth."

You thought it over, long and hard. It wasn't like you had never lied to your family before. Hell, you'd snuck out with Matt and Brady enough over the years, that you had to come up with a few white lies here and there. But this was more than a little lie. This was a bold slap in the face if they ever found out. You tried to run the scenarios through your head as quickly as possible. You weren't one hundred percent sure, that someone in your family wouldn't give you away, so the best decision for everyone involved was to not let them know. "No, it's fine. It needs to stay between the four of us."

"You're sure?" Chantal asked, and god if you didn't love her even more for her concern for you.

"I'm sure."

"Well, we need a ring," Keith stated the obvious, for it wasn't like Matthew had got down on one knee, sweeping you off your feet with your dream proposal.

"I could use Nana's." Matt looked over at his mom who had the ring on her right ring finger.

"Absolutely not," you stated, not wanting to wear his grandmother's ring as it was way too special. "That's meant for when you're actually getting married or Brady or Taryn is." You waved your hands in the air. "Not for this. Besides, what if I lost it or something. I'd feel horrible."

"You're not going to lose it, (Y/N)," Matt insisted even though it was a real concern. "I'm sure Nana would totally approve of us using it for this."

You shook your head, not wanting to budge on this issue. "Why can't we just get one of those cubic zirconia rings or something that you see at the boutiques?"

"And have some reporter notice that I didn't give you a real diamond? Not happening."

The odds of that happening seemed very unlikely but you knew he wouldn't take the chance. "Well, then what about a sapphire or a ruby? Something that's not expensive."

"So, then people think I'm cheap." When you rolled your eyes, he just seemed more determined in making his point. "Brady and Taryn will more likely believe this whole thing if we use Nana's ring. Let's face it, they know you guys wouldn't give it to me if I wasn't serious."

Keith was first to chime in. "He's right, (Y/N). It would be more believable."

You turned a pleading eye towards Chantal since she'd seemed to be on your side in this whole thing. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath before saying anything. "They're right." She slid the ring off her finger and handed it over to Matt.

"It might not even fit." You were trying everything you could think of not to wear the heirloom for it just felt wrong.

"Only one way to find out." Matt took your left hand, which had begun to shake slightly, and gently pushed the ring on your finger. "See, perfect." And it was. It didn't feel too snug or too loose. It was almost as if it was made for your hand, even though there was no way that it was. "Now, it's official." Only it wasn't. It was just pretend, and that thought didn't sit well in the pit of your stomach.

You held the ring out and looked at it on your finger. The emerald-cut stone, which had to be two or three carats, was in a halo setting. The yellow gold, not something you saw much nowadays, gave it that vintage feel, as scrolls of small diamonds surrounded it. It was stunning and any girl would be lucky to get to wear it. The problem was you weren't that girl and you'd only be wearing it for a short time and not the rest of your life, as someone else would be. "Now that that's settled. We need to decide what we're going to tell everyone." It was Keith's voice that brought you back to the focus at hand.

Hours later, the four of you had come up with a well-crafted plan. Everyone would be told that you and Matt had been secretly dating over the last year or so, though you'd purposely keep the timeline vague so no one would know. As far as the engagement was concerned, you were telling everyone that it happened about a month ago when Matt first got home for the season. The story would be that he realized he didn't want to spend another season without you and so he popped the question one night. And while that little lie would probably fly with his teammates and the Flames organization, you knew that it wouldn't get very far with your family or Brady and Taryn. You still planned on telling them that that's how Matt proposed, though adding that he hadn't been fully prepared to do it. Which is why he brought you up to Calgary. Well, that and to buy a house for the two of you to live in. It all seemed fairly believable or maybe it was the fact that it was getting late and you were all extremely tired. At any rate, you all headed to bed to get some sleep. Matt's agent was coming in the morning and after he spoke with him, they would both be speaking to Brad Treliving, the Flame's general manager. It wouldn't be pleasant you were sure of that. But if Matt could pull off that conversation, he felt that he would be halfway home to repairing some of the damage he'd done.

Sleep didn't come easy for anyone. When Don Meehan arrived at Matt's apartment at seven in the morning, you were all already on your second cup of coffee. You'd drafted out a statement for Matt, that he could read publicly if the Flames decided to address the issue; which you were all ninety percent positive that they would. When eleven o'clock rolled around Matt and Don headed over to the office to meet with Treliving. Keith had offered to go as well, but Matt wanted to do this on his own.

Matt's nerves were shot, by the time he walked into the office. He'd bounced his legs up and down so many times on the ride here that they felt like jello. Meehan tried reassuring him that things would be ok, but Matt wasn't convinced. "So, Matthew, it seems you're in a bit of pickle."

"It does and I'd like to apologize for putting my team and the organization in the situation."

Meehan chimed in then. "Let me assure you, that the video has been taken down and we're working on finding out how it got there in the first place. If there are any grounds we'll be suing, for defamation of character."

"I appreciate that. We've been working on that as well." Treliving added.

Matt took a deep breath collecting his thoughts. "The last twenty-four hours have been…well, if I said crazy it would be an understatement. My fiancé and I thought we were coming here to find a house and then this happened. I won't lie and say that it's not me in the video or that I didn't know about it. I did. I thought she deleted it. In fact, if you put a stack of bibles in front of me, I'd swear on them and say I watched her do it. But seeing as this happened over two years ago or more…" Matt shook his head. "I just don't know. I guess it's true what they say, that nothing is really ever deleted. I know that this is not the kind of conduct that you expect from your players and again I apologize. I was stupid and reckless, and all I can say is that I'm a different man now. I hope that you can see that."

Treliving steepled his fingers together, absorbing every word that Matt spoke. "We all make mistakes Matthew. Granted some of them aren't this big, but I can see your remorse about it. It's definitely a hard lesson to learn." That was putting it lightly, Matt thought. "I appreciate you coming in here and offering your apology, but I'm not going to sugarcoat this. While this by no means violates your contract with the team. We were really looking for you to be the next leader here, now that Gio is in Seattle. I'm just not sure I can see that happening at the moment though."

Matt's heart sank in his stomach. He had subtly mentioned that you were his fiancé in hopes that Treliving would pick up on it and see that he was an upstanding guy and not the one on the video. But apparently, Treliving didn't hear that part. At least he still had a job and wasn't going to be put on waivers. "I understand," Matt finally said. "I drafted up a statement. With the organization's permission, I'd like to read it to the press and maybe post it on social media." Matt handed the piece of paper off to the GM to read.

It took him a few moments, but then Treliving said, "I'm impressed. It's very well written."

"Thank you. I'd like to take all the credit but I can't. My fiancé is a much better writer than I am. Guess that's why she's a published author." Matt quipped, in hopes of lightening the mood.

"That's the second time you've mentioned this fiancé. Why is this the first I'm hearing about her?"

Matt smiled, an easy one as he thought of you. "I think you've met her once or twice. She's come to a few galas we've had. But I've known (Y/N) most of my life. She's my best friend." Matt's smile grew even bigger at that statement, for saying that you were his bestie seemed like an understatement, after all, you were sacrificing. "We've sort of been dating in secret. I think we were both afraid that it would ruin our friendship or something. Though I realized last season that I just didn't want to be without her anymore. Luckily for me, she felt the same way when I asked her to marry me about a month ago. We happened to be up here buying a house when this all happened. And believe me, she wasn't too thrilled seeing that video either." Matt still could see your face as you watched him fuck what turned out to be some random girl. He was horrified that you had to see it. It made him sick to his stomach; still did.

"I vaguely remember her; very pretty young woman as I recall."

"She's beautiful." Matt breathed out, not having to lie about this fact to his GM.

"Well, I'm glad to see you putting down some roots. It definitely shows that stability that we look for in a captain." Matt's heart started to beat a little regularly at the thought that maybe the captaincy wasn't totally gone, though he was happy just to still be on the team at this point. "It's a long road until the season starts, but if you keep showing this kind of direction…you never know what can happen."

"I'm not getting my hopes up." Even though Matt totally was. "I know I have a lot of work to do, to repair the damage I've done, but I plan on showing everyone the kind of leader I can be both on and off the ice."

"That's good to hear. Now, let's go get this press conference over with. And while I'm sure you're probably going to head home to your family. I'd love to have dinner with you and (Y/N) when you're back in town."

"I'm sure she'd love that." At least Matt hoped you would, for it would probably be the first of many.

The press conference went well, better than Matthew expected, but then he hadn't taken any questions after reading the statement you had drafted for him. Meehan posted an almost identical announcement on his Instagram and then shut the comments off. Matt had planned on staying clear of social media for the next few weeks in hopes that the scandal would die down, but Meehan had other plans. While he'd only mentioned you once in his statement, Meehan knew the press would jump on the fact that Matthew was now engaged, and wanted Matt to post a few pictures from the big event. The only problem was there weren't any pictures. Matt explained that it had been private, but that he was sure he could talk you into a photo session once you were back in St. Louis.

Matt sprung the whole thing on you when he got back to the apartment and Chantal got to work on finding a photographer for the whole thing. You could tell that the whole day had exhausted Matt, both physically and mentally. He could barely keep his head up at the dinner you and his mom had made. Everyone headed off to bed, as you'd be taking an early flight back to St. Louis. It was already going to be a trying day but now you were adding a whole photo session on top of that.

"I'll take the couch tonight," you told him since he'd given up his room for his parent and gave you the spare room the night before.

"No, I'll be fine." He said grabbing a pillow from the closet in the room you were staying in. "I probably won't sleep anyhow."

"You're exhausted, Matt. Just take the bed." He cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as if to say, not happening. All to which you rolled your eyes at him. "Fine, let's just share the bed. We are engaged after all." You tried to make it sound funny and lighthearted but you could see he was not in the mood for your humor. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

He chuckled at that. "True. Ok, but don't hog the covers like you did the last time."

"I'm not a cover hog."

"You were in Cancun." He started reminding you of the trip you'd gone on almost two years ago.

"Only because you set the thermostat at sixty-eight. It was fucking freezing." Turning down the bed, you waited to see if he'd move to the other side and help, which he did.

"It was hotter than hell outside. Besides I sleep better when I'm cold."

You got under the covers. Matt doing the same on what was now considered his side of the bed after that trip. "What do you have it set on here?"

"Relax princess, it's on seventy-two." You stuck your tongue out at him, for it drove you insane when he called you princess. "So, there's no reason for you to hog the blankets tonight." He gave them a little tug, taking move over to his side of the bed.

"Who's the cover hog now." You yanked your share back before flopping down on the pillow and resting on your side. "Good night, Matthew."

"Good night."

The two of you lay there in silence for a few minutes. Eyes closed as you tried to sleep. "Hey, (Y/N)," Matt whispered over and you peeked one eye over at him. "I don't know if I've said this or not, but thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You opened both eyes watching him fully stare at you, a grateful smile across his face. "You already thanked me, but it's nice to hear." You waited a heartbeat before adding. "And Matt, I'm sure you'd get through this even if I wasn't here."

You wanted to say more but he interrupted you. "Maybe, but having you by my side makes it better." It was moments like this that made your heart flutter. They made you believe that you and Matthew could have so much more together. Maybe this whole fake relationship would be exactly what the two of you needed to see that you could be together for good. At least you hoped it would. "You know, we can tell Brady and Taryn that that's the night we realized we loved each other."

While you'd known a little longer than that that you loved Matt, that night was sort of pivotal. "True. After we had to switch rooms when they got sick and you and I ended up sharing the only room left, we can say we just sort of fell for each other then." Looking back on it now, you and Matt did start hanging out more, just the two of you after that trip. Whether sharing a bed with him had anything to do with it, you weren't sure.

