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on-a-lucky-tide · 4 months ago

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Price and Nik fuck in Price's office after an (in)opportune twinge of an old injury.

CW: vaginal sex (yes, I transed your Price, and I'll do it again! I can't be stopped), threat of 'being discovered', handjob. [Terminology: cunt, cock.]

Old injuries rearing their ugly mugs at inopportune times was nothing new. As you aged through the service, it took chunks of you with it and Price's body was riddled with scars, dodgy nerves and aching joints. A particularly bad landing had left his back in a state some years ago, but it had been nothing a few rounds of physio and some leave hadn't fixed… or so he’d thought.

It was easy to disregard medical’s advice when you were younger. Everything seemed to bounce back in your twenties with no harm done. But despite warnings from senior colleagues who had experienced much the same, Price had let the physio and stretching lapse, because he had more important bloody things to do in the evenings than perfect his downward dog. His arrogance came back to haunt him as he leaned over a map of urban sprawl with Nikolai, trying to pick a safe spot for Nik’s heli to land.

“Safest exfil spots are here, here and–christ.”

Nik hummed, mildly amused at first. “I am not sure he will be much of an asset for this–Price?”

Price knew he looked a prize twat slumped on the map on one elbow, the other hand flailing to try and get to the point in his back that felt like someone had jammed a Bowie knife between his vertebrae. He scrambled at the map, scrunching it between his fingers in search of purchase as the pain punched the air from his lungs. “It’s–ahh, fuck,” he wheezed, his face flushing red with embarrassment.

“Jonathan,” Nik said, softer, concerned, and if that didn't just make it worse. The big Russian circled the table and placed his hands at Price’s waist to steady him as he flailed, clearly ascertaining said flails were making it worse. “Tell me what to do. It hurts, where?”

Price drew in deep breaths through his nose, shoulders hunched over. He tried not to think about the giant bear paws settled so carefully at his waist, nor the way Nik’s crotch lined up perfectly with his backside because that was an entirely normal bloody thing to be thinking about when your back was doing a good imitation of a London back alley stabbing.

There was a clear choice: huff and puff his way through it in hopes the nerve or whatever the fuck it was eased itself, or let Nik assist and get back to work, feathers only mildly ruffled. Price took another steadying breath. “It's… lumber, uh… lower back, betw–mmph, between L1 and… an, L3 to the right, just…”

One of Nik’s hands moved from Price’s waist, tugging his shirt free from his trousers so a warm palm could reach his skin. “Here?”

“A little out to the right, up… ah, there… yeah.” Price’s shoulders slumped as Nik found the spot. The pain was acute at first, Price’s teeth and fists clenching as Nik worked it over, and then it dulled into a deeper ache; the low, throbbing relief of a splinter removed from the skin. Price’s heart, which had been trying to hammer free of his chest, settled. Nik’s pressure was perfect, his other hand on Price's hip, steadying him, occasionally circled in a brief caress. To reach properly Nik had to press close, and in the comfortable lull of relief, Price’s body started to respond; a building heat beneath his skin, a coiled tension in his hips. Shit, shit.

“Is good?” Nik asked, his voice still soft, patient.

But Price could hear something else there; a wry amusement. “This isn't bloody funny, Nik.” Ruffled, Price scowled into his forearms, but was privately glad his bluster didn't cause the pressure to cease. If anything, Nik branched out, rubbing at the rest of Price's back in a wide arc, and chuckled. Bloody chuckled. A deep, hearty noise that made that tension twist a little tighter in Price’s groin.

“It's just… this was not how I pictured bending you over for the first time, you know. There was… uhm, more beer involved. Perhaps a… date.”

Price’s face turned the shade of a commie’s flag and he choked on his next breath. The rest of his body, rather unhelpfully, warmed with pleasure at the thought of it. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Deadly,” Nik replied, without missing a beat. “You are an attractive man. I think of you very… well, hmm, highly. But you are… difficult to reach. Private, hm?”

Nik enjoyed touching him, Price realised. He could feel it in the reverence of Nik’s hand as it glided in firm circles around his back. He returned in passes to the sore spot, but now he seemed to be savouring what he could, lingering at Price’s ribs, in the valley of his spine, following the curves of each flexed muscle and leaving goosebumps in his wake. Price knew he should do something, say something, put a stop to it before it could escalate… but he didn't want to. Bloody hell, he didn't want to.

A soft haze had settled over his mind, calmed by the strength in the large palms soothing away his pain and the warm timber in Nik’s voice. Fuck it, he was wet too, why even try to lie to himself? This was the most someone had touched him beyond a physical in years. If anyone walked in now… their superior officer bent over a damn map table, his hips tilted just to feel Nik bump against his… christ. Small bloody mercies that they were all off base for the moment. “Mmm. Nik, I…”

“You have not pushed me away, I am glad.”

“Why would I do that? Your hands feel like fucking god…”

Nik chuckled again, squeezing gently just about Price’s hips in what was undeniably an affectionate way, before moving up. “You are a joy, John Price.” Nik paused where his thumbs had been working over the expanse of Price's shoulder blades, like he was weighing something up. “I would like to show you what else they can do, and… other things.”

This was the turning point. If Price said no now, he knew Nik would honour it and they could return to the map. What they were actually here for at some godforsaken bloody hour. The mission was a few days away. They had time. Price couldn't quite believe his mind was talking him into… he wasn't sure what, but he wanted it. Wanted it bad. He just needed Nik to keep touching him, and talking like he was the prettiest damn thing in the world. “I’d like that.”

Nik’s breath hitched and his hands paused. A small victory, but it didn't last. He continued his leisurely, firm massage down to Price’s waistband with a soft hum, resuming command of the situation as naturally as if they sat in the cockpit of his heli. “Your back.. is better?”

“Mm, feels solid.” Only a small lie. There was an ice pack and a pack of ibuprofen in his future.

“Good…”

Nik’s hands swept gently around Price’s waist to his belly, stroking up to his chest where Nik raked blunt nails through the fur there. “Ya tebya hochu,” he growled, and Price wasn't fucking sure what he’d said, but it sounded hungry. Nik guided Price up gently, hesitant perhaps in case he jarred his back, and Price looked down to watch those big hands explore the curves and valleys of his torso as the first kiss pressed to his neck. It was like electric over his skin, which seemed apt considering the storm of arousal brewing in his damned boxers. Fuck this was too good.

“You are… eager,” Nik said, a little awed, as his palms stroked over Price’s hard nipples.

“You have no idea… ahh.” Price pressed back against the strong body behind him and tilted his head to press his face into Nik’s stubble, curling a hand up to slide into his hair. Nik smelled of faded cologne and clean sweat, the motor oil from his earlier maintenance run, the leather of his brown jacket; Price pressed his nose into warm skin and breathed him in like he was oxygen on a deep dive, pressure coiling tighter in his gut. He hadn’t realised how starved he was of basic human contact, every fiber of him wanted to crawl inside Nik’s skin, to sink his teeth in, burrow away until he was completely consumed by Russian bear.

As if sensing Price’s building desperation, one of Nik’s hands slid down, following the trail of hair at the centre of Price’s stomach, hitching over the buckle of his belt, to settle between his legs. He hummed low in his throat, his other big paw grasping beneath Price’s chin to hold his face close as he teased.

With the same firm pressure that had relieved the pain in Price’s back, he now stroked Price’s cunt, finding his engorged cock through the material of his trousers and boxers with a pleased hum. Price moaned, louder in the room than he intended, and gripped the wrist of that wandering hand as an anchor point. Nik seemed to like it. He muttered something in Russian again, pressing his hips into Price’s backside so he could feel the firm bulge at the front of his jeans.

“I would take you here, I…” Nik whispered, voice thick, pressing another kiss to Price's neck. “I am desperate for you.”

It was fucking stupid; in his office, the door unlocked, but Price’s head was full of Nikolai and need and not much else. His hips were twitching into the hand massaging in slow, deliberate circles between his legs, sure he would come fully clothed if Nik kept going. Another kiss, another soft phrase uttered in Russian, a squeeze of his jaw and throat beneath the big paw that held him in place to remind him of his surrender, and Price murmured. “Yeah. Here. Now.”

Nik growled, possessive, delighted, and nipped another kiss into the soft skin beneath Price’s ear. Price lost the hand teasing him for a moment as it tugged his belt off and undid his fly, and Price watched it happen as his boots scrambled for purchase against the floor. Nik licked his fingers leisurely, the wet sound of it making Price’s knees go weak with anticipation, before sliding into Price's boxers without more preamble; Nik knew what he wanted.

The first touch was euphoric; a gentle stroke over his hard cock, curious and appreciative. Nik lingered there, pads of his fingers passing over it, enjoying the eager hardness, before stroking up and down its length with finger and thumb in a way that made Price stutter and whimper in surprised pleasure. When Price jolted, Nik held his chin a little firmer, lifting him against his chest to keep him off balance. The bastard loved having Price at his mercy and he was keeping him that way apparently. Price couldn't find it in him to fuss over his lack of control; yielding to Nik’s lead felt… good.

Price made a strangled noise in his throat as Nik's fingers left his cock and delved into the wet, eager folds of his cunt like it belonged to him. Price knew he was soaking but the sounds of Nik’s exploration were fucking obscene, the pleasure swelling through Price’s hips as Nik experimented with different pressures and movements to find what made Price noisiest. From soft gasps to decadent moans when Nik found the combination that worked; a slow, easy glide from cock to hole that hit every nerve ending.

Nik paused only to shove Price’s trousers a little lower down his thighs, freeing his hand from their constraint and making Price feel a damn sight more exposed, barely able to stand on tiptoes the way Nik was holding him. Now that Nik had secured his captain, he wasn't going anywhere, pinned to Nik’s broad chest as strong fingers teased him relentlessly to his peak. “Mm, so wet, perfect…” Nik whispered, slowly stroking his thumb down Price’s cock while a finger slipped gently inside. It couldn't go far at this angle, but it was enough to push Price closer to the brink.

“Nik, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna…” Price growled, clenching down on Nik’s finger as it teased his sensitive opening, collecting more of his slick before returning to his cock. “Please, faster, fucking–”

“Bistreye?”

“Nik!”

Another low chuckle. “Ya skhozhu po tebe s uma…”

“Ahh, fu-fuck.”

Nik’s touch was perfect, massaging the flats of his fingers in swift circles, pinning Price's body to him so that he couldn’t buck away and lessen the intensity. Nik was playing Price like an instrument, soft chuckles of joy and amusement bursting free between adoring kisses against Price’s neck, encouraging him towards his peak in soft whispers that melted in and out of English like the ebb of a tide.

Price’s orgasm spread through him in a heady rush, an irresistible heat from the tips of Nik’s fingers that left him breathless and wound taut. He tried to close his thighs but Nik kept his hand there, slowing, gentling, so that Price could enjoy the aftershocks without overstimulation, yet still forced to endure the full extent of his pleasure at Nik’s hand.

As his shudders calmed, gasped breaths abating, Nik let Price slump forward on shaking legs, his elbows braced over the map. Price looked over his shoulder just in time to see Nik slide his wet fingers into his mouth, those dark eyes closed as he savoured Price’s taste with a guttural moan. Price let out a shaky breath and rested his forehead on the table, unable to cope with the sight or what if did to him too long and still keep his balance. Fuck, fuck. “Nik…”

In the next breath, Price heard the click and clatter of Nik’s belt and watched it coil on the table by his elbow; he stared at it for a long moment, the reality of what he'd asked for catching up in the afterglow. Nik’s hand returned to his naked hip, stroking, asking. Price huffed an incredulous laugh; a bark of breath as his head fell between his shoulders. In for a penny in for a pound, right? “Yeah,” he said, sliding one booted foot further out as he presented himself for Nik’s attention. “Yeah. Here.”

Nik growled in excited pleasure, like a damned that damned Russian bear he so reminded Price of, and Price couldn't help the dizzy, stupid grin on his mug. It faltered into open mouthed awe when he felt Nik’s finger again, sliding over his cunt from behind before dipping into his hole in a deeper thrust. “You're so relaxed,” Nik said, clearly enraptured by the sight of Price’s body sucking so eagerly at his fingers, even when he added a second.

