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nhlclover · 2 months ago

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𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 | 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

summary: you finally get to watch will live out his childhood dream, but become a source of comfort when the game doesn't end the way he'd hoped.

warnings: childhood friends to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, use of flashback scenes (which are italicized), appearances from wills family + macklin (very briefly), sad will after the sharks lose

word count: 2.20k

notes: i had so much fun writing this oh my gosh. sucks that the sharks lost but will had a good game (and so did macklin but this isn't about him right now)

The roar of the crowd felt deafening in your ears as you watched Will and Macklin skate out onto the ice, the bright lights of the SAP Center shining down on them like a spotlight. You clutched the teal jersey tighter around you, the number 2 stitched onto the back. Your heart swelled with pride as you watched Will glide effortlessly across the rink, his movements a graceful blend of power and precision.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.” his mom said, voice trembling with emotion. You glanced over at Colleen who was clutching her chest with a smile that looked like it could light up the entire arena.

Next to her, Grace, Will’s sister, wiped a tear from her cheek as she reached for the both of you, pulling you into a hug as you shared this moment together. Even Will’s dad Bill, who was always so composed, had a telltale glimmer in his eyes, his lips twitching into a smile of unmistakable pride. You’d watched him grow from a gangly kid into a young man now living his dream. And now here he was, skating in his first NHL game.

It was a warm summer afternoon nearly a decade earlier when you first met Will …

You sat in a heap on the grass, chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. A fresh scrape ran across your knee, a testament to your failed attempt at learning to rollerblade. The purple and green skates on your feet had been a birthday gift, and in your stubborn independence, you were determined to teach yourself how to skate. But the balancing part was proving much harder than you’d imagined, leaving you bruised and scraped after several falls.

As you sat there, huffing and pulling out tufts of grass in frustration, you heard a voice. “You okay?”

You turned to find a boy standing there, about your age, with shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes. He held an oversized hockey stick in one hand, donning black, sleek rollerblades on his feet. Will, as you'd soon learn, had just moved into the house next door. He smiled with a confidence that seemed far too big for his small frame.

“Yeah,” you muttered, wiping at your tear-streaked face, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I just…fell.”

Will nodded, studying your skates before dropping his hockey stick on the ground. “Want me to show you how to stop falling?” he asked.

You tilted your head. “You could do that?”

“Yeah! I’m a pretty good skater,” he said with a proud grin.

Will helped you to your feet, keeping your hand in his as he eased you back onto the pavement. You spent the rest of the afternoon with Will teaching you how to find your balance. He patiently caught you every time you wobbled, never laughing when you stumbled. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you could glide down the sidewalk without feeling like you’d crash into the pavement.

“Thanks,” you said shyly, tugging your skates off for the day.

“You’re not bad," he grinned, leaning against his hockey stick like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You just need a little practice."

“Will! Dinner’s ready!” a voice called from the nearby driveway. His mom, Colleen, waved him over. He glanced back at you, still seated on the sidewalk, and smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

From that day forward, it was always “you and Will”. He became your constant companion. Through scraped knees, missed goals, and late-night talks, you grew together.

It was during your sophomore year of high school when things began to change. You noticed the way Will would look at you a little longer when you were talking, his eyes lingering on your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. You’d find yourself holding your breath when he’d sling an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into one of his endless jokes, but the warmth of his touch would linger long after he let go.

One late night after a particularly tough game, Will dropped by your house, his hair still damp. You were sprawled out on your bed, textbooks and homework scattered around you when he knocked on your bedroom window. He always did that, never bothering with the front door.

“Need a break?” he asked, pushing up the window and climbing in like he'd done a thousand times before.

“Definitely,” you laughed, shoving your books aside, letting him sit on the bed beside you. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, but there was a nervous energy about him you hadn’t seen before. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. “I was just thinking about something.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Thinking about you,” he said plainly, your heart stuttering. “And about how I always feel better when I’m around you.”

You felt your stomach twisting into knots. “What are you trying to say, Will?”

His eyes searched yours for any clue that he should either stop or keep going with his confession. “I guess… I’m trying to say that I like you. A lot.” he laughed, shaking his head as if trying to brush away his own nervousness. “Like, more than a friend.”