"They'll probably take credit for us being engaged." You both chuckled because knowing Brady and Taryn they would actually fight over who should get the actual credit of bringing you two together. If you had to guess Taryn would win that fight by a mile.

"You're probably right." You moved your hand under your cheek, only to have his grandmother's ring poked you. "I still don't feel right wearing this."

"You'll get used to it."

"It's not that, Matt. This ring is special and…I don't feel right wearing it." You knew there was no point in arguing about the issue but you had to give it a try.

Even in the dark, you could see his brow furrow up as he was contemplating what to say. "She'd be thrilled you're wearing it. She always hoped you'd end up with me or Brady." It was something both your families thought.

"But we aren't together, Matt." As much as you wanted this to be real, you knew it wasn't.

Matt sighed. "I know, and I know this is not how you expected your first engagement going. You can still back out if you want."

That was something you would never do. "I'm not backing out on you." He released a breath, you hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It might not be the way I thought I'd get engaged, but I couldn't ask for a better fake fiancé." You gave him a little wink that you weren't even sure if he could see in the dark.

"I feel the same, (Y/N). If the ring's too much, we can look at replacing it once things have died down."

It was a start and you couldn't ask for anything more. "Thank you."

"Alright, now that that's settled, we need to get to some sleep. Mom and dad want to leave early tomorrow."

"Night," you whispered before rolling over on your other side.

"Good night, (Y/N)."

It took a bit before you settled into slumber, but once you did; you were dead to the world. You weren't sure what time it was or where you were when you finally woke. All you knew is that there was something heavy on top of you. When you went to roll over and check the time, something, no correction, someone was preventing you. It was then, that the last forty-eight hours came crashing back to you. Matt's arm was draped over your waist, squeezing you close to his chest, while his legs had yours trapped within his. For a moment, you let yourself think that your engagement with him was real and that you would be waking up like this with him for the rest of your life. Only the two of you would be rid of every layer of fabric separating you. It was a beautiful dream, but a dream was all it was. All you were doing was playing pretend.

Luckily, you could see the clock setting on the nightstand and knew that it was time to get up. You took a deep breath, ready to face all that was going to come. "Matt," you called out tapping his hand that lay pressed against your stomach. "Matt," you tried again only to have him hug you closer to his body. That small little movement pressed your ass intimately into his morning wood. And while you wanted to believe that it was you that caused this sexual reaction; logically you knew that it wasn't. He was probably dreaming of the girl that was in the video, for she had to be something to get Matt to agree to videotaping the two of them. "Matthew," you said a little more harshly, only to hear him moan, then snuggle his face into your neck and hair. "Matty." This time you started hitting his arm gently. "Matty, wake up."

"Mmm, just five more minutes," he whined still holding you close.

"Matthew!" You all but yelled considering his parents were in the next room.

"Alright, alright." He finally relented, releasing your legs first. "I'm up." It was then that he seemed to finally register your sleeping positions as well as the state of his penis. "Oh, fuck," he groaned. Not the words any woman wants to hear after spending the night in bed with the man you were currently in love with. "Sorry."

Deciding to ignore the situation you were both in, you opted to take the conversation in a different direction. "We need to get up and get ready to go. It's past eight."

"Oh shit. I didn't think we'd sleep that long."

Neither did you, but you'd felt so comfortable and warm and relaxed. You were pretty sure that you would've gone back to sleep had you not seen the time. "Me either." You were now fully untangled from Matt, as he lay on his back staring at the ceiling, more than likely trying to get his body under control. "I'm gonna go grab a quick shower first if you don't mind." You slipped out of bed, as you said the words.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure."

The water brought back some of the reality of what actually was going on. It reminded you that you needed to put on your best acting chops for the rest of the day, if not for the next nine months or more. You rushed through your morning routine, not wanting to make the Tkchuck's wait on you. By the time you exited the bathroom Matthew was gone.

Bags packed, you made your way out to the kitchen where Keith and Chantal were waiting. "Morning, (Y/N). Would you like some coffee? We thought we could grab breakfast on the way to the airport."

"Coffee would be great. Thank you." You told Chantal, accepting the mug she offered.

"Matthew should be out in a minute," Keith added, as you took a few sips of the steamingly hot drink. "Are you ready for today?"

"As much as I can be." You looked down at the ring still on your finger and thought about all the lies you were going to have to tell. Suddenly, breakfast didn't sound that great.

Matt chose that moment to come out of his bedroom, suitcase in hand. "Morning," he said by way of greeting since the two of you really hadn't said much earlier.

"Morning."

"Coffee?" his mom offered, but he instead grabbed the mug you'd been drinking out of moments ago and took a few sips. Handing it back when he was done. "I guess not."

"What? We take our coffee the same way." Matt said by way of defense. "Besides, you never drink the whole cup." It was true, you didn't.

"Well, it looks like you're getting into this couple thing already." It was then that you noticed there was only one mug for Keith and Chantal; that they must have been sharing as well. Matt must have taken notice as well. "What? You think you two are the only ones that drink their coffee the same?" It wasn't that they had the same coffee order. It was just you'd never considered it a couplie thing.

You took one last sip of the mug in your hand, then said. "We should go." Handing the coffee off to Matt, he drank the last of it and then threw it in the dishwasher, so you all could head back home.

The plane ride to St. Louis was nerve-wracking. You constantly worried about slipping up to your family or that they would see through this charade. A thousand scenarios played through your head in hopes that you'd be prepared for everyone. It wasn't until you started running them, that you realized Matt wasn't the only one in jeopardy if someone saw through your fake relationship. Your career would hang in the balance as well. You'd published three very successful books with another one going to the presses right now. Your readers could totally turn on you if they felt that you had deceived them. It was just another worry to add to your growing list.

When you finally landed, your nerves were completely shot. The doubts you had were real and you almost called the whole thing off twice in the car. But then you'd look over at Matt and he'd smile reassuringly and it reminded you how much this meant to him. There was no turning back once you pulled into the drive. Brady and Taryn were waiting at the door when you got there.

You didn't even have one foot out of the car before you heard the questions. "We saw the press conference. Who's the fiancé Matt?" This from Brady.

Taryn was quick to follow up with, "You're not even dating anyone."

Matt ignored them, coming around to your side of the car and grabbing your hand to help you out. "I know you guys have a lot of questions," he told them once you were out of the car. His hand remained locked with yours. "But I want you to meet my fiancé." He held up your left hand and plastered on a huge smile, hoping that they wouldn't notice how nervous you truly were.

Brady literally shook himself as he stared at the two of you. "No way, I don't believe it." Well, so much for a career in acting if writing didn't turn out. "You finally got up the nerve," this he said to Matthew, though you weren't sure what he actually meant.

"You owe me," Taryn chimed in, looking at Brady. "I said they'd end up married and you said no way in hell."

"Only because I thought, she had common sense."

"Hey, I'm right here." You reminded him while cuffing him upside the head. "And I have more common sense than you do."

"Not if you agreed to marry him."

"I'm here too you know," Matt said cuffing Brady again. Maybe if you went through the next several months just cuffing Brady no one would be the wiser.

"Wait," Taryn finally piped in. "You two aren't faking this whole thing, are you?"

She always was the smartest Tkachuk. "No," both you and Matt said in unison. Which probably seemed a bit sketchy. "Honestly, this," you motioned to the ring. "Is both of your faults." Brady and Taryn exchanged glances and then looked back at you and Matt. "Remember that Cancun trip, you both got sick on."

"Eww, don't remind me. I haven't been that sick in my life." Taryn uttered while practically gagging just thinking about the trip. "But what does that have to do with you two."

It was Matt's turn to chime in. "Well, we got to spend a lot of time together, just the two of us. And well quite a few nights in one bed."

"Eww, spare us the details Matthew, or I may vomit again." Taryn looked physically ill at the thought of you and her brother in bed together and you tried not to take that personally.

Matt wrapped his arm around Taryn's shoulders leading her towards the house, so you didn't have to continue this conversation in the driveway. "Look I'm not sharing anything more. Just that (Y/N) and I finally realized we had feelings for each other then, and well one thing has led to another and here we are engaged."

"Kinda convenient don't you think?" Brady asked you as you entered the kitchen with him.

"Yes and no." He looked at you funny when you gave such a vague answer. "Your lovely brother here asked me about a month ago to marry him."

Matt took over the story from here. "Only it was on impulse. Well, that's not right because I knew I wanted to ask you. I just kind of forgot the important part."

"The ring," you added when neither Brady nor Taryn understood.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you're so stupid." Taryn chided her brother. "It's like only the most important part of the engagement."

"Shouldn't it be the fact that she said yes?" Matt asked.

"You must really love this shithead. If you said yes without a ring."

Luckily, for you, this was one part you didn't have to lie to Taryn about. "I do."

"I'm still not buying it," Brady told everyone. You knew he'd be the toughest one to fool, for he knew you both so well.

Matt wrapped his arm around your waist and drew you close to his side. "I don't need you to buy it, Brady, because we're in love and happy, and that's really all that matters." He leaned down then and did something you'd never thought he'd do. He sweetly pecked your lips. It wasn't much of a kiss as first kisses go, but it was still a kiss. And though it was meant for show, it still made your heart flutter.

You were still in a bit of a daze when you heard Taryn's voice break through. "Is that Nana's ring?"

You winced, before answering her. "It is, but if you want it Matt said he'd get me a different one."

She frowned and it broke your heart knowing that you'd upset her. You knew this would happen. Untangling yourself from Matt's embrace, you went to take the ring off your finger. "NO," she shouted. "It's fine. It was never my ring, (Y/N), if that's what you think. I mean sure Nana said for one of us to use it, but I'm really glad Matt gave it to you. I've always wanted you for my sister and well now you're going to be." She came barreling towards you, and you could do nothing but hug her back as tears welled in your eyes. You'd always wanted her for a sister as well, only at the end of this, it wouldn't happen and you hated deceiving her this way.  "So when's the wedding?"

"Woah, slow down there, sis," Matt answered as you swiped at the few tears that had escaped. "We just got engaged."

"I know, but you've got to get a venue and a wedding planner. Oh, and then there's the dress. When do you want to go dress shopping? Tell me we're going to Kleinfeld's? We have to have that say yes to the dress moment." The questions coming out of Taryn were throwing you for a loop. You knew that someone would eventually ask you about setting a date, but the whole dress thing, well, you weren't quite ready for that.

You looked over to Matt for help. "Taryn, we just bought a house. Let's take one thing at a time." Taryn just rolled her eyes at Matt, obviously not liking the answer he gave. "Besides, we still need to go to (Y/N)'s house and talk to her family."

"We'll talk about this later." She whispered, which at least gave you some time to come up with an answer.

"We should really get over to my house," you said to no one in particular but needing a moment to breathe. It would more than likely be the same line of questioning over there but at least you'd be a bit more prepared.

"Right," Matt said grabbing your hand and starting to head to the door. "We'll be back later."

Things went pretty much the same way at your house. Your parents had seen what had happened with Matt but hadn't put two and two together. They were shocked, to say the least, that you were engaged, but only because it took you two so long to be together. Of course, they said they knew all along that you two had been dating, though since you hadn't you weren't sure how they felt they had insider news there. Just like Taryn, they too wanted to know when the big day was. They were positive that you two would want a short engagement, but you sidetracked them when you said that Matt had bought a house for you both in Calgary. From that point, it became questions about when you were moving and did you plan on moving in with Matt until you both went to Calgary, or was Matt going to move into their house?