“Cause I want you… want this,” Price replied, surprised by how hoarse and fucked out his voice already sounded. He'd never understood the ‘tight’ shit in porno. Tight meant reluctant in his book; one partner hadn't done enough to work up the other, or worse. This… this felt a hundred times fucking better. Nik seemed to agree, because as his fingers withdrew, the very next thing that pressed against Price was the large head of his cock. It rubbed through his folds, and Price ducked his head to watch it slide beneath his own eager prick, dripping in precum and glistening with his slick.

Nik moaned, uttering another slew of Russian as he thrust lazily against Price's cunt. He wasn't in any rush and Price was content to let him tease himself into a furor, eyes sliding shut as sparks of pleasure marked his progress. Nik was thick, and long, and Price’s body throbbed in desperate anticipation of what it would feel like splitting him open. He dropped a hand between his legs to feel the velvet-clad iron of it; the soft underside gliding over his palm as Price pressed it against his cunt, the hint of heavy balls nudging against his fingertips. “C’mon, Nik. C’mon.”

“Mmm, I love it when you beg.” Nik rested a palm on Price’s back as he pressed the fat head of his cock to his hole, exerting only enough pressure for his glans to notch in twitching muscle. “You are… exactly as I dreamed.”

Price breathed out as Nik sank into him, his walls fluttering and clutching with pleasure as every successive inch opened him up. Price dragged his nails across the desk, tearing at the edges of the map, and it took all his self discipline to not collapse forward and whimper in surrender. It had been… a while, and relaxed as he was, there was nothing quite like being filled to the brim by a generously sized prick. The feeling of fullness, of warmth, of struggling to breathe around the intensity of it, two strong hands on his hips to hold him in place. Unmatched.

“Oh, John…” Nik breathed, speech a little slurred. Drunk on me, Price’s fucked out brain offered. It was his last sane thought before Nik began to rock his hips. He moaned into his forearms, tasting his own damp skin as he tried to muffle his noise. Nik’s hand slid up Price’s spine to bury in his hair, tugging lightly until Price lifted his face. “Nyet, let me hear, John. Please.”

Price obliged because he could do nothing but gift his body to Nik's demands. Every thrust made his toes curl in his boots, Nik’s thick cock imprinting itself inside him, the obscenely wet sounds of each slap of skin filling the room as Price’s arousal and desire crested. The angle was perfect, Nik’s firm hand dropping to Price’s shoulder to keep him arched just so from the table, pulling him back to meet his hips.

Nik kept the pace measured at first, trying to long out his first taste of Price’s body but he quickened as his own desperation took hold. He gripped tighter at Price’s hip, his other leaving Price’s back to plant on the table for purchase. Price watched as strong fingers curled against the wood grain, accompanied by reverent mutterings that flowed in and out of Russian and English, like Nik wanted to express his adoration in a way that Price could understand but the primal part of his mind could only muster his default.

To have someone so lost in him was a heady kind of power, and Price might feel emboldened by it, if his own brain hadn't been metaphorically melting with the searing pleasure of Nik’s cock and the overwhelming weight of him keeping Price pinned to the table. Price followed orders, he didn't muffle his whimpers and grunts, building towards another peak without even touching his cock under the relentless precision of Nik’s over the sweet spot inside him. Nik let out a pleased snarl when Price finally clenched around him in fitful stutters, fingers tearing the edge of the map, his sweat-slicked forehead pressed down in helpless ecstasy.

Nik pulled out just as Price’s aftershocks began to plateau into a more stable pleasure, but Price didn't have a chance to complain. He was turned, his arse lifted onto the edge of the table as Nik wrenched off his boots, trousers and boxers with unapologetic urgency. Price got his first proper look at that majestic prick against the rest of Nik, and felt his chest jitter. Thick and long had been right, with a slight upward curve and a dark thatch of hair at the base, soaked with Price’s slick and come. Nik had lifted his shirt out of the way, and it sat shucked halfway up his abdomen; there were no chiselled abs, but an attractive plushness that made Price’s mouth water at the thought of rubbing his face into the hair there. Later, he'd do it later, when Nik was naked in his bed. Price would allow himself that indulgence.

Nik kicked Price’s boots out the way and stepped back between his thighs. Price latched onto the table, but Nik gentled him with a soft kiss. “Relax, John… trust me, I will not drop you,” he whispered to Price's lips. And Price did trust him. Trusted him to save their arses in a bind, to kill, kidnap and maim at his request, to always be there when he was most needed, no questions asked. Trusting him with his body in this way felt as natural as breathing, Price realised.

Those big hands scooped around him to bring him to the edge and then planted behind his knees to spread him wide. Those dark eyes watched Price for pain, tuned in and attentive even through his haze of lust. Price looked up to Nik's face and saw that very same hunger again, inspecting Price’s face and apparently liking what it found.

“Watch me take you,” Nik demanded, and Price looked down as Nik guided his thick cock back into the eager clutch of his cunt, choking out a gasp even as it felt like Nik was jostling his lungs for space. Like Nik was leaving his mark inside him. Price accepted the deep, possessive kiss that followed as Nik bottomed out, buried as close to the hilt as he could. Nothing quite like a considerate lover… fuck, of course he was. Strong hands slid down the backs of his thighs to cup his arse, leaving Price’s legs to hook over his forearms.

Price soon realised why Nik wanted him like this. He wanted to watch Price fall apart, to savour every squeak, moan and pant he coaxed out of Price’s chest, but it wasn't one-sided. Price got to see it all in Nik’s face too. The open-mouthed wonder, the misty eyes with wide pupils that looked at Price with unabashed adoration. Price threw an arm around Nik’s shoulders, clinging on for dear fucking life, as he slipped a hand between them to touch his own cock. Nik pressed kisses into the scruff of his beard, occasionally his lips as if he could taste the moans he coaxed, but he always returned to Price’s eyes to consume what he found there, and Price couldn't look away.

No one in his life had ever looked at him like that.

Like he had hung the bloody sun, like he was all their dreams come true at once.

Overwrought, every nerve ending tingling with sensitivity, Price couldn’t contain the broken noises escaping his throat nor control the way his body came in a flood of wetness over Nik’s cock when his third orgasm licked up his spine and unfurled through every limb. He might have sworn and snarled, his teeth biting at Nik’s shoulder at the sheer intensity of it; his vision whited, the pleasure bordering on pain.

Nik’s hips stuttered before grinding in deep as he came, shoved over the brink by the sight of his lover unspooling, both hands cupping Price’s arse to pull him close as he pumped him full. Nik nudged Price’s chin up with his nose and kissed him deeply again as his cock pulsed in the aftershocks, buried deep in the clutch of Price’s body. Price slumped against the barrelled chest in front of him when he was allowed breath, wrapped his legs around Nik’s waist and pressed a heel into Nik’s backside, drawing him yet closer, like if he pulled hard enough they could really merge into one.

They stood wrapped in each other until Nik’s cock softened to the brink of discomfort. He pulled away reluctantly, nipping kisses into the scruff of Price’s beard, as he guided Price's legs down. Price was grateful; he felt shakier than a newborn fawn.

“We need to get cleaned up,” Nik said softly, his hands resting on Price's hips as he nosed his sweaty neck and shoulders, riddled with his love bites.

“My room. We can use the en suite.” Price thanked whatever god still took an interest in him for Captain’s privilege. The walk of shame to communal showers would have been too much.

“Hmm. Sounds good.” Nik tucked his cock away and slid his belt back into place and, despite the bitemarks and nail scratches on his neck that Price had managed to return, the sweat and the ruffled hair, looked relatively normal. Bastard.

They left the wrecked map behind and headed to the safety and quiet of Price’s quarters. While Price might have thought his shower would be solo, Nik quickly disabused him of that idea by crowding him into the cubicle and using the opportunity to explore his body further, hands and lips consuming everything they could reach.

They slept together in Price’s narrow cot that night. Nik found Price's first aid kick and ensured there was a heat pack on his back for a few hours, stroking through Price's hair in the comfortable quiet of their afterglow. Price woke to soft, groggy kisses and a cheeky entreaty for more sex… if his back was up for it. As Nik nudged his thigh forward and pressed inside him from behind, wrapping Price in his arms for the tenderest fuck he had ever experienced in his thirty-seven years on this earth, Price couldn't help but wonder what the fuck had taken him so long.

#call of duty #cod #captain john price #cod nikolai #price/nik

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cxndiedvi0lets · 10 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ━━━━━

ㅤㅤ𔓘ㅤㅤㅤMy DMs are always open to talk

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdon't be shy to message me anytime. :)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤplease use tone tags when interacting

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwith me ♡ ty.

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𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐞. ❀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤHi, im Violet, and I'm Dead. Boo.

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Hi, Im Violet, and I'm 18+, Please ask for my age in DM. Thank you ! I'm a She/Her, but I'm comfortable with any pronouns. I'm also a founder of the band called 'The Nomads' and lead singer. I am an INFP-T, My house is Slytherin, My Cabin is Cabin 5 Ares, and my Zodiac Sign is a Gemini. I am also a Semi-Literate Roleplayer, and I'm dead. lol.

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soft-likethesunset · 22 hours ago

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nina core!!!

who's that? bad dancing. paint smudges everywhere. the occasional good hair day. cooling off in the ocean on a hot summer's day. karaoke. sunshine on your face. messy french braids. fresh fruit and iced tea. fuzzy socks. sunsets. big plans to travel the world. a summer christmas. too-loud laughter. exclamation marks. gold jewelry.

turn up the radio! abba, dominic fike, sza, bob marley, bruno mars, frank ocean, selena, tyler, the creator, laufey, queen, the beatles, david bowie, declan mckenna, dr. dog, sabrina carpenter, mac miller, vance joy, 2pac, fleetwood mac, cat stevens, sade, gracie abrams, coastal club, riff wood

#nina core 🌊#neens does things 📷#life moodboard #moodboard #my moodboard #thank queue for the music 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

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lying-on-floors · 3 months ago

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Ymir and Marco sibling headcanons:

Ymir is 2 years older than Marco

They're very close, like twins

They got matching undercuts when Marco turned 18. Ymir said it was a "right of passage" because she didn't want to admit that she wanted to match hair with her little brother before he left for college, even though it was only 2 hours away.

Speaking of college, Ymir visits him as often as she can, she'll pick him up from class and they'll go out to eat or to the mall or something, just to spend time together.

Ymir lovingly teases him for his taste in men, especially since he's currently dating Jean, his best friend since middle school, but she can't really talk because she's always been a simp for Historia.

Historia sets up double dates for herself, Ymir, Marco and Jean.

They were both called freckles by their cousin because he genuinely could not tell them apart for the longest time. Eventually, he was able to realize who was who.

They both tan very easily but their respective partners DO NOT.

Ymir always protected Marco from bullies and he would always treat any wounds she got.

Ymir is openly a little shit and it surprises people that Marco and her are siblings because they seem so different, but catch Marco on an off day, and he sounds just like her, profanity and all.

Ymir taught Marco to wrestle and fight growing up. He could easily knock out anyone who tried him, but he chooses not to.

Ymir and Marco has matching braided yarn bracelets they made as kids.

When Marco told Ymir that he and Jean were dating, she said "finally" and threatened Jean to not hurt her brother. He mentally shit himself, he was so scared.

Marco is one of the people Ymir respects and would do anything for.

Marco will call anyone out on their bs and Ymir will back him up. Marco is the talk and Ymir is the walk.

They're both kind of bitchy.

Ymir was always taller than Marco growing up but once theh hit puberty, they pretty much evened out their heights. Until, Marco grew a few inches during his Junior year. She was stuck at 5'8 and Marco shot up to 6'0.

Marco joked about majoring in law and order and becoming a criminal defense lawyer so he could keep her out of life jail sentences. He majors in forensic science instead, with a focus on criminal psychology.

Ymir is a housewife to Historia and she is quite happy. Marco teases her about it bc Ymir used to always claim, "no one will tether me to house work," yet, her she is. Turns out she's okay with being a home maker as long as it's with her lesbian lover.