Your breath caught, the world narrowing down to just you and him at that moment. You’d thought about this, dreamed about it even, but hearing him say it made it feel more real than you ever imagined. “I…I like you too, Will,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

The smile that spread across his face was the most genuine, heart-stopping thing you’d ever seen. “Really?” he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing softly. “Really.”

Without thinking, he leaned closer to you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your skin, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice trembling.

You nodded, and the next moment, his lips were on yours, soft and hesitant at first but quickly growing more confident as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. It was everything you’d imagined – and more.

When he pulled back, his face remained close, breath mingling with yours in the quiet space of your room. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“Me too,” you whispered, your heart still racing.

After that, you were no longer just best friends. You were something more, something that had been quietly building for years, just waiting for the right moment to finally come to life. Now as you stood in the packed arena years later, watching him take to the ice, you felt the past and present intertwine.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, a few slipping down your cheeks despite yourself. Will stopped along the glass in the corner, looking up into the section where you sat. For a split second, your eyes met, and even from a distance, you could see the brightness and unmistakable joy in his gaze. He gave you guys a small wave before looking back to the ice, taking a playful hit from his teammate.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered, squeezing Grace’s hand.

The game itself was a blur of excitement and nerves. Every time Will touched the puck, your breath caught. You watched him fight for possession, skate with the kind of speed and agility that only came from years of practice.

The first two periods were played well by the Sharks, with them taking a 4-1 lead, but the game soon slipped closer together towards the end of the third. When the Blues tied it with 45 seconds remaining, your heart tensed, the end of regulation buzzer echoing in a silent arena. Will didn’t see the ice in overtime when the Blues ended the game within the first 40 seconds of extra time. A collective groan sounded through out the arena, fans quickly clearing out.

Your heart sank, knowing how much this moment meant to Will. You watched as the team walked down the hall to the locker room, heads hung in disappointment. You spotted Will, Macklin patting him on the back, a small gesture of solidarity, but you could see how much it stung for both of them. They had given their all, but sometimes that wasn’t enough.

Fans continued to flow out of the stands, the usual post-game chatter was quieter, a stark contrast to the earlier excitement. A staff member instructed you to stay in the stands while Will changed and did media. You stood with his family, exchanging hugs, and offering words of comfort, but your eyes kept flicking back to the tunnel, waiting for him.

Minutes felt like hours, until finally you spotted Will climbing the steps into the stands, changed back into his game-day suit, his damp hair falling in curls over his forehead. His face was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, but the moment he spotted his family, a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Will made his way toward you all, the arena now almost empty except for a few lingering staff members. Colleen was the first to meet him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, and he buried his face into her shoulder for a moment, letting out a deep breath. Bill clapped him on the back, offering a few quiet words of encouragement. Grace was next, standing on her tiptoes to hug her brother, whispering something in his ear that made him smile faintly despite everything.

And then, his eyes found yours.

For a second, you weren’t sure if you should say anything, if you should be the one to comfort him after a loss like this. But when he stepped closer, his body radiating exhaustion and vulnerability, you knew he needed you. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head as you hugged him back, tighter than you ever had before.

“You played amazing,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He didn’t say anything at first, just held you closer, as if drawing strength from your presence. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, but you could feel the tension in his muscles, the disappointment lingering in the air.

“That fucking sucked,” he finally muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I wanted to win so badly.”

“I know,” you replied softly, rubbing his back in slow, comforting circles. “But you’ll get another chance. Tonight wasn’t the end.”

You felt Will shake his head. “I could’ve done more, I should’ve gotten on the sheet.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hand resting gently on his chest. His eyes were a mix of frustration and exhaustion, still tinged with the adrenaline from the game. “Will, it’s not all on you. It’s a team game — you know that. You can’t carry it all on your shoulders.”

He exhaled sharply, his hands still holding you close as if he was afraid to let go. “Yeah, but… I wanted to, you know? I wanted to prove something.” His voice faltered, and the vulnerability in his expression tugged at your heart. You could see how much this moment meant to him—not just the game, but his debut, this night he'd dreamed of since he was a kid. And even though the team had lost, all you could see was how proud you were of him.

