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venuslore · 6 months

Text

𖥔 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𖥔

summary ; steve has been admiring you for some time now, and you’ve been wanting him too, but one halloween party finally pushes you both to make a move.

pairing ; steve harrington × fem!reader

notes ; nsfw, pet-names (baby), self-fingering and female orgasm, mentions of bodily fluids, cussing, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol (let me know if i forgot any)

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

droplets of sweat gathered on the nape of your neck, pooling in the valley between your breasts, as you danced in the middle of the crowded room. the music was loud, almost too loud, but there was an undeniable electricity in the air. not from the atmosphere or the array of eyes on you from people you had never met. not even the alcohol that coursed through your system, but only between you and him.

him, steve harrington, the only person whose attention truly mattered.

you could feel his deep, lust-filled gaze boring into you from across the room, watching you so intently you were sure you were going to combust. he stood leaning up against the wall in the far corner, one arm raised to steady himself while the other held a cup to his lips. he adorned a recycled halloween costume as robin remained by his side, talking about who knows what, but despite the little nod here and there, all he could focus on was you.

steve loved watching you. he loved watching the way your body moved to the music. he loved watching the way you would meet his gaze, the slightest glint of a smirk tugging at your lips before continuing to pretend that he wasn't even there. he specifically loved watching the way your skirt would hitch up your thighs the same way it would whenever you went into his work.

he was sure he was the reason behind it. no, he knew he was the reason behind it. that you would purposely pull your skirt higher just for him, and even more so when you would bend over in the aisles pretending to look for something on the bottom shelf. being well aware that he was the only one that could see you.

he knew what you were doing — that you knew what you were doing — stringing him along and playing hard to get. you were challenging him. you weren't giving in to him like every other girl that looked his way recently.

you were making him work for it - for you.

except tonight he had other plans. tonight, he was finally going to get what he wanted. at least, so he thought.

"listen, i know it was my idea to crash this party, but it's kinda lame," eddie joins you, disrupting your dancing and slowing down your movements. "y'wanna find the others and get out of here?"

eddie was right. the party itself was lame. the only thing giving you any sort of entertainment was the free alcohol and the look on steve's face; steve who had now disappeared from where he stood only a moment ago as you peer over your friend's shoulder.

the munson boy waits for you to answer, your attention now absent from the conversation as you scanned the room rapidly but there was no sign of him anywhere. eddie repeats his question, but it's not until he snaps his impatient fingers in your face that you finally return to him.

"c'mon, let's find steve and robin and we'll go back to mine. can finally show you that new riff i learnt on the guitar," he imitates playing his sweetheart, hair bouncing in an unruly mess, as more bystanders begin to stare.

you laugh, giving him a slight nudge, "okay, munson. i'll search upstairs, you search downstairs."

the two of you pan off in different directions, you heading for the staircase by the front door as he began in the kitchen. as you pushed your way through the crowd, weaving yourself to the entryway, you spot robin at the bottom of them, but still no sign of steve.

you call her name, but your voice falls on deaf ears over the music. she twirls around, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt when she finally spots you and a relieved smile bestows upon her lips.

"we're gonna go back to eddie's. where's steve?" you raise your voice, leaning towards her ear so that she could hear you.

"he went upstairs. something about needing a moment away from the music,” she gestures upstairs where there were far less people. "i'll go get him."

she turns to head up the stairs but your hand catches her arm before she can so much as put her foot on the bottom step, "it's okay, i'll get him. you go find eddie and we'll meet you at his van."

robin nods, though there seems to be a knowing look in her eyes, a hint of a smirk as if there were some obvious secret only you didn't know about, and she traipses off toward the kitchen in search of eddie.

once alone, you take one look up the large staircase and let out a deep breath. this was it, this was the moment you were finally going to tell steve that if he truly wanted you so bad, it was about time he did something about it.

with each step, your heart seems to beat a little bit faster. the top of the stairs growing further away and when you finally get to them, there are only a couple of small groups of people scattered along the balustrade. you weave your way through the crowd once more to find the bathroom and just as you're about to knock, it opens before your hand can graze the wood with your knuckles.

steve stands on the other side, eyes widening when he sees you, but the sight of him causes the breath in your throat to catch. his dishevelled hair, deep pink lips and dark eyes entrapped by a red tinge - he was truly a sight for sore eyes.

"y/n," your name falls off the tip of his tongue like sweet honey, sending an immediate wave of bumps across your skin. "are you okay?" he looks almost concerned, brows furrowing when it takes you a moment to answer.

"uh, yeah. we're going to ditch the party and, um, and..." you pause for a beat, words turning to a jumbled mess inside your head and all the confidence you had tried to bestill had disappeared. "... um, head back to eddie's. we're going to head back to eddie's." you repeat it a second time for safe measure.

he nods, slowly, his eyes purposely falling to your lips as he exhales and leans back against the doorframe, "yeah. i mean, we could do that..." his words are even slower, pulling you in with each syllable. "or... we could talk about what's really going on here?"

this was it. this was the moment he was finally going to do something about it.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you lift your right shoulder into a shrug, pursing your lips before gazing up at him through your lashes.

his lips part as he leans in closer, his face so close you could feel his alcohol-saturated breath on your cheek. "so, i'm just imagining you pulling up that pretty little skirt of yours on purpose, huh?"

you almost gasp, throat tightening with need. need for him. "apparently... though, it's nice to know you've been thinking about me."

the devilish grin on your face now infuriates him because, once again, you were in control.

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, fingers raking through his hair, "what am i going to do with you?"

"i don't know. what are you going to do with me?" a moment of realisation passes through his eyes. you want him to do something about it, want him to finally give in to the urges. all this time, he had been waiting, and now, here you were, allowing him to have what had been torturing him.

while his head races with a million thoughts, in reality, only seconds had passed by, but those few seconds were more than enough to build a wall of tension. his gaze falls to your lips once more, and in a heated movement of passion, he finally takes the leap and presses his to them.

soft moans reverberate through his neck, daring to carry you away as your fingers curl through his hair. you press yourself against him, almost knocking him over, but he answers your neediness and pulls you into the bathroom to close the door and lock it.

all the tension, flirty looks and suggestive gestures that had been building up over the past few months had finally started to unravel in a matter of seconds. igniting you both so much so that you were sure to catch fire.

the kisses seem to last forever, despite feeling rushed, and when he starts to trail his lips down the side of your neck, you're left a hot mess as you try to regain your breath. your core was already aching for attention, throbbing within your underwear, as his hands ran rampant all over your body.

he glides his tongue across your skin, hair tickling your face as he begins to suck lightly, "you've no idea what you've done to me. how badly i've wanted this." he mumbles against you, sparking thought in your mind, and at this, you gently push him away and slide yourself back on the counter.

"is that so?" you breathe heavily. "tell me about it."

there's a glint of confusion in his eyes, brows slightly furrowing, as he stands between your legs. you had so much power over him and you planned to keep it that way.

if you gave in to him so easily, all the long months you had spent teasing and hinting at him would've been for nothing. he needed to know that you weren't going to give yourself up to him just because he wanted it - he needed to earn you.

"d'you really want me, harrington?" your words are low, breathy, sending shivers down his spine as he gazes into your eyes.

"fuck," he nods, the word shakily falling from his lips and he swallows hard. "i want you so bad."

your lips quirk up once again, heart beating so fast it was thrumming in your ears. you lean forward, lips barely grazing his, and whisper, "tell me what you want... while you watch me touch myself." before planting your teeth around his bottom lip and tugging on it.

"w-what?" there's a hitch in his voice as you feel yourself growing wet within the confines of your underwear. he's stunned. eyes wide and jaw taut.

"tell me what you want, and i'm yours, but... touch me, and you lose." your words are barely above a whisper but they're enough to send shivers down his body.

his breath catches in his throat, letting out a small gasp, as his dewy brown eyes bore into you once again. only this time, there was determination clouding them. he wanted you. he wanted you so bad, and he was going to do everything he could to get you - to finally feel you.

he opens his mouth to speak but stops when you lean back against the mirror, hitching your skirt up and spreading your legs before him. revealing the black lace underwear you had worn in anticipation. the same pair that he had only ever caught glimpses of.

"what's the matter, harrington? you like watching me... don't you?" you ask, coyly, batting your lashes.

he groans, lulling his head back to reveal his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows once more. you lift a finger to touch the tip of his chin, letting it trail down his chest before landing between your legs. he watches your hand as if his life depended on it.

you slowly trace the edges of your underwear where your core was barely covered. lips poking out around the thin material, gathering up your wetness when your finger starts to rub small circles over the top of them.

"are you wet?" steve asks, and you nod, brows arching from the touch already.

he shuffles nervously on his feet, pulling at the material around his crotch to give himself more growing space, but his eyes never leave you. not for a second. and they only double in size when you finally move your panties to the side, confirming your answer - your sweetness glistening under the dim bathroom glow.

"holy f-fuck, y/n," he retorts with astonishment, almost falling to his knees at the sight of you before him. "you're killing me here."

"tell me more," you press the tips of your fingers to your tongue, collecting the saliva that had gathered, and gently start moving them across your sweet little bundle of nerves.

"you're so fucking pretty, baby. i bet you're so warm too. i bet your pretty little pussy is so fucking warm," his words caress your ears as your movement starts to speed up, building up the sensation in your core. "i want you so bad. i want to feel you wrapped around my cock. every fucking inch of you."

a small chuckle falls from your lips, as you now press your middle finger into your hole. moaning at the feeling and slowly you begin to fuck yourself, all while steve's eyes remain trained on you. catching a glimpse of you fingering yourself but focusing on your facial expressions and the way you're making your own mouth fall open with ecstasy.

"fuck your little hole, baby," he says, almost demandingly, which again makes you want to prove that you were still in control. so you add another finger. "fucking hell, i want to taste you so bad."

"mmm-yeah? you wanna taste me, harrington? you wanna know what my pretty little pussy tastes like?" your words are slightly muffled, as you continue to penetrate yourself. fingers gliding in and out of your goodness with ease, hitting just the right spot as the top of your palm rubs your clit, causing your hips to buck up a little.

his hand involuntarily falls to his crotch, he didn't think you noticed. but it was a little hard not to when he begins palming himself through his pants as his eyes burned with so much desire. desire for you.

you can feel the coil within your core on the verge of breaking, ready to snap as you near your end. the pleasure of it all becoming too much, as your hips buck more rapidly, face contorting and mouth falling agape. you grab onto steve's jacket with your free hand, gripping the material and bringing him closer.

"f-fuck, i'm gonna cum," your breathing is unsteady, all over the place as you get closer, wrapping your arm around steve's head to grab a fistful of his hair. “make me cum, harrington.”

“show me how you cum, baby. show me how pretty you look when you let it all go. you do that and i’m gonna fill you up so good,” his voice is low as he presses his head to yours. “you want me to bury my cock in you, don’t you?”

"mmm- fuck yeah," your moan is cut off by steve's mouth as he presses his lips to yours once more. immediately gliding his tongue across them for permission and you give it to him, letting his tongue enter.

and just like that, you're overcome with stimulation. a wave of sensation coursing through you but steve doesn't pull away, instead, he muffles your cries with kisses as he takes in the sight of you. completely vulnerable as you chase your high. chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace as your hips twitch and buck, eyes glazed over and brows arched. to hear the sweet noises you made, muffled or not.

it was a sight he had only seen once, but, oh boy, did he want to see it again.

"oh, fuck," you sigh, words split by your panting as you try to regain your breath. you still hadn't stopped fingering yourself, only slowed down the movements as your creamy goodness collected along them.

"i'm that good of a kisser, huh?" steve chuckles, staring down at you still slowly pumping your digits into yourself, eyes unwavering from the wetness that covered them.

"whatever makes you sleep better at night," you smirk, finally pulling your fingers from your pussy at the same time someone knocks on the door. "i guess that's our cue to go. eddie and robin will be waiting for us."

you both slide off the counter, your underwear slipping down to your feet as you quickly wash your hands. but rather than pulling them back on when you’re done, you gather them and scrunch them into a ball.

"what are you doing?" steve asks, confused when you pull the pocket of his jacket open and slip them inside.

"think of it as a parting gift," you smile, patting it closed then lean up to place a soft kiss on his lips, "plus, it's easier access for later."

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#steve harrington ᰔ #— not sfw ! ᰔ #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff

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dotster001 · 10 months

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Message in a Bottle

Summary: Floyd x gn!reader Floyd has been your best friend through all your adventures, and you always knew he would end up back under the sea. But now that Jade has decided to stay above ground...

A/N: this is loosely based on this song, which plays at work constantly 😂

You hadn't seen Floyd in two months. Him being in his fourth year internship was definitely hard. You missed him every damn day, and he didn't always remember to text you.

But here you were, the night before his graduation, sitting with your feet in the lake, throwing rocks like old times. You'd both used up all your news, and now were just sitting quietly together, throwing rocks.

Eventually, you couldn't hold back the question anymore. The one you'd both avoided discussing.

"So, what are your plans for next year?"

You looked at him out the corner of your eye, as he grabbed another rock, and threw it, pointedly staring at the lake.

"Jade's stayin' on land. He wants to keep doing research."

"Mhmm," you hummed, hoping to encourage him to continue.

He sighed heavily, leaning back on his palms, as he turned to you.

"I was always set to inherit the family business anyways, but with Jade stayin' here…it'll be just me. So, my parents want me to go home and begin training."

He stared at you, seemingly waiting for something.

Something you knew that you shouldn't give, for both your sakes.

"That's nice. I'm sure you'll do great."

His eyes flickered, and he looked back at the lake, splashing the water with one of his feet.

"Yeah," he said halfheartedly.

You both said nothing, the silence saying more than words could.

"When do you leave?" You choked out, your heart cracking with the question.

"Right after graduation. Pops is getting old, and he wants his people to start respecting me," he threw another rock, this one much more forceful, making you wince.

"Would you…" he started but trailed off at the end, the two of you holding your breath.

He abruptly hopped up.

"I'm bored, let's go to the party Azul's throwing!" He grinned excitedly, as he yanked you to your feet, pulling you after him. Both of you laughed hysterically, completely forgetting the shoes you'd left by the lake.

….

"So, has Floyd told you yet?" Jade asked, as he sipped a glittering purple drink.

The two of you stood at the back of the lounge, sipping drinks, as you watched Floyd entertaining a crowd of soon to be graduates with his dance skills.

"That he's taking over the business? Yeah," you said, trying to keep the sadness out of your voice.

"It's not like you'll never see him," Jade said with a smirk.

"He made it pretty clear to me a year ago that he'd be basically stuck in the sea. Tomorrow might be the last time I see him. Ever."

Jade swirled his drink, not making eye contact, as he thoughtfully asked, "Have you told him?"

"Told him what?" You snapped, tired of Jade's mind games.

"That you love him, of course, fu fu fu."

Your eyes flickered to Floyd's just in time for him to look over and wave at you, playfully.

"I don't-"

"Lying to me is futile, Y/N. My entire job as Azul's voice housewarden is to be the best at getting information."

"How about you go under the sea, and stay there forever!" You snapped, leading his infuriating smirk to deepen.

"That would definitely make you happy, wouldn't it? Unfortunately, I can't do that, and Floyd must go home. What are you going to do about it?"

You stared at Floyd, watching as he picked up Epel, a poor unfortunate bystander, and started bench pressing him, to the applause of his enthralled audience, and the curses of Epel.

Your eyes burned, and your throat choked up, as you whispered, "Nothing."

Jade choked on his drink, and looked at you with wide eyes.

"Sorry?"

You drained your drink, and handed him the empty glass, turning on your heel and leaving the lounge.

This was his destiny. He'd always been forthright with you about that. You were just some magic-less human who'd appeared in his life out of nowhere. There was so much the both of you could say…

But, deep down, you knew you'd just hold him back.

….

"So, this is it, huh?" You asked softly.

Floyd stood in front of you, holding his degree in one hand, fiddling with his robes with the other.

"Is it?" He genuinely seemed distressed at your question. "Aren't you coming to the after party?"

You had a lot of friends graduating this year, but the idea of having to see Floyd for one more second hurt too much for your heart to handle. Your friends would just have to deal.

"No, I made plans, I'm sorry," you said.

He stared at you, his eyes hollow. You looked over his shoulder, an attempt to fight the stinging in your eyes.

"Wow, okay, gonna be like that, huh?" He laughed self deprecatingly. "Can I at least squeeze ya, before I never see you again?"

It wasn't like Floyd to ask permission. He was more of a ask for forgiveness kind of guy. You wordlessly opened your arms, not trusting yourself to speak.He rushed in, holding you firmly, but not too tight, a hand on the back of your head, gently pressing your face to his chest.

"Write to me, will ya Shrimpy?" He whispered.

You snorted, "I'm not magic, remember? Any letter I write will get wet and torn to a million pieces. Besides, it's not exactly like you have an address, at least not one I could use and feel safe that your 'competitors' won't try and find you"

"Put it in a bottle. Chuck it in the ocean. I'll get it eventually," he laughed, nuzzling the top of your head.

You could have stood like that forever with him. The scent of his cologne, and his natural sea air scent eased your aching heart, even just a little bit.

"Floyd, we have a schedule to keep," The booming voice of Mr. Leech filled your ears, wrecking the illusion. Floyd groaned and let you go.

"Don't forget to write. You promised, remember?" He said it threateningly. Like he had to threaten you. You nodded, and he cupped your cheeks, whipping a tear you couldn't hold back away, with a gentle stroke of his thumb.

Mr. Leech placed a hand on his back, and escorted him out, making a short stop to collect Jade.

You watched even after they made it out of the door. And then you couldn't hold back anymore.