Ymir and Marco made a sideshow to convince their mom to get them a dog when they were little. It worked. They got a golden retriever puppy and named her "Bowie," because she had a bow on her collar.

Marco had a situationship gone bad when he was a freshman in high school. Ymir enlisted the help of Jean to get revenge.

Ymir and Marco share their closets back home. People think they have matching shirts or sweaters but no, they just steal em from one another, back and forth.

Marco got called "brace face" one time in middle school and Ymir beat the kids ass so bad that he had to get braces. She was suspended and sent to anger management, but no one bothered Marco again. Anyone who did would be unfortunate.

Marco got into a fight one time and beat the guys ass so bad. He didn't even let him get up. Ymir was so proud.

Marco and Historia have "scary guard dog privileges" during their outingd with Jean and Ymir, but they can handle themselves just fine.

Marco had Reiner as a classmate in his English class during high school and Ymir bullied him so bad because he used to date Historia, before she came out as a lesbian, that is. Marco feels bad because he only had two friends and Marco is just a sweet guy.

Jobs Ymir quit = Jobs Ymir got fired from. She would tell Marco what places were worth applying for and which ones weren't.

They have the same nervous twitch. [Scratching under their right ear]

They're both not leaders, but they are good at organizing, revolts in Ymir’s case, and general crowds in Marco's case.

Ymir used to do ballet. She still does, but only in her spare time.

Marco taught himself to play electric bass because he had a crush on Pete Wentz, Fall Out Boys bassist.

Marco and Ymir are both huge into civil rights and are advocates.

Marco is good at comforting people, and Ymir is not. It's a running inside joke between them that no one else gets.

They watched Little Miss Sunshine together when it came out and they sobbed during it.

The AU

More headcanons

The siblings

#aot modern au #attack on titan #attack on titan au #aot au #historia x ymir #ymir freckles #ymir aot #marco bodt #jean x marco #jeanmarco #marco bott #marco and ymir are siblings now #shingeki no kyojin #siblings #aot fanfiction #i love them so much #the siblings ever

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lexithwrites · 4 months ago

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22, 27, 30 wolfstar!

22. What reminds each of their partner?

For Remus it's the smell of cigarettes, apple shampoo, silver rings, black dogs, flannel shirts, beat up docs, strawberry gin, ACDC and chocolate covered pretzels. For Sirius its oversized jumpers, sauvage by dior, caramel hot chocolate, fresh cut grass, a ripped up band shirt, old converse, the sound of rain, guiness and david bowie

27. Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

Remus for SURE. Sirius can hold his alcohol but Remus is a light weight poor baby, he gets giggly and handsy and that's when Sirius knows he's had enough so he always gets him water, he has bad hangovers too so Sirius is wide awake and bright eyed whilst remus is groaning over a cup of coffee

And I already answered 30 so I'll do 31!

31. Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

Nope, they're always touching in some way, it's usually Sirius leaning his head on Remus' shoulder or Remus brushing his hand against sirius' thigh under a table

otp asks!

#the marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #otp asks #mail

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juchily · 5 months ago

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songs I want to see in yj s3 (complete unreality this will never happen)

"Outsiders" by Franz Ferdinand I'm thinking a scene with adult Lottie in the asylum with this song playing and my thoughts stop there

"Shake it Out" by Florence + The Machine I'm thinking '96 timeline in the summer scene, just like a happy summer scene. Or; alternatively, it's a horrible mass self gaslight where they ignore everything that's happened and everything they've done (Javi... Jackie... Laura... Doomscoming and Travis), so a more ironic usage of the song

"Hemorrhage (In My Hands)" by Fuel Really this one, "Shimmer", or "Falls On Me" are really Yellowjackets coded so, no other thoughts

"Black Sabbath" by Black Sabbath It's perfectly slow and eerie, this is literally yellowjackets, this song is literally so yellowjackets I can't even. This is the song that they'd put during the finale or a really heavy or edge of your seat moment. "Figure in black which points at me Turn around quick, and start to run Find out I'm the chosen one" "Big black shape with eyes of fire Telling people their desire"

"Fallen Leaves" by Billy Talent FALLEN LEAVES, if you've seen my other Yellowjackets and song lyrics post, you know This song is literally about troubled kids from a troubled place

"You Know You're Right" By Nirvana This song is obscure, like that damned sapphic soccer team

"The Lovecats" by The Cure, this song is not about cats, look it up, tw if you're sensitive to suicide mentions, but the lyrics aren't inherent, you have to look it up to know what it was really written about it's giving... we're doing insane shit together that will haunt the narrative 🥰

"Champagne Supernova" by Oasis CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA, like I said before with Fallen Leaves, if ykyk This song is about things changing with time, and I think really encapsulates some themes in YJ

"Cult of Personality" by Living Colour

"Man Who Sold The World" by David Bowie or covered by Nirvana

"Since I Told You it Was Over" by Stereophonics "But you were on your track, it was me turning back, I left you freezing outside" WHAT JACKIESHAUNA "You've seen a cross, it's a cross I bear You're drinking, hard up, living without a hope or a care You're making do to please, see what makes you smile You're not around for long, you gotta see what's gonna move your life right along" ADULT TAIVAN, VAN???? n vibes "My head is filled with lies I told" 🙂🙌😧

"The Freshmen" by The Verve Pipe "We tried to wash our hands of all of this We never talk of our lacking relationships And how we're guilt-stricken, sobbin', with our heads on the floor We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip, we'd say" Shall I say more?

Metallica

VIBES:

"Barracuda" by Heart, what can I say, this is something they'd be singing in the locker rooms

"Spiderwebs" by No Doubt ☝️

"Run Through the Jungle" by Credence Clearwater Revival Just listen to the song, it's so yellowjackets babes I promise 🙏

"Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd or performed by David Gilmour What can I say? We like a good song about reminiscing on past decisions and situations 🙂

"Hunger Strike" by Temple of the Dog

TOSS UPS/AMV AND EDIT SONGS FOR YOU BABES:

"Eat Your Young" by Hozier This is a toss up for me, honestly, maybe it should stay in the edits and amvs 🤷

Greta Van Fleet, something from those guys I KNOW YOU HEAR ME

i need to see a ship edit or AMV to "Will You" by P.O.D. or I think I will combust into a million small lesbian flag coloured confetti that will pollute the local waterways and spread doomed yuri in a bad way because I WANT THIS

The Smith's "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now", it tickles my brain

"Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)" by Florence + The Machine Obv, mainly for Jackie thou

Here's the link or you can find it up top at the beggining! On my Spotify you can find another Yellowjackets playlist based off of my first Lyrics post

@rougeclasslover here's the playlist I was talking about carp of the Misty Nation❤️

#yellowjackets #lottie matthews #jackie taylor #van palmer #natalie scatorccio #shauna shipman #laura lee #yellowjackets s3

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localdealmaker · 11 months ago

Text

#my artwork #my art #original character #furry #digital art #mario's madness v2 #fnf mario's madness #mario madness fnf #dj hallyboo #my oc raaa #shipping #bowie/bad dog

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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

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Moments in Domesticity HC

Joel Miller x Feral Reader x Ellie The Last of Us (Show/Game) Feral Reader Masterlist Anon Requests: --“I'm loving all the domestic joel x red x Ellie content. So can we get an insight into how red and joel deal with ellies mood swings? I feel like after settling into Jackson, she will ease into teenage normalcy. I can see red trying to be helpful but just ends up in sleeping in the stables 💀💀💀“ --“Have you thought of red and joel and ellie in jackson 5 years later? like just domestic stuff. they’re all integrated and jackson has been their home for awhile...” --“I NEED to know how Joel would feel/act if red actually left them to go back to the wild, maybe in a jealous fit or something else. I’m begging u” Here’s a long list of different moments! I’ll be touching on stuff that happens after the first couple of years in a different fic, but these touch on stuff that don’t need full fics!

Despite Joel’s concerns, Ellie does make friends though it takes a while. The older kids are only required to go to a few classes a day and then have various jobs they’re suppose to do and she does bond with some of the other teens who think she’s cool. She’s different and when she tells them she’s killed Clickers and survived a Bloater, it cements her as a bad ass amongst them.

Ellie is quiet those first few weeks. They don’t push it but it’s the start of Red leaving little trinkets for her. A lava lamp she found, posters and books and sketch supplies.

Red knows that Ellie is suspicious of the story Joel told her. Sometimes when the girl pokes, tentatively asks her about the hospital, she glosses over it. Says that she had been knocked out and didn’t come to until the “raiders” were attacking and she helped Joel fight their way out. They just had to get Ellie out. The truth is in there, under the blurry faux details, and it makes it easier to lie.

There will be a day where she knows Ellie will push for the truth and all she can do is prepare for it.

Defending Red helps draw Ellie out of her shell. That protective streak over both of them. More than trinkets and Joel trying to use board games and small tokens of the past, Ellie’s need to feel useful and protective is what does the trick.

Spending time in Jackson with the animals and food and all the new helps as well.

Jesse is older and has taken more of a leadership position over the teens and it helps that when he’s on patrol and Joel is in the group, the older man gives him pointers. Joel notices sometimes how he stares at Ellie and keeps an eye on the boy.

He ribs Ellie about it over the next year or so until it’s broken to him that it’s not boys his kid is into, but girls. Which makes him suspicious of every teenage girl that was ever over in his house.

Joel finds his footing easier than them both. He becomes a valuable member of the patrols and goes back to helping with construction, the skills coming back easily. Though sometimes it’s hard watching Tommy have the life he thought he would have. Married with a baby on the way. His little brother is now the one in charge though he still can’t measure the 2x4′s worth shit and sometimes is dumb as bricks. It hurts but he’s proud of him.

It helps when he comes back home and Ellie is complaining about dumb homework at the table and Red is sitting on the countertop in the kitchen, trying to read the faded instructions on the pasta box. He’s needed in other ways.

There are mornings where Joel and Red get to sleep in. Those are usually the mornings where she is woken up by the slight push of the door opening and then a heavy pouncing on top of her before getting covered in slobber. Joel grunts and curses, covering his face with the comforter and Red tries to duck away from dog breath as Ellie cusses out, “Oh shit, Bowie no! Shit shit, sorry!”

“Ellie, what the hell did we say about bringing the dogs in?” He’s not as angry as he wants it to be, just annoyed as the heavy 80lb dog jumps around on the bed then flops down in between them like a second child. Bowie grins, trying to lick Joel, leash still attached.

“I was just walking him and forgot something in my room and needed to come inside real quick to get it but then he looked like he wanted some water and-”

Red only chuckles and whistles before signaling the dog off the bed, Bowie doing so immediately.

Waking up to dog kisses isn’t the worst. It happens more times than they can count, especially when Ellie is walking the puppies.

Swimming lessons start once the weather warms up. Tommy joins them to show where their usual swimming spot is. Him and Red sit a little higher up on a ridge edge and watch as Joel tries to show Ellie how to move her arms and feet. She clings to him like a toddler even though the water isn’t that deep and sometimes he has to support her stomach to keep her afloat while she gets it.

Tommy makes jokes from above at Joel’s expense, grinning at the comfort of hanging out with his brother and his kid again. That is until Red shoves him off the ridge and he hits the water face first.

If he still wasn’t slightly terrified of her, he’d splash her back.

There are progressive steps forward and some steps back. Joel and Ellie argue, both pushing and testing their boundaries with each other. Red and Joel fight, one not use to people caring about her and the other sometimes too protective. Ellie and Red fight, one desperately clinging to the other in fear of being left and the other worried the closeness will only hurt her. No one knows how to properly handle their emotions.

They always make up. A tentative offer to take Ellie out to practice shooting the rifle. Joel trailing his fingers through Red’s loose hair, kissing the crown of her head softly. A book of pressed flowers given on the porch, the book Red has been keeping in her bag for years. The first pages are her journal from the beginning of the Outbreak before it stops. All peace offerings.

Joel is a helicopter parent. When Ellie begins group patrols, he knows exactly who is leading the group and interrogates them after to make sure nothing went wrong and she is doing what she’s supposed to. He knows when she starts hanging out with new friends, like Jesse and Dina and Cat. Ellie is starting to go full-teenager so he tries not to let her know he’s doing it.