“You did,” you said, your voice steady and sure. You brushed back a lock of blonde hair that fell over his eyes. “You proved that you belong here. And not just to everyone else, but to yourself. This is just the beginning, Will.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the weight of your words settling in. You could see the way his tense shoulders started to relax, his grip on you loosening ever so slightly as if he was finally allowing himself to believe it too. A small smile, soft and tired, tugged at his lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

You smiled back, leaning into his touch. “Good thing you don’t have to find out.”

Will let out a small chuckle, the sound lightening the weight between you. “I can’t believe you came all the way from Boston for this.”

“Of course I did, Will. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you smiled.

“I love you,” he breathed out, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It was warm and soft and tasted faintly of the Gatorade he’d probably chugged all game, and it was everything you needed to feel how much this moment meant to him.

When you finally pulled away, Will kept you close to him, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “For always believing in me.”

“Always,” you promised.

#will smith hockey #will smith #will smith imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #san jose sharks #fluff #childhood friends to lovers #ws02 #`✦ˑ ✒️ 𓂃⊹ my works

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sunsetchicane · 3 months ago

Note

I love your post card series! Could I request Oscar with rodeo reader where they’re penpals and Oscar subscribes to the cowboy channel (that’s actually what it’s called) to watch his penpal and rodeo reader starts to watch f1 and then she gets invited to Austin?

love letters [OP81]

oscar piastri x fem!barrel racer!reader [from southern US]

word count: 4.2k

summary: The one where you meet a certain racing driver as you're both starting your careers and you decide to keep in touch.

warnings: fluff, fluff, oh and a little more fluff! angst maybe if you squint and tilt your head

author's note: To my dearest anon, this is MY love letter to YOU. Thank you for requesting this and letting me write about the rodeo; it brought me back to when I was just a little girl and was oddly healing?? Sorry for being a sap lol! I hope this is to your liking :) Feedback, comments, reposts, and likes are always appreciated!!! Peace and love babes. [xoxo elle]

“Speed. Agility. Determination. This barrel racing pair is one for the ages and the crowd here today knows it,” Janie Johnson says, a bright smile on her face while she stares down the barrel of the camera.

She turns her attention over shoulder when the crowd’s cheers hit a crescendo. You’ve just rode out into the arena, the American flag streaming by your side while you gallop around. Chants and cheers of your name fly from the mouths of onlookers, swallowing everything into a thunderous roar. For this moment, the entire world is yours. The other top riders follow you out into the dirt of the arena, hands waving and smiles flashing. There’s nothing quite like being at the rodeo.

“And there she is, our winner today and her beautiful horse, Sweet Tea,” Janie says, unable to look away from the way you and your horse run the perimeter. You take your time, soaking up the glory of another win.

You fly through your post-race duties, one thought constant in your mind: you have to write your letter to Oscar. It’s sort of a silly tradition, but you’ve been doing it for ages. After a rodeo weekend or a race weekend for him, you both would write each other a letter explaining everything in careful detail. You loved it. Even though the information about the rodeo and the race would be released ages before the letters arrived in your respective mailboxes, it was still amazing to hear about things from his perspective and explain your’s to him.

So, once everything is loaded up and you��re back on the road, you lean yourself back in your seat with a pen and pad of paper in your lap trying to put everything you’re feeling into words. Though your sports were different in a lot of ways, there were similarities that pulled the two of you together. The pressure, the adrenaline, the rush of a win. It’s what made you two so close even though there were vast oceans separating you.

As you write, you can’t help but reminisce on the first time you ever wrote one of these letters. It was years ago, just as you started pro barrel racing. It was a rodeo early in the season. You were dressed and ready for your pool. Sweet Tea was edgy and nervous and so were you. You were the rookie pair that year, just a five year old horse and an 18 year old jockey. You remember that you felt way in over your head that day as you watched the vets take on the arena.

To ease both of your nerves, you led Sweet Tea on a walk. Whispering to her with your head low, you didn’t even notice the group walk up in front of you. The voice of your manager made you tip your head up, looking at him under the brim of your hat. He smiled at you and introduced you to a group of young, thin, pale looking boys. He explained that they were from a Formula 3 team called Prema. You’d never heard of Formula anything before.

Your manager led the group of boys away after some small talk. They were nice enough, but you didn’t need any distractions. Just as the last of the boys followed your manager to your stalls, you thought you were free to go about walking Sweet Tea again.