….

He'd be gone by now.

You sat at the edge of the lake, your feet in the water, half heartedly throwing rocks.

Would he throw rocks by himself now? Was there even an equivalent to it under the sea?

Maybe he'd find someone else to throw rocks with…

You sighed, glumly, and kicked some water up. You laid down, and tried to rest your eyes. You'd gotten little sleep last night, only able to think of his arms around you.

Even now, it was plaguing you. Would he find someone else to wrap in his arms like that?

You sat up suddenly. You couldn't let things end this way.

You ran into Ramshackle, and quickly found a pen and a piece of paper. You scrawled your note, and rushed towards Heartslaybul.

Deuce and Ace would still be there, because they had to help with final cleanup. Conveniently, you bumped right into Deuce as you stepped into the mirror, making him splash you with the soda he was holding.

"Y/N! What-"

"I need this!" You grabbed the bottle, and chugged what was left, before sticking your note in it.

"When do you leave?" You asked, trying to clear the headrush that consuming soda so quickly gave you.

"I was going to head out in an hour. Why, what's wrong?"

"I need a ride to the beach?"

"Wha-"

"Please, Deuce," you pleaded, and his face softened.

"Alright."

Moments later, you were on his light cycle, and he had rushed you to the shore.

"How long do you need?" He asked.

"I'll be quick," all you had to do was chuck the bottle. He promised it would get to him someday. It was his own fault if "someday" never came.

Deuce nodded, and waited on his bike. You walked to the water, and breathed deeply. Sevens, why did it have to smell like him. It wasn't fair to your heart.

You gingerly held the bottle, and said a silent prayer to the Sea Witch, hoping her benevolence, and her ties to the sea, would help you, if nothing else. You threw the bottle as hard as you could, and only watched long enough to see it land in the water.

You exhaled an anxious breath, and turned on your heel.

You'd made it two steps when you heard a splash.

"Shrimpy!!!!"

In shock, you turned, and saw Floyd waving the bottle over his head. When he saw he had your attention, he rushed forward, beginning his transformation to human before he had even fully reached the land.

He ran at you, swooping you up, and spinning you around.

"The actual fuck, Y/N? Why couldn't you have just told me you loved me yesterday?" He said, his tone trying to convey irritation, but his joyous laughter taking all the bite from it.

By now you were soaked from Floyd and his sobbing wet hair and body…and you noticed that in his excitement he'd forgotten something.

"Floyd! Where are your clothes?"

"For sevens sake! Clothes are a land dweller concept! And who the fuck cares, anyway! My shrimpy loves me," he cupped your face, his eyes and his grin so tender it was overwhelming.

"You were really gonna let me be alone forever, huh?" He whispered, his eyes tearing up.

"I figured you could move on," you whispered, your own tears rising.

"Not from you," his voice cracked. "I'm gonna have to punish you for making me wait. Maybe I'll make you be my pillow for a week…dunno, doesn't matter. What does matter, though, is" he took both your hands in his, and looked deep into your eyes.

"Come with me."

"I didn't graduate, remember?" You felt the sadness coming back.

"No, but you have your internship this year. Do it at the museum, and live with me. Then when you graduate we can get married and…."

"Slow down! We're not even dating yet!" You said, laughing in disbelief.

"I don't care! Dating is boring, I'd rather be your husband," he muttered as he swept you back up in a hug. "So come with me, and don't you dare say no."

He started to walk back towards the water, you still wrapped in a hug, and you shouted, "Wait, right now!?"

"When else?"

"I can't breathe under water!"

He groaned, and opened his mouth to say something, when,

"Y/N is everything okay? You've been taking for- oh sevens! Floyd, what the fuck man, where are your clothes?" Deuce shouted.

Floyd started to make some vulgar jokes, while Deuce had a complete meltdown. You took the moment to snuggle back into Floyd, to breathe in his scent, and just feel full for the first time in a long time.

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd

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forthetwins · 25 days

Text

fred weasley — spoiled fruit, sour mood.

as fred's arm casually slips around your shoulders, you fail to notice the subtle tension in his touch.

oblivious to the tension, you continue chatting with caleb, unaware of the storm brewing beside you as you bid them both goodbye, leaving for your next class.

fred stands in front of caleb, hands in pockets, towering over him, with a confident stance, thanks to his height advantage. his gaze is steely, a silent warning to caleb, as if daring him to challenge fred's authority.

caleb meets fred's stare head-on, his own demeanor unwavering as he refuses to back down in the face of fred's silent challenge. despite the tension crackling between them, neither man shows any sign of faltering, locked in a silent battle of wills.

with a sly grin, fred remaks, "you know she's not into rotton tomatoes," indirectly referring to caleb — who would blush around you — as the spoiled fruit,

caleb's confident facade wavers for a moment, his jaw tensing at fred's veiled insult. he meets fred's gaze with a sharp glare, refusing to let fred's remark go unchallenged.

"listen, mate. she's taken by me-"

"i don't give a damn," caleb cuts, "i won't give up on her,"

before another word can be exchanged, tension thick in the air, a forceful punch lands right across caleb's face. the sound reverberates through the corridor, echoing off the stone walls.

gasps ripple through the bystanders as caleb staggers backward, his hand flying to his cheek in disbelief. fred stands before him, unfazed.

the aftermath of the altercation doesn't escape the notice of the hogwarts staff. before long, fred finds himself summoned to mcgonagall office, where he receives detention for his impulsive actions.

you meet him outside the office, arms crossed while you look up at him with fierce eyes. to which he simply cups your face, planting a quick kiss on your lips nonchalantly.

"i've got punishment. and that too sorting and organising the mountains of books without magic," he sighs, "this is going to take ages,"

you chuckle, "well, maybe next time you'll think twice before throwing punches," you tease, earning a sheepish grin from fred in response.

"yeah, yeah, i know," fred replies, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "just don't leave me alone with all these books, yeah?"

knowing full well that fred could use the company during his detention, you remark "don't worry, i'll keep you entertained," you assure him.

fred nods as he adds, "and let's make sure to steer clear of any rotten tomatoes while we're at it."

#forthetwins — writings #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred x reader #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george x reader #harry potter

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rustycopper4use · 7 months

Note

Do I spy an opportunity for Fizz/Ozzie x reader? 👀 I can't get that episode out of my head either. Could you per chance write some poly Fizz X Ozzie X Reader (gender neutral)? I'm kinda new to your blog so idk if you prefer writing like headcanons or stories more, but either format perhaps you could talk about what kind of dates they'd go on?

USUSJSJKSKSJSJSJSN SORRY IF ITS SORT

How ever did you manage to pull the prince of lust, and his popular entertainment jester. It was anyone’s guess, you weren’t sure yourself one day Ozzie picked you up, and placed you on his shoulder. And you’ve been on it ever since.

The relationship was a match made in hell, envious to any sinner.

The dates would dates were very diverse. Being the S/O of the very well know demons, came with the knowledge that many of your dates would be in the lap of luxury. Or in the lap of Ozz

You loved the extraordinary dates,even dates that were usual planned last minute. Or low effort ones funnily enough.

For example, one day consisted of just a marathon of Mean girls, and the pitch perfect movies.

That one ended up being a drinking game. You were the last one to pass out, barely.

You guys ended up waking up a day later with fizz’s arms covered in pink glitter, with an equally pink mean girl like outfit. It left little to The imagination.

However Ozzie was also a target of this pinkifying adventure, but while fizzaroli was an easy fix, Ozzie was more permanent.

He was completely died pink and purple. Even his flames, no one could figure out how.

You weren’t safe however, your face was crudely drawn on with a pink glitter pen.

Another date, was a day out to the beach! It was fun but of course paparazzi, had to be there.

You and Ozzie ended up having a ‘friendly chat’ with the demon, and he suddenly had a change of heart! But weirdly enough some bystanders find the demon hours later tied up and left for dead.

Some days you guys would just hang out in Ozzie’s club, watch the shows. Some days you would even join fizzaroli when he was on stage, Ozzie really enjoyed seeing you two perform.

There would be the rare chance you and fizz got catcalled, you didn’t care much it happens. But one day some lunatic decided it would be a smart idea to try and lay their grubby hands on you two. Even after many attempts of getting them to stop, Ozzie had to step in, the poor sucker. The demon was banned from Ozzie’s and lost his hands in some freak accident!

#x reader #lgbtq #lgbtqiia+#gay #fizzmodeus x reader #helluvaboss #fizzaroli helluva boss #fizzarolli helluva boss #hb spoilers #fizzarolli #fizzmodeus

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darkdemeter · 3 months

Text

THE CONVICT WOLF: A COURTESY CALL AWAY

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN #1 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — Yaaaay, first chapter for Convict is here. Yee!

WORD COUNT — 3.3k

READER DISCRETION — This series as a whole contains sensitive material that some readers may find triggering ; Profanity — depictions of blood, murder and violence — some angst — criminal reader — Hydra's return — mystery — I think that's it?

— NEXT COLUMN

SUMMARY — They say that the past catches up with you at one point or the next. You've always been as careful as your notorious reputation allows. It's not enough when your anonymous client seems to know you a little more for your own liking. And Wanda leaves a new message for their missing teammate.

And people still get in your way. And they get hurt. If that is the way things are to be, you won’t so much as blink the next time your actions cause catastrophe. New York, as you predicted, is awake in full swing and beset by panic.

Those who managed to escape the train cart unscathed by injury ran for safety. Your bounty had skill given their history with Hydra but that was it. They were of no match to bring you down. Didn’t mean they went lightly on you, quite the opposite in fact. But you can walk off bruises and torn flesh. They can’t walk off being dead.

Civilians scream to the high heavens in their frenzy of fear, a coop of sitting hens incapable of flying away from danger. All they can do is scream and run in terror. The chorus of sirens flood the streets and traffic becomes a multitude of blocked channels with no direct or clear way through.

With guns holstered it leaves you as a mere blur in the crowd, police unable to pin you down. At least, not yet. You never remain the unsuspected figure in the background for long, it’s just a matter of time and how far you can make it before the law makes a beeline for you. But right now, you have to get the hell out of dodge and fast. How they managed to track you down, you don’t know, all you know is that once you get that paycheck you’re out of here.

And that record hits a new score of just nine minutes and forty-three seconds when the first man hiding behind a badge orders you to stop in your tracks. When the threat of his fire aims at your back you return fire. Only you don’t afford him the luxury of a threat. Your quick draw is too fast for him to fully grasp the bullet wound now embedded in his chest, his partner catches his crashing weight before it drops to the pavement.

Innocent bystanders shriek in their response to the shock of such horrors. An officer of the law that protects them downed without so much as a sweat off your brow. And as much as you would love to entertain the silly men and women in their uniforms and act as if their bullets affect you on some greater level, you have other places to be and a reward to cash in on.

Like a phantom you’re gone in an instant once you get off the main street and cut through a few of the neighbouring alleyways. Police communicate the loss of suspect and begin to pull aside civilians to ask them about what occurred down in the subway.

Wanda makes it to the top of the subway stairs, green eyes scanning the panicked faces and whatever damage that followed the attack topside. Was this Hydra’s doing? Surely it had to be. Known for their devastation on the public without remorse, this could only be that. An attack by Hydra, gunning right for the Avengers and the innocents they swore to protect.

“Wanda,” a voice calls across the way and Natasha is quick to join her side. “Did you see what happened?”

“No. I only just got up here. I wasn’t able to board the train in time.” The two women search the sight before them. They cannot find what - or who - they're looking for. This bodes ill for the Avengers. Once again they feel trapped in the dark without a clue of light to illuminate them on the path.

They’re blind to the face of their enemy.

“What do we do, Nat?”

The woman next to her only sighs and shakes her head. Uncertain herself. She makes eye contact with America’s blue eyed hero who currently questions the police to no avail. He shakes his head at her. “I don’t know. All I do know is that someone cried wolf.”

The wounds didn’t carry infection which is a plus for you. Treating infected wounds proved to be a great bitch. Fuck that ex-Hydra experiment or wolf soldier, whatever they called themselves back in their service to the secret rogue division. You apply a large dose of alcohol to the wound across your toned stomach, skin and cloth bleached with the auburn coloured liquid.

“Son of a bitch…”

The TV catches your attention. It’s volume set to low to keep from interfering with your pounding headache. But the news crew - one amongst many reporting tonight - were talking about today’s incident.

The remote is swept up from its place on the coffee table and you raise the volume by a few increments. The woman’s voice on TV now a tad bit louder for you to really listen to her report.

“That’s right, Vivian, behind me the police continue their search for their prime suspect that they believe to be involved in the subway attack that took place in the Second Avenue Line, here in the borough of Manhattan.”

You huff with a roll of your eyes, focus back to applying pressure to the wound and cleaning it with the sting of alcohol. As if the news actually knew the story. They had outsider knowledge. A miniscule understanding - no, you wouldn’t even call it understanding. The humans knew nothing of the danger they were potentially in with an ex-Hydra specimen on the loose. Fuck the sob story and the going-straight path your bounty was going for, they were likely responsible of crimes just as horrendous as you.

You did New York a favour once again.

“Witnesses describe a shootout aboard the train at approximately 10:30 AM that progressed into a brawl between the two assailants. Although terrified, civilians who were there recount they saw what they can only describe to be ‘werewolves’. Police have yet to uncover the second person involved but key descriptions describe the first suspect, who was also witnessed shooting and killing a police officer, yet they are also to be apprehended. Both image and video footage has been posted all over social media but investigators scrape the evidence and this is what they found.”

You lift your eyes to watch this so-called evidence that New Yorkers managed to capture. So much for running for their lives, the views apparently are more important. And there it was, one of the credited sources of footage capturing two hulking masses of fur duking it out in the streets. The fight is of no small degree, of that you can be well assured. People got hurt in the process. Rammed into the side of a car, you suddenly grapple hold of your target and swing them at full force across the street and they crash into a street light that bursts with electricity.

And still they paint you as the criminal at the end of the day. It’s easier to point the finger and move on. You didn’t have enough time to really care about the tainted reputation you carry. It’s all you’ve ever known. No point in trying to go straight for you. The straightest you’ve ever gone is to get away from Hydra when they fell apart. But Hydra always had a way of getting their hands back on what was theirs, one way or another. However, you understood that you are a constant risk to the public. A danger. In your right opinion, all werewolves were.

You gather the length of bandages in your hands and prepare to wrap your wound when they address you on TV.

“It’s speculated that this is the work of the Convict Wolf. After five years of no known presence, they have resurfaced with this attack. Truly a ghost that resumes its haunting.”

Ah, there it is. The recognition. The staple of your criminal career. A name to the face.

“The community is in an uproar over this revelation. Chief, what can you say to address these allegations related to this criminal?” The reporter holds her microphone to the mouth of the police chief. He stands tall, a bushy moustache and a stone-cold glare in his dark, worn eyes.

“This convict has been nothing but trouble for the past few decades,” he begins, clearly he’s under some obligation to choose his words carefully. The entire world isn’t exactly ready to commit to the idea that werewolves were among the flock of sheep.

“And they have proven to be tricky to catch but mark my words, New York, they will be brought to justice. The Convict Wolf will not escape us forever and once they have been convicted of their crimes in the court of law, they will be punished like the dog they are.”

‘Aw, that’s inspiring.’

The law truly believes they can catch and hold you long enough to deal out your long overdue punishment. The witch hunt for your hide continues on even to this day in the modern times of New York. Some things never change.

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟖 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤

These hunts were never going to change. That much you knew by now. If only you were sorry for what you were about to do. But there was no mercy in this world for the bounty. You tried to be nice about it but the bastard wasn’t making it easy. You’ve run out of patience. Getting tossed from one corner of the warehouse to the other like some ragdoll.

That isn’t going to fly with you. You stumble onto your two feet after being tossed some fourteen feet, give or take, and from the rafters above. Dust from the unswept, greyed out and rock solid tiles is kicked up into clouds, wafting higher up in a disturbed state.

The roof above is worse for wear, half of the tiling broken and missing only to leave a bare frame of wood. The light of the moon gives you a spotlight to work with despite your ability to see perfectly in the dark.

He’s perched high above, weight causing the beam he’s on to creak and groan with the threat to cave beneath him. He merely stares down at you as if you were something to be pitied. You don’t like that. You don’t like people looking at you with such an emotion. It twisted your gut in awful ways.

“Come on then!” you bark in your challenge, the metallic tinge of blood coating your tongue. You spit the heavy taste to the side. He meets your challenge and that was his last mistake. You shake your coat off just before the transformation has a change to rip the precious artefact of clothing you own. Your now longer and clawed limbs grab hold of his pouncing form before he has a chance to pin you down. Your long digits snap his jaws shut and you hoist yourself up to your hind legs, spinning him until his back faces you. It’s sort of poetic in a way.

For an appearance so savage and animalistic, you also retain a certain level of humanity in this form that it’s unnerving. Terrifying. Uncanny.

Your arms slide along his until you’ve got him at the join of his built elbows and one of your hind paws kicks him forward. He goes chest first into the protruding rod half broken on the rusted machine that once powered the now abandoned factory. It still serves some purpose after its intended use now scraped.

When his chest is penetrated is when you twist his limbs, pulling them as far back as you can. The crack of bone and tendons twisting, tearing under the mass of pressure you apply so easily.

He howls in pain until all of New York can hear him. A flutter of bird wings being chased off by the agonised howl echoes throughout the warehouse. Your head extends forward and your teeth sink into the nape of his neck and you cleanly snap the column in half just as you tear his arms from his torso and you give another shove into his back with your hind paw.