You felt like you'd been in an intense chess match and someone had just said checkmate when they threw that one at you. Matt stepped up though and said that since there were only a few weeks left before you headed to New York for ten days, that you both felt it would be best just to stay where you were and spend time with your families, then just move in together when you went to Calgary. You breathed a sigh of relief when they totally bought it. At this rate, you would be counting down the days until you were in Calgary where it would definitely be easier to fool everyone.

Weeks sort of flew by. There were family dinners together, where the topic always seemed to be the wedding. Taryn still wouldn't give up on going to Kleinfeld's and you told her that maybe on your next trip the two of you could go just so she would quit asking. Hopefully, she'd be busy with college and unable to make it. Others had Matt calling you over to look at furniture for the house, even though you told him to buy whatever he wanted. He refused that though, stating that you'd be living there as well. You did cave and picked out a nice bedroom set for the guest room, that you decided would be yours. Once Matt got you to pick that out, he was determined for you to help with the rest of the house as well. The two of you fell into a bit of a routine, Matt training in the morning, while you wrote, then in the afternoon, you would shop for the house, either online or at stores that could ship to Calgary. In the evenings you'd try and figure out what you were taking with you to Calgary or write some more. It wasn't easy. Your family thought you should take all this furniture and random things that you'd need for, oh say the rest of your life, however, you knew that you only needed it for the next nine months or so. After that who knows where you would be. It would be too hard to live back at home, with everyone looking at you like some sad lost puppy after your break up with Matt. Maybe those plans to move to New York would finally have to take shape.

Between all the packing and shopping, it felt like summer flew by and before you knew it, you were headed on a plane to New York to promote your new book as well as pitch the concept for book number five. You'd be gone almost two weeks, which meant that Matt would be back in Calgary, as he and his mom were flying up to move things from the apartment into the new house. Keith stayed home with Brady as he was still in talks with Ottawa about the season. Matt drove you to the airport, as you didn't want to have a long goodbye with your family there, since you wouldn't be flying back to St. Louis. Your mom cried as you pulled out of the driveway and you had to admit that you felt a little weepy yourself, but Matt grabbed your hand the minute he had the car out of reverse; assuring you that everything would be fine.

New York was a whirlwind. The minute you landed the publishing company had a car to take you to the hotel, where you stayed approximately twenty minutes before being ushered off into hair and makeup so you could get ready for a radio interview. Who knew you had to get dolled up for a radio show? The success of your last three books had people clamoring to get their hands on the next. You felt like a movie star being rushed around the city to important meetings and interviews. The publishing house had you scheduled for three morning news shows, and two daytime talk shows, in a little as three days. Then it was off to book signings all across the city for the next four. Just looking at the schedule made your head swim.

It was your first tv interview that they noticed the ring. Of course, you'd told the publishing company about your engagement after telling your family and friends; so you were well prepared for the questions that came. Still, answering them left a sour taste in your mouth. It was one thing to fool family and friends, and well, Matt's team; it was another to go on national television and tell millions of viewers about it. Apparently, your acting skills had improved since that middle school play you, Matt, and Brady were in. For everyone seemed to gush over the fact that you were planning a wedding to one of hockey's brightest stars. The most amazing thing was not one interview mentioned Matt's little sex tape. It was almost as if it had never been leaked.

It flabbergasted not only you but Matthew as well, for he watched every interview that you gave, and not because he was checking to see if anyone would mention his little faux pas, but just because he was so proud of you. Truth be told, he missed you as well. Sure, you both somehow made time to talk to each other every day, but it wasn't the same. Matt told himself that it was only for a few days and then you'd be in Calgary with him for the season. He wasn't quite ready to examine why there was this empty pit in both his stomach and his heart when you were gone, but he knew they were there all the same. Especially, when he would see pictures on your Instagram of dinners out with guys who Matt had no idea who they were. Men that if Matt were being honest, probably deserved you more than he did. Not that he had you, for you were only pretending to be engaged with Matt to save his sorry ass. Which only reminded him that he would never be good enough for someone like you.

"What time does your flight leave?" Matt asked when you called him really quick one night.

"It's scheduled to leave around six, which will put me into Calgary around eight or so."

"Perfect, media day will be done by then and I can be at the airport to pick you up. Just call or text me when your flight leaves. I may not be able to answer if I'm doing photos or something." Somehow, you could already see him smiling for headshots and it made you smile as well.

"Make sure they get your good side, Tkachuk."

"They're all my good side, princess." It was moments like this you regretted not facetiming him so he could see the eye roll you gave him. "I can't wait for you to see the house. Speaking of which, the movers put most of your clothes in the master closet. They must have got mislabeled or something. Mom thought it was a good idea to leave some of them there for when we have the team barbeque."

It threw you for a loop but the more you thought about it; Chantal's reasoning actually made sense. "Yeah, she's probably right because people will want a tour and all. I can just tell them you're a clothes hog and haven't shared the entire closet yet."

"Hey, that's so not true. If anyone's the clothes hog it's you, princess." Ugh, there he was calling you princess again. You were never going to live that name down. "Though I gotta say you looked amazing in that pic you posted today." You'd gone out to dinner with a bunch of people from the publishing company and snapped a few pictures of you all together. "Who was the guy you were with?"

It had been eating Matt alive to see you smiling with some guy who he knew nothing about. "Oh, that's one of my new editor's, Mason. I'm going to be working directly with him on this new book. He usually handles the more seasoned writers, but for some reason, he asked for me. It's quite flattering."

Matt had a feeling that editing your written work wasn't the only thing this Mason wanted to do with you and it made his blood boil. "That's nice."

"What does that mean?"

"What do you mean?" Matt practically echoed your own words back at you.

"Don't answer my question with a question. I know you Matthew Tkachuk and when you say 'that's nice,' it means something entirely different."

"I didn't mean anything by it." Even though he totally did, but he wasn't going to say that to you. "I think it's nice that he asked to be your editor is all."

You sighed, not quite believing him but willing to let the conversation end there as it was almost one in the morning. "Well, I'm heading to bed, this two-hour time difference is a killer. I'll see you in like thirty-six hours."

"More like forty-one." Again, you regretted facetiming him. "Hey, don't forget to text me when your plane leaves."

"I won't." It always took forever to get Matt off the phone, even when you literally lived next door to him. "I'm hanging up now, goodnight."

"Night, princess."

Matt always loved media day. Everyone was always a bit more relaxed and the publicity team always came up with a fun game here and there for the players to do, which made for great content for the fans. This year was no different. He was relieved to see his jersey still had the A initial on it, though he longed for it to be a C. The Flames still hadn't chosen a captain yet, so he tried not to take it personally.

Throughout the day, Matt checked his phone periodically to see if you'd texted him any updates. He knew you were busy with final meetings about the current book you were writing so, he didn't think too much of things when he didn't get a message from you. When four-thirty rolled around and he was packing up his stuff to head home, he was starting to worry. "Something wrong man?" Mony asked.

Matthew shrugged, not really having an answer. "I don't know. (Y/N) should've texted me by now that she was on the plane."

"It probably got delayed or something. You know how flying out of New York can be." Sean had a point, there were times he'd sat on the tarmac for over an hour just waiting to take off. "Why don't we go to a bar, grab a few beers and catch the end of the Ryder Cup."

Matt had planned on doing exactly that, only he wanted to do it from his own living room. "Better plan, why don't you come over to the house. The fridge is fully stocked and waiting."

"Whose fridge is stocked?" Hanifin chimed in.

"Chucky's we were gonna head over to his new place and catch the end of the Ryder. You coming?"

"Definitely."

"I'm in," Markstrom added, grabbing his bag and heading for the door with the rest of you.

"I just have to be at the airport around eight to pick up (Y/N). Could be later though as it seems like her plane hasn't left yet."

"Don't worry Chucky we'll make sure you're there to pick up your girl on time," Hanifin said as he slung his around Matt's shoulder. "I knew there was something going on between you two."

"He's in LLLOOOOVVEEEE." Mony chirped as they headed towards their cars.

"Shut up," Matt yelled while a blush stained his cheeks.

"No shade man. It's a great feeling. Getting engaged to Britt was one of the best days of my life."

Sean's comment made Matt feel a bit uneasy as he knew that your engagement with him wasn't anything special. Hell, it wasn't anything other than a matter of convenience, but only for him; for you, it was anything but that. Which is why he was going to do everything in his power to make these next several months as enjoyable as he could for you. Meaning he needed to be at the airport by eight to pick you up.

Once everyone got to the house, Matt grabbed everyone a beer and turned on the tv. He continued to check his phone for messages as everyone got absorbed in the competition. By five-thirty he was starting to get nervous that something had happened. He decided to shoot you a quick text hoping that you'd get it. He was unsure if your plane had wifi or not, but he was hoping that you'd answer him. Eyes glued on the screen, he waited to see the familiar little three dots appear to let him know that you were answering. Instead, he got nothing. At six, he debated with himself about calling the airlines, only he forgot to ask what one you were flying. He was really failing in the fiancé department, even if it was only pretend, and though he wanted to call both his family and yours to see if they heard from you; he didn't need them to think he was more of a failure than he already was.

His knees were bouncing up and down when six-thirty hit. The only way he refrained from pacing around the house, was the fact that all the guys were there and they were already chirping him for being worried. But this wasn't like you at all, you always checked in or called if you were going to be late. His mind started to go in a million directions. The current scenario playing in his head was that you were in a car accident on the way to the airport. He could practically hear the sirens driving you to the hospital when the house alarm went off. "Shit," he heard coming from the front door, as all heads turned in that direction. That's when he saw you.

Matt jumped to his feet. "Thank god." He was running over to you as you tapped in the code. The moment you finished he wrapped you in his arms. "Where have you been? Why didn't you text me?" Even to his own ears, Matt had to admit he sounded like a mother hen.

"I was flying, in a plane."

"No shit. Why didn't you text me when you left?"

"I got an earlier flight and thought you'd still be at the arena. My publicist called and had a car waiting for me. I thought it would make things easier."

Matt kissed your forehead, before speaking. "You should've called, we got done early. I could've come and got you."

"I see that now." It was then Matt remembered he had an audience and looked shyly back over at his friends. "Hi, guys." They all waved back.

"Don't mind us," Noah called out, as all three guys watched the two of you. "No really, don't mind us. You two say hello to each other. We know it's been a couple weeks since you two have seen each other."

Matt rolled his eyes at the three men sitting on his new family room couch but kissed your cheek, all the same, to welcome you home. "Really, Tkachuk?" Sean chirped out. "That's how you greet your girl after a week away? You're lucky she said yes to you."

"Shut up, she's been here all of two minutes."

"And yet you still haven't kissed her properly." Matt realized he still held you in his arms when Markstrom's words finally registered. He looked at you and you just smiled sweetly at him, which only made him more confused. If he kissed you, he had no clue what you would think or do, and if he didn't his teammates would wonder what the hell was going on. Matt was saved from making the decision when your right hand went to the nape of his neck and drew his lips to yours.

Soft.

That was the first thing Matt thought when his lips touched yours. God, they were soft, just like the softest of silk that had ever caressed his skin. The kind that you wanted to just feel against you all day long, and yes Matt wanted to just have your lips pressed to his for hours on end. Yes, he'd pecked your lips during these last several weeks, but it was always quick and he never got the time to think about you or the way your lips actually felt against his. He was startled when the velvet touch of your tongue swept into his mouth. It was something he would remember until the day he died, for you tasted so sweet, like a drop of honey that he wanted to lick over and over again.