“What’s your horse's name?” An unfamiliar voice with an unfamiliar accent said. You don’t get much for foreign accents at the rodeo, so it took you by surprise. Your eyes met his brown ones. His brown hair was cut short on the sides and the top drooped down over his forehead. He donned a white t-shirt that displayed the word “PREMA” in red, coupled with a pair of blue jeans and sneakers. It was the first of the few times that you’d seen Oscar Piastri in person. The memory lives clear and bright in your mind.

“Sweet Tea,” you answered him in a clipped voice. You were still uppity about your impending race and Oscar was quickly becoming a distraction.

“Sweet Tea,” he echoed while taking a few steps closer. Tightening your grip on her reins, you waited for her to spook.

“Wait-” you began to warn Oscar as he crept in closer. But you were swiftly cut off when all Sweet Tea did was bray and huff at him. You were nothing short of shocked. She rarely took to anyone, but she seemed to immediately like him. It made you curious.

“You can pet her, if you want,” you encouraged him while continuing to gauge Sweet’s reaction. Together, the two of you stroked the soft brown of her coat. You could tell that her mood was suddenly a lot sunnier, the moodiness exiting her body as you and Oscar brushed your hands over her.

“What’s your name?” you asked after a while.

“Oscar,” he replied, his eyes darting up to meet yours over Sweet Tea’s head. For a moment, you studied his face. He looked perfectly calm, peaceful even, in the intense atmosphere that surrounded you. It didn’t surprise you that Oscar’s tranquil nature helped to set Sweet’s nerves at ease. His demeanor was even helping you.

“She likes you,” you said, giving him a small smile while you dragged your hand over your horse’s nose.

“I hope so,” he said, his eyes flicking from you to Sweet and then back up.

Everything after that was history.

You and Sweet Tea ran better than you ever had, placing in the top three. It was your best result yet and set you up for success for the rest of the weekend. You saw Oscar every day of the rodeo. He would stop by to say hello to you and Sweet Tea while you were prepping for a race or catch you after your pool. Awkward teenage conversation fell away quickly, giving way to long, easy conversations.

On Sunday, you and Sweet Tea took it all. It was a huge payday which would boost the rest of your season. You were on cloud nine. Oscar walked with you while you led your horse back to the trailer. Back and forth you talked about the race and how it felt. You were so glad to have someone to talk to about all this. You used to talk to your grandpa about everything, dissecting the race and your rides with him. He’s the one who taught you how to race. But, he died shortly before the season started. He never got to watch you race at this level and you didn’t have him to talk to anymore.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you said while turning away and adjusting your hat, suddenly embarrassed at yourself. Oscar wasn’t a rodeo kid. He probably didn’t care how tight your turns around the barrels were or how responsive Sweet was today.

“No,” he said, quickly cutting you off. “It’s alright. I like to listen.”

Not convinced, you stayed silent.

“It sounds a lot like how I feel when I race, you know. So, I get it,” he admitted then, his shoulders coming up into a shrug. You eyed him from under your hat, glad for the way the wide brim covered most of your face.

“I used to talk to my grandpa about this stuff,” the words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. If it would have been anyone else, you would have died from embarrassment. But, Oscar just blinked at you and waited patiently for you to elaborate.

“You remind me of him,” as you said it, you want to punch yourself in the face. You really went two embarrassing moments for two that day.

“Thank you?” he said, a small chuckle coating his words. He smiled at you so warmly that it thawed the icy shame in your chest slightly.

“I just mean that,” you tried to salvage what you thought was meant to be a compliment but just came out really weird. “You’re a good listener, like him.”

Oscar nodded, his small smile still on his lips. His perpetually tired-looking eyes were soft and kind while he watched you walk your horse. You believe that it was in that moment that you became friends, good friends.

Coming up on your trailer, you slowed your pace, wanting to prolong your last moments with your new friend. Feelings that had been growing steadily over the weekend were at their peak, downing you in an intense feeling of longing. If you could do anything to never let him leave your side ever again, you would do it. In a heartbeat. In the span of just a few days, you’d grown so close that it felt like there’d never been a time where you didn’t know him. Friendly affection wasn’t an apt description of what passed between the two of you. A four letter word danced around in your teenage mind. But you couldn’t say that to him. You’d only known him for 72 hours.