He goes still and his body weight slumps forward with a final sigh. You let his body drop against the rusty pole. The air is finally silent and you have a moment to yourself. No hunt, no law, no bullshit. Soon his body would change back, it was most common for the body to do so but there was the odd case where the identity of the body remained as just an animal.

That’s what your species was a whole. Animals.

“The noise came from here, Chief.”

“Halt right there– What in God’s name…”

The chief of police and his subordinates march into the warehouse, gas lit lanterns swinging haphazardly with their rushed movements to see to the noise complaint. All they saw in front of them were two animals. One dead and one alive. Alive and dangerous.

The large shape of your canid head slowly turns to the officers, eyes a powerful red to combat the light of their lanterns. They don’t give a single thought to the potential identity of a human beneath the reflective surface of your savage eyes and bared snarl.

They just see a mindless and bloodthirsty beast. “Shoot it! Kill it!”

You take no guilt for your conscience. They provoked you. There is no mercy for their actions. You weren’t sorry for doing what you did.

Leaping at them and tearing through the men of the law, of the badge, that stood no chance against the haze of your brutality. Their blood smeared and painted the dirt and sides of the warehouse in large splatters. Limbs were torn from sockets and flesh and bone alike was minced between your bloody jaws.

Monsters aren’t meant to feel anything for their quarry. That’s what the human race is to you. It’s how you perceive their weak, mortal bodies and primitive, closed off minds; as your prey. And only your prey.

Your phone buzzes with an unknown caller ID and you’re dragged out from the ravine of memory lane. You’ve an inkling of who it might be calling you. You pick up and put the phone to your ear. “It’s done. Now about my money…”

“Of course. It’s been transferred right now…” The distorted voice of the caller drawls ominously and you cannot help the sliver of suspicion that crosses your mind. The fee you asked for up front was still mysteriously ‘locked’ until the remainder of the money was funnelled into your encrypted account. You can see the loading bar of the transfer happen in real time on your opened laptop screen. Fifteen percent. Twenty percent.

“A hundred-fifty thousand, as promised.”

You scoff with eyes wide at the declared amount your client says was the agreed amount. “I thought I made myself clear it was two hundred-thousand.”

“We had to cut a few costs. Our revival of the project you serve isn’t cheap and we need that hush money.”

You scowl in response to this, brows furrowing hard until the deep bevel between them forms.

How could you be so blind for even a second? It was so obvious.

This was Hydra’s courtesy call to you.

“If you believe to have seen this criminal, police urge you to call them right away, and to be warned that the convict is still at large and most definitely armed. Civilians are also warned to not travel alone or without means to protect themselves.”

Tony switches the display off and casts down the remote in his hands before using them to comb his hair back. His eyes are troubled by the revelation that a new criminal, a new source of trouble, is in their midst. He’s read the files - they all have - but for some reason you have always been able to give everyone the slip.

“What in the actual hell went on out there?” Tony finally asks his team but none give an answer. Not right away. With a shrug of defeat he wanders over to the kitchen to fix himself a dose of something strong to combat his growing frustrations.

“We’re not sure, Tony,” Steve finally answers with a sideways glance, “the attack was so sudden and Wanda wasn’t able to track down the Hydra assassin.”

“I should have gone with her.” It’s Bucky who sighs and hangs his head back in his own defeat. “If I had been with Wanda, we could have stopped this. Hydra assassins can move around undetected, be unassuming until it’s too late to do anything.”

“It’s not your fault, Buck,” Steve says to assure his friend but Tony doesn’t let up. His lecture hall has only begun for his fellow Avengers. “So we have a Hydra resurgence group on our hands and now we have to worry about the Convict Wolf. When does this madness end, guys?”

“Tony,” Steve warns firmly, blue eyes landing on Wanda who sits quietly on the end of the couch. She’s been staring off into oblivion for the entirety of their sit down meeting. She’s unfocused in the world around her and trapped in the land of her own thoughts.

Steve calls to her once, then twice, but she remains unshaken from her mind. The sketch shown on the news was uncanny but it was the eyes that continue to spear so deeply into her mind, those eyes that burnt with rage. With hate. She could still feel the bothering heat of you against her skin and the growl of your tone perverted her ears and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

She saw you board the train. The exact same train.

And now they are gone. Vanished into thin air. Wanda feels as though the world shuts down around her. Like her organs are slowly giving in with each breath coming in and out slower than the last. She presses a hand to her ear out of habit, to speak into the coms long since discarded when the mission was called in.

Wanda’s eyes scrunch closed and her chin wobbles slightly. Ever so slowly and painfully, that air grows tighter in her lungs until it can barely escape. She’s losing to this and it’s only been several hours. Where could they have gone?

She hopes to just hear their voice crackle over the coms that aren’t present in her ear any longer. Fuck, she hangs to hope like a life line. She just needs that confirmation that they’re ok. But she can’t hear their voice on the other end. There is no earpiece to bridge the gap of communication.

Natasha is the first to approach Wanda in order to assure her. “Wanda. Breathe for me, ok?” Natasha begins to lead Wanda into the exercise of breathing but it helps little. Wanda abruptly stands to her feet. “I have to go.”

Her form flees to the privacy of her room and Natasha decides it better to leave Wanda to grieve. She sighs heavily when her own eyes become coated in that warm sheen that blurs her vision. “We have to look for them. They’re out there and if we don’t find them, it will kill her.”

As the Avengers discuss their next course of action before Fury’s next - and importantly stated - briefing, Wanda takes hold of her phone. The lock screen is a sharp reminder that buries the knife only deeper into her heart. She’s growing desperate at this point, not even 24 hours later and she needs that voice of clarity. She clicks on the name at the top of her contact list.

It goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t get to your call. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” Beep!

“Hey… listen, uhm, I know you’re probably just hiding out somewhere and… I-I’m sorry if I sound worried I just– I can’t help but think you’re in danger. So please, when you hear this, c-call me back. Okay? Bye…”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

#gn reader #male reader #female reader #treehouse taglist #the dark demeter writing catalogue #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #werewolf reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #marvel #wanda maximoff x werewolf reader series #angst #werewolf #wanda maximoff

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kalims · 2 years

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‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "if you don't lot go of my phone right now I will make sure you bear no kids for life."

witnessing you literally brutally handle someone when they try to take your phone,

premise. so like imagine this; you're chilling, scrolling through your phone and doing whatnot. and some random person tries to wrench it off your grip and now you're violently handling them because no way you're letting them see INSIDE your phone.

characters. everyone

cw. crack, nothing else. the perpetrator implied to be male by title lol

note. if someone did that to me I'd pull their hair until they let go.

they honestly relate cause there's a lot of stuff going on in their phone that they don't want anyone to see, would have probably done it in a more peaceful approach but they understand the violence.

cater, idia.

just watches you twist that student's arm in aggression with no intention to help. they're not that interested in moving from their stop, too entertained to stop you and will comment about your burst of strength.

leona, jade, floyd, lilia, ruggie.

will intervene out of good will and is horrified to see you act upon with violence, pulls your fingers out of that person's hair; of which you literally gripped and pulled for dear life. scolds you right after.

riddle, vil, crewel, deuce, kalim, jack, vargas, ortho, neige, that headmage from rsa lmao.

SUPPORT SUPPORT, either witnessed what they did or have no idea why you're literally fighting someone but they are 100% gonna start cheering for you to beat their ass. just win the fight <3

ace, epel, sam, che'nya, ortho(kinda).

confused af and is just a bystander to the chaos, will probably not intervene but will have a talk with you like a 'what was that about' kind of thing but generally more concerned about you rather than the student.

trey, jamil, azul, malleus, ruggie (again).

you won't even know that he actually saw the whole thing, he's somewhere outside a random window or hiding behind a pillar secretly while praising, and gushing over your actions cause ♡♡

rook.

breaks the fight off with a yell and scares the student away. he's scolding YOU instead because that was not necessary and he thinks it could've been resolved with a talk. no anyone who does that to me will catch these hands 👊

sebek.

you think he'll even be there? ☠

crowley (derogatory), silver my love. he's sleeping somewhere.

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mako-neexu · 9 months

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i dont really like merberon/obemerlin lol literally oberon resents merlin due to him being a fickle reader that turns the page, and moves on from one story to the next, oberon's existence as someone fictional and everything he's said is to call out the readers thats why he says actors, stage, theaters, bystanders, because this is a story, a story being read by us readers who will easily forget them in due time, excited at the prospect of something new, discarding it when it gets old. readers who devour stories and want to see how it ends and when it ends it will lose its novelty. and when you forget the story you are of course essentially forgetting that the characters even ever existed.

similar to how you browse through AO3, binge read, fangirl and forget all about them in the next weeks.

oberon blocks his ass no matter what happens because he refuses to be "read" or "seen" by irresponsible readers, outsiders, who can only watch just for the sake of entertainment and move on to the next while the characters in the story kill each other fall in love betray or save each other and the reader is simply this "god" who is outside of the story, unable to intervene and can only bear witness

if merlin had a way to interact with oberon, oberon would surely try to kill him or if its an AU of course where they are simply people then merlin would be the stick in the butt for oberon to curse nonstop.

which for some reason is inconceivable to me bc of the current dynamic and feelings. but even that i still believe oberon would feel resentment towards him no matter which AU and he'd probably gut himself before sleeping with merlin lmao so even hatesex for obemerlin is beyond me

#fate grand order #fgo #merlin #oberon vortigern #yakudou trio the best dynamic for oberon lmao #if i had to ship him with someone else then #muramasa lol

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que-serra-serra · 1 year

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[Serennedy] Second Chances

Written for @serennedyshipweek23 day 2: Protecting one another. I went for a rewrite of the elevator + Krauser scene, hope you enjoy <3 Rated T | 3.8k words | ao3 link

“What do you mean, you were researching the Plaga!?” Leon demanded.

“I’m not sure how there’s any room for misunderstanding in that statement,” Luis said with an infuriating smirk. “Do you not have research in America? See, it is when dashing scientists such as myself—”

“Why the hell were you working for them!?” Leon interrupted the attempt at deflecting. “For once in your life, fucking be straight with me!”

Luis laughed, a mocking sound without any humor. “Be straight with you? Oh, amigo, you should have considered that before you shoved your dick down my throat.”

“For fuck’s sake, Luis!” Leon slammed his fist on the wall above Luis’ head with a bang.

The noise startled both men, and they quieted as the old elevator rattled and shook, the noise echoing through the mines. Thankfully, the elevator car kept moving up.

Finally, Luis sighed. “Look, I don't know what to tell you. I came back to this village to get away from my past mistakes, and only got roped into another disaster instead. It's my fault that Las Plagas evolved this far. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes. No.” Leon groaned and pushed off the wall, away from Luis. “I don’t know.”

That was a lie: Leon knew exactly what he wanted to hear. He wanted Luis to laugh at the accusations and say that he had nothing to do with the parasite. That he regretted his time at Umbrella and had changed after it, and was now just an unfortunate bystander who hadn’t spent the last few days lying in Leon’s face.

Of course, Leon’s life was never that simple.

“You know, you aren’t making this very easy,” Luis said.

“You’re the one who lied to me,” Leon shot back. “If you wanted easy, you should’ve been honest from the start.”

Luis snorted. “You would not have hesitated to shoot me on sight if you knew the full extent of my actions.”

“Then why even tell me now?” Leon snapped.

When Luis’ reply didn’t come immediately, Leon turned back to look at the man and saw an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face.

“Maybe I'm tired of living a shitty life,” Luis simply said.

Leon knew he should push more. He should yell at Luis and probably arrest him for putting countless lives in danger; God knows Luis seemed to think he deserved it.

“Why did you leave Umbrella?” Leon asked instead.

“Oh, we are returning to sin number one?” Luis said, then sighed. “I was young and reckless and Umbrella had unlimited resources and no pesky ethical code to follow. And so, my team researched parasites: what could possibly go wrong, right?” Luis’ mouth quirked up in a self-deprecating smile. “After an entire city was infected with Umbrella's cannibal virus and a bioweapon I helped create was set loose to wreak havoc, well, let's just say burying my head in the sand was no longer an option.”

No. No no no no—

“Raccoon City,” Leon breathed. “That was you.”

Luis winced. “Not all of it, technically, but… yes. Some of that blood is on my hands.”

Leon’s head was spinning. One of the few friends he'd made in the years following the worst night of his life, someone he’d even started entertaining the thought of building something with once this was all over, also had a hand in the incident that broke Leon in the first place.

Leon really should have known as soon as Hunnigan said the words Umbrella scientist.

“But I thought…” Leon said, desperate to make sense of everything. “What about the Birkins?”

Luis looked up in surprise. “The Birkins' pet project was the G-strain, not the regular T-virus or NE-alpha parasite. But you sure know a lot of very classified information.”

“Because I was there,” Leon said. He swallowed. “My first and last day as a cop, at Raccoon City PD. Conveniently located right above a secret Umbrella research facility.”

Luis stared at him wide-eyed. “And that's why they have you working for the government. Anyone who had seen the events would need to be kept under control, especially if they knew about the lab.”

Leon blinked; he knew Luis was a scientist, but it still caught him off guard how quickly he’d deduced the right conclusion.

Luis' face fell as the realization set in. ”That's what's wrong with you. You wanted to be a policeman to help people, yet you were forced into being a killing machine. They didn't give you an option, eh?”

That's what's wrong with you. The words cut deep, at the dark place inside Leon that he thought he’d buried six years ago.

“Is death an option?” Leon weakly joked.

“Oh, mi amor—ehm, amigo,” Luis quickly corrected himself.

But Leon had caught the slip-up, and it was like the metaphorical knife lodged deep inside twisted in the wound. He hadn’t known how much he'd miss the ridiculous Spanish pet names before they were taken away from him.

“I know you probably won't believe me, but I am sorry,” Luis said. “If not directly responsible, I still played a part in the two worst events of your life.”

Leon nodded. He wondered what it said about him that his first instinct—after wanting to throw a predictable punch—was to say you're also one of the best things to happen in my life, so it evens out.

The elevator ground to a halt, then, their destination reached. They were finally close to the surface, yet Leon still felt like he was suffocating—not from the stale air of the mines, but from the thick tension between them.

“I wish you’d told me all this before we…” Leon trailed off.

Luis smiled that sad smile again. “I'll add it to my long list of regrets.”

Leon watched Luis sigh and walk out of the elevator, straightening his shoulders and forcing a spring into his step.

“No matter, we have a princess to rescue!” Luis said, his voice that familiar mix of humor and teasing, like he was happy to pretend their conversation never happened.

Luckily for him, Leon didn’t like leaving things unfinished.

“Luis, wait.”

Before Luis could react, Leon grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him against a wall of crates next to the elevator. For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other, the tension crackling between them.

And then, when Luis didn’t protest, Leon leaned in and unceremoniously shoved his tongue down Luis’ throat.

Luis immediately moaned into the kiss and grabbed Leon’s shoulder straps to pull him closer, and that reassured Leon more than any empty promises could. After everything that had happened, Luis still trusted him with this; he let Leon manhandle him against the splintering crates and allowed Leon’s lips and tongue to take whatever he wanted.

Even if everything else had been a lie, there was no faking the attraction between them: the way Luis melted under his touch, the way Leon’s heart beat frantically in his chest, and the way they desperately clung to each other was all so very real.

Luis’ hands slid up to wrap around Leon’s neck and a teasing tongue caressed Leon’s own, coaxing a deep groan out of the agent. Impatient hands pulled Leon closer and when he obliged, Luis sighed happily into the kiss, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

And that was the gist of it, wasn’t it? Luis had had plenty of opportunities to escape the cult while Leon mowed down ganados with gunfire and explosives. Yet he’d stayed right by Leon’s side, adamant on helping him and Ashley escape this rotten village.

Conflicting emotions raged within Leon and he stamped them down in favor of slanting his mouth against Luis' to deepen the kiss further, hands moving down from Luis’ shoulders to grip his narrow waist over the leather jacket. When Luis hummed in approval and arched into him, Leon wanted nothing more than to rut against him until they both forgot what they’d even been arguing about in the first place.

Unfortunately, they had more important things to get to than making out while Leon suffered an internal moral dilemma. When Leon reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, both men were panting for breath and Luis was blinking rapidly, like he could scarcely believe that had happened.

“I have to say, that was not what I was expecting,” Luis said.

Leon hesitated; there was so much he still wanted to talk about, but this was neither the time nor the place. The Plaga was raging inside Leon, slowly killing him, and Ashley couldn't be faring any better.

“I don't know what you expect me to do with all that information,” Leon said. “I’m… still pretty pissed off—”

“Understandable.”

“But I don't hate you. Even though I probably should.” Leon sighed. “I just… I've lost too many people.” He gripped Luis' jacket tight over his waist, hopefully conveying the meaning of I can't lose you too.

Luis laughed, the sound fake and ugly. “Oh amigo, there is no future for me. Even if I somehow make it out of this shithole, there are now two governments who want me out of the picture. And I doubt anyone will believe that I only wanted to help people, since not even you—"

Luis closed his eyes and took a breath and Leon resisted the urge to shake him, to force the whole story out of Luis and beg him to at least try to make Leon understand his past decisions.

When Luis opened his eyes and looked at Leon, his gaze was hollow. Leon had seen that look many times before; like a soldier who knew he would not be returning from the war, but who wanted to make every bullet count nonetheless.

"My story is one of hubris, and it does not have a happy ending," Luis said with bone-chilling certainty. "Best case scenario, I'll be behind bars for the rest of my life. Worst case—”

“No,” Leon said, hands balling into fists by Luis’ sides. “I won't let that happen. I'll get you out, you and Ashley, and—and I'll vouch for you, and the president…”

“Ha!” A bark of laughter came from behind them and Leon startled and stepped back. “Oh rookie, just as dumb as the day they brought you in.”