Red catches Ellie making out with her first girlfriend Mia in her room. She doesn’t know what to do, only freezes and backs away slowly then walks back down the stairs. She doesn’t tell Joel.

When Ellie starts going over to friends houses, staying over often or going to hangouts, they relish in having their own space for the first time in a long while. Joel has every intention of fucking Red against every surface and wall, but only manages the couch before someone knocks on the front door. Tommy thinks Joel is going to shoot him for even asking if he can do a night patrol. Red may well murder him if Joel doesn’t.

Joel knows he has to take his time with Red, but patience isn’t a strong suit of his. He missteps a lot, tripping on invisible landmines. Her parents. Her sister. Harry. Those years after the Outbreak but before he met her. She freezes up sometimes and he knows the landmine has gone up in his face.

But she sometimes she drops fragments. Mentions that her father died in the initial chaos though there is nothing sad in her voice. Her mother’s is always mentioned in disdain. That things between her and Harry had been complicated in the year or so before the Outbreak. That things were tense with her family. The way she clams up when asked if she was with a group is it’s own hint. He doesn’t push, can only apologize and soothe the shrapnel damage of his mistake.

There are days when Ellie is just in a mood. She’s snappy, easily irritable, gets sent home early from work duty for behavior (which in turn means Joel gets after her) leading to her being a ball of teenage rage at everyone. Red stays in the kennels those days because it’s easier dealing with a group of dogs than an angry teenager. Jamie, the head vet she sometimes works with, says it’s all part of raising a teenager.

They skip the monthly Jackson gatherings often as their time in town stretches on, though Tommy does bug them to go and actually be a part of the community. Red isn’t keen, especially after her dress experience with Maria, but Joel makes sure to stay at her side every time after. He doesn’t admit that he doesn’t mind going if only because he gets to stand with her, his arms around her waist and swaying slightly to the music, and making sure every man in town knows she’s his.

He doesn’t remember how the conversation leads to Red at the construction site. They’re working and the mention of her name comes up then her last name and instinctively, without thinking, Joel mentions it’s Miller. He can see Tommy’s head whip towards him, but neither of them say anything.

When Joel finally fixes the guitar, he plays for them. His heart is in his throat but he tries to play it off as casually as he can. Ellie’s been in a mood and thank god, he sees her loosen up afterwards. He promises to start teaching her and once a week they have guitar lessons on the porch. Those are Red’s favorite nights.

They’re having family dinner at Tommy’s one evening when Maria asks teasingly if she needs to get Red some birth control. She freezes and it’s like she’s a trapped animal, breath shaky and panic in her eyes, before biting out a simple, “No.” It’s a little awkward and they try to play it off, moving on. That night he can see the nail gouges in her thighs from her own hands. Joel doesn’t know the full story, but knows her inability to have kids isn’t a natural occurrence. He’s seen the ugly scar on her lower abdomen enough times.

Outbreak day is a bad day for everyone. The streets are quiet, everyone’s faces drawn. The town hosts a yearly memorial to honor the day and world they lost, but they don’t go. It’s the first year Joel doesn’t drink himself dumb if only because he doesn’t want to freak Ellie out. The teenager doesn’t have a tie to the day, being born long after. But she knows about Sarah and knows both her parental figures faced something horrific. So she does what any kid does and tries to lighten the mood. They play every board game in the house and Ellie picks the best puns and gently asks what Sarah’s favorite things were. It helps a little.

Some nights they get more bits of the lighter Red. They play the record player constantly but some days, the days when maybe one of them finds a new couple of vinyls, they’ll have a night where they each take turns playing their favorite. Red and Joel will drink a bit (and maybe let Ellie have some) and the teenager will grab Red’s hands and force her to dance with her. Joel soaks in the sound of their laughter and it’s like Red is so many years younger. He takes turns with each other them, spinning Ellie around and teaching her to two-step and dancing with his partner to the slower songs. He loves her through rage and violence, but he is at her mercy when she lets him have the fragile bits of herself underneath it all.

Once upon a time, giving someone that kind of control over him would have terrified him but he hands himself over willingly to her now .

Ellie’s first birthday in Jackson is small but they’re still getting use to things. No one knows the exact day she was born, but she knows the day that was on her papers in FEDRA school so they go with that. Joel gets food from the Food Hall and Red tries very very hard to follow a brownie recipe from one of the ladies in the shop. Joel plays her something on the guitar and, in true to them fashion, her gifts are a new revolver, another pun book (though unfortunately not by Wil Livingston) and the news that Brownie the puppy is hers to keep in the kennels.

Red sings for them for the first time that night.

Joel makes plans for a bigger birthday next year.

Danger still exists. It never goes away and Joel wonders if he doesn’t want it to, really. There’s still a thrill when his brother grabs them both to deal with raiders. Seeing that sharpness in Red come alive and the lack of hesitation as she pulls the trigger or draws her bow. The baring of her teeth when she stabs her knife.

He’s seen her tear through a whole group to save him during a patrol. Seen her rip out a man’s throat with her teeth to get to him when they had him trapped. Joel wonders at the broken part of him that enjoys it, seeing her covered in blood and completely feral and knowing it was all for him.

Every time after, clean or tinged red, he loses himself and fucks her so hard his name is a chorus from her lips and there are gouges down his back from her nails. They were still monsters deep down but it didn’t feel like such an awful thing anymore.

It’s roughly a year and a half later when Ellie comes home with a large bandage on arm. Red is the one to see it first and after being assured she wasn’t injured, the outline of a large tattoo is unveiled, covering the bite there.

She gets it, gets the fear of Ellie having to hide her arm because they’re afraid someone will shoot their kid. But seeing the tattoo churns something in her gut because it means Ellie’s letting go of that part of her identity as “the immune girl”. And while it should mean something good, that she was moving on, she knows hidden rage when she sees it and it’s deep in the teenage girl. It’s less a letting go and more the identity being ripped away from her.

It takes a bit to calm Joel down. He knows it was Ellie’s friend Cat that did the tattoo and the dad part of him rears up, telling her he doesn’t like her hanging out with that girl. It’s fear, they all know it, because the tattoo also means she showed Cat her arm.

It’s a rough week. Ellie moves into the converted garage behind the house.

Red feels unequipped to handle Joel’s fear and Ellie’s rage and all she can do is be there for both. She helps Ellie to decorate the garage, the same as when they first moved into the house, silently there at her side. At night, she prods and pushes Joel until he takes his emotions out on her with bruising fingers and rough kisses. Violence and sex are a comfort she knows well.

Joel and Ellie make up in their own awkward tentative way. Reminders about guitar lessons and dinner plans, requests to help fix the door and some of the walls in the garage. Red wonders if raising a teenager is like this for everyone.

Red goes missing for two days. Both of them panic and raise hell, searching everywhere for her. Ellie’s never seen Joel so out of control. He interrogates every patrolman at the gate roughly and it takes Tommy intervening to keep him from beating the shit out of a few.

She checked out a horse and left, her bag missing from the first floor room. Ellie feels a knot in her throat and her mind plays on repeat “everyone always leaves” but Joel is pushing her bag into her hands and they off to the stables. Tommy and Maria don’t try to stop them. Red’s already been gone a whole day.

They search for her beyond the walls, calling out for her and checking their usual spots. The worst comes to mind of her getting hurt, getting taken by raiders, getting bit by infected. Because in Joel’s mind, Red would never willingly up and leave without a word. He can’t let that possibility sink in. Even if she did, he’d find her and drag her back to him.

They find her that evening.

Her eyes are puffy and red and there are scratches all over her arms and hands. They look self-inflicted. She looks as wild as the first day they met her, huddled at the base of a large tree and hair all over the place. Joel approaches her cautiously, like he knows to when she’s more animal than woman, but it’s Ellie that goes straight up to her and hugs her around her waist without hesitating. Because she knows why.

The book of pressed flowers Red had given her had journal entries that stopped right before the flowers began. The last entry had a date and the words “me, Harry, and Annie are going on a run tomorrow” in it and Ellie knows.

Like a wounded animal, Red tried to hide her pain. The nightmares and the screams and the sounds in her head became too much and she had to get away. Sometimes all she could hear was her sister’s screams. But they dim in Ellie’s embrace and she lets herself come to the surface enough to hug her back and then lean into Joel when he joins them, kissing her head and holding them tightly.

They'd always find her and protect her when she needed to shatter.

_________________________________________ Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111 @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8 @badwolf00593 @themothersmercy @badwolf00593 @mxtokko @happinessinthebeing @taranicristeard @aroacefanenby @barbellpedro @maviee @sgt-morgan

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #tlou fandom #the last of us fanfic #tlou ellie #series: feral #feral reader #anon asks #asks #raicodoll writes #this was my way of catching up on requests #I still have a bunch but some are full fics and some are gonna be drabbles

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barrenclan · 1 year ago

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I think Time Deer by Bent Knee fits Rainhaze

Any song that calls someone a dog is pretty good for Mr. Haze.

"Oh, nasty dog You are choking on a cog in my time machine Drag you along to the times from which you run So you can see what I see"

"I was string thin, barren and scrambling for food My people exiled, subhuman and crude <- hello. literally barrenclan They took my lover and library too War left me vagrant with nothing to lose"

youtube

Oh my God, thank you for blasting me back in time with this. I watched the Flowey animatic with this song about a million times when I was deep in my Undertale phase. Also, yes, Rainhaze as hell, I could literally put every lyric here and they'd fit for him.

"They're-they're these terrors And it's like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing and It's like as if somebody was gripping my throat"

"Don't you breathe for me Undeserving of your sympathy 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did"

"A drink for the horror that I'm in For the good guys and the bad guys For the monsters that I've been Three cheers for tyranny Unapologetic apathy 'Cause there ain't no way that I'm coming back again"

"Sometimes I see flames And sometimes I see people that I love dying"

"And through it all How could you cry for me? 'Cause I don't feel bad about it So shut your eyes Kiss me goodbye And sleep"

youtube

It's definitely softer than I think of music for them, but those lyrics are pretty good. It's almost making me think more of Rainhaze talking to Slugpelt!

"Hey Bunny What if I lose you too If I become the monster Together we can always be blue"

"Hey Bunny Is that your name again It's making me laugh 'cause we used to be friends Hey bunny Am I talking in the mirror I only see myself as what we were"

I don't think so! I like it.

"I hate my work But I'm in control I'm fearless now But it cost my soul"

"It's alright to scream I'm screaming too Why'd you think I do the things I do? For shadows haunted me like ghosts So I became what I feared the most" <- Aw yeah

youtube

Okay real about the energy level, I feel that so hard. It would make a cool PMV though!

"He could never stand up 'Til he had to run Finger on the trigger Of an empty gun" <- Verse 1

"Well, she was on an upswing In the spring of life Dancing on a tight rope 'Til he brought the knife" <- Verse 2

youtube

I mean, if this whole post doesn't prove that Rainhaze is fantastic to staple music to his forehead, this should.

What a pretty song! Yes, definitely a great song for the overall story.

"I hear it calling/Deep down in my dreams/The wind is blowing/Something lost in me"

"There's nothing else to do/There's nowhere else to go/There's nothing else to live for, anymore"

youtube

It's on the playlist, in fact!

Oh I know this song! I used it in a speedpaint once. Ah, a particular context makes it very sad for me with Rainhaze.

"Save yourself I am far beyond repair They will bury me alive But I'm not inclined to care I am too far gone now, oh ohoho"

"Forget the man I used to be You'll move along more easily"

Silly, trying to slip another FNAF fansong past me. It can definitely work for Rainhaze, even if I can't listen to the whispering (I don't like ASMR).

youtube

#ask #anon #music #rainhaze #dustfeather #slugpelt #ranger

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nhl-stories · 2 years ago

Text

You Stupid Bitch – Leon Draisaitl

Summary: Leon is stupidly, hopelessly in love. Too bad the object of his affection has terrible taste.

Author’s Note: Just some good old unrequited love getting requited

Word Count: 7k

Album Series Mastlerlist

You stupid bitch, can't you see? The perfect one for you is me

Leon hears the yelling before he gets to the front door. Screaming is probably a more accurate word. He stops and ponders whether he should ring the doorbell or not when the door opens and a woman almost runs him over.