“We leave tonight,” Oscar said then, shoving the toe of his shoe into the grass. You leaned into Sweet Tea, stroking her neck and avoiding looking at your brand new best friend–your brand new obsession. Emotion roared like a tide inside of you, threatening to spill out from your eyes in tears and from your mouth in a confession.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” your voice was thick with your southern accent. It always got heavier when you were emotional.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. Your eyes flicked to his then, taking in the soft look that graced his features. He seemed so sure of his words. It placed a little peace in you to know that he was just as intent on not letting go of the relationship you’d built as you were.

“Can I write to you?” you asked suddenly, not sure why this is the way you wanted to keep in contact with him. There was something inside of you that longed to write to him. Handwritten letters seemed deeply personal, intentional, everything that you wanted to convey to him.

“Write…like letters?” he asked, his small smile turning into an amused grin. Instead of becoming embarrassed at your suggestion, you held firm. Nodding at his question, you sent him a small smile. He shook his head a little and asked for your phone. You handed it to him and he typed in his contact, only filling out the address line and his name.

Once your phone was back in your possession, he said a goodbye to Sweet Tea while stroking her nose lovingly. She whinnied at his touch, tossing her head affectionately. Then he turned his attention to you, he stepped closer than he ever had. Invading your air, you thought he might kiss you. Your heart stopped for a moment, teenage love sending sparks across your eyes. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. Your arms slung easily over his shoulders, holding him close. You relished the feeling of his chest against yours, his breath against the back of your neck.

That’s the feeling that you’ve held onto over the last four years. It’s the feeling you hold close on lonely nights on the road. It’s the feeling you remember every time you pen a letter to your closest friend, wishing that you could’ve had the chance to be something more.

Over the years you’ve kept up with Formula racing, just for the sake of watching Oscar. Though, you’ve started to become quite the fan. Especially now, as Oscar is tearing it up for McLaren. He’s had an exceptional season. In his faithful letters, he writes in his subdued way about how thrilled he is about this season. His humility never fails to make you smile. It’s one of the things that makes him Oscar.

He also writes about watching you on the Cowboy Channel whenever he can. You’re always surprised and warmed when he includes details of your race or compliments your skills. His words, though concise, are eloquent in their own way. Whenever you read his letters, you can hear his voice in your head.

So, as you wrap up your letter, you’re already anticipating his response. Your eyes drift to the window once you’ve tucked everything away. The familiar rolling fields of perfectly parallel rows of crops lull you into a sleepy trance. Dreams of seeing Oscar again flood your mind when your eyes slide closed and fall comfortably asleep.

The final turn into your gravel driveway pulls you from your nap. You’d slept for nearly the entire drive. You’re warm from sleep, your eyes still heavy but your body feeling refreshed after a long weekend.

You and your small team unload the horses and the equipment quickly, desperate to return to your respective homes for a meal and your own bed. There’s nothing quite like returning to the ranch after a rodeo weekend. As you sling up your last saddle, you wonder if Oscar feels that way about home after a race weekend. You make a mental note to ask him about it in your next letter.

Before heading into your home, you run out to the mailbox and place your letter in it. Flipping the red flag of your mailbox up and walking away, you’re already anxiously awaiting his response.

Instead of dwelling on your letter and Oscar, which will definitely send you into an anxious tizzy, you decide to catch up on a couple of work related things to keep yourself distracted. Snuggled cozily into your bed after a long shower, you pull out your laptop and open your email. There are a dozen different unread emails from rodeo crews, journalists, and ranch staff. However, one unfamiliar sender catches your eye.

It’s from McLaren.

Ignoring everything else for the moment being, you rush to open the email. Rarely have you received emails from the McLaren F1 team. Every once in a while, they send you PR gifts or things of the like because of your connection with Oscar. But this one looks different. It’s more personal than that.

When your eyes read the contents of the document attached to the email, you nearly fall off your bed. It’s an official invitation from the McLaren team to join them as a guest for the Grand Prix in Austin the following week. Slack jawed, you mindlessly follow the directions on how to accept the offer. Nothing matters right now except for this.

After four years, you’re finally going to see Oscar again.