Leon recognized that voice, but there was no way…

"Who's there!?" Leon called, positioning himself in front of Luis. "Show yourself!"

In a blur of movement, none other than Major Krauser, Leon's mentor of four years and presumed dead for two, jumped down from a support beam overhead and landed neatly on his feet.

“You really think the government cares about one soldier? Or even a dozen?” Krauser said. “We’re expendable to them. You think good ol' POTUS would ever care what you have to say? Don’t make me laugh.”

For a brief moment, Leon considered that he was dreaming or having some sort of Plaga-induced hallucination. Even if Krauser was somehow miraculously alive, there was no reason for him to be here, in some rural Spanish village and crashing Leon’s solo mission.

“Cat got your tongue, rookie?” Krauser grinned, showing teeth. “Or did you lose it down your whore's throat?”

“Oye, rude,” Luis muttered. “This whore has a name, you know.”

Luis’ voice pulled Leon back to the present. Clearly this wasn't a hallucination if the Spaniard was sassing Krauser back.

“Major,” Leon said as levelly as he could manage. “What's going on? You were declared KIA two years ago."

“Fucking hell, you really are clueless,” Krauser sneered. “Four years of training with the best and you're still just a blue-eyed little kid. I should've offed you when I had the chance; would've been easy to make it look like an accident.”

The puzzle pieces started clicking into place in Leon’s head: blacked-out documents and the fact that Krauser's body had never been found. Modern military weapons scattered around an old Spanish village. Ashley’s kidnapping under the nose of some of the best agents in the world.

It had all been Krauser.

“I’m doing you a favor, really.” Krauser grinned, shifting his posture in an all-too familiar way. “Putting a weak, useless animal out of its misery.”

Just as Krauser surged forward, Leon reached for his gun—only he was too slow. In one lightning-quick move, Krauser’s knife was pressed to Leon’s throat and an arm restrained him from behind.

“Leon!” Luis yelled, pulling his pistol.

“Rookie mistake,'' Krauser ground out in Leon's ear, backing up and using him as a human shield. “A knife is always faster.”

“Luis, run!” Leon grit out, struggling against the hold. “I’ve got this!”

“I wouldn't do that,” Krauser said, now addressing Luis. “Unless you wanna see the pretty boy's throat slit.”

Leon felt the tip of the knife break skin and a drop of blood run down his throat. Luis’ grip faltered on his pistol, but he was making no move to escape.

“What are you doing? Go! Get the hell out of here!” Leon yelled.

After the conversation they'd just had, there was no telling what Luis would do. Men prepared to be sent to the gallows rarely made rational decisions, especially when the lives of their friends were concerned.

“What do you want, yanqui?” Luis' voice was surprisingly calm as he addressed Krauser.

“Just recovering stolen goods,” Krauser spat. “Hand over the amber.”

“Major, you don't have to do this!” Leon tried. “Snap out of it! If it's the parasite—”

“Shut up, brat!” Krauser elbowed Leon sharply in the spine and he bit back a pained grunt.

“Okay!” Luis said. He reached into his jacket and held something in his hand: a test tube glimmering with orange. “You want this, yes? I give it to you, and he goes unharmed.”

“Smart boy.” Krauser was smirking. “See, Leon? Smart boys know when they're outmatched.”

“Respectfully, Major, fuck you!” Leon kicked at Krauser, but only managed to hit his knee pad.

“Then here,” Luis said. He rolled over the tube, until it stopped at Krauser’s combat boots.

Without warning, Leon was thrown across the room and made impact with the cliff wall next to the elevator they’d just arrived in. He cursed as his shoulder took the brunt of the hit but quickly scrambled to right himself on the rocky floor.

“That's it, alright,” Krauser said, clinking his knife against the test tube now in his hands. Then he grinned, in a pure sadistic glee that made the hairs on Leon’s neck stand up. “Good thing our deal was only for his life.”

In one fluid move Leon had seen countless times before, Krauser threw his knife with impossible speed, and Leon only needed to see a shimmer of metal to know that it was heading straight for Luis' jugular.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The knife sailed through the air, too fast for Leon to warn Luis or throw himself in the way, and soon it would land in Luis' throat with a sickening squelch—

A shot rang out and with a clang of metal meeting metal, the knife embedded itself into a nearby crate instead.

Stunned silent, Leon stared at Luis: still with his pistol in hand, eyes wide in shock. Abruptly, Leon remembered their time at the shooting gallery and how good of a shot Luis actually was. Since he’d already had his pistol drawn, he must have acted purely on reflex to deflect the knife.

Leon looked back at Krauser while reaching for his own combat knife, anticipating a follow-up attack, but the former Major was already gone.

Knowing the immediate danger was over, Leon allowed himself to sag back against the cave wall in relief.

“Well, that was something,” Luis said, walking closer while glancing over his shoulder, pistol still in hand. “Are you alright, cariño?”

The casual endearment was like a warm caress after being dunked in ice water. Leon barked out a somewhat hysterical laugh, giddy with adrenaline and the pure absurdity of the situation,

“Yeah,” Leon said once he'd composed himself, meeting Luis' quizzical gaze. “I'm okay.”

Luis raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you didn't hit your head too hard on the stone?"

"I'm sure," Leon said. “Just processing all the shit that went down."

“Fair enough.” Luis sat himself down next to Leon, then turned to him with a grin. “Did you see that shot!?”

Luis gestured at Krauser’s knife with a trembling hand and his smile had a manic edge to it. It looked like Leon wasn't the only one dealing with adrenaline jitters.

Leon smiled. “It was a nice shot.”

“Oh, a compliment? And a smile?” Luis teased. “I'll never let you live this down, Prince Charming.”

Leon huffed a dry chuckle, reveling in the familiar banter. “Don't get too used to it.”

“I, ehm.” Instead of a witty retort, Luis took a few pointed breaths, making Leon snap back to attention. “I actually think that you pulling me back to kiss me stupid just saved me from certain death,” Luis eventually said.

He had a point: Krauser had clearly been lying in ambush for them. He could have easily killed Leon had he wanted to, yet it was obvious that Luis and the tube—the amber?—had been his target.

“I need a smoke,” Luis announced.

Leon watched Luis’ trembling fingers procure a cigarette and then fumble with the lighter, dropping it on the ground with a soft curse.

Leon grabbed the lighter before Luis could. Even if he didn’t normally approve of smoking, a near-death encounter surely warranted an exception.

“Let me,” Leon murmured.

Luis nodded and leaned in. Leon flicked the lighter and held the flame steady, and soon Luis was dragging his first shaky inhale of nicotine.

“That’s better,” Luis said. “Much better.”

Leon placed the lighter back in Luis' still trembling hand and closed his fingers around it. He stamped down on the worry over seeing the man so obviously rattled: Luis being shaky with adrenaline was infinitely better than his throat gurgling as he choked on his own blood.

“I’m glad you're okay,” Leon said.

Luis grinned around his cigarette. “Come now, I can't leave my Sancho to save the princess alone. That would make a terrible story.”

Despite his attempted nonchalance, Luis intertwined their fingers around the lighter and squeezed, hard enough to almost hurt. Leon squeezed back; a silent I'm here. We're alright.

“The story needs its Don Quixote,” Leon agreed.

Luis laughed, and even if it was a little forced, it seemed like he was returning to himself.

“And here I thought my references were flying right over your head,” Luis teased.

“Maybe there's more to me than just the trauma,” Leon said.

Luis smiled fondly. “Mi vida, you are so much more than a handsome face and great ass…kicking skills.”

Luis winked and Leon huffed a laugh before getting to his feet.

“Come on,” Leon said, extending a hand. “Smoke break's over.”

Luis sighed but took the offered hand and let Leon pull him up. “Mierda, I nearly died and two minutes is all the break I get? You wound me, querido.”

Leon hesitated. “You could wait with the merchant—”

“Psht, I was only joking." Luis waved off the concern. “I have to protect my squire from the giants.”

The sentiment made Leon smile. Luis arched an eyebrow in response, before pointedly snuffing out his cigarette on the rock and looking up through his lashes.

Not able to resist the obvious invitation, Leon leaned in—

And his communicator rang. Fantastic.

“Leon,” Ada's voice came through. “Still in one piece? Good.”

Of course she'd cracked his comms frequency. Of course she was checking in now, when Leon had fought through hell and back and been double-crossed more times than he cared to remember.

“What the hell, Ada!?” Leon snapped.

Both Luis startling next to him and the tense silence from the other end spoke volumes of how uncharacteristic it was for Leon to lose his temper like this. At least with her.

“You're working with Krauser!? He's delusional, Ada—whatever your employer's claiming, he's fucking lost it. He even tried to kill Luis!” Leon said.

Ada was silent for a beat, then calmly asked, “What?”

Luis' chin came to rest on Leon's shoulder, speaking into the earpiece. “Holá, bonita,” Luis said. “A little bump in the road: the former Major just tried to murder me, but he settled for the Plaga sample. Since he has the amber, I assume this means our deal is over.”

“Murder—” Ada said. “Leon, put Serra on the line.”

Leon obediently handed his earpiece over, trying to ignore how easily he was going along with her request.

Luis put some distance between them and listened to Ada while nodding along whatever she was saying. Then, “Do not yell at me!” Luis exclaimed, gesticulating wildly even though Ada couldn't see him. “He would have killed us both! And trust me, I am very interested in curing our prince, but I can't do that while dead, hm?”

With that, Luis held the communicator out to Leon with a sardonic smile. “It's for you.”

"A bump in the road, huh?” Leon said, placing the device in his ear.

"Krauser is nothing but a means to an end that forgot his place," Ada said even more icily than usual, and Leon could hear the distinct cock of a gun. "Your girl is being held at the clocktower."

With that, the line cut out as Ada disappeared in her typical fashion. At least she'd provided them with new intel.

Luis nudged Leon's side and smirked. “Women, eh?”

Leon snorted. “Don't let her hear you say that.”

“She seems awfully fond of you,” Luis said. “For a heartless mercenary, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, jury says I've got shitty taste in women.” Leon paused, then added, “And men, apparently.”

Luis' smile widened into a grin, not seeming to take any offense. “And boy, does that work in my favor.” He clapped a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Now come, Sancho, the princess awaits!”

“Not so fast,” Leon said, brushing off the hand. “You can tell me all about your little deal with Ada while we walk.”

“Ah, mierda.” Luis scratched his neck, smiling sheepishly. “You see, when I was planning my escape and had no idea that I would find a very strong, very beautiful American agent to protect me—”

Leon rolled his eyes and nudged Luis to make him start walking, already strapping in for a long and needlessly complicated story.

And if Leon stayed much closer to Luis than before and silently vowed to protect him better, well, that was nobody's business but his own.

#serennedy #luis serra #leon kennedy #re4make #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #resident evil fanfiction #que fic #serennedy ship week

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heartbreak-sandwich · 4 months

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Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC

Summary: After a day of sledding with a group of her former classmates, JJ is freezing and prepares to walk home when Billy offers her a ride. She invites him in for a warm drink to repay his favor, and things quickly heat up when he lights a fire and shares his best tips on keeping the frost bite at bay. Bask in the glow of this incendiary encounter in the next 1.8k words🔥 CW: SMUT, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, Billy is a little demanding A huge thank you to my beta reader and editor @lifesshort-imshorter for helping me bring this piece to life!!!

DAY THREE OF HOHOHOE WEEK Prompt: Fireplace Read the rest of this mini series here: Part 1 | Part 2

JJ stood at the top of the snow covered hill with the rest of her classmates. Quite a few of them showed up to the Hawkins sledding reunion party Nancy had organized for those of them that were home for the holidays. Everyone was complaining about how cold it was and how they didn’t want to be chilled to the bone by falling in the snow. She couldn’t believe these people had agreed to make an appearance solely for a party to play in a winter wonderland and then refused to participate.

“Seriously, you guys?” She shook her head in disappointment. “Move. I’m going down.” The small crowd parted, and JJ steadied her sled at the top of the hill, making sure it would travel straight from where it started. Everyone’s eyes were on her, including Billy’s, whose burned brightly as he watched her daredevil antics.

“Need a push?” He stepped forward and offered to help JJ start her downhill journey. She smiled over her shoulder at him and replied with one simple word.

“Nope.” With that, she took a running step forward and jumped into the sled, the momentum propelling her forward and down the hill. Inspired by JJ’s bravery, the rest of the group followed suit, everyone finally conceding to having the good time they all gathered for in the first place.

The rest of the afternoon was spent laughing, catapulting snowballs, and wiping out in the icy powder. Everyone agreed they couldn’t remember the last time they had so much fun. Billy was just glad to be there with JJ, soaking in the warmth that emanated from her on that freezing winter day.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting, and JJ was completely soaked through her clothes. Teeth chattering, cheeks aching from smiling and the bite of the bitter wind, she began saying goodbye to her classmates.

“I need to get going so I’m not walking in the dark. I’ll see you guys at Tina’s in a couple days!” She waved, a chorus of farewells arising from the group as she gathered her sled.

“Walking?” Billy’s voice boomed above the rest.

“Yeah,” JJ answered. “It’s not far.”

“No way. You’re freezing. Come on, let me give you a ride. It’s on my way.” Billy stepped toward her while all of the bystanders quieted, waiting for her to bite back sarcastically. To their surprise, she accepted graciously.

“Actually, that would be nice.” JJ’s whole body shook from the cold as she spoke. Following Billy to where his car was parked, she was thrilled to see he was still driving that cobalt blue Camaro she had always made fun of him for but secretly loved.

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

“Thanks again for the ride.” JJ was still shivering as Billy pulled into the Ferons’ driveway.

“Any time,” he drawled, his signature smirk sliding into place. JJ had the house to herself for the night. Her parents were being entertained at another stuffy cocktail hour for some other overly posh law firm, and while she originally planned to get some relaxation time in, she now had a better idea.

“You want to come in? I’ll make you a hot drink for your troubles.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Billy replied, his smirk blooming into a smile. He followed JJ inside, and he couldn’t help but notice she was still shaking from the cold permeating through her wet clothes.

“I’ll put the kettle on. You make yourself comfortable,” she instructed, leaving Billy alone in the living room.

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

“What’s all this?” JJ’s grin shone brightly against the dim glow of a fire crackling in the fireplace. She handed Billy one of the mugs she was carrying back from the kitchen, taking note of the pile of blankets on the floor in front of the dancing flames.

“You’re freezing. We need to get you warmed up, and I thought a fire might help. Here,” Billy said, taking JJ’s hand and leading her over to the bundle of warmth he had prepared. They sat down on the plush area rug together, and Billy draped two of the blankets over JJ’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around her, moving them up and down slowly to create friction.

“What a gentleman,” JJ crooned in jest, giggling at Billy’s display.

“Frostbite is no joke, Jacqueline,” he quipped back, his smile still bright in the low light.

“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed. They shared a comfortable silence looking far off into the fire, the crackling and popping sounds keeping them company.

“You know,” Billy started. “Body heat is really the most effective way to warm up.” JJ met his gaze, and his ocean eyes were dark with a devilish haze. She knew exactly what he was playing at, and she loved this game.

“Oh, well, in that case.” JJ stood up, letting the blankets fall from her shoulders, and pulled her sweater over her head, discarding it onto the floor. Billy’s eyes followed her every move as she peeled off more layers – t-shirt, undershirt, pants, socks – until she was down to just her underwear, her blue lace bra almost matching the color of his stare.

Billy followed suit, shedding his sweater, shirt, and pants, still watching her all the time. JJ felt the heat of a blush creep up to her cheeks just looking at him. He was like a God. The outline of every dip and valley of Billy’s body was contoured by the flickering of the fire. His golden skin looked butter-soft, and all JJ wanted to do was touch him, but she forced herself to be patient.

They returned to their seats on the rug, and Billy leaned closer to her, cupping the side of her face in his hand with a hungry look in his eyes. JJ’s lips parted as Billy ghosted his thumb over them, and there was no more talking. He kissed her slowly, with passion and sincerity, and she was already losing herself.

Billy tasted sweet like honey and warm sugar, and soon JJ was melting into him while their kisses turned fiery, all teeth, tongue, and desperation. Billy pressed wet, needy kisses to her jaw, her neck, her collar bone, leaving playful bites in his wake. JJ’s breathing grew heavy, and all she wanted was more, more, more.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, Billy leaned into her until her back was pressed into the thick, plush rug in front of the fire. He lowered himself to her face one last time, locking her lips into his and running his tongue along the bottom one, then the top. He was teasing her, and she was eating it up.

Billy placed nips and kisses again down her neck, to her collar bone, to her chest, and he didn’t stop until he got to the top of her panties, taking the waistband in his teeth and letting it snap back against her skin. He glanced up at her from between her thighs, eyes full of sin, and JJ’s heart hammered double time.

“Are you warming up yet?” Billy asked seductively before pressing his warm, wet tongue flat against her clothed slit, just enough so that she could feel the rush of his hot breath.

“Whatever you do,” JJ warned, running her fingers through Billy’s sandy curls, “just don’t stop.” A dangerous grin formed on Billy’s face just before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs, tossing them to the side. Big, strong hands pushed her thighs apart, making room for Billy to nestle down in between them. His breath ghosted across her bare skin, creating goosebumps over her entire body as he licked a long stripe through her folds.

JJ’s breath hitched at the contact, and she pulled lightly on Billy’s curls, eliciting a growl from deep within his chest. His tongue was like warm velvet sliding up and down and in delicious circles around her clit, and her vision grew hazy in the glow of the flames. She didn’t have room in her mind to care that her moans sounded pathetic and desperate as she tightened her grip in Billy’s hair and moved her hips languidly against his expert mouth.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” Billy’s eyes snapped up to meet hers as she glanced down at his mesmerizing movements, the work of his mouth and his dark stare setting her core ablaze. She let out a gasp when she felt him push two fingers inside of her, curling them up to meet her sweet spot. He fucked her slowly, the constant contact of his tongue pushing her closer and closer to the breaking point.