“Good luck with that psycho bitch,” she half-addresses Leon and half screams it over her shoulder into the house before she storms off to her car.

“Nice to see you too, Dawn,” he mumbles before he lets himself into the house.

The house is almost a mirror version of his next door and he moves through the open floor plan until he finds Chloe.

“Fuck,” Leon stops in his tracks when he sees her lip bleeding, “did she do that?”

She touches her lip to see the blood while Leon goes to the freezer to grab an ice pack.

“Dammit, and technically yes.”

Leon whips around at that comment, “calm down, it was during sex. The sex was foreplay for the fight.”

Leon gives her disgusted look while handing her the ice.

“Aren’t Germans supposed to be into really kinky shit? Cause I’m real sick of this resting judgmental face you have.”

Leon just continues to stare.

“What are you doing here?”

“You have my dog.”

As if on cue, Bowie comes running through the dog door followed by Chloe’s fluffy orange cat, Baron. He picks up his dog and snuggles him close, Baron jumps up on the counter feeling left out.

“So, you and Dawn are done?”

Leon tries to be casual, not seem too interested, but he’s dying to know. Despite seeming like a grumpy annoyed neighbor, which yes, he’s that too, he’s hopelessly in love with Chloe.

“Yes, and don’t say I told you so.”

“I won’t, but she did string you along for months and then treated you horribly while you dated, if you can even call what you two did dating.”

Chloe ignores the fact that without actually using the words ‘I told you so,’ he basically did.

“Ohhh, but the sex was so good.”

“Other people are good at sex,” he’s glad his scruff is thick enough to hide the blush he can feel creeping up his face.

“You want to stay for dinner?” She moves the ice pack and touches her lip again, the bleeding’s stopped.

“I have food that I need to cook before it goes bad,” he starts to turn to leave and pauses, “want to come over?”

“Do I have to put on pants?”

Leon turns and peers around the kitchen island to see Chloe is only wearing a long sleeve t-shirt that only barely covers the good bits. Leon second guesses his invite.

“It’s fucking cold out.”

“You’re right next door, I’ll run.”

“And I was going to leisurely walk over.”

“Fine, I’ll put on pants.”

“And bring some wine.”

///

After her latest breakup, Leon resolves to tell Chloe how he feels; or at the very least make his feelings more obvious. He says he’ll do this every time and he never follows through, which is extra frustrating because Leon follows through on every other thing in his life.

He swears this time will be different.

It isn’t.

A parade of suitors, or at least that’s the respectable way to call them, parades through Chloe’s door until one sticks. His name is Michael or Matthew or something.

Leon doesn’t care to remember, but is polite enough when he meets him the first time. He gives off a weird vibe that Leon is suspect of, partly because of his own feelings and partly because Chloe infamously has bad taste in partners.

Leon gives them a month. If he was a betting man, he would have cashed out big.

30 days into their relationship Chloe is passed out on Leon’s couch, her black cocktail dress riding up precariously high, one heel still on.

She had barged in last night while he had some teammates over. She was completely plastered and complaining about something but was too incoherent to be entirely understandable, just enough that Leon knew the problem was whatshisface.

Bowie jumps onto the couch before Leon can stop him and starts licking her face.

She groans, but indulges the dog with a pet.

“Fuck, Bowie don’t let me drink that much ever again,” the dog just snuggles into her more, “and don’t let me spend the night in this brutalism hell your dad calls a home.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as if it will block out Leon’s neutral, modern décor.

“Sorry, I don’t live in the clown house you’re accustomed to,” he laughs but doesn’t get a snarky response, “how are you feeling?”

“Like drilling a hole into my head will make me feel better.”

“So, you either had a really fun or a really bad night.”

“Very bad, first Mitchell stands me up because apparently he’s not ready to be a public couple or some shit and then I got too deep into the open bar and probably did something to embarrass my brother, so that’s another thing I’ll have deal with later.”

She squeezes at her temples, like that will help the hangover, “and I clearly remember at least Connor being here last night, so I can only imagine I further embarrassed myself.”

Leon picks up a pair of neon orange, lacey underwear and tosses it towards her, “you insisted on showing us your tattoo,” Leon grins remembering her showing off the colorful ‘Pow’ tattooed on her butt cheek.

“Jesus, and you did nothing to stop me? Protect my modesty or whatever?”

“I enjoyed the show,” he gives a crooked smile.

She lets out a heavy sigh then opens her arms wide, “Can you carry me home?”

“What? No!” He fights but he knows if she asks again, he’ll do it, he can’t say no to her.

“This wouldn’t be a big deal if you let me build the skybridge between our places,” she sulks, “then Bowie could see his boyfriend any time he wants.”

Leon rolls his eyes and moves to pick her up, hoping it will shut her up.

“My dog is not your cat’s boyfriend.”

She wraps her arms around his shoulders to hold on and Leon feels warm all over. Is hyper-aware of where his hand is gripping her bare thigh, how soft her skin is against his calloused fingers.

“They’re totally obsessed with each other and they don’t have reproductive organs so it’s not like they can commit a crime against nature or anything.”

He just gives a neutral hum in response, trying to enjoy the moment of Chloe in his arms and not let the warmth migrate south. He stops by the door and piles her purse and coat on top of her, covering up the neon underwear she never put back on.

He walks out into the cold and hopes none of their neighbors choose to look outside now. The last thing he needs is a picture of him carrying a commando Chloe back to her house, his brain hurts just thinking about the fallout something like that would cause.

They get into her house, which despite the similar layout looks so different from his own home; all bright colors and loud patterns, nothing matches, yet it all goes together. He would never tell her to her face but he loves it, it feels like a lived-in and well-loved house.

Baron comes to rub up against his legs and he has to gently nudge him away as he carries Chloe up the stairs. He’s only been in her room once before, when painters had come on the wrong day and the fumes made it impossible to take a pre-game nap, he remembers never wanting to leave.

Leon drops her unceremoniously on the bed, his arms shaking a little from carrying her so long. She mumbles something into the blankets as she moves to curl up like a cat in the middle of the bed.

It’s a giant circular bed with a deep blue velvet bedframe and headboard, something you’d imagine seeing in an old Hollywood movie.

Marlene Dietrich.

He remembers Chloe mentioning her during one their first meetings.

Alone in an elevator she just blurted it out, “I love Marlene Dietrich, my dad and I used to watch all her movies.”

“What?” He wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly.

“Marlene Dietrich, she’s German. You’re German,” she scrunched up her eyes and groaned in embarrassment, “never mind just ignore me, I just did that stupid annoying thing where you say the one thing you know about where someone is from as if that means anything to them.”

“Like if I said you’re from Canada and told you I’m a huge fan of Wayne Gretzky or maple syrup.”

“Yeah, though that doesn’t work as well because I actually know Wayne Gretzky and everyone loves maple syrup” she flashed him a smile before exiting the elevator.

Leon shakes himself out of the memory, realizing he’s been zoning out and staring at Chloe for too long, like some kind of creep. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge his presence.

“I always picture your room as more of a sex dungeon.”

“Sex dungeon is down the hall,” she doesn’t skip a beat even through a pounding headache and the comfort of her bed.

“Feel better, I’ll uh- see you later.”

“Wait, when do you head out on the road?”

“Tomorrow.”

She holds out her arms and makes a grabbing motion, “hug for good luck.”

She doesn’t make it easy for him, he has to crawl to the middle of the bed and it’s an awkward hug where his arms can’t quite get around her. But she squeezes him tightly and he wants to just collapse onto the bed and hold her until the rest of the world melts away.

Instead, he presses a kiss to her temple. Maybe lingering a second too long, taking the time to imagine a world where Chloe is waiting for him in her bed, waiting for his kisses and his touch and his love. He pulls away before he gets too deep into his fantasy.

///

Before Chloe was his neighbor or de facto dog sitter or even his unrequited love, she was a face in the crowd he couldn’t escape.

If Edmonton bigwigs stopped by practice or the locker room after a game she was there, with varying levels of enthusiasm. If there was a charity event at a hospital or a school or anywhere, there she was directing people on where to go or hands on a craft. If there was a gala he was forced to go to as a face of the Oilers, there she was dressed to the nines and rubbing elbows.

From what he gathered she worked for a foundation or something, Leon didn’t pay her much mind, though he was curious. She was young, within a year or two of his age, but she could run a room of rich, white men.

She simultaneously fit in and stood out in every crowd and that fascinated Leon, who often felt out of place in the off-ice world hockey had forced him into.

Then at one gala, she was talking to Connor and he found his in. Instead of having an enlightened conversation he was met with a spill of red wine when she turned around quickly as he was walking up. She apologized profusely as Leon could feel the wine drip down his chest.

She insisted on taking care of the dry cleaning, giving Leon the address of her place. When he went to pick up the suit he was greeted with his now-clean suit, a new custom-made suit, and a note:

Thought you could use a spare gala suit in case you run into a drunk socialite who’s ruder than me. I probably owe you dinner too

xo, Chloe Cohn

Suddenly it was clear, she wasn’t just someone who worked for the foundation, she was the name behind it. It was a pretty ubiquitous surname around the city.

All of this to say, it’s why Leon is willingly at a gala event mid-season, any excuse to be in the same room as Chloe.

It’s also come at an especially crucial moment in time because Chloe said she’s taking a break from dating. A first for her, or at least a first since Leon has known her. Making it a perfect time for Leon to double-down on his resolution, without competition from anyone else.

For once, he actually starts to follow through. It’s nothing big: wrapping an arm around her shoulder for casual contact, bringing her flowers to thank her for watching Bowie, sitting closer than normal when they have an evening glass of wine.

It’s pathetically small if he thinks about it, but it’s forward motion so it feels like a breakthrough.

Chloe is across the room wearing gown so deeply purple it’s almost black. While she has a fairly boyish figure, there’s nothing boyish about how she looks in that dress, somehow finding a floor-length dress that can show off too much skin on display to be appropriate for this event. Leon can feel his throat getting dry as he watches her chat up a group.

“If you keep staring like that, all of Edmonton will know you’re in love with her before she does,” Connor laughs as he and Lauren sidle up next to him.

“You’re leering,” Lauren adds, “not that I can blame you, but tone it down in public.”

Leon takes a large swig of his drink in response.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming. Oilers always help donations go up,” Chloe’s brother Peter, the head of whatever enterprises the Cohn family owns, comes up and shakes their hands.

“Of course, happy to help while enjoying an open bar,” Leon jokes and Peter laughs along with him.

“And I assume you’re keeping an eye on my sister,” Lauren chokes on her drink next to them, “lord knows she needs someone to keep the riff raff away.”

“Well- uh,” Leon stutters.

Peter always makes him nervous, he’s almost a decade older than Chloe, making him have a paternal air about him. Leon always has a hard time reading whether he’s being a stern father figure or a joking older brother, his relationship with his own sister is so drastically different.

Peter claps his shoulder, “I’m kidding, many have tried but she’s the only one who can keep herself out of trouble.”

“Stop harassing my neighbor, Petey,” Chloe teases her brother and before cuddling up to Leon, like she’s protecting him from her own sibling.

He looks his sister up and down, “You’re not planning on embarrassing yourself tonight, are you?”

“I apologized about my behavior at your birthday,” she says like a petulant child.

Leon sees Connor and Lauren get pulled away into another conversation and now he’s trapped in this passive aggressive sibling moment.

Her brother just gives her a l look that screams, ‘I’m not mad just disappointed.’

“Besides I have to cause a scandal here and there if I seem too similar to the golden child people might start putting me in charge of more things.”

“And god forbid that happens.”

Leon knows this is a weird gray area between the siblings. Equal parts a long running gag and a major point of contention. Chloe more than happy being in charge of the of the Cohn Foundation and nothing else, while her brother believes she’s smart enough to take on a bigger role in the business-side of the operation.

“And you have to admit, it’s been a while since I caused an ‘incident’, that’s personal growth.”

“The last incident was you bringing a prostitute to dad’s funeral, so no one has forgotten about that one.”

“They were a stripper, not prostitute and I was dating them, Dad had met them and was a fan. And at least in my mourning I didn’t try to marry someone without getting a prenup.”