—

Walking onto the Paddock, you feel oddly at home. The hustle and bustle of a race weekend reminds you of your weekends at the rodeo. Team members and journalists and officials stream around you, everyone hellbent and on a mission. You’re swallowed into the excitement of it all, fading into just another body in the masses. It brings you peace that you weren’t sure you were going to find here.

“Miss?” a voice says from just behind you. Narrowing your attention to them, you turn around quickly. A small girl with bright blonde hair sends you a quick smile. She’s adorned with the bright papaya of McLaren. Her eyes drag from your hat-covered head to your boot-clad feet. Your light colored Wranglers hug your curves and flair out over your boots. A matching blazer covers your shoulders and the white button-up with the first few buttons undone. The look is complete by a dark orange, silk bandana tied loosely to one of your belt loops. You know you look like the epitome of country, but it was all intentional.

The McLaren employee confirms who you are before offering to lead you to the garage. Swallowing hard, you trail behind her, cutting your way through the sea of people. Nerves dance around in your stomach. You feel like you’re back on top of Sweet Tea the day you met Oscar, wide-eyed and anxious as all get out. But there’s something deeper that keeps you moving, a desire–a need–to see Oscar again. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of for years.

Every letter has been in preparation for this moment. Every word you’ve ever written to him saying the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say all those years ago. For the past week you’ve been rehearsing exactly how you’re going to tell the love of your life that you’ve fallen for him, that you’ve loved him since you were just 18. There’s nothing that could stop you, not even the fear of rejection. Four years of longing have put you in indescribable agony. There has to be some sort of resolve, good, bad, or otherwise. Today is the day that you’re going to share the one secret that you’ve ever kept from him.

The blonde employee, Julia, leads you into the garage and begins introducing you to the team. Smiling and snapping photos with some people, you lose count of how many names you’re told and hands you shake. Not that you’re really trying to keep track, your mind being pulled in a different direction. Desperately, your eyes scan the small garage for the only face that really matters.

You’re in the middle of discussing your latest race with one of the engineers when some movement from the back of the garage steals away your attention. A mop of brown hair and a dashing smile that you’d never forget comes into view. He’s rounding the car, chatting with his engineers and crew while laughing. He’s dressed in his race suit, the arms tied around his waist and showing off his skin tight fireproofs. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him. The rest of the world fades into a blur while your living, breathing dream shimmers like a mirage in front of you.

Finally, finally, he turns around with the soft smile that you’ve missed so much on his face. From across the garage, over the massive car between you, you lock eyes. Tears spring to your eyes as his jaw goes slack. You barely have time to blink or breathe before he jerks into action. He’s rounding the car in a hurry, whispering rushed apologies as he gently shoves people out of his way. You break away from your conversation with an ‘excuse me,’ meeting Oscar halfway.

The force of his hug knocks your hat clear off your head, but you hardly notice as he sweeps you up off the floor and into his arms. His arms, which are much larger than you remember, strangle you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. His face presses roughly into the crook of your neck. Smiling like a fool, you keep your arms wrapped around his neck, never wanting to let go.

When he finally sets you back down, you pull only one hand away to wipe furiously at the tears that have slipped out of your eyes. Sniffing, you laugh at what a mess you’ve become. But when you look up to find Oscar’s tear rimmed eyes and bright smile, you can’t help but choke on another sob.

His hands are still on your waist while you try to sort yourself out. Eyes shining, you take him in fully. He’s so grown. He’s tall and broad and all man. Except for his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, and his boyish smile. Those two things have stayed the same. Looking at them now, it’s like your past and your future have collided and coalesced into one man. Sighing, you shove him playfully in the chest.

“When did you go and get all grown up?” you say, your voice thick with emotion. He captures your hand on his chest, taking it into his own. With his fingers wrapped around yours, you feel perfectly at home. A slight blush has crept into his cheeks, painting a soft rose across his ivory skin. Your chest squeezes at the sight.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says quietly while reaching down to pick up your hat. Playfully, he shoves it back onto your head with a small smile.

For a couple of comfortable seconds, you just stand there in each other’s presence. Soaking in everything he is, you bask in the moment. He’s here with you. Finally. And the way he’s looking at you with those brilliant brown eyes makes you feel like not a day has passed since he left. The feeling that was born inside of you when you were 18, is reborn with double the intensity. Your love for the man in front of you is overflowing; it’s drowning you.