Matt could feel your hesitance when his brain finally lifted from the fog that you'd sucked him into. It was then that he took control. Hands skating down your back to your ass where he gently pressed you against his body. He memorized your every curve and relished the way you molded against him. Matt had kissed quite a few women before, but none of them made him feel the way you did. He was back to being that horny young boy with the biggest hard-on, watching some late-night HBO show his parents wouldn't approve of just to catch a glimpse of a woman's tits. Only now he was a grown man with a very real woman in his arms. The same woman who knew every secret about his life and he knew hers as well, but then that's what made it perfect; he realized. The house, the kiss, the moment, hell even the pretend engagement was all perfect because it was you. Matt finally understood that everything he'd ever wanted was right in his arms, but then you were pulling away; breaking the kiss, and disappointment spread through his body.

Cheers and clapping brought Matt back to reality. "Now, that's how you welcome your girl home." Mony declared letting out a big whoop. Heat rose to not only Matt's cheeks but yours as well.

You were the first to recover. "Well, should I kick you all out now or shall we wait until whatever is on the tv is done to ask you all to leave?" Matt could tell that you were cringing on the inside as your body stiffened somewhat in his arms, but the false bravado you gave with the guys was the perfect thing to say to put everyone back at ease.

"Awe, come on (Y/N), there can't be more than an hour left until we find out who wins," Jacob stated, turning his attention back to television.

"Golf? How you guys ever find this exciting is beyond me. By all means, stay." Dropping your voice, so you could speak to Matt in a more hushed tone, you added. "I'm going to head upstairs. I'm exhausted. Have fun with the guys. We can catch up later."

"Stay." Matt pleaded, realizing he still had a hold of you. "They won't be here that much longer. Besides I want to show you the house and everything."

"I've seen it." Which you had, not only when he bought it, but also with the ton of pictures he'd sent over the last week. Matt's eyes held a hint of sadness to them and before he could say anything more you gave in. "Ok, but can I at least change?"

"Of course. I'll take your bags up." He grabbed both suitcases carrying them as if they weighed nothing when you knew that wasn't the case. "Be right back," he told the guys then headed upstairs. He went straight to the master suite instead of the room you'd picked out for yourself. "I'm just putting these here until they leave. Your clothes are in this closet. I hope that's ok."

"It's fine. We can figure things out later."

Just as you were going to head toward the closet, Matt grabbed your wrist. "About what happened downstairs…"

"Matty it's your house. You can invite anyone you want over."

"Oh well…uh…yeah that too…I know, and you can too, you know, but I was talking about the kiss."

"It's fine Matt. We're going to have to kiss sometimes. It's not like it's a big deal."

Not a big deal! Matt screamed on the inside. It was only the most monumental life-changing thing that had ever happened to him. Well, besides making it to the NHL. Hell, this was just as big if not bigger. He couldn't believe that you were blowing it off. He wanted to grab you by the arms and shake you. No, that wasn't right. He wanted to take you in his arms again and kiss you until you realized it was a huge deal. Instead, he found himself saying, "Yeah…uh…you're right. It'll probably happen again." As soon as the word 'again' was out of his mouth, Matt was already thinking about kissing you the next time. He wouldn't be surprised then. He knew exactly what he was going to do, and that was give you the kiss of a lifetime and show you just how much of a gigantic deal it was.

"Probably," you answered offhandedly and headed towards the closet again. "I'll be down in a few as soon as I change." That was Matt's cue to leave. He knew that, yet he still stood there thinking about that kiss. The kiss that changed everything. The same one that Matt thought meant nothing to you. Well, nothing didn't seem right, for he felt that way you'd melted against him for a few moments when he took control of the kiss. There was something there. He was sure of it. He just didn't know how to go about exploring it without ruining the friendship that the two of you had built. But then didn't friends make the best lovers, or something to that extent. He just needed to be patient, something he was not good at. You walked back out of the closet then, one of Matt's sweatshirts in your hands and nothing on your upper body but a lace bra. Matt's mouth went dry. He'd seen you hundreds of times in a bikini but this was like seeing you in a whole new light. The hard-on he had downstairs moments ago only grew stiffer at the sight of you. "I thought you were going back downstairs." You quickly covered up, your half-naked body.

"Yeah," Matt said a little too loud even to his own ears. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything." It was a complete lie, but it was all he could come up with at the moment.

"I'm good," you answered throwing the sweatshirt over your head. "I borrowed this. Hope you don't care."

"Not at all." Though disappointment did course through his veins as you covered yourself up. "I'll see you downstairs then."

Matt finally left the bedroom, giving you a chance to breathe. That kiss. It had thrown you more than you wanted to admit. You had no idea what had come over you, just pulling Matt in like that and planting one on his lips. You weren't sure where the confidence had come from. Well, that wasn't entirely true. A conversation with your new editor, Mason, was why you did it. He wanted the character in your book to be bolder, take more control. For some reason, you'd decided to translate that into your life with Matthew, though now that you'd kissed him, that same confidence that caused you to do it, was waning. Matt bringing it up only made that bravado fade even more. There was nothing you could do but blow it off as if it were nothing. Only there was no sense dwelling on it, you had a room full of burly hockey players waiting downstairs, including one that set your heart racing. You took a deep breath and headed down.

"Let me guess, I didn't miss anything," you said sarcastically as you went to take a seat in one of the open chairs. To your surprise, Matt grabbed your hand and pulled you down on the sofa. Making you land, unceremoniously on his lap.

"Shh, this is the good part, princess." He shushed as he adjusted you so that you were resting against his chest. You tried to control your heart from beating out of its chest. He was probably only doing this for show with his teammates there, but you couldn't help the hitch in your breath when you felt his thumb start to caress your hip.

"Who's winning?" you asked in a hushed tone as they all seemed absorbed in watching some guy tee off on the green.

"The US," Markstrom answered you and you nodded your thanks back not wanting to disturb them again. How these men that played such a fast-paced sport could get engrossed in such a sedate sport was completely beyond you.

You watched for a bit, listening to the guys as they chatted back and forth about so and so's swing or the putt someone made; not really comprehending anything they were saying. After a few swigs of Matt's beer, you felt your eyes starting to drift shut even as the guys seemed to get more animated. Maybe it was the slow circles Matthew kept drawing on your hip or the sheer exhaustion from the week in New York, but soon you drifted off; head resting down on Matt's shoulder.

Matthew felt your body relax against him, as you fell asleep. He no longer cared about the golf match on the screen. His only concern was you and the fact that you were in his arms. It wasn't anything new, you falling asleep against him, yet at the same time, everything was completely different. His thumb, the one that had been idling drawing circles on you, snuck under your sweatshirt to feel your warm skin. His whole body came alive just from that small touch of flesh. Why he hadn't had these feelings about you before, he would never know. If he really thought about it, he was pretty sure they had been there for a long time, only now they were bubbling to the surface. He'd just buried them deep down, not wanting to disrupt the friendship the two of you had built. But they were here now and he didn't want them to go away. He wanted to explore them, see where they would go, and hope to god that they led him where he thought they would in the end. Which was a long and happy life with you.

"What a match," Noah exclaimed and Matt quickly shushed him as to not wake you up. "Sorry, didn't realize (Y/N) had fallen asleep."

"She's exhausted from New York."

"Yeah," Sean added. "You gotta be proud of her. Britt can't stop talking about her books. She's really becoming a big deal."

Matthew smiled, for he was truly proud of all that you'd accomplished. But then he frowned, more to himself than outwardly. You'd put your success on hold for him and part of him hated himself for making you do that. "I am. She's amazing. I'm pretty lucky." Matthew meant every word. He was lucky. Lucky to have not only your friendship but hopefully something more.

"Well, we'll see you tomorrow," Markstrom said as they all got up to leave. "Don't get up. We'll see ourselves out."

Once they left, Matt sat there looking down at you sleeping in his arms. Lucky. He hoped to god luck was on his side, because he may need it if he was going to take this friendship to the next level. He grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch; the one that you'd picked out to go with the furniture, and draped it across both of you. On impulse, he reached for his phone and snapped a pic of the two of you. He debated for a second before opening up Instagram and posting the picture. New house finally feels like home, now that you're here. It was the first thought that had popped into this head when you'd walked through the door. He hadn't been able to grab a picture of that, but this just felt right. Hell, everything felt right now that you were here.

[cockslutpadalecki]

Ohhhhh can I request some dub/non con (you can write it with whichever in mind) alpha!Sam x Omega!reader x alpha!Dean, where the boys are in the middle of a deadly rut and they take her (maybe she's engaged to another alpha or something) as their mate and are intent on breeding her??? Gimme smut and angst galore! 😘😘

Summary: In the midst of a truce with a rival mob family, the Winchester brothers want one more thing to sweeten their deal. But when Y/N’s Alpha refuses to hand her over, they decided they’re going to have her regardless.

Characters: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam.

Words: 2.8K

Warnings: non con/dub con, a/b/o dynamics, forced marking, explicit sexual content, mentions of knotting, kidnapping, drugging, talk of suppressants/heats, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), cream pie, breeding kink, a little praise kink, use of restraints, multiple orgasms, oral sex (female receiving), 18+.

A/N: It’s not as angsty as I was expecting, but I hope it’s enjoyed nonetheless. Betas: @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. My work is my own, therefore I do not give consent for this story to be re-posted or translated to any other site. Subscribe to Patreon and get access to fics, just like this one, two weeks before Tumblr for as little as $3.

You smell them before you see them.

Like rain in the air ahead of a big storm. The kind that can decimate your house in seconds, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.

A perfect metaphor to describe them, you think. Chaos and violence follow the Winchester brothers wherever they go.

You know you should bolt the moment your fiance greets them at the door to his office. Your eyes follow the imposing Alphas as they stalk across the room towards your partner’s desk, their footsteps silent as they’re swallowed up by the carpet.

When the two men sit down, that’s when you really feel it. Something’s off. Like their scents have soured over time, but it doesn’t stop your Omega instincts from stirring inside you.

Months of negotiations have led to this moment— a truce between the two families after decades of rivalry. A chance to make history and end the bloodshed tainting the streets of Lawrence, Kansas.

When the pleasantries and introductions are dealt with, the conversation steers towards the matter of trade offs.

To make this coalition work, they had previously agreed to merge their specialities, using each other’s contacts to keep them at the top of the food chain, so to speak.

Dean and Sam Winchester are to provide guns to your Alpha’s men, and in turn, your beau gives them a cut of all profits pertaining to the drug shipments he controls.

The conversations and arrangements over the last few months always seem to end positively, but there was something that never felt quite final to you. Like they’ve been holding back on a request until today.

“So if we’re all set, we can move ahead and sign this,” your Alpha’s voice brings you back to the present, your gaze on the stack of papers that makes up their contract.

“Wait,” Dean stalls, holding his hand up.

“Are we not done?” your lover responds, a little confused.

“My brother and I have thought a lot about it, but there’s one more thing we want.”

You watch your Alpha relax into his chair, curiosity pulling at his features.

“Her.” Dean’s almost golden eyes flicker towards you.

The air thickens as your beau lets out an incredulous laugh. “No chance. She’s off the table.”

The older Winchester reaches into the waistband of his trousers and pulls out a small handgun, laying it on the table to face your Alpha. “Then so is our deal.”

“She’s my Omega, I can’t give her away. She belongs to me.”

“Doesn’t look like you’ve claimed her,” Sam intercedes, eyes lingering a little too long on your unblemished throat, “so she’s still fair game, is she not?”

You watch your fiance crack his neck, see the way his features darken and you know the Winchesters have pushed him too far.

“The answer’s no,” he grits.

Without another word, they shrug at each other, seeming to accept his response. Dean flashes him a wide smile as Sam slumps back into his chair, and the conversation quickly changes trajectory. You let out a sigh of relief through your nose, but as the meeting progresses late into the evening, the sour taste continues to linger on the flat of your tongue.