“Okay truce, Clo,” he holds his hands up in surrender, “But cool it on the champagne, you have a speech to give later. Draisaitl maybe keep an eye on her,” he smirks.

“Leave Leon out of this,” she subtly flips him off before shooing him away to go mingle.

She’s still pressed up against Leon’s side and then looks up and smiles at him like they’re the only ones in the room. He gingerly moves his hand to her waist.

“But actually, maybe keep an eye on me, I do have to talk.”

The warmth connecting them is severed when a voice calls out to Chloe and an older woman goes in for a hug. He hates the feeling of her skin slipping away under his fingers.

“I should have known I’d find you by the dashing Mr. Draisaitl.”

Chloe does a quick intro, stopping Leon from slipping away to another conversation. Though another conversation with a random Edmontonian might be worse than this, the more VIP the person the more likely they seem to give advice on his on-ice performance.

“I just wanted to grab you and let you know Caleb is moving back to Edmonton.”

“Oh.”

Her face loses its emotion and Leon thinks maybe another conversation would be better than this.

“And I was thinking if you were free, you’d help get him reacquainted with the city.”

“Um- I – I could probably find the time,” she stammers, “He’s really moving back? He always said he’d rather die than come back here.”

“People thought you’d never come home, but things change,” there’s something under the woman’s tone that Leon doesn’t like, “I’ll give Caleb your number.”

“Great,” Chloe has a stiff smile as the woman walks off.

As soon as the woman is clearly out of earshot she turns to Leon, “I’m gonna give my little speech now, but do want to share a car home afterwards?”

“Yeah,” he gives a soft smile, hoping it will help relieve some of the tension crossing her face.

Later, they’re waiting for a car to pull around; Chloe leaning into his side trying to combat the cold in her thin dress. She puts more weight on him, like all her exhaustion caught up with her in the distance from the door to the curb. His nerves are singing at the contact.

When they climb into the back of the car Chloe scoots right up next to him, even though she has the whole back seat to spread out in. Leaning her head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her tight.

He wants to ask her about this Caleb guy, but he doesn’t want to pop this bubble they’re in. He needs to enjoy this moment.

If he was braver, he’d seize this moment and confess his love.

///

Turns out Caleb is an ex-boyfriend or the one who got away or something along those lines. Chloe is never completely clear about it.

All Leon knows is he really hates him.

Leon can already feel all his forward progress slipping away and he’s worried with the upcoming road trip that when he comes home Chloe will have a new boyfriend. He’s even more worried that this one might actually last. Caleb has some history and connections Leon doesn’t know he can compete with.

He feels more certain about it when he happens to look up at the jumbotron during their final game of their homestand and sees Chloe squeezing Caleb into her side as she cheers into the camera. They look natural together. Leon takes his anger out on his mouth guard, tensing his jaw.

“She’s wearing your jersey.”

Connor doesn’t normally do small talk on the bench, but he can tell this is not the kind of anger that lights a fire under his teammate and makes him perform better. It’s the kind of frustration that makes Leon unbalanced and erratic.

“I can have Lauren try and get some intel while we’re away.”

It’s not a good solution, but it’s enough for him to loosen his jaw up a little; it gets him back on solid ground.

“So, what’s up with you and that new guy,” Lauren casually asks while on a walk with Lenny and Bowie.

“I don’t know,” Chloe shrugs, getting a little uncomfortable.

“Connor just said you guys were looking cozy on the jumbotron, I thought I’d ask,”

She’s working her best nonchalant tone to make Chloe comfortable enough to spill, it works.

“I’ve been in love with him like my whole life,” she groans like there’s never been anything more embarrassing in the world.

“So, something’s going on then?”

“Yes? No? I don’t know, it’s weird.”

Lauren just nods, encouraging her to go on.

“Little rich girls are supposed to grow up and marry little rich boys and he was so cute and smart that I was always fine with those expectations if it meant I got Caleb in the end. But for him I was never well-behaved or pretty or womanly enough but I just kept coming back and trying again.”

The dogs seem to sense the shift in the mood and whine and look at the women.

“By the end of uni I moved back home and he moved to Toronto and I thought I got passed all of it. But he’s back and it’s been years, we’re full adults, so maybe it’s different this time around.”

“Maybe,” Lauren has worry pooled between her brows, “but maybe it isn’t.”

To say the news puts a damper on Leon’s outlook is an understatement. He has a reputation for being grumpy or brooding, but this is a new level and it’s not going unnoticed. The only consolation is he’s excelling on the ice, it might not be the best coping mechanism but it’s working for him.

However, when he’s off the ice, he’s wallowing in his depression. Currently, it’s taking form in lying face down on his couch for the past 3 hours, not sleeping, not thinking, just in a fugue state.

The doorbell rings.

He’s not expecting anyone so he doesn’t make the effort to move. It rings again and he’s tempted for a second to go check. It’s when he hears a key in the door that he knows it’s Chloe. He still doesn’t move, worried that if he looks at her, he might cry or something.

She sets something down on the coffee table and sits down on the floor in front of him.

“I wanted to check on you, since you’ve been ignoring my texts and then came and took Bowie in the cover of the night.”

“You weren’t home when I got back,” he mutters into the couch.

“Okay, but it’s weird for me not to see you for so long after you come home, just wanted to see if you’re feeling alright,” she gently rubs a hand up and down his shoulder and back.

He finally turns his head to look and can’t help smiling back at her sweet, coy smile.

“Yeah, just the season catching up with me,” the lie feels heavy on his tongue.

“You can’t tell on the ice; you’re playing really well.”

“Thanks,” he sees the bouquet of orange and yellow flowers on the table, “Those for me?”

“Thought it could brighten the place up,” her smile is infectious, “boys deserve pretty things too.”

She’s the only pretty thing he wants, needs.

Leon finally sits up; he hates how much lighter he feels in Chloe’s presence. Ignoring her wasn’t helping him get over anything, just making it worse.

“Wanna hang out and order some food in?” He might as well go all in.

Her smile fades for a second, but she recovers quickly, “I would but–“

“You have plans that’s fine,” a chill runs through his chest.

“Yeah, but I can cancel if you need someone.”

She places a hand on his knee, her touch lights him on fire; he can’t tell if the burn is good or bad.

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? It’s really not a problem.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

“Okay, another time then,” she uses his knees to help herself up and gives him a quick peck on the cheek, “soon.”

“Yeah, soon.”

///

He doesn’t really mean soon with any gumption, but he comes when she calls like a puppy.

Not that he could really turn this down: it’s for a kid.

He comes into the Cohn wing of the children’s hospital, he’s not wearing any Oiler gear he doesn’t want to be too noticeable, when he sees Chloe making faces against the glass of a kid’s room.

He can’t help the warm feeling that grows in his chest, or the husky laugh he lets out.

“Oh hey, you made it!” she makes one more face, and the child on the other side of the glass kisses her nose.

It’s the last thing he needs to see while he’s trying to “get over” her, not that he’ll ever actually get over her. But it’s hard not to feel something stir in his chest when he sees how much she cares about people. She could just live her life as a rich heiress and instead she’s here.

She walks over and gives him a big hug, “I know that this isn’t the ideal way to spend an off day, but it really means a lot to me.”

“Happy to help.”

“She’s down this way,” she grabs his hand to pull him along and it takes all his concentration to stop from flinching at the electric current between them.

She stops him just outside of the door and peers around the corner, “Hey May… I have a surprise for you.”

“A kidney?” The little voice responds.

Leon’s heart breaks a little.

“Okay sorry, I might have come on a little strong, but I promise it’s a really good surprise,” she walks further into the and waves Leon to follow him.

When he rounds the corner the little girl’s eyes bug out of her head. Leon can’t help but grin.

“Hi May, good to see you again.”

She stares in awe for a few seconds longer before running up and giving him a hug. Leon feels his back strain when he bends down so he picks her up to squeeze her tight.

Leon had met her a few times at Oilers visits, she’s obsessed with Bowie and therefore a little obsessed with his owner. When Chloe had learned this information, she got the young girl a stuffed dog that look remarkably like Bowie, forcing Leon to sign a little note in a locket the dog wore around its collar.

He sets the girl down and she starts talking a mile a minute.

“Did Chloe give you the picture of us?”

“Yeah, I have it on my fridge so I see it almost every morning.”

May had autographed the photo of the pair coloring around Christmas. It was stuck to his fridge under a Köln magnet; partly because it was cute and partly because Chloe thought it was ‘so fucking cute, this little girl is melting your icy heart.’

Leon shows May about 1,000 pictures of Bowie, he doesn’t want admit he loves when he can show off the dog, most people would get bored after a couple.

“Maybe when I get out of the hospital I can meet him,” May has a pair of eyes that could put Bowie’s to shame.

“You have yourself a deal,” Leon shakes her hand, exaggeratingly shaking her arm until she dissolves into giggles.

The soft, loving smile on Chloe’s face is a bit of a bonus, too.

The trio plays a few card games, he can’t help but notice the stupid grin Chloe gets every once in a while, reading a text, he tries to power through without getting too angry.

“Chloe are you sure you can’t give me a kidney?”

Leon has half a mind to forfeit the rest of his season to give her one of his.

“If I had a spare kidney to give I would,” she gives a sad smile, “but you know nurse Jordy?”

The little girl nods, squeezing stuffed Bowie closer to her.

“I gave him one of my kidneys when he was 12, and look at him now! He’s healthy and he’s helping you guys out and that’s gonna be you next.”

“I don’t want to be a nurse,” she pouts, picking up on a specific detail like only a child can.

“You don’t have to be, but a new kidney is heading your way and you’re gonna get healthy and strong like him.”

That seems to appease her, until it’s time to say good bye. She gets a bit teary and it makes Leon never want to leave.

“Thanks again for doing that,” Chloe says as she walks to the parking garage with Leon.

“Of course, she’s a sweet kid.”

Chloe’s phone buzzes and she’s quick to open the notification, that goofy grin spreading across her face.

Since he’s a glutton for punishment he asks, “who’s got you smiling like that?

“Just Caleb, he’s so stupid,” her tone has too much adoration in it.

“Say hi to your boyfriend for me.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so brusque; he just can’t help it. He hates how his blood boils thinking about it, how he wants to be the one that makes her smile like that to herself, like the joy is bursting out of her.

She pinches her lips together and narrows her eyes at Leon, “it’s not–“

She pauses to like she’s needs to rethink her phrasing, instead she just rolls her eyes and gives him a little shove.

Leon gets in his car and drives home angry.

///

He doesn’t consistently pick up on the road, but he does on this trip. Two nights in a row.

The first night it’s a woman who looks too much like Chloe. He thought it would be therapeutic, despite the looks Connor gave him as he left the bar with her. It’s not. That’s what he gets for not following Connor’s advice, even non-verbal advice.

Her eyes are the same shade of light brown as Chloe’s, he has to turn her over to avoid any eye contact. But her hair still reminds him of Chloe’s and he fucks her fast and rough, just to feel angry, to feel anything.

The next night he picks up a woman who looks nothing like Chloe. She’s all tits and ass and that fake shyness that comes with trying too hard to be pliant and agreeable. Leon lets her spend the night, to give himself the illusion of intimacy.

They have an off day the next day, so he fucks her again then takes a nap after she leaves.

He’s debating whether to be social and go out to dinner with the guys or stay in and order room service so he doesn’t have to sulk in front of anyone.

There’s a knock on the door and he’s a little grateful that the decision seems to be made for him.

What he’s not expecting is for Chloe to be on the other side, wide Cheshire grin. She’s wearing a long white winter coat and a dress that’s far too short for the weather, a pair of thigh high boots leaving a sliver of bare skin visible.

“You gonna let me in or what?”

He wants to ask how she knew his room number, but he can guess: Connor. So, he skips to the next question.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had business in town”

Leon steps aside, she breezes past, the smell of stale wine wafts past him.

“And that involves getting drunk?”

“Yeah, it’s called a business lunch,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

She picks up the pair of underwear the girl apparently left behind and twirls it around her finger, “you apparently had some business too, good for you.”