“Do you have a minute?” you ask after a while, your eyes darting around to the crowd around you. Oscar snaps back into reality with you, following your gaze to the stray looks you’ve been getting. Nodding, he leads you by the hand back to his driver’s room.

It’s a tiny space, just big enough for a couch and a small closet. But it’s private enough to have the conversation you’ve been equally needing and dreading. Oscar sits next to you on the tiny couch, his side pressed into yours. You can’t tell if the contact makes you more nervous or sets you at ease. For as many times as you’ve thought about and planned for this moment, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

Fiddling nervously with the hem of your bandana, you avoid looking your friend in the eyes. But, you can feel him staring at you. Suddenly, a large hand closes around both of yours, causing you to cease your fidgeting. Turning your eyes to his, you take in the crease between his brows and the small frown that pulls at the corners of his lips.

“Is everything alri-” he begins but you’re quick to cut him off.

“Ah, hell,” you mumble quickly, making a knee jerk decision.

With both hands you grab him by the neck and yank his face to yours. His head knocks your hat back on your head, giving you enough space to kiss him. Pressing your unmoving lips to his, you hold him there in desperation.

So much for the carefully crafted speech that you’ve spent four years on.

For a couple heart wrenching seconds, he doesn’t move. He’s gone completely still under your hands, his lips slightly parted in shock. Shame pools low in your stomach as you begin to pull away. But your heartbreak lasts only a split second before his hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you in place while he bursts into action.

His kiss is just as desperate as you feel. Pressing into each other with all the passion you’ve been harboring for four years, you’re both consumed by the heat of the moment. Your head swims as his lips glide against yours, his tongue skimming over your bottom lip before pressing deeper.

His free hand reaches out, grabbing your knee to haul you onto his lap. Sliding home over his muscular thighs, you sigh into his mouth. Nothing has ever felt more right. Perfection doesn’t do Oscar justice. He’s everything.

He holds your waist tight between his large hands while your kiss slows down. Lazily, you suck at his bottom lip while he chases you backward. Once again his chest is on yours, your memory flicking back to the last time you saw him. You knew then that you were his, and he was yours. Nothing could keep you apart, especially not now.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and voice soft. You’d never been one to beat around the bush; so why even try when it matters most?

The payoff is better than you could have ever hoped. Oscar doesn’t waste a second before both of his hands cup either side of your face, holding a searing kiss to your lips. He’s firm but kind. He’s Oscar.

“I love you,” he replies breathlessly after a couple seconds.

Your heart soars, leaving your soul in outer space. Seeing stars, you lean your forehead against his, a small laugh bubbling from your chest. Oscar chuckles with you, his chest rumbling under your hands. Pulling back slightly, you take your time to just look at him. Soft brown eyes meet yours and there’s a look there that you know you mirror with your own gaze. Affection, longing, love.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know,” you accuse while adjusting your hat on your head. Oscar’s mouth falls open slightly, faux offense coming over his features.

“You’re the one who kissed me!” he accuses right back. “I was all prepared, too. But someone was just over eager to jump my bones.”

Pinching his side playfully, you watch gleefully as he yelps. Shushing him quietly, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. Silently, an agreement that this was far better than any words you could have said passes between you.

Shaking his head, he settles his arms around your waist and smiles despite himself. With callused fingers, you trace constellations between his freckles. Your heart sings and you wonder how you were ever able to stand being away from him. With Oscar next to you, with his breath on your face, and with his smile for just you, you know that this is it for you.

Four years have been spent dreaming of him. Now, the rest of your life will be spent dreaming with him.

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lilbitdepressed27 · 7 months ago

Text

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader The Hunger Games AU

Warnings: angst kinda, torture

WC: 4.6k

Author’s note: to the anon who requested it hope you like it and again sorry for the wait. Sorry for any mistakes:)

The quietness of distract 4 was peaceful. You had been in your house. The house you had gotten after winning the 73rd annual game. You had won the game due to luck. It had always been luck when it came down to you in those games. The person you had become in that arena was someone you feared. Someone you hated.

But you had lived. By some miracle. You survived. You won.

"Have you seen the victory tour the winners of last years are doing." Your best friends voice echoed through your art room.