“Billy, please,” she breathed, her eyes brimming with tears at the stimulation.

“Beg me,” he purred, the low vibrations of his voice against her aching pussy sending shockwaves crashing over her.

“Please, I want to cum for you so bad. Mmmm – please, Billy.” With those magic words, he picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers into her harder and faster and sucking fiendishly on her clit until her moans turned into blissful sobs. Every move Billy made stoked the embers in her core until it was white hot and smoldering, and then there was an explosion.

JJ’s eyes screwed shut, tears spilling down her cheeks as she lost control, her whole body shuddering as her walls clenched around Billy’s fingers. She writhed against his tongue, a string of colorful expletives flooding from her lips as she rode out her climax. Slowly seeping back into the fabric of reality, JJ steadied her breathing as Billy removed his fingers and set an iron grasp on her thighs, pushing them farther apart while his blunt nails dug into her flesh as he held her there.

He continued to lavish slow, lazy circles on her clit, the overstimulation sending jolts up her spine as more tears slipped down her cheeks. JJ couldn’t take it anymore and tried her best to push him away, but he was too strong.

“Beg me,” Billy commanded once more. He wasn’t going to stop until she was a pathetic, weeping mess.

“Billy, please,” she cried. “I can’t take it anymore, please.” He gave one last long lick along her clit and looked up at her, his cerulean eyes shining like the surface of the ocean under the sun. He steadied himself on his knees and stretched his back, the glow of the fire rippling over his defined muscles before he laid down next to her.

“You taste divine,” he whispered. He leaned in and kissed her fiercely, and she could taste the sweet and sour remnants of herself on his tongue.

Once she was finally able to string a coherent thought together, JJ knew she was in trouble. Everything about Billy consumed her entirely, and though she knew she’d never be the same, in that moment, all she wanted was to be completely immersed in him. He was going to ruin her, and she was content to let it happen.

💕Tag list: @imyourdaninow @justsimonrileythings @b1tchy3lf @jozstankovich @darleenjade @peachyaliien @dananahenderson @strangerthing93 @yoyokiss97 @californiaboytoybilly

#Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove smut #Billy Hargrove x OC #Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC #Billy Hargrove fanfic #OC JJ Feron #Fergrove <3 #hohohoe23 #day three - prompt: fireplace #writing events #holiday writing event #sando writes #12/20/23

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cellythefloshie · 10 months

Text

;; All I Want Dedicated to @callsign-denmark for her birthday bingo

Summary: This year, to make it easy on her family, Claire is celebrating her birthday in Raleigh. She would prefer a more private event, something just for family, but when your brother was the Captain of an NHL team: family extended to a roster of 21 she barely knew - including goaltender Frederick Andersen. M's Bingo Card Tropes: Whirl-wind romance, Captain’s sister, FreeSpace - children/babies (Claire's nieces and nephews), “Let’s celebrate tonight”, “please stay”, Summer Birthday Kinks & TW: age gap, love at first sight, soulmates, in public (briefly), thigh riding, alcohol consumption (no mentions of intoxication), sundress season, virginity/first time, size kink/height difference (5'2 & 6'4), vaginal fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (are we even going to pretend to be surprised by this?), implied heels kink, pet name: flower. Original Character: Claire is the baby sister of the Staal family. Face Claim: Dove Cameron. Word Count: 8.6k+ A/N: Happy birthday girlie! I hope that this little (ha) story I've put together for you fulfils your birthday bingo dreams and more! Also, damn you! The sinful things I thought about this man while writing this. There is no going back after this one. And full disclosure this was based solely on like 1 interview I watched and a handful of pictures on the internet because I know next to nothing about Freddie BUT I like to think I did a pretty damn good job with him. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to celebrate your day with you! 🎉

Playlist.

Claire didn’t like big birthday parties, but when you were a Staal you didn’t get much of a choice in the matter. Her parents were always in attendance, then came her four older brothers, and with them their wives, and their children. You would think that it would have stopped there, but when your brothers all played in the NHL - and when one happened to be the Captain of the team in the very city she was holding her little get-together - players or two were bound to show up as family. Claire didn’t mind all that much, she liked the guys Jordan played with and it always made for an entertaining night - even if that meant feeling like a bystander at her own birthday party.

Without knowing for sure just how many people would show up, her parents had taken the opportunity to reserve a private patio as her restaurant of choice - and it made Claire all the more sound with her choice to wear the light and flowy blue sundress patterned with daisies. It had been a dress she had been looking for an excuse to wear. The skirt of the dress stopped just above her knees, and the bodice was fitted to show her figure without being too heavy on her skin. The Carolina heat would weigh on her enough throughout the evening, she didn’t need an uncomfortable outfit to ruin her night. Instead, she would leave that to her shoes.

Claire was small. Standing merely 5’2, she had been dwarfed by every single one of her brothers who stood at 6’4. The moment she had stopped growing, she had committed to a lifetime of being someone who had to wear heels. She wore them wherever she needed them, no matter how uncomfortable or impractical they may be, and had mastered the art of walking and running in them. Which was already coming in handy as the night was young as she was chasing around her all too energetic nieces and nephews.

For the most part, the 12 children, varying in ages, could entertain themselves - or were glued to the hips of their mothers as they were too young or too shy to venture out onto the open patio space around the table. But Claire, she had a reputation to uphold. As the youngest child, who was proudly single, she was the embodiment of the Fun Aunt. She spoiled them with gifts and wasn’t one to shy away from being a little too rambunctious - even if that meant drawing a little too much attention as everyone arrived.

“Look who we have here,” the voice had Claire perking up from where her nieces and nephews came at her in an onslaught of affection, demanding to be picked up and swung around or carried on her back, “an overgrown child.”

The playful jab had her beaming, a smile bright as a ray of sunshine as her eyes fell on the culprit, “Brady!”

Skjei had only been on Carolina for a few seasons, but with his history playing with the Rangers alongside her brother Marc, he was a familiar face at family gatherings. “You made it,” she lowered one of the children back to the ground, giving the others a quick apology as she excused herself to greet the Carolina Hurricanes defenceman to her party.

“Of course,” he smiled, his arms opening wide to welcome Claire into his embrace, “biggest bash of the off-season, when have I ever missed it?”

For a moment, she pondered in his arms. Lips pursed her head tilted from side to side. She couldn’t quite remember the last time she had a birthday without him being there. Marc had invited him all the way back in Skjei’s rookie season when it had been her sweet sixteen. She had a schoolgirl crush on him back then, but now she couldn’t look at him without seeing more than another brother.

“Never, ever,” she decided after a moment and stepped back from his hold, “so what did you get me?”

Brady scoffed as if she had offended him, “You mean I’m not enough?” Claire shook her head slowly, bouncing her feet with anticipation as she held her hands behind her back. She looked misleadingly sweet, and innocent when in reality she was far from it. “Alright, alright, you got me. Mom took it from me when I got in. You’ll know it’s from me when you open it.”

“Oh, so it’s a good one,” Claire laughed.

“They always are, aren’t they?”

“Of course,” she pushed his chest playfully before leaning off to the side to look around him, “didn’t drag the team along with you this time?”

“Not many of the guys back in town yet,” he hummed, looked back over his shoulder to where the brothers had gathered, “just Derek and Freddie-”

Claire perked up, “who?”

She knew who, well kind of. Frederick Andersen had been the team’s primary goaltender - except when his injuries had plagued the season - since was signed back in 2021. And while it had been years since that initial contract, she had yet to meet him. Which was a damn shame, because from what she could tell he was gorgeous.

“You haven’t met Freddie?” Brady raised a brow, his arm around to cradle your back as you both turned in place to try to find him in the crowd. Which wasn’t all that difficult when he towered as tall as her brothers. Her eyes settled on him as he stood by the table with her brother Jordan, and glass in his hand as the two of them shared conversation. Just the sight of the towering Danish goaltender left her stomach aflutter with butterflies. He really was gorgeous with his strawberry blonde hair that was slicked back like James Dean and a smile that left her weak in the knees.

“Com’on then, let’s go meet him,” Brady’s words were a mere echo in her mind as he pressed against her lower back to ease her into her stride.

She followed his guidance carefully, her every stride bringing her closer to Freddie, and giving her eyes something more to admire. First, she noticed the stubble that framed those lips that she was sure could talk her into anything. Then, was how his t-shirt hung off the strength of his shoulders peaked at his chest before hanging loose around his west. Her eyes travelled down over his hips and she had half the mind to stop there but then she saw her thighs. Claire was left near salivating that how they tested the elasticity of his denim jeans. She had no doubt that they were thick - strong and it only left her wishing he had been wearing shorts just so she could indulge in the sight of them. To see how they flexed when he walked, or how they would spread over his seat as he sat-

“Earth to Claire!” Her mind had been lost, her gaze up on the watercolour skies as her mind wondered only for Jordan’s humoured tone to cut through and end any sinful thought that threatened to overtake her. “You alright there kiddo?”

Claire wrinkled her nose, at the nickname. She was very much a grown woman now, and it was still a nickname she could shake thanks to being the baby of the family. Yet, she didn’t fight him on it and instead spoke out in a soft, apologetic hum, “I’m sorry, I must have just gotten distracted. The sky is just beautiful right now, isn’t it.”

“She is,” the unfamiliar voice left her head snapping in its direction. The two, simple words had slipped from Freddie’s lips, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had heard them right. Surely, her mind was playing tricks on her and he had said it and not she. Right?

“What was that?” she cocked her head at him, her bright blue eyes raising to meet the sweet chocolate hue of his stare for the first time. Claire had only meant to indulge herself in a quick glance, but the moment her eyes found his her stare was locked for his gaze was down on her as well. The air around her seemed to be lost, her lungs suffocating on the mere presence of him as she waited for even a single word to leave his perfect lips.

Claire watched as his smile waivered on his lips, curling from a small smirk to a wider grin before settling back into that smug smirk again. She knew in an instant that he wasn’t going to get the answer she was looking for. Instead, she was met by the reach of his large hand, and let his lips part in a simple introduction, “Freddie.”

Her brows were drawn together at the offer - a handshake, really? What was this? A business meeting? Yet, she humoured him, her hand left feeling dainty as it was consumed by his touch. It engulfed her like the overwhelming embrace of an ocean wave. Lungs struggled to take even a single breath as the warmth of his touch consumed every inch of her body. Then, she was lost in his gaze, drawing in every bit of his attention and drowning in it. Claire held his hand for too long, she knew it and she was sure her brother had noticed too, and yet her touch on his hand remained as she finally manages a slow and steady breath before saying nothing more than her own name.

“The birthday girl,” Freddie hummed out, and her stomach fluttered.

Something told Claire that he could call her anything and she would be left swooning.

“That’s right,” Claire hummed her fingers still lingering on his, failing to let go of his hand, “and I think that means you have to get me a drink.”

Claire hadn’t meant to be so flirtatious with her words, especially not with her brother and Brady standing right there. Yet it left her lips so shamelessly, and her boldness hasn’t failed her.

Gripping her fingers between his own, Freddie drew her in just close enough to wrap her arm around his so that she held onto the breadth of his forearm so he could guide her off to the bar - leaving Jordan and Brady behind them before either could interject. Her delicate fingers gripped gently at his strength, her heart both dreading having to let go of him and racing at just how he felt between her touch. Touching him felt like the first sip of water after days of needing to drink. It was unlike anything Claire had ever felt from something so simple and it left her breathless as she came to the bar.

His words were an echo in her mind as he ordered his drink, and then his gaze came down on her again, patiently waiting for her to tell him just what she liked to drink.

“Paloma, please,” she muttered sweetly, her hand still on his arm as she looked only to him with little acknowledgement to the bartender.

And when their order was made, and they were left to stand and wait patiently at the bar, Freddie turned so that he was facing her fully and his towering frame leaned up against the bar. The casual tilt brought him a little closer to her level, giving her a good look at the smirk on his lips and the glimmer in her eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke and just stared. Claire with undoubtedly smitten with him - and maybe if she believed in love at first sight, this would be it. Because the way he stared at her with those sweet brown eyes of his had her convinced that he was feeling it all too.

“So, birthday girl,” Freddie finally hummed as his frosted glass of amber liquor was placed down in front of him and alongside it the grapefruit garnish contrasted it with its femininity, “what are we drinking to?”

Her hand reached out, tracking hold of the glass before raising it between them, “To my brother for having such generous teammates.”

Freddie chuckled lowly, his large hand wrapping around his glass before he raised it between them. Together they took a shallow sip, their eyes locked. It was almost enough to make her choke, but she managed a slow breath and maintained her composure.

“Now, hard question,” Claire hummed, taking a small step in, “How’d I get so lucky to have you as a guest at my party?”

She watched as his smile grew as he stole another sip of his drink, “contract negotiations,” he answered simply.

“I think that means we will have to toast to Don as well.”

“We can save that one for when I sign.”

“Which means I’ll need your phone number,” she bit her tongue as she realized what she had just so blatantly done. She could feel her cheeks flush with colour, her heart thundering with regret. Claire knew better than to hit on her brother’s teammates. For their sanity and her own - and the safety of the poor player who even wanted to take the risk of toying with her heart. Yet, she persisted, “You know, so we can celebrate.”

Placing his glass down, Freddie dipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone before it joined his drink in the bar. His silent question asked Claire to put her number in his phone.

Claire glanced to the side, across the patio to where her brothers were talking with Derek and Brady. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Placing her drink down, she took his phone in both hands and typed in her name and number before hanging it back to him. Claire had expected him to tuck the phone away but took the time to text her quickly. Sending her phone into a dreamy chime with the notification. It was a sound she had come to hate, but now it excited her.

“You think I gave you a fake number?” She teased him gently.

“No, no,” Freddie chuckled, his head shaking slowly, “not at all, I-”

His words were broken by the clamour of children’s footsteps as her nieces and nephews stormed the table for dinner. “I think that our queue,” Claire’s words were a half sigh as she drew her hand back from his forearm. The moment she released him from her gentle touch it was as if she were a battery that had been charged but her current was beginning to fade. It was a feeling unlike any other she had felt before, and her gaze on him lingered for a moment as she wondered if he felt it too.

Managing a smile she stepped back and fell into stride towards the table, leaving Freddie at the bar behind her. Her lips moved in a silent What the fuck? as her mind couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened, and what she had just let herself do. She carried her Paloma in one hand, while the other reached up to push her blonde hair from her face. It stayed there, her fingers knotted in her hair at the crown of her head as she moved to sit at the head of the table.

Seat by seat the table was filled until a single seat was left to be taken at her side, and one person remained standing. Claire held her breath as the patio chair was dragged against the ground and filled by Freddie who had come to the table with a fresh drink for them both. He placed it down in front of her without a thought or a look in her direction, leaving her jaw slacked in disbelief - but she was quick to press her lips firm together when she noticed her nephew mimicking her as he sat opposite to Freddie.

Claire’s lips curled up into a smile as her nephew grinned at the realization that he had been caught. “You gotta be on your best behaviour mister,” she told her nephew, leaning in to smile at him, but it only made him laugh. While it was her birthday she got stuck sitting at the kid’s end of the table. If the kid was old enough to eat without the help of their parents they were exiled to her end of the table, which often featured at least one of her brother’s wives, but tonight the Carolina goaltender had filled their place.

“I’m not joking,” Claire claimed, and it only had her nephew grinning a troublemaker’s grin, “we got a guest with us, Mr. Andersen. You don’t want to scare him away do you?”

Holy fuck. She thought. Mr. Andersen. It felt so weird, yet so good on her tongue and it left her head spiralling as she helped her nephew with his menu. Freddie Andersen. Frederick Andersen. Mrs. Frederick Andersen. The thought left her feeling giddy as the name echoed in her mind as if she were a schoolgirl scrawling his name across her notebook. That’s what this had to be, a schoolgirl crush of an infatuation. It was the only explanation for it all.

With that thought, she tried to put all she had felt for him that evening behind her. To forget the anomaly that was her intense pull to him - but there was no ignoring him as he sat right beside her with the spread of his legs just enough to graze against her leg beneath the table. There was no ignoring how easy the casual conversation came between them, or just how good he was with her nieces and nephews when their antics carried out throughout the dinner service. Freddie fit in so effortlessly, so flawlessly that it was as if he had been there the whole time. That fact left Claire dreading having to say goodbye.

It was a heavy weight in her stomach as she stood at the door of the restaurant, thanking her family and friends for coming. Her nieces and nephews were the first to accept their hugs, sad that they had to say goodbye to their Auntie Claire, but they were tired and didn’t put up much of a fight when they were told to get in the car. The crowd thinned and soon she was left with her parents, and with Freddie who lingered back by the door. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she told her parents she wanted to take a walk before heading back to the hotel. To go on without her, and when they left her she stood alone with a single gift bag in her hand. Then, she looked straight at Freddie.

“Did you think I was going to let you run off before I got to say goodbye?” Claire called out to him, her casual stride carrying him toward him.

He met her halfway, a smile on his lips, “quite the opposite, actually.”

Claire beamed. He had been waiting to catch her alone.

“Let's celebrate tonight, just the two of us?” Claire asked him slowly, her hand dipping into the bag to brandish a bottle of Canadian whiskey that Brady had given her for her birthday.

His eyes seemed to flicker with the light of a flame as his hand dinner into the pocket of his trousers. Drawing out his keys he held them up for her to see, “Where do you want to go?”