-

Everyone is long gone by the time you leave the office. You do your usual check in with the security detail positioned at the main entrance before wishing him goodnight and take the elevator down to the underground parking garage. It’s deserted when you step out, and in any other situation, you’d probably be glancing over your shoulder in five second bursts, but you know you’re safe here, in amongst your Alpha’s grounds. Nobody would dare touch his Omega otherwise they would risk losing their hands… or heads.

You make it to your overpriced, flashy car and curl your fingers around the door handle, but you fail to make it into your seat before everything turns to black.

-

Every fibre in your being aches when you wake in a room you don’t recognise. A cannula sits neatly in the crease of your elbow, and your wrists are shackled to the metal frame of the bed you’re laying on. From what you can tell, your feet don’t seem to be restrained, but your ankles smart as if they once were.

Your skin feels like fire has burrowed beneath it, singeing your veins, and your stomach rolls as your senses pick up on a familiar scent you can’t place yet. As slick starts to gather between your thighs, forcing you to jolt fully awake, afraid of the implications.

It can’t be your heat. You take your suppressants every morning at seven am without fail. You took them this morning with your orange juice and oatmeal.

But how many mornings have passed since then?

The concept of time feels like a myth here, and even though the room has a window, the makeshift blinds are drawn, blocking out any light trying to break through. It could be the next morning or an afternoon a week later— you have no idea how long has passed since you were ambushed in the parking lot.

At least that’s what you think you can remember. It’s all just a blanket of obsidian, daring you to try and pull back the curtain to take a peek at your reality.

You rack your brain, but trying to think hurts even more— the steady thumping in your temple becomes increasingly uncomfortable.

You start to look around the room, any sign that might lead you to the identity of your kidnappers, but it is as nondescript as they come. The bed you’re laying on is basic, and the only other piece of furniture you can see is a chair in the corner, looking long forgotten.

You try to roll on the mattress, but your movements are impeded by the shackles at your wrists. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you resign yourself to the fact that you’re stuck like this until the owner of the handcuffs returns.

If they ever do.

Tears begin stinging at your eyes, wondering when or if you’ll ever see your Alpha again. If he’s even looking for you once he realised you were missing— if he’s realised.

He must have. You’re his most prized possession, you try to reassure yourself just as the cluck of a weighty lock pulls you from your teary reverie.

Your head feels heavy when you turn it towards the door, eyes flickering as it opens and a man you’ve never seen before enters, carrying a tray of what looks like medical supplies.

As he places it down onto the bed beside you, you notice the piercing blue of his eyes and a wave of serenity washes over you, calming you instantly.

 “You’re awake,” he says softly, and you figure he must be a Beta from the way he smells— lavender with notes of sweetest chamomile. It reminds you of the pillow mist on your nightstand. “They will be pleased.”

“They?” you croak, throat sore from lack of use. “Who are they?”

“I’m afraid I cannot divulge that information until my bosses are ready to make their identities known,” he tells you, his fingers expertly preparing a syringe.

You blanch when he nears you, even though your brain reminds you comfortingly that he’s harmless.

“Don’t worry, it’s just saline,” he explains, and points to your arm. “I need to flush this.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, eyeing the bulbous IV bag full of clear liquid.

“Food. They need you to keep your strength up.”

“For what?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” he smiles.

“Only when I wake up in a strange room with no recollection of getting there, and a needle in my damn arm.”

“I take it this isn’t your first time,” he jokes.

“How’d you guess?” you scoff, voice dripping with sarcasm.

This time the Beta laughs aloud, and it’s like music to your ears. “I’m Cas,” he introduces, even though he seems hesitant. Like he could get into trouble for doing so.

“Y/N,” you reply, before adding, “but I guess you already knew that.”

He smiles, giving you a small nod as he quickly replaces the old IV with the new.

“What is this place?”

“I’m afraid I cannot divulge—” he repeats almost robotically. 

“—  that information,” you interrupt dejectedly as Cas fiddles with the connection on your cannula, making sure it’s tight. “Gotcha.”

Heavy footsteps sound outside the room, and Cas instantly stiffens. You can see the way his fingers shake as he picks up the tray, collecting the medical waste to dispose of. You want to ask him if he’s alright, but instead you bite down on your bottom lip to stifle it. He’s clearly unnerved, and no doubt sick of your questions by now.

Suddenly the door crashes open, and your eyes widen at the sight of the two men filling up the doorway. Finally, the familiar scent you couldn’t place before makes sense, and now it surrounds you like a heavy mist. Your body reacts against your will at the stench, no longer sour or off-putting, but as if your sense of smell has returned after an illness.

You’ve never inhaled something as decadent in your entire life, and it practically blindsides you, as the sound of the recognisable deep baritone voice exacerbates the aching pulse in your cunt.

No, no, no. Not your heat. Not here. Not now.

“Ah, look Sammy, our pretty girl’s finally awake.”

There’s no mistaking it. You finally know who’s responsible for taking you.

The Winchesters.

-

It’s nighttime when the cramps start. Rolling, pinching, contracting agony that rips cry after cry from your parched throat. If you were in any doubt before that your heat was coming, this confirms it. Your body is feverish with sweat, the thin cotton negligee you’re dressed in clinging to your clammy skin. The throbbing in your pussy is almost as painful as the cramps forcing copious amounts of slick to pool between your thighs.

In normal circumstances, you’d almost be embarrassed by how wet you are, but right now, you can’t even fathom shame while you’re desperately trying to cross your legs just to relieve some pressure in your cunt.

Your underwear is long gone, unaware of when or how, and you actually crave the cotton panties, wishing you had some material to create some friction against your sex.

Writhing against the mattress does nothing to quell a single symptom, and you can feel the frustration inside you mounting as your conversation with the Winchesters that morning— night— who knows when before, rattles through your brain.

“We had to keep you sedated to flush those nasty suppressants out of your system,” Dean explained, running a finger down your bare forearm. “Why you’d want to poison this flawless body with those things, I’ll never know.”

His finger moved— up and over the swell of your breast, and gently circled your puckered nipple. You tried to stifle the need to react, but your body had other ideas. You whined, eyes flickering shut as the weight of his touch caused your hips to cant towards his wandering hands, edging closer to your sex.

“She’s close. I can smell it on her,” he sniffed over his shoulder to his brother. “Another couple of hours or so, and she’ll be ready.”

You let go of a deep hum. “R-ready for what?”

The two Alphas smiled down at you before Dean spoke again. “You’ll soon find out, sweet Omega.”

You almost howl at the intensity of the heat, trying to remember the last time you had one this bad, but you can’t recall— your mind is too preoccupied with the waves of arousal laying claim to your body.

You haven’t a clue when the Winchesters appear at your bedside, neither one wearing anything except a pair of sweats. The sight of their glistening chests and rippling pectorals is enough to send another wave of cramps crashing through you, eyes squeezing shut as you can’t concentrate on anything but the rising tide of arousal deep in your core.

“Is she ready?” You hear Sam’s distinct growl, the depth and husk making your skin prickle with heat.

A hand is shoved between your legs, and gives your cunt a tight squeeze. You keen, rolling your hips against the pressure even though it does nothing to stifle the ache.

You’ve no idea whose hand it is, and you no longer care as they stimulate your clit with the pad of their thumb. A desperate whine escapes you, and you start to protest despite your need for release.

“She’s ready, Sammy.” There’s no mistaking Dean’s voice beside you. “She’s gonna take a knot tonight.”

“N-no, my Alpha,” you cry out in a pitiful state, eyes finally flickering open to stare up at the painfully handsome man above you.

“Ssh Omega,” Dean says, pressing a slick coated finger to your teeth-bitten lips before he brings it to his own and licks it clean. “We’re your Alphas now.”

Fear freezes your heart as the bed suddenly dips between your thighs, and Sam’s rough calloused hands run up your shins. You try to close your legs, but he’s too strong in this instinct driven state, his primal need to mate overriding any other coherent thought.

The younger Winchester nestles between your thighs, licking a wide stripe up your cunt and you mewl into the damp air above you. The room already stinks of sex and pheromones, and it’s making your dizzy.

You come across Sam’s tongue the moment his fingers breach your wet heat. In your heady, lust-drunken stupor, you think your quick and sharp climax is enough to sate you, but the cramps only seem to intensify now that they’ve touched you. Like your body craves more from them, even if your mind is screaming otherwise.

“M-more,” you whine, rolling your hips against Sam’s face, hoping he’ll give you what you’re begging for. You need to come again, and fast.

“Omega bitch wants more, Sammy,” Dean laughs when they switch places, his now naked form snug between your thighs. “Can’t deny her when she’s crying out for it.”

He bottoms out in one hard thrust, his fat wide cock filling you to the hilt. You can already feel his knot swelling as he retreats, and you let go of a chest-bursting scream when he ruts back inside you roughly.

You don’t care that it hurts, or that the burn of his knot helps to keep your pussy gaping as he fucks you with reckless abandon— you just need this heat to end.

The coil in your stomach tightens until the tension is too great and it snaps, your body trembling on the older Alpha’s cock as you surrender to your orgasm.

“God, just look at you comin’ on my cock,” Dean says in awe as your body sags back against the mattress. “So pretty laid out for us like this, ‘mega.” 

The praise shouldn’t elicit such swollen pride in your chest, however the docile component that helps to comprise your DNA can’t help but make you giddy. 

“Can’t wait to fill up this tight little cunt, make you all round with our pups,” he adds soothingly, rubbing a hand over your stomach. You blanch at his words, and try to wriggle from him, but the fact you’re still shackled to the bed means you don’t get very far at all.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’?” Dean’s tone changes in an instant as he tugs you back the inch or two you’d retreated in an attempt to get away, impaling you completely on his thick cock. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

-

Your cunt is bruised and aching by the time Sam has his turn, his hot spend leaking out between your puffy folds. Every inch of you hurts from his voracious appetite— fucking you over and over until he’s sure he’s pumped you full of enough Alpha seed to make sure you end up pregnant. You should be horrified with yourself, but you’ve never felt more satisfied. The symptoms of the heat are finally subsiding, and your cramps all but vanished the moment Dean’s knot popped inside you, filling your womb to the brim with his release. 

Sam is still between your thighs, fingering the mess he’s made back into you, the dirty squelch of wetness making shame heat your cheeks. 

Dean stands over you, brushing damp hair from your clammy forehead as he gazes down at you with a wide yet macabre grin. You can feel a plea fizzing on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow it quickly, realising that even in this cock-drunk state there’s no point in pleading with them to let you go and release you back to your Alpha. 

But he’s not your Alpha any more, your thoughts cruelly remind you. The puckered, bloodied marks on either side of your neck have certainly made sure of that.