He feels his ears turn red and watches her sit on the edge of the bed, he leans against the hotel dresser to keep his distance.

“Seriously, Clo, why are you here?” he points to the ground to make it clear that he means this place, right now.

“I wanted to take you to dinner.”

“I was just gonna order in…”

“C’mon let me take you to a fancy schmancy dinner, my treat.”

“I can pay for my own dinner.”

“We get it, you’re rich too, whatever. it’s been a while since we hung out, just the two of us. So please let me take you to dinner,” she sticks out her bottom lip and bats her eyelashes.

He groans in defeat, though he wishes he had more will power to make her beg a little longer.

“Great, wear this sweater I bought you,” she holds out the shopping bag she brought.

He furrows his brows and pulls out the sweater, it’s a deep teal color and maybe the softest thing he’s ever felt.

“You don’t own enough colors, and this will bring out your eyes.”

“Thanks, for the gift and the insult.”

“Shut up and get dressed,” she rolls her eyes.

When he comes back out of the bathroom, Chloe is laying back on the bed texting. Her legs dangle off the edge and her dress rising dangerously high. It takes everything in him to stop himself from pushing between her leg and taking her apart until she’s saying his name and forgetting that there’s anyone else in the world.

She notices him borderline lurking and sits up on her elbows, “looking good Draisaitl, ready to go?”

He shrugs eating in still seems like the better option.

They end up at a restaurant that is probably still too fancy for what either of them are wearing, but the hostess knows who Chloe is before she even gives a name, so he guesses it’s okay.

“Miss Cohn, we’ll bring your dad’s vintage out to you.”

“Sounds great, thank you,” she smiles and waits for the hostess to be out of ear shot, “my dad like bought up a bunch of wine he liked at a bunch of different restaurants, I don’t know what it is but they’re usually good.”

Leon shrugs, just going with flow.

“He obviously thought he would leave much longer than he did, cause they still give me bottles like 5 years after he’s died, and he drank heavily and smoked cigars so he had no business thinking he’d live into his late 90s.”

Leon loves when she talks about her dad, loves the soft face she gets when she talks about him.

He died before Leon was even in the picture, but it feels like he’s getting a peek behind the curtain when she opens up about him, their bittersweet relationship that came with the 70-year age gap, yet didn’t change the love between them.

A waiter comes by and pours them each a glass of red wine.

“I guess cheers to your dad then,” Leon smiles.

“Yeah, cheers,” they clink glasses.

“Chloe, what are the odds,” Leon stiffens at the sight of Caleb coming by with a glass of dark liquor.

“Caleb hey,” she stands up to hug him, “what are you doing here?”

“Tying up some loose business ends in Toronto, why am I surprised you got a table here on short notice,” he doesn’t even turn to acknowledge Leon, and Leon drains his glass of assumably insanely expensive wine in one gulp.

He pulls out an unoccupied chair at the table, “Yeah, um do you want to join us?”

“Sure Chloe, thanks,” he says as if he didn’t force himself onto their dinner

Finally, he turns to the other man, “nice to finally meet you Leon, she never shuts up about you.”

Leon can’t help but smirk at that and tries to give his firmest handshake in response.

Leon only hated the idea of Caleb before, but after spending five minutes with him, he just hates the guy. He went out of his way to talk about things Leon didn’t know about like childhood friends and would talk over Chloe when she tried to include him.

Thankfully the waitress came by to take their orders, because Leon is about five seconds from texting Connor to pull the emergency call card for him.

“I’ll have the gnocchi,” Chloe says closing her menu

“That’s a lot of carbs,” Caleb hums, not even looking up from his menu.

Chloe twists her lips to the side, for a second Leon thinks she’s finally going to tell him off.

“Yeah, change that to the branzino.”

Leon had seen Chloe do a lot of things for a relationship, but shrinking herself was always the worst.

“I’ll have the gnocchi and the chef’s salad,” Leon hands his own menu off and winks at Chloe, “you can have some of my gnocchi.”

The rest of the dinner is equally tortuous, and as if he could read his mind Connor calls just as they’re debating another bottle of wine after dinner.

“Sorry to run out but Davo wants to talk,” Leon is out of his seat before he finishes the excuse, and is rushing out of the restaurant before Chloe can get out of her chair to hug him.

///

Chloe comes by his house a few days after the road trip ends, she’s wearing an Oilers sweatshirt he’s pretty sure is his. She looks better in it anyway.

“Have you seen Baron? Caleb doesn’t like cats so I kicked the little guy out last night and he hasn’t come home and I’m getting a little worried,” the panic rises in her voice.

Leon knows where Baron is, he’s cuddle up with Bowie on his dog bed; he let the cat in when he started crying outside his back door. But he doesn’t tell Chloe that, because Caleb hating Baron is somehow the last straw.

“The guy hates your cat, too?”

Chloe taken aback by the comment, with her ‘missing’ cat and all.

“He walks all over you, he tells you what you should eat, and he basically hates your child. Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself, he’s a shitty person.”

“We’re not really together it's–“

“Chloe it doesn’t matter if you’re not actually something, he’s a waste of your time. They’ve all been a waste of your time, you can never pick someone who actually cares about you and I’m sick of watching it!”

“Where is this coming from?”

“You stupid bitch, I love you!”

In his wildest dreams, or nightmares, Leon never thought this is how he’d confess his love: with name-calling. But the words are out there and there’s a weight lifted from his chest.

Chloe blinks too many times, like she’s trying to make a hallucination disappear. She opens her mouth and a strangled sound comes out before she closes it again.

“What?” She finally squeaks out.

“I’m sick of seeing you throw yourself at people who don’t care about treating you right and then breaking your heart because I’m in love with you and I would never do that to you.”

“Wow, and what was that first part? I’m a stupid bitch?” The ghost of a smile graces her lips.

Leon takes a step forward, still not wanting to overstep by touching her, “yeah everyone else thought I was really obvious so I had to say something to get through your thick skull.”

Then his hands are full of Chloe, her arms around his neck, her lips on his, her tongue in his mouth.

It’s everything he’s been wanting for so long he doesn’t know where to start or focus, he wants his lips everywhere, his hands everywhere. His brain malfunctions before he can even figure out where to start, so he just tries to follow Chloe’s lead.

She pulls away and Leon feels his face following, hoping to reconnect. He nearly whimpers at the loss of contact.

When he finally looks at Chloe, she looks a bit frazzled; she’s running a hand through her hair and her eyes look wild.

“I don’t– I don’t love you, because that would be insane,” she’s gesticulating wildly, “since I haven’t thought about us that way.”

Leon feels his heart sink into his stomach.

“But this is something,” she starts to kick off her shoes, “I’d very much like to explore.”

She whips her jacket in the direction of the door and grabs Leon’s face and pulls his lips to hers again. His mind is back online and he pulls her by the hips against him.

Something nags at him before he can get in too deep, “and this isn’t just sex? Cause I can’t do that Clo.”

“No, I mean not that I’ve never thought about it” she attaches her lips to his jaw, “I have eyes and a vibrator, of course I’ve thought a little about it,” she feverishly moves closer to his mouth.

She finally comes up for air and is breathing heavily, she holds Leon’s face and looks him dead in the eye, “But you want what’s best for me and that sounds really good, because I’ve never had that before. And I want what’s best for you too, and maybe I can give that to you.”

Leon feels like his heart might burst out of his chest.

“Really?”

She nods, desperation in the little movements, “And I’d love to talk more about that but that love confession really turned me on and I want to have sex, like right now.”

Leon let’s out a husky laugh, but isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He lifts her up and almost falls up the stairs in excitement. He’s waited for all of this for so long.

///

Chloe falls back onto the pillow, sweaty and flushed.

“Holy shit,” she turns to look at Leon, running her hand through his sex-rumpled hair, “all those times you said other people are good at sex, you meant yourself?”

“I mean–“ he laughs and turns on his side, wanting to memorize her blissed out face, “I don’t want to brag.”

“No, you should brag. I’ve had sex with a lot of people and that–“

Leon rolls on top of her and covers her mouth, “let’s not talk about your past lovers right now.”

She gives him a quick peck before pushing him off and heading to the bathroom, giving him a bit of a show on the way.

On her way back she hears some scratching at the door, she opens it up and Baron and Bowie come bounding in, jumping up onto the bed.

“Oh my god Baron, you were hiding out here?” she crawls under the covers and pulls the fluffy cat close to kiss.

“Christ, Chloe, we’re still naked.”

She chuckles, “I’m so sorry to scar the children, but Baron has probably seen much worse; he’s a bit of voyeuristic perv.”

“Yeah, well Bowie is innocent,” he laughs while Bowie tries to crawl up to lick his face.

“Look Baron, both our boyfriends live in the same house now, double dates all the time.”

“Boyfriend?” He feels a little woozy hearing Chloe talk like that.

“On a trial basis of course.”

“Of course,” he smirks.

“Cause I’m notoriously bad at this stuff so you might want to rescind the offer after the novelty wears off.”

Leon pulls her into another kiss, because he can and he doesn’t think that will ever get old.

#leon draisaitl #edmonton oilers #leon draisaitl fic #leon draisaitl stories #nhl fic #nhl imagines #edmonton oilers fic #nhl #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey fics #nhl stories

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horseshoegirl · 2 years ago

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags - Part 2:

Hello, I Love You

AN: FYI... I cried at the likes, reblogs, and comments you all left. I didn't expect that at all! Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!

A lot more of Sadie came out in this one than I expected.

______________________________________________________________

❗️18+, strong language, sexual themes, Jake being Jake, godmother reader/original female character, Original child character.

#3K Words

Part 1 | Masterlist | Part 3

Finding sunlight never seemed to be an issue in California.

Penny asked if you could open the bar on your day off while she ran a few errands with Amelia. After dropping Sadie off at her tutoring lesson, you had time to spare, and the beach was the perfect place to read until your shift started.

Penny had set up a pair of Adirondack chairs under an umbrella just off the back deck of the Hard Deck. It was your favourite place to go on breaks or when you arrived early, such as today. Rummaging in your bag, you pulled out your book, eyes fixated on the cover.

Pride and Prejudice was the go-to for Ridley and you. Whenever one of you had a bad day or couldn’t sleep, you’d huddle together on the couch and put it on the TV. You attempted to show it to Sadie last year. While she was too young to appreciate it then, she loved that all the best camera angles seemed to focus on Elizabeth Bennet, especially when she stood on that cliffside.

It had been a promise between sisters you’d read the book together, having purchased your copy the week before her death. While you couldn’t bring yourself to watch the movie again just yet, you felt you owed it to her to read the book.

The world belonging to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet was far more intriguing than your own. It wasn’t till you came to a part of the book that lulled, did you looked up to see an infamous game of Dogfight Football taking place on the shore. You spied a few of the Daggers mixed in with the newer Top Gun pilots. Rooster wouldn’t be there. He was running a few errands for you before picking up Sadie.

You smiled wholeheartedly, seeing Bob lose it over at what you supposed was a touchdown. Mav attempted to explain the game to you once upon a time, something about running offence and defence simultaneously. Any explanation left you even more confused than you were before.

Phoenix started the game again, shouting at Coyote to be open for her incoming throw. Bob lined up in front of a blonde pilot you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t until Bob shouted at him for faking a throw did you realize you were ogling at the newly returned Dagger your friends warned you about.

For just a moment, you understood why the bartenders before you gave in. Hangman was every girl’s hot dream come to life. The million-dollar smile. Muscles for days. A face you were sure would be perfectly symmetrical if you took a ruler to it.

Yet, you could only focus on those damn dog tags swaying in space above his sternum—that little divet, which led down between his perfectly sculpted abs. The part of your brain with no impulse control picturing everything you could do to that divet.

The other part reeled you in, shouting ‘in your dreams’ and ‘he’d leave you out to dry too.’

Startled by the alarm on your phone, you forced yourself to peel your eyes away, close your book and make your way up the back steps to open the bar.

Ridley’s jean jacket protected you from a strong gust of wind blowing up sand as you unlocked the door. You remembered when she found it in that thrift store, losing it over the David Bowie-inspired patch on the back. It was one of the many belongings you brought from her townhouse, the rest tucked away in storage to be dealt with another day. You always made sure the first song playing on the Jukebox when you opened was something by Bowie.