“I have a room at the Residence Inn,” Claire told him, with a smile and let him lead the way to his car.

Upon arriving at the hotel, and with his car taken care of by the valet, Claire lead him through the hotel but did not go up to her room. The night was too beautiful to waste it in bed, and it would have been much too forward - though she wouldn’t have complained if that was all Freddie had wanted from her - instead, she lead him out to the darkened patio. It was closed, but she slipped beneath the half-assed barricade and crawled up onto one of the loungers in the corner just out of sight of the security camera she was sure hadn’t worked in the first place.

Chuckling, Freddie followed her lead - much more gracefully than she had expected - and sprawled out on the lounger across from her. The seat was too short for him, his foot handing off the end even as he was seated up at an angle. Claire could help but stare as he sat there, his auburn hair hanging down over his forehead and his clothes so relaxed on his frame. So effortlessly handsome, she admired him as she reached into her gift bag and grew out the bottle. Manicured fingers picked at the plastic that sealed the bottle, and she let it fall to the ground before twisting the cap free. She took the first, long sip and let the whiskey burn its way through her body before holding it out for Freddie to take.

His large hand wrapped around the neck of the body, his fingers grazing over the skin of her hand for a moment before she could pull back. Claire could still feel the ghost of his touch as she lay back and stared up at the sky. Just beyond an awning, and around the sun umbrella they had forgotten to close when their service had come to an eye, the night sky was filled with the glimmer of stars. They were faint, drowned out by the city light, but she could see them there. She watched as they sparkled, her eyes trying to planets from stars from satellites as the two of them passed the bottle back a forth. Sipping it from occasion before it was forgotten on the ground between them and conversation prevailed.

They spoke of their careers. They spoke of home, of family and friends. They talked about their hobbies, their similarities and their differences slowly becoming clear - and not once did her magnetic draw to him waiver. The more they talked, the more she knew, the more it grew. Claire wanted to be near him, to feel him, to know him for more than his mind and his soul but his body too. It was a craving, one that consumed her so fully it was almost debilitating as she pushed up from where she lay on the lounger.

Reaching down, Claire pushed her heels from her feet with a single hand before her feet met the cold concrete. She stepped around the open bottle of whiskey and took two tip-toeing steps to reach where Freddie sat no more than an arm’s reach away. And he must have been watching her, waiting for her, as she was greeted with the slow embrace of his hands around her waist as she climbed onto the seat with him.

His fingers wrinkled her dress, causing the flimsy fabric to rise around her thighs as he guided her up into his lap. Claire’s knees rested on each side of a single thigh, the soft fabric of his trousers brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh as she seated herself down. She near shuddered as she felt his muscle flex between her legs, the thick quadricep pressing up against the thin fabric of her panties and the apex between her thighs. There she sat, her full lips parted in a breathy part as she reached out to trace her fingers over the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Claire craved to lean in, to steal that breath of air between them but she hesitated as her bright eyes were heavy and gazed over every angle of his face right down to the swell of his lip as he took the lower lobe between his teeth in restraint.

“Freddie I,” she gasped out gently, “I don’t normally do anything like this…”

Claire wanted that to be clear. She wasn’t some temptress that made it her mission to sleep with her brother’s teammates nor was she someone who let a man steal more than a kiss on the first date. But with what she was feeling, she wanted to chase the highs of being in his company even if that meant breaking the unwritten rules of being the Captain’s baby sister.

His head shook slowly, a small smile creeping up onto his lips as one of his hands left her waist to reach up. Freddie’s warm palm met her cheek carefully, his thumb stroking over her lips and feeling her every nervous breath.

“You and me both,” he finally said as his thumb dropped to her chin, “this is the exact opposite of what I should be doing if I want to be staying on the roster, but-”

“But?”

“I just can’t shake this feeling,” Freddie hummed, pushing up from the recliner to straighten up just enough that the tips of their nose graze. He didn’t have to say any more than that. She knew exactly what he was speaking to because she was feeling it too. “I would very much like to kiss you, Claire.”

“If you kiss me I might not be able to stop,” Claire cautioned, her gaze shifting down to the golden cross that hung from her neck.

The Staal family was strong in their faith, and she had yet to truly give herself to any man. With all that she was feeling, her skin already ablaze with just the overwhelming thought of it all, Claire knew the risk that would come from just a single kiss from his lips. She needed him to know what this would mean to her if she left it spiral. She needed to know that he was willing to carry the heavy weight of being her first with him.

His perfect lips parted in a breath of a curse as his thick fingers dragged down the angles of her neck. Freddie’s touch was featherlight, but it left a burning path in its wake as he reached her collarbone and the dainty necklace that hung from her neck. Two fingers stroked over the chain before taking hold of the small cross that was no bigger than the pad of his thumb.

“Claire,” her name was almost a groan on his lips as he studied the cross with eyes that seemed to darken in the night, “you’ve never-”

She couldn’t answer, the embarrassment of it all in her throat. She had always thought she would have waited until marriage, but she had never wanted anyone more than she wanted him in that moment and she hadn’t even kissed him yet. Instead, all she could do was shake her head.

“Fuck,” he cursed again, but it sounded more like a hymn now, “You’re going to get me into so much trouble, you know that?”

His hand splayed out, holding her gently around her throat after dropping the cross to rest just above her cleaved. With that hold, he drew Claire in, his mouth meeting hers in the kiss she had been craving from him all evening. Any suffocating feeling that had lingered after being void of his touch at dinner had been eliminated the moment his lips met hers. Freddie’s kiss breathed life into her unlike any kiss had before, and Claire felt whole.

It had started out in a chaste drag of his lips over her own, firm and curious, but it ignited a spark that neither of them could ignore. It drew her in further, her lips parting to welcome the intensity of his kiss, and Claire was melting into him. The world around them was lost as Claire gripped his t-shirt in her fists, and with a single hand, Freddie was pulling her in so that she was flush against him. Freddie’s warmth radiated against her, consuming her as she let one leg fall over the edge of the lounger to ground himself. With one leg anchoring him, Claire could feel his hands travelling down over the subtle curves of her body. His palms stroked over the dip of her waist and down further still as he gripped at her hips. Fingers wrinkled her pale dress, inching its skirt up a little higher as he shifted her position on his thigh just right. And with the careful guidance of his hands, Freddie dragged her clothed cunt over the thick expanse of his thigh.

The friction left Claire gasping against his lips as she kissed him. Her hands released his shirt, dropping the now wrinkled fabric, before reaching to gasp at the strength of his shoulders. With that hold, Claire anchored herself to him, and let her hips roll in his steady guidance. She could feel each flex of his thigh, and each tug of her panties as they caught on the fabric of his trousers. It pushed the fabric back and forth, forcing the structured hem one way or the other leaving it to tease the most sensitive parts of her and expose her delicate skin to the pleasure of his thigh. Each desperate roll of her hips was almost enough to leave her reeling, her legs threatening to tremble as her arousal seeped into his trousers and undoubtedly could be felt against his skin.

“Freddie,” she mewled against his lips, his kiss dragging down across her jaw and coaxing a feeble moan before he pulled back just enough to look at her, “My room’s on the third floor.”

“Are you sure?” Freddie asked slowly, his large hand raising from her hip carefully and reaching out to stroke over her swollen lips.

“I’m sure they won’t want us doing it out here on the patio,” when she spoke, her lips dragged against his fingertips - the mere touch of him sent a smile to blossom over her lips.

“Yeah,” Freddie breathed out, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Standing up slowly, Claire ran her hands down over the skirt of her dress to smooth out each wrinkle before reaching down to collect the bottle. She cradled it in her hold and watched out of the corner of her eye as Freddie stood - towering - and awkwardly shifted his trouser with the hope to hide the stiffness of his cock as it tested the confined of his trousers. In the dark, it wasn’t all that noticeable, but in the light of the hotel room lobby, she was sure someone was bound to notice.

“Here, take this,” Claire thought quickly as she reached for the gift bag and placed the bottle inside before handing it to him. It wasn’t a big bag, but maybe it would be enough of a distraction.

Looking up from his half-untucked shirt and the leather belt buckle around his waist Freddie offered her a smile and a quick thanks before the two of them snuck off the patio and into the hotel lobby. It was so late in the night that not even the front desk clerk greeted them, making it a quick and easy walk to the elevator that would take them up.

Claire stood on one side of the elevator, her thighs pressed firm together as her panties were still askew, and Freddie stood across from her with the gift bag strategically held in front of him and his eyes locked on her. Leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the elevator, Claire watched him in return, her mind racing faster than she could register a single clear thought - and before she could even try to fathom one, the elevator chimed as they reached the third floor.

Quick strides carried her out into the hallway and only grew quicker as she left her own arousal dripping down the inside of her leg. Her strides stuttered as she came to the door, her fingers fumbling with the key card for a moment before she was pushing her way in through the door.

Freddie was quick to come in right behind her, the warmth of his body against her back as he dropped the gift bag - and the bottle of whiskey - to the floor with a hollow thud leaving his hands free to take to her body. Hands splayed over the curves of her waist, drawing her back into him so she could feel the stiffness of his cock against her back. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, her head almost feeling dizzy as she felt him lean in just enough to mutter against her ear.

“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” Freddie hummed, the rush of his words hot against the shell of her ear, “are you sure? Do you want me to be the first to fuck you, Claire?”

Claire could only nod, her lips slightly parted as she took a steady breath, her mind confused fully by how big he felt pressed up against him. Even while wearing her two-inch heels, Freddie towered a foot taller than her and was so big, so strong. He made her feel small, that at any moment he could pick her up and take her as he pleased and yet, he was taking his time with her. His touch was so cautious, so careful and tender. This wasn’t just going to be a quick fuck. She knew it, and with the way he was touching her - and the way they had been acting all night - he knew it too but neither of them could call it what it was.

“I need you to say it, Claire,” Freddie prompted her again, his long arm reaching down the length of her body to tug up the skirt of her dress. He drew it up by the hand full, revealing every inch of skin along her thigh and bearing her panties to him. She could feel the vibration of his hum against her back, his two thick fingers dragging over the white lace hem that rested inches below her belly button.

“Yes,” came the ghost of the word, “Yes, I’m sure.”

His two fingers dipped into the thin fabric, his fingertips dragging over her smooth flesh and did not stop until they came to rest over her clit. It seemed to sting with desperation, screaming for the pleasure that would come from the pleasure of his touch. Yet, all she could feel was the subtle accidental graze that came with the angling of her own hips.

“Freddie,” his name was a gentle whine on her lips, her head turning to glance back at him.

“Has a man ever touched you here?” he hummed into her hair as his finger pressed into her clit, a gentle pressure that almost left her teetering uneasily in her heels.

“No,” she gasped simply, her petite body leaning back against his as her eyes shut.

Freddie’s fingers stroked in slow, agonizing circles as he spoke again, “Have you ever touched yourself here, Flower?”

Her cheeks flushed red hot at the question, and her knees weak as the nickname was assigned to her by his tongue. Claire nodded slowly, her blonde hair becoming a mess between her head and his chest, and she held her breath as he dipped her fingers lower into the crotch of her panties. Blindly he fixed them just right, trapping his touch between the thin lace and the wet warmth of her cunt - then as his fingertips traced the slick entrance of her core, Claire took in a sharp inhale.

“What about here, Flower?” Freddie breathed into her hair, each word hot as it was spoken.

“No,” Claire’s lips quivered, “never.”

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he praised her gently, “waiting so patiently for me.” The cockiness in his tone left the corner of her lips curling as she leaned back into his strength. His free arm welcome her, wrapping so effortlessly around her waist to keep her firm to him as she gazed up at him through her thick lashes. “I’m going to take my time with you, Flower. Spoil you on your birthday, would you like that?”

Claire nodded.

“Good, girl,” Freddie hummed as he slipped his hands from her panties and let the skirt of her sundress fall back down her legs, “lay down on the bed. Leave everything on for me.”

She took careful strides as she moved for the bed, her legs left feeling weak from the mere absence of him and only found relief when she was crawling up into the comfort of the bed. Settling among the pillows, Claire bent one leg and she reached for the thin strap that fastened her heels around her ankle.

“Ah, Ah,” Freddie tutted, “leave everything on for me, Flower.”

Her fingers froze and eased back against the pillow as her eyes fell on him. Freddie still stood by the door, the glow of the hallway light streaming in and illuminating his silhouette in a halo of light. He had watched her crawl up to the bed without moving from his place, admiring her. It was only as she sat frozen by his words that he took casual, long strides, that carried him to the foot of the bed and tugged his t-shirt off his back and up over his head. Claire couldn’t stop herself from letting her eyes wander. Trailing up from the belt of his trousers where the waist of his boxers played peek-a-boo, and up and over the strength of his body. Her gaze didn’t stop until they had settled on his softened features, and how they were framed by what was now a mess of his hair.

Her bright eyes fixated on the contrast of his darker as Freddie settled himself at the foot of the bed. It shifted under his weight as he crawled up just a bit high so that he knelt just between her feet. All the while holding her gaze, Freddie took hold of her gently by one of her ankles. He guided it up carefully, placing it on the strength of his shoulder, before turning his head just enough to kiss the inside of her ankle. The action, so sweet and tender, left Claire melting back into the pillows - and her arousal only continued to puddle as he kissed his way up. Up along the length of her calf, his hand guiding her leg up and over to rest along the stench of her back leaving the heel of her pump to drag over his flesh. Up around the curve of her knee was his large hand began to push up the skirt of her daisy sundress. Up over the delicate flesh of her inner thigh where his every breath left her core aching in the anticipation of feeling him.

As he reached the apex of her thigh, she could feel Freddie hesitate, his hot breath flooding over the damp fabric of her panties. His every hot breath only primed her for the feeling of a single, thick finger dipping into her panties. Hooking it around the soaking fabric and drawing it down her legs so that she was rid of them fully and her glistening cunt was left bare for him.

Claire could hear Freddie as he let out a steady hum, his hands leaving her dress to pool around her waist to explore the flesh that was exposed to him. A single palm rested over her pelvis, his warmth radiating over her as his thumb reached down to stroke slowly over her clit. It unearthed a desperate whine from her lips, one that was choked back into silence as she felt his fingers glide down over her lower lips and stroked around the entrance of her core.

“Such a beautiful flower,” he spoke into the soft skin of her thigh, “so wet and ready to be fucked - but first, I’m going to make sure you can handle me. Get you nice and ready for me, so we’re going to start with just one finger, alright, Flower?”

“Yes, Freddie, please,” she pleaded with him, her hips wiggling with anticipation but his one hand kept her pinned firmly to the bed.

“Patience, Flower,” he reminded her gently with another kiss to her thigh, “you’ll have all of me before the night is over.” His words were a promise as he stroked over her slick entrance one last time before easing the tip of his middle finger inside of her.

Claire’s lips parted in a quiet gasp as she looked down over the curves of her own body to watch as Freddie worked between her legs. He watched looking up at her instead his eyes were focused on her cunt, at how well her core took his finger and left his skin glistening with her desire for him. The friction of his fingers alone was enough to send her head back to the pillows, her heart racing from every agonizing stroke.

“So good, Flower,” Freddie praised her, “I’m going to use a second finger now.”

The pressure of the second finger left her biting down on her lower lip as her core stretched out to accommodate him. It was a burning pleasure, her legs weak as one remained draped over his shoulder with her heel digging into the muscle of his back. The pleasure sent her hands to the sheets, her hands gripping at the fabric until her knuckles were white - then came his praise and it only sent her head spinning further into her pleasure.

“That’s it” he hummed, “you’re taking my fingers so well, Flower, and so pretty while you’re doing it too.” He kissed the inside of her thigh again, the pressure of the pleasure building like the raging storm inside her until he withdrew his fingers one final time and left her void before she would reach the peak of her pleasure. “Taking my fingers so well, I think you’re ready for my cock, Flower.”

Claire's chest was weak with nerves as she pushed up onto her elbows to watch as Freddie eased her leg from his shoulder and moved to stand at the foot of the bed. She watched as he kicked off his shoes - his fingers that were once inside her now in his mouth as he did so - before his hands dropped to his pants where his erection had tented in his pants. There was nothing discrete about it now, and there would have been no hiding it behind a gift bag if they needed to now. She watched as his hands worked his belt free, and pushed his trousers down until he was left in nothing but his boxers. But not even those stayed on as he hooked his thumbs around the waistband and pushed them down to join his pants on the floor. He stood there bare to her, her eyes left to wander.

From floor to ceiling and back down again, Claire’s lips were left agape at the sight of him. Freddie was big. From his height to his hands to his cock, there was nothing that failed to impress her about his size. Everything about him made her feel small, especially as he crawled back up the length of the bed until he was hovering over her with a single knee between her legs.

“Let’s get that dress off of you,” Freddie hummed as he hovered over her, his hand coming down to her shoulder to push one of the straps down over her shoulder carefully. The gentle touch has her sitting up just enough for her hands to work on her dress. She couldn’t get it off her body fast enough, the zipper just out of her reach and left to Freddie’s gentle touch before Claire could discard the fabric on the floor and was left in nothing but her heels as she lay out on the bed beneath him.

Her chest rose and fell in nervous breaths as she felt her eyes skirt over her body as it was now fully exposed to him. Claire held her breath at the touch of his hands as they explored the newly exposed skin, his hands caressing each exposed breast and his thumb teasing each pert nipple with a teasing smile. “Every inch of you is just so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his neck craning as to put a sweet kiss against her shoulder and when he pulled back his expression was soft as he gazed down at her, “Eyes on me, I want to see the look on your face as you take my cock.”