***

Supernatural: @allys-creative-bubble @angelofthetrenchcoats @akshi8278 @cluz1babe @deanwanddamons @deanwinchesterswitch @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamencodiva @fairlyspnfanfic @hobby27 @jensengirl83 @jensenswinchester @katelyn--renee @mrswhozeewhatsis @notinlovewithdeanwinchester @peachyafshawn @patrick-hockslutter @pink-sparkly-witch @spnbaby-67 @sammykb1994 @sharp-cheekbones-locked @tumbler-tidbits @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @thoughts-and-funnies @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters @vicmc624 @waywardbaby @winchest09

Forever: @amandamdiehl @buttercandy16 @crashdevlin @dangertoozmanykids101 @daughterofthenight117 @donnaintx @danneelsmain @dandywinchesterbras @deangirl93 @doozywoozy @downanddirtydean @foxyjwls007 @gayasslookinass @hoewkeye @heyyouwiththeassbutt @hoboal87 @ilovefanfic86 @jewelswrites-ish @joseyrw @letsby @letsdisneythings @mogaruke @notyourtypicalrose @nik2write @novawillowbarnes @obsessivelycapricious @pinkshenanigan @princessmisery666 @rattwritesfics @sea040561 @sweeterthanthis @slutformarvelmen @simpformarvelmenandwoman @stoneyggirl @that-one-gay-girl-reads @warriorqueen1991 @wonder-cole @xoxabs88xox @zooaliaa

[18002dheauxs]

Fire Force Ruining Sex

-about: like the title says.. lil headcanons about weird things the fire force men do in bed, super late add in this is inspired by a trend I've seen on here the first person I saw doing it was yeagerslut so creds to them although they BEEN deactivated

-with: multiple fire force men, gn!reader (Assault's reader has boobs but thas it!)

-wc: 1.4K

-warnings ⚠️: sexual content (minors dni go on somewhere), rough sex implied, smut, crack (pls don't take anything I say serious I am lich rally stoopid as hell), all underaged characters are aged up to 18+

Officers: 

Captain Burns: He knows, as a priest, sex is supposed to wait til marriage so that's probably why he prays to sol for forgiveness after every single time and makes you do it with him. It's definitely a mood killer & he definitely wasn't worried about sol when he was manhandling you but uhh.. lâtom ig?

Lieutenant Karim: Karim is actually pretty damn good at dirty talk even degradation, if you're into it. He's got a certain way of being juuust mean enough and it hits just right. Well.. the first time. He does that repeat speech thing in bed too and tbh hearing the absolute filth that spills from his mouth is fun once. The second time it just feels like he's got somethin to say for real 🤨

Lieutenant Pan Ko Paat: I think we all know where this is goin... yea the whistle stays ON during sex. But the whistle isn't an issue when it's just on, it dangling in your face like a chain can be kinda seggsy but I digress. No, the issue comes when he's using it during sex like if you want them to go faster or slower or whatever you could use your words no one needs this elaborate code of whistles..🤦🏾‍♀️

Captain Shinmon: His aftercare.. uhh.. leaves something to be desired.. like he does do it (he better after what yall just did I'm not sure you'll be able to walk to get your own stuff but that's neither here nor there) but I feel like he could try a bit harder. Aftercare is a bit of an exaggeration for throwing a towel on your belly and setting water & some grapes on your side of the bed & just muttering "eat it".

Lieutenants Konro: Him?? Ruining sex?? What is it? He's too perfect? He fucks too well? Now you're like a crackhead for the dick showing up at the 7 scratching your neck and shit like "I-is Konro in? Is he? I-I-I just need a lil.. come on man, I'm good for it.. I know you got some please.. man I'm begging" Yea a lil typhrosis ash on you is totally worth it.

Captain Obi: When Tyrese said "you know we be tearin it up breakin stuff that ghetto love", Obi felt that. Yall are pretty much robbing furniture stores & home depot from all the warranties yall have cashed in on. Bed frames, lamps, spackle for walls he pushed through fuckin you against, you name it. This is why yall fuck at his place.

Lieutenant Hinawa: I mean he's got a lot going for him so should you really complain? I mean he's a good guy, nice job, respectable rep, fine as hell, good in the sack, should you really be complaining that he's completely silent and deadpan when he's not giving instructions? Does the silence past the squelching & skin slapping sounds sound a bit eerie? Yea. Does it kinda feel like you're fucking a serial killer? Absolutely. But he does do the tiniest lil grunt when he nuts and the amount of times you've nut already.. I'd say it's a fair trade with Bundy over here.

Cadets:

Takeru: Nothing. He's never done anything wrong in his life. You should be honored & here you are lookin for reasons to complain.. he shoulda stayed with Tamaki.. smh

Ogun: See Takeru. Nothing. He's never done anything wrong, he's perfect. Stop complaining before I slide over there. My car keys in my hand rn, don't play wimme.

Arthur: Role playing is fun when it's not every single time. Daddy, sir, Master are all cool but "Sir Knight King, your Excellency Grace Sire" is kinda a mouthful especially when your brain is umm.. otherwise occupied.. Also that's definitely not how you would actually address a king back in the days but we move ig. ALSO ask him why you always gotta play the concubine like you the only one there! Why can't you just be the queen?.. Idk man, I love himbos as much as the next but there's gotta be a limit here..

Shinra: This adorable lil mf is way too excitable. Like we get it he wanna be a hero that's all well and good but why you gotta be a part of his hero training? I'm sure everyone's very grateful to all that stamina for saving the world but we needa check on you! You ok? You need some electrolytes? Epsom salt? A wheelchair? Them 3 day sessions be beating yo ass huh? It's ok I'll talk to him for you.

The "we work with Company 8 a lot but this broad don't really know how to separate us that well so we going here" category:

Vulcan: He is just so sweet he cannot stand to leave a stray to fend for himself in the street & you love that about him, you do! It's always a surprise to see what cute lil kitten or puppy or whatever he's fostering when you go over but its way less cute when you look up from receiving some (bomb) backshots and into the eyes of the aforementioned strays. You talk to him about it but he can't lock the doors bc "this is their house too we can't just kick them out like their previous owners did". 🙄 Still, does Whiskers really need to see you getting your back blown out??

Viktor: You know what, the boy may not have the strongest constitution but one thing about ole Vik here, he got some rounds in him & it's a good thing because when yall first started sleeping together Viktor'll be the first to tell ya,a practiced man, he was not. That's probably why he used to nut so quick. Like really quick like "the first time yall had sex he got a pump in and on the out he was spilling all over your belly"quick.. yea it was a problem but that's where the stamina (and that insane head game like seriously he picked that up disturbingly fast & well) does him some good. So yea he was a 3 pump Peter the first 3 or 9 times yall had sex but he always gets you off & he looks so damn cute apologizing who could complain?

Joker: Oh Joker Joker.. it's an experience fuckin with Joker. On one hand, he'll definitely dick you down the way you like but he's also an.. eccentric character. Whether it's him smoking like a chimney in the middle of sex, being a lil too truthful in his degradation (yea yea we can talk about my daddy issues when you're not rearranging my guts) or him humming a whole chorus when he cums; its always a story when you rendezvous with this man. And yes, your therapist knows all of them.

Kurono: Chile now you know… look I get it he's kinda hot in a very creepy way but I don't even know where to start on the toxicity.. I know therapy isn't cheap but this is costing yo sanity. Plus we all know his eyes do that thing when he gets excited, it gets worse when he nuts but you know that already.. Stand up!

White Clad:

Assault: You'd think being a part of a murderous, hell cult would be the weirdest thing about your boyfriend till the first time yall tried to sleep together; this man unclamped your bra and froze up. He literally just sat there lookin between you and your tiddies for a smooth 2 minutes then touched your boob and made an excuse to go to bed. He got a lil further each time, till he finally was able to have sex with you (in the complete dark yea but still I'll count it) baby steps I guess..

Charon: For a guy who knows his own strength and can even cross over to cocky about it, my mans does not know his own length if you know what I mean? My guy is BIG.. all over.. and everyone seems to get it but him. He's always in such a rush to fuck you, you gotta remind him pretty much everytime "Charon, baby, I wanna do it too but Imma need some prep before you go tryna fit that febreeze can in me please n thanks!" He rolls his eyes but he really doesn't wanna hurt you so he obliges. Somebody hammer it into this man's head he got a whole 3rd leg & that patience is a virtue.

[priortoallthoughts]

Bad Batch Cuddles

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: gn!reader x bad batch

Warnings: None, just fluff

Summary: Reader is a medic for the Bad Batch who suffers from chronic nightmares. The Bad Batch learns that cuddling helps and they are on the job. This is how that came about.

[Part 2]

Masterlist

Nightmares are nothing new to you; you’ve dealt with them for as long as you can remember. It’s tiring, the constant interruption of any sleep you attempt to get. Your coping mechanisms, ones you’ve learned through hard experience, only do so much night after night.

When the war starts you join as a volunteer medic. You figure why not put your skills to use where they were needed the most? It did nothing to help you sleep, the nightmares are only that much more vivid now, but you think it’s a fair trade for the lives you save every day. It’s your passion, and you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

The GAR moves you around at any given moment depending on what it needs. Sometimes you’re on a Venator-class star destroyer serving under a Jedi general. A few times you work on one of the Republic medical stations with the Kaminoans (you weren’t sure how to feel about them if you were being honest.) But your longest stint anywhere, and where you were still, is working with Clone Force 99. They tell you to call them the Bad Batch.

You think it’s a bit funny, but you do it anyway.

They’re the ones who help you discover that nothing works to keep you asleep through the night quite as much as cuddling with someone else.

The first time you have a nightmare around them, you wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, in the little cot set up for you in the Havoc Marauder.

You slip past the boys still asleep in their bunks and make your way to the cockpit.

It’s cooler in there, causing you to shiver when you step through the door. The blur of stars in hyperspace is as mesmerizing as ever, and works to calm you down.

You sit it in the copilot seat. It’s always a good idea to leave the pilots seat open in case something goes wrong. And considering the Bad Batch’s propensity for things going wrong, it’s more likely than you care to admit.

Hours later, when your eyes are dry and hurting, you finally feel like you can go back to sleep. A quick sneak back to your cot and you lay there for the rest of the night.

Hunter asks you about it the next morning.

“Oh man, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Curse your inability to be stealthy! Of course you would wake up the one with enhanced senses!

“No worries,” he assures you with a smile. “You we’re getting restless before you woke up, wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You gave him an awkward smile. “Nothing to worry about, it was just a nightmare.”

Should you tell him that it’s normal? It would probably be a good idea. But what if he thinks constantly being woken up is too much of a hassle and wants a different medic? You were supposed to be helping them, not making them loose sleep too!

“I figured as much; it happens to all of us.”

He claps your shoulder and walks away before you could say another word.

Since then, one by one, the rest of the boys all find out about your nightmares. Wrecker is sitting up in his bunk one night when you jolt awake in your cot and end up meeting his eyes. Crosshair stays back with the Marauder during a short resupply where you proceed to fail miserably at taking a nap. Tech is tinkering with something in the cockpit when you come in one night.

You’re not actually sure if he’s been to sleep at all yet, which only makes you feel a little better about accidentally disturbing him.

“You know,” he starts as soon as you walk in, “there are many studies about the psychology of chronic nightmares and their causes in nat-borns. Do you know if you have any hereditary diseases or other underlying sleep disorders that could contribute to your condition? If we scanned your brain, we could see if there’s a physiological reason for it. As a medic, it would be simple for you to do.”

You’re so astonished, both by his concern and the heat crawling up your face, that you can only giggle before going to sit on the floor next to him.

“Hate to say it, but I’ve done that. Nothing physiological,” you sigh.

“Then it is psychological?”

“Not that I’ve ever discovered.”

Tech looks up in surprise. “I find it quite fascinating that nat-borns can have something wrong with them for no discernible reason.”

You snort. “Suppose being a genetically enhanced clone has some perks then. At least you know exactly how and why you’re different.”

“I’ve never heard someone say being a clone is a good thing.” Tech’s voice goes soft, and your heart breaks a little for him.

Being a medic has let you see the humanity in the GAR soldiers, that they’re so much more that just clones. You also see that you are one of a few who think so.

You lean your head down on his shoulder, causing him to perk up.

“Perhaps what you need to alleviate your nightmares is to sleep with someone.”

“Tech!” You sputter, trying to keep your voice down. “You can’t just say that!”