A few people trickled in from the beach once they realized the bar was open, and you did your best to handle the intake until Jimmy could relieve you of the pressure.

A keg was giving you issues, your back facing the busier part of the bar as you crouched down to adjust a loose nozzle.

“What’s it like being the most beautiful girl in this bar?”

Yes, Hangman was perfect on the eyes. Then he had to ruin it by opening his mouth.

You stood up, keeping your back turned, “What’s it like being the biggest liar in the world?”

“Not a liar if it's true.”

You turned to face him, a hand on your hip. “Does that work on all the unfortunate girls who stumble into your path, Hangman?”

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

A man with charm was a dangerous thing. And Hangman was indeed that man. Sitting at your bar, arms perched, the most Mona Lisa smile you’ve ever seen gracing his face.

“Nobody,” you said, “could be so forward and expect to get away with it.”

“What do you say about tonight? Your place or mine?” That cocky smirk was begging to be wiped off his face.

You kept yourself busy, trying to avoid looking at his eyes as much as possible. You weren’t expecting them to be so green.

“I have a date with a bug and some friends.” The urge to clean something with the rag on your shoulder was getting harder to ignore. You needed to do something with your hands.

“Ditch them.”

That made you look up, staring blankly at him, “Your friends must call you an asshole if that’s how you’d treat them.”

A toothpick had somehow now made its way between his teeth. You weren't sure whether you wanted to pull it out of his mouth or stare at what he was doing with it. You made a note to hide the small canister under the bar the next time he showed up.

“One of the nicest assholes you could ever hope to meet.”

You rolled your eyes. “I have a list with your name in the girl's bathroom that says otherwise.”

“For a good time, call Hangman?” This guy didn’t know when to quit.

You snorted, “Hardly.”

“Come on, do you think that poorly of me? Let Hangman show you a good time.”

It was your turn to smirk. You leaned against the bar, resting your elbows on the space before him, tipping forward just enough to intrude upon his personal space.

“You want to know what I think?” His eyes dropped to your lips.

“I think you’ve mastered the art of your southern Texas charm,” You took the rag from your shoulder and started to wipe at part of the bar between his arms.

“A handsome naval pilot,” keeping your eyes down, you continued, “a few pretty verses with just enough of that southern accent, making even the shyest of women hope to drop their pants for a promise of a good time.”

His voice was low as he spoke, “Here I am. Just say the word.”

You couldn’t believe this guy. Any thought you had entertained of inviting him tonight or in the future vanished. Bradley and Natasha were right. He did flirt with anything within a five-mile radius.

“What else can you offer someone other than the promise of a good time, Hangman?” You pushed yourself away from him, reaching for a misplaced whiskey glass. “After all, why did all of Penny’s previous bartenders quit after being around you?”

You reached for the bottle of sanitizer, spraying your rag. “Do you see women as a means to an end? Wham, Bam, thank you, mam? Or is the thought of forming something deeper with someone just too damn hard?”

His mouth gaped open.

You put your back to him as you finished, “I’m not the type of girl guys like you go to for one-night stands. Considering you won’t tell me your real name and assuming I’d ditch my friends for a guy.”

No matter how you said it, the slight bitterness was there. “Go leave some other girl hanging, Hangman.”

You waited a moment, gathering the courage to turn around to ask if he wanted something from the bar before a voice caught your attention.

“Liz!” Bradley shouted, Sadie trailing on his heels with her backpack dragging behind her.

“Hey, Bradley,” You smiled at him before looking down at Sadie, her eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Her morning couldn’t have gone any more wrong.

“How was tutoring, Sweetheart?”

“Mr. Turner was mean to me again.” You frowned.

“The numbers don’t make sense. I try to ask questions, but he either makes it more confusing or refuses to answer and tells me to figure it out myself.”

“He doesn’t know how you learn, Bug. You’ll get it.” Rooster attempting to offer encouraging words.

The Math Makes Sense textbooks she brought home were anything but. The pair of you spending nights tearing your hair out at the kitchen table over the most obscure questions. Amelia tried, but she had a preference for English.

“Elizabeth,” Hangman realized, looking slightly shocked. “Penny mentioned you.”

You smiled, mocking his words before, “I see my reputation precedes me.”

He looked down at Sadie, who firmly attached herself to Rooster’s hand, “Then you must be Sadie.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Or Bug, that’s what they call me,” rocking her hand in Bradley’s.

You grimaced as he raised his eyebrow, clearly figuring out Sadie was the Bug and the Daggers, the friends you were referring to.

“Hangman.”

“Rooster.”

“What, they finally kicked you out of Texas?”

“Someone has to be around to save your as.. butt,” his eyes dropped to Sadie with a slight wince.

She rolled her eyes with as much dramatic flare as a ten-year-old could muster.

“I’m ten. I’ve heard worse,” she mumbled before climbing onto one of the bar stools and pulling her homework out of her bag. You couldn’t refute her; the swear jar in your kitchen was evidence enough. Its presence reminding the Daggers a ten-year-old was in their company.

“Nice,” Rooster pointed to Sadie. “I knew you were an idiot, but this just proved it.”

Clearly, Hangman saving his life did nothing to change Rooster's attitude towards this teammate.

You were thankful the sound of glass hitting the floor pulled you away from whatever was happening between the two, a quick ‘I’ll be right back’ to Sadie and a strict glare at Bradley before you walked over to a group of newer Top Gun pilots trying to clean up the mess.

“You think you can handle this guy for a few minutes? I gotta run a few errands,” Rooster jerking his thumb towards Hangman.

Sadie looked him over before sarcastically glaring back at Rooster. “You're joking, right?”

Rooster smiled, roughing up her hair, before turning to leave.

“Bye, Bug.” He shouted over his shoulder.

She didn’t even look up, too focused on the cover of her textbook, when she called out, “Bye, Uncle Roo.”

Sadie took a deep breath before finding the page she had been working on with her tutor in her textbook. The man didn’t know how to explain anything, let alone math. She tried hard to understand what he was saying, but the comments about how he’d expect this from a kid being raised by a single woman were annoying.

She knew you and her mom would want her to bite her tongue. But she'd never own up to it if her foot accidentally strayed too far to hit his shin.

It was a few seconds before she flipped her pencil, harshly erasing the page, before throwing her forehead down onto the bar with a thump in defeat.

With an amused look from the pilot sitting beside her and a slight chuckle at her antics, he asked, “That bad?”

She looked up at him, head resting on crossed arms over her textbook. “My tutor is a total idiot.”

“Oh really?”

“I know I don’t understand this stuff, but I would expect a math tutor would.” She felt hopeless. A few teachers at her new school wanted her to succeed and gave her chances to catch up. But math? Every teacher she ever encountered seemed like they set her up to fail.

He leaned closer to her, staring down at the part of her textbook that wasn’t covered by her arms, “What’s the culprit?”

“Fractions,” she was almost ashamed to admit. “Doing things with them.”

“Could I take a look?”

Sadie raised her head. She had no idea who this guy was. But, if he was offering to help her with her homework, Math no less, he couldn’t be that much of an idiot.

“I haven’t seen you before. Are you a pilot?” doubting he could handle something like this if four other people had already failed.

“The best there is,” he replied casually. “Dagger Squad would be lost without me.”

She looked at him skeptically, contemplating her answer. Finally, she pushed her textbook over to him, “Okay, wow me, ‘Hangman.’”

You occasionally glanced back at Sadie as you cleaned up the broken glass. With Bradley gone, Hangman had moved closer to her, one of her butterfly-themed pencils in his hand as the two passed her notebook back and forth, engaged in a lengthy conversation.

You knew right away what was going on. The git was helping her with her math homework. You didn’t know whether to be pissed off at him, pissed off Rooster left her alone with him, or grateful somebody was willing to explain the damn stuff to her.

“Are you coming tonight?” Sadie asked, punching something into her calculator.

“I’m assuming this is the ‘date’ your Aunt mentioned,” flipping the pencil in his hand.

“Something always happens on a Saturday Night,” she wrote something down. “Whether it's dinner, game night, a movie… Rooster’s karaoke ideas.”

She felt a shiver go through her body at the last one. While she loved her Uncle, Great Balls of Fire was getting old.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t invited.”

Sadie frowned, watching him glance at you laughing with the pilots apologizing for the mess. “I thought all the Daggers came over on Saturday nights.”

“Not me.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips posed, before sliding her notebook over to him, pointing to the question she had just answered with the end of her pencil.

He glanced down, “You got it.”

She punched the air, wiggling in her seat. Hangman smiled.

Settling down from her mini celebration, she peered at him thoughtfully, watching him glance at her Aunt. “My Aunt said I could invite someone. Come.”

“I don’t think I’m the person she wanted you to invite.”

“Too bad,” She was quick to answer. “Something tells me you have trouble making friends, and I need some.”

Hangman scoffed, “I do not have trouble making friends. Rooster and I just don’t see eye to eye on things.”

“You're kidding. He’s a softy.” She realized she needed to change her tactic when he didn't react.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the chicken. And you could hang out with Coyote, he’s barbecuing something tonight. Guys seem to like that stuff.”

Seeing his face, she knew he was coming up with a way to let her down gently. She hated when grown-ups did that. Noticing you were coming back over and her window to convince him was closing, she quickly dragged her notebook back to her.

“Promise me you’ll at least show up,” flipping through the pages, she tore off a piece of paper, scribbling down something before placing it in front of him.

“5 o’clock. This address.” Then one last final attempt, “Or is ‘Mr. Best there is’ scared of a little campfire?”

Reaching the bar, you picked up your forgotten rag and stood in front of the two. Sadie staring somewhat hopefully at Hangman, who was peaking at something in the palm of his hand.

“How’s the Math homework, Bug?”

“Better!” She snapped her notebook shut, turning to face you. “He helped me.”

You gave Hangman a pointed look. “Did he now? Well, thank you, Hangman.”

He gave a tense smile and a nod. “Anytime.”

Watching him stand, you caught him out of the corner of your eye, pocketing something into his shorts. You guessed whatever it was, it had to have come from the notebook Sadie so conveniently snapped shut the minute you spoke.

You straighten your back, putting on your best customer service smile. “I guess we’ll be seeing you around.”

Suddenly, the damn smirk was back to gracing his face. “Tonight. Thank you for the invite, Ms. Sadie.”

Your smile dropped. “Wait, what?”

Sadie giggled loudly at your reaction, secretly pleased he gave in. “You're welcome,” She sang out.

You gawked as he leaned down next to Sadie, whispering something in her ear before she turned her head, hand blocking her mouth to say something back, a beaming smile across her face as he stepped away.

“Elizabeth,” he winked at you as he turned to leave.

You watched him go, playfully tossed your rag down on the space next to her once he was out of earshot, exclaiming, “What the hell was that!?”

Sadie only continued to smile, a dreamy look on her face as she placed her head back into her arms, watching the blonde aviator walk out the door, “He was never invited.”

“Why do you think that might be?”

She ignored your question. “He’s part of the Daggers. That makes him family.”

“All families have bad eggs,” a quiet grumble on your lips.

She looked up at you, her forehead pinched, and her stare final, “You said no questions asked.”

Shit.

When you told Sadie she could invite a friend to the Dagger night get-togethers, you thought she’d pick a new friend from school. Maybe one of the kids she played street hockey with, a friend from soccer. You told her no questions asked. Anyone she wanted, hoping it would encourage her to make new friends.

You glared at her. “Sadie.”

“Aunt Elizabeth.”

She pinned you with her eyes, daring you to move. To blink. To make a sound. To give her an answer that was anything but what she wanted to hear.

Life choices were being regretted. There was no way you were winning a staring contest against a ten-year-old. And you never backed out on a promise.

“Fine! Fine!” you gave in, throwing your hands up. “But you have to break the news to Rooster.”

With a giddy smile and a stuck-out tongue, she picked up her pencil, happy to return to the rest of her questions with a sudden newfound eagerness.

You returned to polishing the forgotten whiskey glass, biting your bottom lip and thinking, ‘I still didn’t get his name.’

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