Biting her lip, Claire nodded desperately as Freddie pushed up onto his knees. He settled himself between her thighs, his careful touch spreading her legs just enough for him before they reached down for his cock. Her eyes were fixated on his face, and his slack-jawed expression as he dragged the tip of his cock over her slick cunt. His eyes almost shut at the feeling, his body shuddering with a heavy breath as the head of his cock kissed her entrance.

The pressure of the mere tip of his cock left Claire wincing. It was much thicker than the breadth of his two fingers, the girth of him stretching her core out with the mere first inch of him that tore through the final piece of her that marked her virginity. “Stay nice and relaxed for me, Flower,” Freddie breathed out, his one hand reaching out to stroke over the swell of her hip, “it’s going to feel tight, might even hurt just a little, but it’s going to feel so good. I promise you.”

Claire gave off a desperate nod, her breath hitching as she felt him ease in just a little more of him. She could feel the slick of her core on the inside of her thighs, his cock coaxing more from her with each careful plunge. Any discomfort that came from accommodating his cock soon dissolved into pleasure, leaving Claire arching her back to angle her hips, finding just where she liked having them angled and digging her heels into the mattress.

“That’s it,” Freddie cooed, his hand gliding down the back of her thigh to grasp her behind her knee. He lifted her leg up to rest against his hip, her calf coming to rest along the back of his thigh as he eased himself in so close to his limit. “So close to taking all of me,” he added as he leaned in, kissing his way over the angle of her jaw and to her lips that were so desperate to be kissed.

Her lips welcomed his with a breathy, open-mouthed kiss as her bright eyes fell shut - and while she couldn’t see him she could feel all of him. The sweet embrace of his lips as they swallowed each of her feeble moans. The flex of his arms as they drew her petite body flush to his. His legs and how they were tangled with her. And finally, his cock as it delved deep and deeper still inside her until she burned with a throbbing pleasure, unlike anything she had ever felt.

“Freddie,” Claire mumbled desperately against his lips, her arms reaching around his to grip his back.

“That’s it,” he cooed, drawing back just enough to rest his forehead against hers and to bring a hand up to stroke over her cheek, his own lips parting in a ghost of a moan, “you feel how good it feels to - ah - fuck,” his words were broken by his own groan the waves of her pleasure all so consuming that he could feel it too.

Together, they were a symphony of heavy breaths and lingering touches. Their kisses were messy and desperate, mixed with soft moans and low, guttural groans that were punctuated by one final trust that flooded her core and left her feeling full - as if the piece of her she didn’t know she was missing had finally found her.

The feeling left Claire panting as she lay out on the bed, her eyes training on Freddie’s features until he had drawn back to leave her nothing more than the darkened ceiling. She could have sworn she was seeing stars, or even colours, as she was consumed by the euphoria that Freddie had brought her two. Her gaze was almost tired as she felt him moving down the bed and to where his clothes rested on the floor. Head lulling to the side, Claire’s heart thundered in her chest, her stomach weak at the thoughts that were all too consuming now, was he leaving?

Biting her lip she was as he jumped into his boxer, her eyes burning with the threat of tears as any emotion now was almost too much, and then she said it, her words quick - almost fearful - as she sat up and clutch a nearby pillow to her chest, “please say.”

“Hey,” Freddie sighed, his tone instantly reassuring as he braced himself against the bed so that he was at eye level with her, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to go grab a warm cloth, and help you get cleaned up, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Claire nodded, her words a breath, “I’m sorry. Okay.”

Settling back into the bed, Clare’s hands came up to cover her face as the weight of it all hit her. She wasn’t a virgin anymore - that thought made her smile. She had lost her virginity to her brother’s teammate - that was what made her nervous. If Jordan or any of her brother’s found out, there was no telling how they would react - and her poor father would probably have a stroke if he learned she had done anything out of wedlock.

The thoughts left her stomach uneasy as Freddie returned to the bedroom with a warm, damp cloth. He ran it carefully over the inside of her legs, before dropping the rag to rest over her knees as she pulled her heel-clad feet into his lap to finally remove them. It was then she spoke, her throat weak from moaning, “Are you scared of my brother?”

Freddie shook his head, his smile returning to his lips, “no, are you?”

A chuckle rocked Claire’s shoulders as she reached her hand up to push her hair from her face, “I’m scared of what he will do to you if he ever finds out.”

“We don’t have to tell him at this happened,” he told her gently, his hand dropping one show to the floor, and then the other before he lay beside her.

Large hands tugged the blanket around them before he reached out to draw her in close to him. Even now that she had him, all of him, there was nothing like being touched by him. She craved it, thrived under it and now that she had it, she didn’t want to know what it was like to be without it. “But, I can’t pretend nothing happened tonight, Claire. I don’t know what’s happened tonight, but I don’t want it to stop. It’s like-” “Like you’ve found something you didn’t know you were missing?” Claire cut in, earning a gentle nod from him as he leaned in to place a firm kiss on her lips one last time before letting his eyes flutter shut.

Laying content in his arms, with sleep sure to take them both soon, Claire didn’t know what was to come of them come morning. But what she did know was that she would have to thank the team’s general manager, for she would have never met Freddie if it weren’t for him - and that was the best gift she could have asked for on her birthday.

#freddie andersen #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl rpf #hockey rpf #hockey smut #hockey imagines #nhl smut #birthday bingo fanfictions #frederik andersen #original character

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youcouldmakealife · 4 months

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LBTE: Jared (151-152)

In which the blanket bet is born.

If you'd like to read along, the series page is here.

151. Dignity

Surely Jared will comport himself with dignity in this part, as implied by the title, right?

“I’ll bring you in later this week,” Jared says. “You can say hi to everyone, cheer on the boys.”

“I’m not a mascot,” Bryce mutters, but he looks a little cheered up nonetheless.

No dignity from Bryce either!

Jared swears, the first thing out of everyone’s mouth after they greet him is ‘how’s Bullet?’.

That or it’s ‘is Bullet doing okay?’, or ‘Bullet coming in at all this week?’, and even one hopeful ‘where’s Bullet at?’, like Gavin expected Bryce to somehow be ready for training camp against all odds and surgery timelines. Jared would mock him, but it’d feel a little hypocritical, considering.

Jared’s too touched to mock.

He has to bite down the smile that keeps trying to take over his face. He doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression and assume he’s someone who enjoys training camp. Or worse: that he’s someone who routinely smiles.

“I missed you Mathematics,” Dmitry coos, wrapping both arms around him from behind, and a scowl effortlessly takes over.

Dima always there to help his lineys achieve their goals.

“You saw me five days ago,” Jared says. He got crawled all over by hyper children shrieking at him in a mix of English and Russian and what Oksana assured him was a fake language they made up, which sounded uncannily how Jared assumes pterodactyls would sound if they weren’t extinct.

Jared would simply refer to it as screeching, but Oksana has started to get an ear for it. eeE-e means 'we're plotting, so mama better get here quick or trouble is coming'.

Dmitry’s children are — well, what you’d expect Dmitry’s children to be like. Bryce, of course, adores them. Jared’s still exhausted from the experience almost a week later. He dearly hopes that’s a ‘Kurmazov kids’ thing and not an ‘all kids’ thing.

Good luck with that one, babe.

Dmitry smacks a noisy kiss to his temple and lets go, leaving Jared ruffled and irritated. The typical Dmitry Kurmazov experience.

“He does it because it bugs you,” Gabe says mildly from his spot as bystander who didn’t help Jared at all. Traitor.

Why would he interrupt free entertainment?

“He’s making faces at me right now, isn’t he,” Jared says.

“He is,” Gabe says.

“You’re in your thirties!” Jared says without turning around.

“Fun has no age!” Dmitry calls back, and, Jared assumes, continues to make faces at him, judging by the little smile curling on Gabe’s face.

Dmitry has no dignity either, but that’s entirely on purpose. Dignity is boring.

Jared notices Bryce seems significantly less sulky about missing training camp over breakfast with Jared early the next morning. Jared might even describe him as smug.

“I’m not smug,” Bryce protests. “This is just my face.”

How dare Bryce not look like death warmed over.

“Is it?” Jared asks, and Bryce gets up to stare at the toaster. Jared wonders if he’s taking a minute to remind himself he loves Jared, and that training camp too shall pass or something.

“Just my face,” Bryce says with a nod.

Or examining his reflection in the toaster to make sure his face wasn’t smug.

I love you so much, Bryce Marcus.

“I forgot that you’re kind of a bitch during training camp,” Bryce says affectionately.

Jared is mentally debating whether ‘no, you’ is too immature when Bryce presses a kiss to his temple and announces he’s going to take a shower. You can’t call someone who just gently kissed your head a bitch. Well, you can, but not with any credibility.

Only credible accusations of bitchiness are acceptable. Jared has minimum standards for his 'no you'.

“You sound almost as glum as Erin,” his mom says. “Which I didn’t think was possible.”

Jared’s too tired to tell her that he’s not sad, just annoyed and absolutely wiped. Also —

“Mom,” Jared says. “I told you.”

“I’m not going to stop mentioning my other child to you until you decide you’re no longer mad at her,” his mom says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

‘No Erin mentions allowed’ has been vetoed by Susan on the basis 'Jared, seriously?'

“It’s not ridiculous,” Jared mutters. “Why’s Erin glum?”

“I thought we weren’t talking about her,” mom asks.

“We aren’t,” Jared says.

“Okay,” his mom says.

“But why’s Erin glum?” Jared says.

Also vetoed by Jared on the basis of him wanting to hear gossip.

Jared texts her as much after he gets off the phone with his mom.

I hope you’re enjoying training camp just as much as you always do!!! Erin replies.

Speaking of bitches…

“Look,” Jared says over dinner, giving Bryce his phone. “Look what I have to deal with.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so sad if you hadn’t stolen my linemate. Just a thought,” Bryce reads.

“No, read her reply,” Jared says.

Bryce looks at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jared says.

First he’s smug, now he’s disappointed. Jared thinks this is unfair.

sry I’m extra mean lately because I hate training camp

Bryce sent that, not me.

I’m not even a little sorry.

It’s so cute how your husband’s your conscience. Erin replies.

It’s so cute how between you and Julius no one has a conscience.

Hobgoblin slap fight.

Despite the fact that Bryce is a phone stealer who sleeps in, and apologised on Jared’s behalf when he wasn’t even sorry, and continues to give Jared these looks like ‘you can be better’, though even if Jared can do better, he doesn’t want to, Jared lets Bryce tag along with him after the first round of cuts.

Admirable of you considering Bryce’s truly hideous behaviour.

Because he promised. And also he told some of the guys he might come by when they asked after him, and now they keep asking Jared about it, which is supremely annoying, and he needs it to stop.

People keep talking to Jared and that’s unacceptable.

“Gentle!” Jared says. “Jesus, Hammer, are you trying to force him into early retirement?”

“Just happy to see this beautiful face,” Hammer cooes, then squishes said beautiful face between his hands.

If anyone on this team tried to do that to Jared, Bryce included, they’d be liable to lose those hands, but Bryce just looks pleased. Also squished. It’s profoundly undignified. Even Bryce isn’t hot enough to pull off a fish face.

Jared turns to his locker so no one will catch him smiling. It really wouldn’t do to give new Canucks the impression he’s someone who smiles.

People are pleased to see Bryce! They missed him!!

“You’re not going to say hi to me?” Bryce asks, and Jared catches a sliver of a smile, Bryce pleased with himself.

“I am not,” Jared says. Even if Bryce sort of flirting with him in public is something that would have been unfathomable a year ago, and is still a little shocking now, Jared sat in the same car on the way in, ate breakfast at the same table, and woke up in the same bed as Bryce. He will not be humouring him by saying hello. That is ridiculous.

But look how cute he is, Jared. You know you want to flirt with him.

“Everyone needs to stop telling me when I’m smiling!” Jared says. “I know when I’m smiling, I don’t need to be informed!”

Such dignity on display.

Gabe holds both hands up, a smile on his own face, and Jared resigns himself to Stephen giving him copious shit about this the next time Jared sees him.

“Your boyfriend is intolerable,” Jared says. “And you aid and abet him.”

It’s a damn good thing Gabe is a patient man, considering his linemates. And his Stephen.

“Is he usually like this?” Jared hears someone ask. He doesn’t recognise the voice, which makes sense, because anyone whose voice he would recognise would presumably know what he’s usually like.

“Only when he’s in a good mood,” Bryce says, and he sounds so cheerful Jared almost doesn’t have the heart to argue that he is not, actually, in a good mood, he is in a bad mood, because everyone around him is terrible.

What’s your face doing right now, Jared? Is it beaming at your locker again?

152. Sharing is Caring

Jared makes it through training camp in one piece, which is always an achievement. This year, however, the transition from training camp to the preseason presents an additional wrinkle, since they have to tell the newbies and rookies that have managed to stick around about their relationship. Even if the majority won’t necessarily be in the roster on opening night, chances are they’ll be called up at least a handful of times. It’s better to let them all know now than individually on an as needed basis, especially since they may feel slighted if they think they’ve been kept out of the loop, and there’s no point asking for locker room drama.

That sounds quite savvy about locker room politics and unusually considerate of others’ feelings.

At least, that’s what Stephen said.

Oop, there it is.

And one of the reasons Jared finds Stephen so irritating is because he’s usually just as right as he thinks he is. When he isn’t, Gabe quietly pokes holes in his logic, and since he concurred with Stephen, that means it’s almost certainly the best thing to do.

Gabe functioning here as a sort of good idea detector, as he does in many situations. Stephen likes to bounce things off him to see what makes his eye twitch.

Well, actually, the ‘my brother’s gay, and single, but — I guess you don’t want me to set you up, eh?’ might be seen as good allyship, albeit a little interfering. Also massively inappropriate, considering Jared’s married.

This moment will haunt Callum for years. Decades. Possibly to his death bed. He’ll be going toward the light, then suddenly sit up and groan ‘I can’t believe I said that’.

“You’re just failing on every level with this matchmaking thing, huh,” Jared says.

“Don’t tell Bryce Marcus I tried to set up his husband with my brother,” Callum says. “I’ll die.”

To the GRAVE it haunts him.

“Liney lunch after, so I can’t drive you home,” Jared says, straightening up.

Liney lunch is liney only, no exceptions, otherwise Bryce would obviously be invited.

He still can’t believe he regularly spends time with Dmitry when he doesn’t have to, but that’s the power Gabriel Markson has. And admittedly those lunches are good from a strategy standpoint: they all view the game slightly differently, and coordinating those viewpoints is the key on harmony. On the ice, at least. Dmitry shows no sign of being interested in harmony off the ice.

This implies that he’s the only one, which is clearly untrue. Nobody cares about harmony but poor Gabe.

“You don’t want me to come?” Bryce asks in a very small voice, and then Jared blinks and they’re at the practice facility and Bryce is unbuckling his seatbelt and practically trotting inside.

Jared sighs and follows. There’s no hurry. The opposite — they’re twenty-five minutes early, because Jared had planned on dropping off dry cleaning and grabbing a coffee on the way. But Bryce stridently vetoed that because he didn’t want to be late, and Jared considered pointing out that Bryce couldn’t be late if he wasn’t even expected, but decided he didn’t want to hear the sad Bryce voice again.

You’re weak, Matheson.

Jared watches him for a minute from the tunnel, Bryce doing such elite level pining Jared finds himself slightly jealous of a sheet of frozen water.

Big ‘but my true love is the sea’ energy from Bryce.

“You as a rookie is not something anyone should aspire to,” Jared says.

“Definitely not,” Bryce says, still cheerful, then takes Jared’s hand and kisses the back of it.

“You’re getting worse,” Jared says. It’s like the more people who know, the more romantic Bryce becomes. At a certain point Jared assumes he can’t get more romantic, but they haven’t hit that point yet.

“Yup,” Bryce says, unrepentant, then turns Jared’s hand over, pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

I should note ‘you’re getting worse’ was an observation, not a complaint. Sure, Jared may pretend it was the latter, but as we know, he lies.

“What did you do,” Jared says, utterly appalled, as he looks around Julius’ place.

Julius blinks mildly at him, which is Halla for confusion.

“It’s — there’s stuff,” Jared says.

“Oh,” Julius says. “Yes.”

“You have stuff,” Jared says, prowling around the living room. There’s a lamp that definitely wasn’t there before, and pillows on the couch, and it is weird and wrong.

How dare there be a visual representation of how you have changed without Jared noticing it.

And that’s before he notices a throw blanket that looks suspiciously familiar.

Jared snatches it up and holds it to his chest. “This blanket is mine.”

It begins.

Twitter —> Blanket (we are here)

“This is Flames red!” Jared says. It was his blanket for Flames games — his dad has control issues with the thermostat, and if Jared complained was cold, the answer was ‘put on a sweater’ or ‘this is Alberta’, depending. His father did, however, approve the purchase of a Flames red blanket for hockey watching purposes, possibly just so Jared would quit whining while he was trying to watch the game. Erin did not have a Flames red blanket, because Erin did not watch Flames games, which means there has been theft.

I feel like when you count ‘the last time I used this’ in years rather than days or weeks or months, it becomes a little less your blanket. Especially since it’s basically just ‘living room throw if someone’s cold’. Jared was cold more often, but he was not the sole user of the blanket even back then. It is a family blanket.

Your father and I bought that blanket, not you., she’s sent, because apparently Erin’s a snitch. You can afford your own blankets. Give it back to Julius.

Julius can also afford his own. Jared replies.

Susan is so over her children snitching on each other to her, but also: Jared give that 20 dollar blanket from Costco back, this is not a hill to die on.

You haven’t used that blanket once since you were a teenager. his mom replies. Do not make me tell Elaine about this: you know I’d be happy to.

Nuclear option, how dare she.