“You misunderstand, I did not mean that in a sexual sense, though that would also work.”

The sound that leaves your throat is absolutely mortifying.

“The sensation of touch releases oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin. These hormones make you experience feelings of happiness, relaxation, improve your mood, and lower levels of depression. In your case, theoretically, it may help alleviate your nightmares enough to sleep soundly through the night.”

Once again, you felt astonishment flood through you. It’s hardly a lot of research that Tech did, but the fact he did it for you had you feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

“So you’re saying I should cuddle with someone?”

“In layman’s terms, yes.”

“Are you volunteering?” You’re hoping you didn’t sound desperate, because if cuddling is the answer after all this time you’re gonna hold onto these boys like a gundark does it’s next meal.

Wait, that’s morbid.

“If you feel like it would help, it will also make a good experiment to see how such a release of hormones could affect us clones and you differently.” As he stands he offers his hand to you. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

When you follow him back to his bunk you have no idea that it will be the best night sleep you can ever remember having in your life.

It only goes uphill from there when the others find out what helps you, touch starved as they are.

Tech likes to sleep on your chest, partly for his own comfort, but you’re also convinced he documents your heart rate and respiration for his own study. You notice that he changes small things about the way he lays depending on how well you sleep some nights, like he wanted to see what brings about the best results. And if you cuddle him just a bit more when you catch on, well neither one of you says anything.

Wrecker is the most enthusiastic about this turn of events. He is the most tactile out of the four of them, so nights with him are the cuddliest. With him, he loves to be the big spoon, and you’re not complaining in the slightest. You feel so small in his arms. It’s the warmest and safest place you can ever be, and on the odd night you still wake up he’s holding you just that much tighter and assuring you that he’ll fight off every nightmare you have and keep you safe.

Hunter has to figure out which position sets off his senses the least, but he learns for you. It’s slow going, but eventually you both figure out that you laying on top of him is the best. You get a nice body pillow that hugs you back, and he gets a person shaped weighted blanket that actually manages to calm him down. The night you try that position you both sleep so well that it takes Hunter a few minutes to let you go when he wakes up, which is lovely since he usually has to move during the night.

Crosshair….

Well, Crosshair makes it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want any part of cuddling with you. The rapport you have already built with him as a medic is not ideal, but at least he’s civil with you now. You didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, so you leave him be.

The others take turns sleeping with you each night if they can. You rotate around their bunks so much you hardly sleep in your own cot anymore; the only times you do now is when they're off on a mission that you can’t join them on, even if you do double as a field medic for them.

Everything changes one night, though.

It’s another resupply when Crosshair stays behind that the others are trapped in town for the night because of a sandstorm. As capable as they were – a sandstorm wouldn’t have slowed them down much, honestly – Hunter didn’t want to needlessly risk it. So, he, Tech, and Wrecker stay in the town, leaving you and Crosshair alone in the Marauder.

You’re nervous for it, though you’re not certain why exactly. Maybe it’s the antsy feeling that grows in you the closer it came to go to sleep. You knew a nightmare will come tonight.

“Hey… Crosshair?” You stand a few feet away from where he cleans his rifle.

“No.”

You almost wince. You suppose it’s a bit obvious what you want to ask him.

“Right, sorry.”

You putter away to the bunks and proceed to strip away Wrecker’s, Tech’s, and Hunter’s (not Crosshair’s; never Crosshair’s) blankets and pillows to toss onto your cot. It’s something you do when they’re all away – a poor approximation to being in their arms, but it smells like them and it’s warm, so you make it work.

When Crosshair comes in from locking down the Marauder he takes one look at you and scoffs. “You look pathetic.”

You crack your eyes open. “Better pathetic like this than pathetic because of a nightmare,” you mutter before closing your eyes again.

“You’re going to give us a bad name if you keep looking this pathetic.” You hear before the blankets are ripped away from you.

“Hey!” You jolt up and try to grab them back but he’s already tossing them on the floor.

You freeze when he pulls the last remaining cover up and slides into your cot next to you. You’re staring at him in shock when he scoffs again and practically manhandles so you’re tucked into his front, chest to chest.

When your hands shakily move around to hold his middle, slowly in case he pulls away, he puts his around your back and pulls you closer.

You let yourself melt into it, lest you miss your chance to accept what he’s never offered before. Whatever has come over him, you’re going to take full advantage of it. Your legs tangle with his and in Crosshair’s arms you can finally sleep knowing no nightmare would dare to disturb either of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his chest as you drift off.

“Don’t mention it,” he whispers back, voice softer than you’ve ever heard. “Ever.”

And after that night, Crosshair is one of your favorites to sleep with.

[yandere-daydreams]

man that bunny x wolf post has got my head just, absolutely filled with the idea of the world's dumbest, most sweet darlings, the kinds of darlings the yandere wants to protect from the world, the kinds of darlings who cant bring themselves to have any negative feelings toward their captors even though they KNOW they should. sweet little princesses and dumb soft bunnies and sad kind waifs, completely under the thumbs of their villains or wolves or bullies gosh i wish that were me

tw - unhealthy relationships, themes of dependency, slight infantilization, implied drug-use, manipulation.

To be fair,,, it's not like you know any better. You've always been so sheltered, so innocent, kept so far away from anyone or anything that might teach you how dark the world can really be, and when you lured away from your little castle, separated from all your foolish bodyguards, left alone and cold and vulnerable in a forest don't recognize, with only the clothes on your back and more fear than your naïve mind knows how to handle. No one's ever hurt you, ever hit you, ever used you own trusting nature to cause you harm, so when they come to you, seek you out in the thick fog, ask for your name and offer to take you back to their home, you don't know any better than to accept, than to take their arm, than to let them see you shiver and shake as you wipe away tears and mumble words of gratitude. You don't know any better than to trust them, as much as you trusted your noble parents, as much as you trusted your guards. You don't know any better than to think of them as a savior, rather than a threat. You just don't.

They're nice to you, and they're gentle, too, serving you the sweetest tea in their small collection, trading your ragged silk for soft cotton and warm furs, only ever touching you lightly, so lightly as the tend to your scrapes and bruises, rubbing strange ointments into your skin and bandaging up what can't be fixed so simply. They let you wander through their sprawling gardens to calm your nerves, braid their pretty flowers into bracelets and crowns, and when you tell them what happened, how you managed to get so lost, they offer to let you stay, at least for the night, at least until your parents send someone to look for you. You try to earn your keep, take care of all the little, domestic things they tend to forget about when they lock themself in the laboratory on the highest level of their tallest tower, but you've never been very good at that kind of stuff, never had any talent for home-making or household chores, and they're so patient, so eager to tell you that it's alright, it's fine, they're just happy to have you close, that your smile makes them happier than another pair of capable hands ever could. They say they like it when you keep them company, spend the day perched on the edge of their worktable or spend the night making idle conversation in the chambers. They tell you not to do anything else, not if it's too difficult, not if you might get yourself hurt. They say you don't have to think at all, not when they're so happy to take care of you.

You know that they're probably not as nice to everyone as they are to you. They don't have any servants, and guests aren't allowed past the iron gates, if you can really call their frequent visitors 'guests'. They don't take in anyone else, despite the voices you hear from the forest, at night, the voices they tell you to ignore, and when you mention visiting the nearby village or attempting to contact someone you might've known before you met them, they grow cold, distant, prone to touching you more harshly, to serving you bitter tea, to treating you less-than-gently when your thoughts turn heavy and words begin to slur and you find yourself in their bedroom, again, unable to do so much as breath without their help. You know that they're not as nice as they want you to think they are, or as kind, and that they don't have to be gentle, but it's so nice to be with them, so nice to let them make your life so easy.

It's so nice to let them take care of you, and to be honest, you're not sure you can take care of yourself, anymore.

[genshingarbage]

How They Destress || Headcannons

Hello my darling travelers! I Hope you’re all doing well~ I’ve got some more fluff for you all so I hope you all have a relaxing day! - Mod Kaeya

recommending this song for these headcannons!

Diluc

- He distresses by training of course, cooking up new ways to dismantle his enemy whilst in a safe environment before trying them out is basically what he does in his free time

- Diluc doesn’t mind if you watch from a very safe distance so feel free to set up a little picnic and watch him brainstorm from afar

- You can always tell when he’s about to start training because you can usually spot him walking through the house tying up his hair in nothing but a vest and britches towards the field behind the winery

- You’ve almost become acquainted with the hive of slimes there with how many times he’s tested things on them

- His whole process of working through each strategy and practicing old ones of calming to him because it’s something that will never change

- Each swipe is the same, each guard, each lunge and parry will always be the same

- The one constant in his ever changing life

- Working with his vision makes experimenting with strategies a little hard whilst also keeping it interesting

- I’d recommend bringing aloe vera incase any sort of accidents happen but the most you’ve gotten recently is just singes so just relax and don’t startle the man whilst he waves around a sword literally his body length

- At least you get to drool over the biceps he normally keeps hidden under his coat

- And then once he’s finished with that there’s a fair chance he’ll start experimenting with drinks so…there’s a chance for fun that way

Kaeya

- Normally the only time he’s stressed is when Death By Noon is out of stock quite honestly and should that even happen he hyper fixates on work like no other to cope

- Honestly some people pray for the months where it’s gone just for the comforting fact that even before things become a threat they’re eradicated by Kaeya unless he deems them too interesting to kill and usually those times are when the Knights get their days off because golly the amount of commissions they get vanishes into thin air so fast you’d be surprised there was any strife at all

- It works sort of like clockwork, he starts out clearing all the areas around Mondstat itself then follows the trade routes and once those are clear, depending on how many days he’s been sober, he fucks off into the wilds and lets his sword take him wherever it pleases

- Once he gets home it’s a spa day though since he’s not used to doing everything he usually does and commit a mass extermination at the same time

- He probably doesn’t get home for a couple of days or weeks depending on how frazzled he is ngl

- He’s gonna take a nice long bath and zone out and then chug a cup of coffee on the couch in nothing but shorts and a loose open shirt and then he’s going to go to bed

- Consider the bedroom occupied until the shortage is over pretty much if the bag under his eye is any indication of his current mental state

- Just give him a lot of affection and I’m sure he’ll be fine

Albedo

- Somedays he’ll just short circuit and you can tell right away he needs to take a break

- He’ll still be lying in bed, eyes half lidded but as soon as you call his name and he just responds with a “…m¿” you know

- Don’t let him leave the tent

- At all

- As soon as he leaves the tent he goes into Work Mode

- He needs to rest and recuperate so shove some tea in his hands and start telling stories

- the best way to get him back on track is to get him to his thoughts about Deep ™️ things or work

- Tell him really long stories about anything from your day yesterday or a recount of your favorite best selling novel and he’ll eventually stop thinking

- Playing the story game might be a good way to trick him into light heartedness about everything for the moment honestly

- If he feels sleepy let him dream he’s a tired boi

- Days in bed just talking away with each other, completely blind and deaf to the world and falling in and out of dreams hits that sweet spot that has him refreshed like an hp bar got refilled

- He may even come to a solution for various experiments or theories because of your time together

Venti

- The guy doesn’t stress end of

- He’s always convinced everything will turn out at least a little alright for everyone so he isn’t too worry about life

- It’s very very rare for him to become stressed and if he is it’s because of things that have happened in his past that he can’t stop thinking about

- This would be the time for a good old song and dance

- Seriously if you have the ability to grab your closest friends and drag them to wherever the both of you live do it

- He loves music more than anything so watching others perform or going to a show with his buddies really lifts his spirits a lot

- Especially if they have vastly different opinions on music than he does because that means there’ll be a lot of interesting discussions on various topics across the night and this guy can talk if he needs to