“What’s with the blanket?” Gabe asks on the bus to Rogers Place for pre-game.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jared says.

This is not the way to get people to stop asking, Jared.

“Don’t mention this to Stephen,” Jared says.

“Okay,” Gabe says, smiling out the window, looking innocent as can be.

“I mean it,” Jared says.

“Jared,” Gabe says, looking over at him. “Do you want me to mention this to Stephen?”

“No!” Jared says. “I just told you not to!”

“And I said okay,” Gabe says. “Okay?”

Unless they’re Gabe.

“Nice blanket, Matheson,” Coach says as Jared steps off the bus.

Jared blinks at him. Coach blinks back.

“Thank you,” Jared says, and goes to navigate his way to the Oilers dressing room so he can get rid of the damn thing before someone else he’s not allowed to snap at compliments his blanket.

Good work, Jared’s survival instincts.

Jared shoves the blanket under one arm and texts Julius when he gets near the Oilers’ locker room. The last thing he wants is dudes who weren’t with the team when he was there thinking he’s intruding on their turf. Or worse, dudes who were on the roster when Jared was there, and think Jared’s come to catch up.

The only thing scarier than antagonism is small talk.

“This is Erin’s brother,” Julius says.

“My bad, dude,” Oiler says, putting his hands up. Jared generously presumes it’s because of the former linemate thing.

“Why does your teammate know Erin’s name,” Jared says.

“Why does my teammate know my girlfriend’s name,” Julius says.

How dare the Oilers know of Erin's existence, Jared didn’t approve this.

“Give it back,” Jared says.

“No,” Julius says.

“Aww,” Oilers goon says. “This is just like me and my brothers.”

“Nobody asked you, Oilers goon!” Jared says, as Julius throws a withering look over his shoulder.

“I’m not a goon,” Oilers goon says. “I’m just not a bean pole.”

Jared and Julius unite in the withering look this time, and the Oilers goon finally takes the damn hint and disappears into the Oilers’ locker room.

Poor Oilers Not-Goon. There's a full on family resemblance, not because they look alike, but because they have the exact same bitch face, and they're both aiming it at him.

“We’re forgetting about the blanket!” Jared snaps, which of course means everyone starts asking about it.

Oh Jared, not everyone is Gabe.

The Oilers pull out an irritating come from behind win on the back of Julius’ line, and Julius wears the blanket across his shoulders like a fucking Gatorade towel in a postgame interview.

I love that Julius and Jared bring out peak pettiness in one another.

“Good to be home, eh Math?” Matthew asks, presumably trying for a Math and Calgary solidarity thing, even though he’s disqualified because ‘Matth’ isn’t a word, and Strathmore isn’t Calgary. It isn’t even a suburb of Calgary. Jared refuses his solidarity.

Jared’s poor teammates. Also, Jared, you can't just gatekeep math and Calgary.

“Wonderful,” Jared grits out, though, because he did promise Bryce he’d be friendlier with ‘the boys’.

His poor, poor teammates.

#liveblogging the end

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forbidden-sunlight · 1 year

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It Appears That I Have Been Reincarnated as a Draconic Villainess in a Self-Indulgent Fic!

(The Dark History of The Reincarnated Villainess)

Poly!Yanderes x Iana Magnolia! Reader

PART THREE: THE DRAGON IS A HERO?

This is a collaborated work of fiction with @staradorned. The intention of this story is for entertainment purposes only. The behavior exhibited here is inappropriate and unhealthy, hence it should not be encouraged.

Trigger Warnings: Abduction, Obsessive Behavior, Kidnapping, Attempted Sexual Assault, Attempted Murder.

PART TWO

Hey guys, welcome back to the third part in this series! Last time we left off with the reader being framed for a crime she certainly did not commit. Will she be able to figure out who exactly is behind Menoa’s kidnapping before a death flag is triggered? Well, we are about to find out!

So without further ado, sit back, relax, and let’s dive back into this world of madness ~.

After a brief and intense interrogation, you were sequestered to another room with Konoha and the others. They were understandably stunned at the turn of events and believed you were innocent. The exception was, of course, Sol.

But something did not sit right with you. If Menoa was taken in the middle of the night, then why didn’t you hear the door open? Why didn’t the police find any signs of a struggle in the room, like a broken vase?

It was possible that you did not hear the door open because of the torrential storm last night. Even so, Menoa would not have allowed herself to be taken away without putting up a fight. Unless someone drugged her with chloroform first, rendering her unconscious. Going against your better judgment, you decided to sneak back to the crime scene while everyone had retired to their rooms.

It was a good plan until Sol caught you red-handed with a call of your current alias. Heart hammering against your chest, you stood rooted on the spot as he looked down at you with an icy smile.

“It appears you do not fully comprehend the situation you are in, my lady. There is a woman missing, and yet here you are scuttling around like a mouse. Do you…not value your own life?” He asked.

Crap. Is this the end of your second life? Getting whacked by an assassin who just happened to be exceedingly handsome? Shaking your head, you told Sol your theories. You just wanted to take a quick look and then you’ll come back to the room. You gave your word to him.

The butler stared at you long and hard before he sighed. He will allow it, but only if he goes with you.

“Protect Konoha instead, Sol. She is more likely the culprit’s next target.”

“She has Sir Ginoford. Why do you insist that she needs my protection as well?”

You stared at him with a raised brow. “Are you asking me a serious question or are you an idiot?” You asked. “This is an opponent that shouldn’t be taken lightly, Sol. If Konoha is kidnapped, then Sir Ginoford will raise hell and the culprit will probably escape in the chaos. And you’ll kill me.”

“What?!”

“You didn’t think I’d figure it out the truth, why a servant with no prior job history or letters of recommendations, coincidentally be hired by Sir Ginoford on the day I got sentenced to solitary confinement? I might be a little slow, but even a bystander could tell something is off about you.” You said. “Look, we’ll talk about this later. Crime Scene. Now. Or go back to Konoha. Your call. Just be useful and make sure that someone else doesn’t become a victim.” Brushing past the stunned butler, you almost ran down the hall towards the crime scene.

Well, that was a dumb move on your part. Losing your cool and spilling the beans that you were aware that Sol is an assassin sent to kill you. Looks like you’re gonna die soon…but you’d like to kick the bucket after you save Menoa.

Igniting The Lady of the Lamp on your right thumb, the crystal quartz glowed an amber and bounced off the darkened walls. Providing just enough light for you to look around. None of the furniture had been turned or seemed out of place. But…why is it when you move towards the dresser, it feels much colder?

Peeling off a black glove on your left hand with your teeth, you waved your bare hand up and down near the dresser. There was a breeze. Inside a room where the windows and doors are locked from the outside.

It can’t be…can it?

Moving quickly, you searched around the nightstand and dresser, fumbling to search for a button or a mechanism that seemed out of place. Nothing. When you saw the candelabra, you decided to give it a yank, pulling it towards you.

A low groan came from the wall, followed by clicking gears as you watched the dresser slide outwards, revealing a hole in the ground. Cautiously walking closer to it, you saw that it was a staircase. A staircase leading into the underground.

WTF. How the hell did you sleep through that noise?!

Shaking your head, you were about to take a step down into the darkness, armed with only your magic stones when you heard a voice call out to you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw a bewildered Sol standing by the door. Why was he here?

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to find my friend. Is it not obvious?”

“Alone?”

“Obviously.”

“Without protection -”

“Sol, why are you here?” You cut off. “If you’re to give me a stupid spiel about making Konoha miserable with my actions before you kill me because I swear to God -”

“I cannot in good conscience allow you to go alone.” Sol said, kneeling before your feet. “It is obvious that there is no way to dissuade you from saving Lady Menoa, but at the very least, allow me to become a shield.”

You raised a brow. “Since when does an assassin have a conscience with the target he was contracted to kill?”

Silence. You sighed.

“Never mind. Let’s just get going before someone notices that we’re gone.” Turning away from Sol, you ventured down into the darkness, unaware of the danger that lurks beneath the castle.

You just hoped that five spell stones would be enough in case things got nasty. Damn it.

Sol could not remember the last time he had failed to complete a mission. Although Sir Ginoford had canceled the contract to assassinate Konoha’s younger sister, Sol continued to stay at the Magnolia compound as a butler to keep an eye on Iana. He did not trust her.

Konoha had saved his life when he was a street rat destined to be sold on the black market when they were children. It is natural to protect such a kind, loving person from the wickedness of the world. Perfectly normal. But now…he was at a crossroads.

He wanted to continue his role as Konoha’s protector from the shadows, yet recently he found himself wanting to know more and more about Iana.

Sol did not believe she had amnesia. Only fools would have believed such a story. However, she showed no signs of regaining her evil persona over these past months let alone any memories. If anything, this ‘new’ Iana became more and more bizarre! She was kind to everyone, yet she valued her privacy, wanting to be left alone for days with a needle and thread until her newest sewing project was completed.

Although she had relearned etiquette with no complications, she wore scandalous clothes around the manor and was bare footed. Bare footed. No decent woman would reveal so much skin until she was married!

The final nail in the coffin of Iana being a completely different person is that she didn't even know she was allergic to nuts until an incident in the garden occurred after ingesting cookies with nuts in them. Thankfully it was only a small dose, but the doctor mentioned that it had been a close call. Sol personally punished the servants who had been so careless with handling the snacks, per Ginoford’s orders. And just when he had been relieved that Iana had no intention of harming Konoha anymore, he saw her sneaking off to the crime scene. Upon believing that he caught the villainess dropping the amnesia facade and is in fact the culprit behind the kidnappings.

Once again, she surprised him. Saving a friend? Someone she just met? Who was this person leading them into the catacombs of the castle, with a magical stone as their only source of light?

Is this truly a villainess who has been reformed and trying to find her place in a world she doesn’t recognize? Or is this truly an act? Should he inform Sir Ginoford about Iana knowing the truth? Or keep him in the dark, if not to upset Konoha should she find out her fiance had tried to assassinate her only sister?

These questions swirled in his mind, worried that his fascination with this confusing woman would interfere with his work.

Eventually, the catacombs led them to the end of a rat-infested tunnel, where shrill screaming and low moans grew louder and louder with each step they took. Pulling his mistress close to him, he guided them to the right side of a stone pillar and peered behind it.

The walls were lined with barred cells, no doubt containing the missing women, including Konoha’s friends. Lounging in a chaise and being served by two half naked ladies wearing collars around their necks was none other than the castle’s owner.

Duchess Suselina Rosa Amaryllis.

Goodness this was not a good situation. His train of thought was interrupted when Iana whispered softly to him.

“What should we do, Sol?” She asked. “We cannot just attack her because of her ties to the royal family, and she might have rigged the place to collapse to hide the evidence.” As much as he did not want to admit it, his mistress had a valid point. Eyewitness testimony was useless in the imperial court without physical proof of the crimes. And the duchess is the king’s younger sister. Who knows what would happen….

“My, my, my. It seems that we have some unexpected visitors, girls. One is a pretty flower, and the other is a dirty dog.” The Duchess cooed, turning in their direction as she raised the wine glass in her hand. “Won’t you join me?”

Sol gritted his teeth. The Duchess noticed them. So much for being discreet. He shared a look with his mistress. She was wary, but also aware that there isn’t much they do now. So they obeyed, approaching the older woman and being forced to kneel at the foot of a staircase leading to a stone platform where the Duchess sat on the chaise. She smiled cruelly.

“Welcome to my garden. Lovely, isn’t it?” She said, pulling one of the girls into a brief, passionate kiss. “Molly, be a dear and tie up the dog, hm?” The girl behind him did as she was told, pulling his arms forward and locking his hands in cuffs that were anchored to the stone floor. “Iana Magnolia, younger sister of the most beautiful woman in the world, Konoha Magnolia…would you be interested in an alliance?” The Duchess stood up from her chaise, descending the stairs as she eyed his mistress up and down.

“I’ve heard of your reputation, and the rumors that you cannot remember everything…but evil never sleeps. It waits for the right time to remerge and causes chaos. There’s no way you could resist harassing beautiful ladies if there are so many in the vicinity. And I am always in need of new flowers for my garden. I think we can benefit from each other -”

“Are you shitting me?” Iana said, looking at the platinum blonde aristocrat with a disgusted look.

The Duchess flinched, obviously offended from hearing such crude language. “W-What?” She sputtered.

“Kidnapping underage girls, Possible possession of illegal drugs, secret passages in the castle, lying to the royal police? Those are some serious crimes that not even the king can protect you from if you’re placed on trial at the imperial court. And you did all of this, for what? To have your own garden of pretty flowers because you’re a lonely woman who is having an existential crisis. Or something else? Furthermore, you want to add Konoha to your collection because she is the pride of the Lily Kingdom? Unless…Oh God, do you actually bathe yourself with the blood of these women so you can be beautiful forever?” Iana’s face turned green.

“This mess, being accused of a crime I did not commit, and crimes I don’t even remember…it’s to keep pursuing beauty? For something so pitiful? I am at a complete loss of words at the utter stupidity of this entire scenario, Duchess. And you’re the one who has figured out how to use water to create a beauty serum that’s popular in the capital? What. The. Hell?!”

Sol became worried as the Duchess’ face steadily became purple, clenching her fists as she glared heatedly at his mistress. But as she went on with her spiel, He found himself becoming more and more in awe of what she had to say and the courage she had to speak to someone who clearly outranked her and had the upper hand.

Realizing that the older woman had a weapon strapped to her back, he yelled at Iana to get out of the way. Fortunately she had listened to him and leaped back just as the curved blade of a large scythe came down onto the spot where his mistress stood.

Sol watched as his mistress faced off against the Duchess, dodging swings from her scythe and casting spells. Although she had become more adept with using magic thanks to Master Yomi, Iana’s movements were slowing down. No doubt in relation to lack of sleep and crafting so many spells before arriving at the castle.

According to Master Yomi, magical depletion was a common drawback when someone crafted spells without taking a few days to replenish their magical energy. Because Iana is still a beginner, she could not craft more than two spell stones in one day. She brought five spell stones with her to the castle.

But despite these odds, she wasn’t giving up. Standing her ground, Iana suddenly leaned her head back and opened her mouth, fire erupting from all different directions. For a moment, she looked just like the ferocious dragon that everyone believed her to be.

The Duchess shrieked, calling her a dragon and completely unaware of the flames that licked his cuffs, melting the steel and allowing him to escape.

He made quick work in knocking out the Duchess’ lackey and rushed to Iana’s side, brandishing his knives. Deciding to take a leaf out of his mistress’ book, he called out the Duchess.

“How sad. To think that you had to resort to kidnapping these women when they could have easily coerced them willingly by me. If my mistress were the mastermind…she would have done something much more refined than attempting to use such crass methods to preserve her beauty.”

The Duchess yelled, running towards them with the scythe raised above her head. Sol leaped, getting behind the woman, his gloved fingers against pressure points on different areas of the neck and shoulders. A testament from his studies of the human body as she stumbled, trying very hard to not lose consciousness.

Iana then raised her hand, an obsidian ring glowing dark violet as thorny vines erupted from it, heading towards the Duchess and coiling themselves tightly around her body. Just as the devious woman slumped against the ground in a curled ball, footsteps and shouts came from the tunnel’s entrance. The police force, Konoha, and Sir Ginoford had arrived.

Sol sighed in relief upon seeing that his beloved savior was all right before he heard a loud crack. When he turned to look at Iana, his heart leaped out of his throat. Iana was on the ground. Unconscious, her lithe body writhing uncontrollably even as Konoha scooped her up and wept. Sir Ginoford yelled at someone to fetch a physician. Snapping out of his stupor, Sol rushed over to Konoha’s side.

He tried to gently pull her away from Iana, trying to persuade his savior to allow him to take her sister to the physician. It would be much faster than waiting. Konoha looked at him with teary eyes before she reluctantly released Iana into his care.

Until today, he had never run so quickly with a hammering heart to save a life he was contracted to kill. Now here he is, praying to any god that he would make it in time as he ascended from the darkness with a convulsing mistress in his arms.

When he found the castle’s doctor, he beseeched him to give Iana proper medical treatment, and quickly before she went into shock. But the man refused. He did not want any association with a villainous woman, much less the kingdom’s very own dragon.

Seeing the blatant malice in the doctor’s eyes for himself reminded the blonde-haired assassin that he shared the same sentiment in regard to Iana. Shared. He no longer believed his mistress was a threat to Konoha anymore. Even Master Yomi had secretly confirmed to him and Sir Ginoford that there is no way to retrieve memories that were shattered upon touching a wicked relic like The Dark History.

Sol was more than ready to threaten this man with a knife against the throat and force him to treat Lady Iana when Officer Clemantis arrived, inquiring what was wrong. Sol briefly explained the situation to the police official, glaring petulantly at the frightened physician till a pained whimper left his mistress’ mouth.

“Magnolia had nothing to do with the kidnappings of the women, doctor.” Clematis explained. “I swear upon my family’s honor that it is true. So please, treat Magnolia lest her condition gets worse!”

“And if I still refuse?”

Sol’s heart stopped. What did he just say? Before he could even say a word, Clematis interfered. He recognized the doctor. He was the uncle of a young man who had recently taken the entrance exam to become a member of the royal police force.

A brilliant, optimistic fellow whom the applicant looked up to, as it is difficult to become a skilled doctor, let alone be able to find work under a prestigious household. Treat Magnolia, and Clemantis will personally guarantee that his nephew will be able to be part of the interviewing process for Team Hydrangea, which will determine if the young man in question is ready to lay down his life for the kingdom and its royal family. Those were his terms.

And the doctor agreed to it, though Sol could see the older man gritting his teeth as he ordered him to place Iana on the bed so he could get to work.

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