- Maybe don’t let him drink till he’s smashed but being a little tipsy won’t hurt him if he wants to drink

- Chances are he won’t be in the mood as he’ll be busy trying to teach someone the lyre because they tried to shred it like a guitar though

- Listening to upbeat music is his go to but more slow, calming music sometimes does the trick if you both are just chilling out and don’t really want to be bothered

Xiao

- Okay he’s the opposite to Venti in that He’s Always Stressed

- It’s just reached a level to where it’d the norm to constantly feel like he’s going to sprout gray hairs at any moment so he’s just at this eerie calm all the time

- Unless there are mortals besides you nearby

- Okay first off dip out to somewhere without mortals for once

- Like seriously just go to Juryen Karst or something because Im afraid he’s going to pop a blood vessel

- Just walking around Juryen Karst is enough to put him at ease at least a little because of the atmosphere, it’s thick with adeptal energy and everything about the place is riddled with mystery and a mystic aura that you can never really find anywhere else in treyat

- He’s gonna just up and vanish a lot, don’t worry he’s just running around to burn off the stress or even doing a bit of routinely clean up so the slimes don’t get out of hand

- You’ve never seen the mega slime he’s described before but you have no intents of ever seeing it

- Set up a little place for you both to sit and eat (a looooot of almond tofu for him)

- Then just…breathe

- He’ll be quiet this whole trip honestly because he’s so content, high up on one of the stalks among the clouds and gods and yaoguai

- Xiao’ll be at peace just meditating there with you

Zhongli

- He needs to be busy, mostly with his hands

- So he’s taken up a lot of hobbies in his newfound free time

- His favorite thing to do though is make you a cup of tea and then get down to whatever it is he’s going to focus on that day

- Your company is invaluable to him at the end of the day

- Zhongli tends to go for sculpting things out of clay and he takes ages doing it in order to get the best result

- You’ve pointed out that it must be similar to how he sculpted Liyue or even some of it’s denizens out of the land before but he just chuckled at that

- Apparently that was more like sifting through sand and mining at the same time but let’s not get into that

- The sculpts he makes are usually of mythical creatures he’s read about that have taken his fancy, anything more realistic about dragons or Qilin are a bit boring to sculpt for him for the moment but I’m sure that fancy will return eventually

- He actually has given a sculpt of what a Cocogoat might look like to Qiqi before and she’s taken very good care of it since

- His tools litter his workshop because he’s so absentminded but he somehow still knows where everything is? The only thing messier than the clay dust everywhere is when he gets down to painting the sculpts

Childe

- Stress is very hard to detect with Childe because he’s so used to holding up that cheerful facade but once you’ve been with him long enough it’s like watching a fish out of water

- He’s slightly out of beat in conversation, his shoulders a little tenser than usual and he’s paying a bit too much attention to this or that

- You have to force him into your hotel room and sit him down on the bed

- You gotta break out the olive oil and the candles for this one guys he’s a BIG stressor

- Give him a massage and tell him about all the things you love about him, okay?

- And not a short one, a loooong fullbody massage with loooong soliloquies about how much you adore when he scrunches up his nose in confusion when he thinks no one is looking at him trying to use chopsticks

- When you’re done make him some traditional Sneznayan food, this can be anything from a breakfast food to a dinner food because either way he’s just going to be elated to see food that doesn’t require you to fight with utensils to eat

- It’d be good if you kept everything as quiet as possible around him too for once because god knows he’s probably going to go deaf from the amount of explosions he’s heard in his life

- Still though just relax with him and enjoy your food

Kuzuha

- It’s a bit easy to tell when he’s starting to stress

- He can’t really go with the flow as easily as he usually does, he gets hung up on things and he sometimes even is so stuck inside his head he doesn’t stop to view the awestrucking sights in Treyat

- The best way to help him destress is to leave him alone

- Sometimes it’s just for the best to tell him that you’re gonna have a busy day so if he wants to come along he can but it won’t hurt if he doesn’t

- He’ll probably take that queue to go on a long jog and think about his life up until now

- And boy does he have a lot to process since coming to Treyat

- He often takes routes that pass by rivers or ponds or lakes because the sereneness of them are often one of the first things he notices about a place he’s visiting and it’s undeniable that if he could paint a picture of the beauty he finds in all of these things he wouldn’t think it captured it all the way

- He might end up scaling a mountain by the time he gets back but he’ll be that sweetheart wanderer you’ve always loved by the end of it

- And on the off chance he’d ask for you to come with him on his walks please do, he’d really appreciate it

- falling in step with you whilst deep in thought makes him feel a bit safer than he did before, he’ll be distracted but should anything happen you’ll be there to jump in first as always

[wonderlandleighleigh]

How is your imagination and writing so good?! I thought it couldn’t get any better than the Fashionable People AU but that last post-Carnegie Hall prompt was SO good 👏👏👏 would love to see that one keep going if you’re feeling it!

(Oh man thank you so much! I just love writing and I'm a little on the chaotic side, so I just go with it!)

They do wind up staying for the rest of the night, but they don't leave each other's side after their dance. They make each other laugh, trading parenting stories and awkward tales about run-ins with their exes, and it's the most personal they've ever been with each other outside of being naked together.

And it feels so nice. It feels like something in Lenny's chest has cracked loose a little, making him feel less tense; less guarded. Her feet are in his lap, and he's tapping a thumb gently against her ankle. It feels good to be so tactile with her.

Other people try to come over to chat. Sophie Lennon stops by, and she says something horrible about Lenny slumming it, or Midge hooking up with a junkie or something, and both Midge and Lenny just stare at her silently.

Sophie frowns deeply at them. "What?"

"We're waiting for you to get to the point of your talking to us," Lenny tells her.

"And if there isn't one, we're waiting for you to leave," Midge adds.

And she does, and the two of them giggle about it, leaning into each other in their seats.

"What's funny?"

Midge catches her breath an waves a hand. "Hi, Gordon. Nothing. Just an inside joke."

"Must be some joke," Gordon smiles charmingly. "Hello, Lenny, good to see you again."

"Hello, Gordon," Lenny grins. "Having a good time?"

"Oh, sure, yeah," Gordon nods. "It seems like the two of you are having much more fun than I am."

"We generally have more fun than most people," Midge agrees, before nudging Lenny with her foot. "Remember Miami After Dark? I thought Brye was having an existential crisis watching us."

"He probably did," Lenny agrees. "Between our bizarre flirting, and my getting bitched out by Tennessee Williams live I don't know that he survived the night."

They both laugh, and Gordon tries to laugh too, but obviously doesn't really understand the joke.

"The two of you are clearly dangerous together," Gordon tells them, trying to smile.

"No comedy club, illegal strip joint, or hotel room is safe," Lenny declares, and both of them clink their glasses together.

"Well...I...I suppose I'll leave you to it," Gordon tells them. "Although, we should have the two of you on the show together at some point. People would love it."

"I suppose I can be a good boy long enough," Lenny shrugs.

Midge beams at him, and lifts an eyebrow. She doesn't tell him she'll make it worth his while, but it's written all over her face.

"Bye, Gordon," Midge says, smiling up at him. "I'll see you Monday for taping."

"Sure, Midge," Gordon nods, wandering off.

"What is with people tonight?" Midge asks softly.

"You two are having more fun than anybody else here, that's what," Steve Allen says as he steps over. "But you're not letting anyone else in on the fun."

"Well, to be fair," Lenny tells him. "Gordon wants to fuck Midge, and Sophie wants to fuck Midge over. You, however, are more than welcome to join our little club."

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. "We'll be wrapping up in the next hour. You two get out of here and stop making everybody feel so embarrassingly unromantic."

"I suppose we'll just have to find another joint to terrorize," Lenny laments, gently setting Midge's feet on the floor and getting to his feet. "Steve, I had a very nice time."

"I'm sure you did, Lenny," Steve chuckles as they shake hands. He turns to Midge as she gets to her feet and kisses her cheek. "Lovely to see you, Midge."

"Thank you, Steve," she says, kissing his cheek back.

"You two be good," he warns. "Try not to get arrested tonight, huh?"

"No promises," Midge smirks, as Lenny offers her an arm, which she readily takes.

[mysticalrambling]

Please write prompt 20 for Harry Styles!!

Cuddles (H.S)

A/N: Thank you for the request darling. This is my first fanfic from the prompt list and I hope you all enjoy it. I'm open to requests on my prompt list and I'll soon be writing the other asks that are in my inbox.

Prompt 20: “Just wanna cuddle with you.”

Prompt List

Prompt List Requests

My Main Masterlist is here.

Harry Styles Masterlist is here.

Summary: The tour is over and you guys decide to stay in your LA house for a few weeks. Harry gets sick and you take care of him.

Warnings: just some tooth rotting fluff and a little bit of angst.

._._._._.

The tour ended a week ago and you and Harry had already decided that you would stay in your LA house for sometime. It had been a hectic couple of months for you both and you just wanted to relax a bit. Harry had been a little bummed out about the US leg of the tour being over but you had reminded him that there were many more projects waiting for him and he would soon be back with his fans.

“Get up, H. Let’s go for a run.” You went for the blanket but he held onto it tightly.

“No!! Let’s sleep in, darlin’.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you spoke in an affirmative tone. “We’re goin’ out. You’ve been holed up in this house for the past week.” You had decided to get up early today and get yourself ready in your running attire. It was always your husband who insisted on morning runs and healthy lifestyle but you understood that he was not feeling like himself so you are doing this for him.

“I’m not feelin’ well, lovie.”

“What d’you mean?” You sat beside him and removed the comforter from his face. Touching his  slightly sweaty forehead, you realised that he was burning up.

“Think I’ve a sore throat.”

“Oh H, why didn’t y’tell me?”

“I didn’t want y’to worry. You’ve taken care of me this whole time and it must ‘ave been hectic for yeh.” A coughing fit ensued right after he finished his sentence and you just sighed sadly at his shaking figure.

You both have been married for a better part of five years and he still thinks he is a burden on you. What he doesn’t know is that you love his clingy self and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. And you were just as dependent on him so it was only fair. Your husband doesn’t get sick often and you hated it when he did. Seeing him in pain always broke your heart and you still get shocked over the amount of power this man has on you. He is the ultimate love of your life and you would do anything to make him feel better.

“Just lay down and I’ll g’get some chicken soup.”

“Don’t feel like eatin’ anything.” He whined as he nuzzled in your stomach a little bit more.

“You’re denyin’ soup? Y’must be really sick, then.” You tried to make the situation a bit lighthearted but Harry was too comfortable to respond. “Y’need to eat something so that I can give you medicine.”

“Don’t want anythin’.”

Sighing, you just ran your hands through his soft curls and remembered that Harry was a stubborn man whenever he got sick. The next few days were going to be rough and you mentally prepared yourself. “But-”

“Just wanna cuddle with you.” He pulled you down into his side and wrapped his around your waist.

“H-”

“You’ll not g’sick, I promise. I’ll also eat after sometime and take m’medicines.”

“Let me talk, Harry.” His curls bobbed up and down as you laughed slightly. “You’re such a baby.”

“‘m your baby.”

“Damn right y’are.”

Lying there in silence, you pondered over the last few months of your life. The tour was amazing because you got to see your husband interact with his fans and give his all on the stage. No one should get you started on his outfits because you were really glad that he was going to come back to you at night. Only you. But it was nice to get him to yourself and you’re going to enjoy every moment of it.

“I love you, H.”

“Love yeh too, darlin’.” A cute sneeze escaped him soon afterwards and you just chuckled softly. Harry Styles was too darn adorable and he was only yours.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

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