"Not really. But from what I have seen. Their love seems kinda forced." You set down your paint brushes turning around to see your best friend, Anika standing there. She had been your rock in the games. She was the one of the only reasons, you had to fight. She was the only family you had. Apart of your mentor. Who was a lovely elderly woman. Anika was more of sister to you. As soon as you came back home. You had her move in with you.

"Well even if it is. It's what saved their asses. But that's not what I came for. Here." Anika had a smirk on her face as she handed you a letter.

You couldn't fight the smile that formed on your lips as you took the letter. The envelope had one letter.

You already knew who it was from. It had been a week since you last heard from her. With Anika making herself busy. You opened the envelope taking out the letter.

You said in your last letter that what we have is something one wishes for. You are such a sap for that and I love it. I miss you like crazy. It's unfortunate we can't see each other as much as we want. But I always look forward to every single moment we do. S says something is changing. And she's not sure if it's good. But I want you to be careful. I need you safe. I love you.

The letters were always written in a way no one could find suspicious if they were to be found. You had met Tara Carpenter during your own victory tour. You were in distract 3 it had been after you addressed the Daniel of the fallen tributes. It was then when you saw her. She was from distract three and a previous victor. She had caught your eye, it had felt like love at first sight. Something you never believed in until you met her. Ever since then you both had been sending each other letters. On rare occasions seeing each other secretly.

"How is she?"

"She's good. I think the rebellion is a lot more serious than we thought." Folding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. Getting up to lock it in your safe where you kept all her letters.

"Well from what's been shown, especially in district 11. I wouldn't be surprised. Ever since that poor little girl was killed it was like something shifted."

"Yea she's one of many unfortunate kids that had been killed in these stupid games. The way Katniss was in the games has moved the people of the district's. The care and protectiveness she showed for Rue. It was something never been seen in the games." You had remembered seeing the little girl get killed. It had been a heart wrenching moment. She had been too pure for those stupid games.

Anika remembered everything when she watched your games. The 73rd annual games had been different from all the others. Having been set in a snowy environment. Some of the tributes dying from the cold brutal weather. She remembered seeing you scared, you had almost been killed by someone from district 7. She remembers crying wanting to look away from the sight but she couldn't look away. The man from district 7 and you were that last two. She had watched how you fought with everything you had. How you struggled to get him off you. How the knife dug into your shoulder. The scream that ripped from your lips. It was a sound she had never heard before. A sound she would never forget. You were her sister. It was something she would never forget.

A part of her, the selfish part, was glad you no longer had to put your name in the games.

You were sat in your living room with Anika. Watching as the yearly announcement began. Watching as Snow looked at his note cards before looking at camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the hunger games. And it was written in the charter of the games, that every 25 years, there would be a quarter quell to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died. In the uprising against the capitol. Each quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. And now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol. On this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and Female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district."

You felt like the air had been punched out from your lungs. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. It couldn't be. It wasn't fair. You fought so hard the first time, with the promise that if you won, you would never have to step foot in an arena again.

"No. No! You were supposed to be done. It's not fair!"

All you could do was try to comfort your best friend. Knowing that the reaping was what followed.

Standing between Mags and Annie. Previous winners from past games. On the other side of Effie Trinket. Stood Finnick Odir and Dwight Riley. Mags Flanagan was the eldest Victor from district 4. She had been your mentor during your games. A part of you did not want her to go back to those games. You knew deep down that she wouldn't survive. And you knew Annie couldn't. She wouldn't.

A part of you hoped, prayed that Tara's name wasn't called. But you knew better. Not only was Tara's name in a similar bowl. But so was her sisters. Sam's name had been drawn when Tara was too young to volunteer in her sisters place. District 3 was the only district to have two victors be female siblings. If Sam's name was called and Tara would volunteer, there was nothing Sam could do.

"Welcome, welcome as we celebrate, the 75th anniversary and third quarter quill of the hunger games. As always ladies first."

"Mags Flanagan."

You heard Annie's breath hitch. Before she could even do anything, you weren't sure what was going through her mind. You were quicker. Stepping up and looking straight at Effie.

"I volunteer as tribute."

Ignoring the pleading looks from Anika and now Mags.

"Thank you for volunteering for Mags."

You were brought out of your thoughts. Finnick had sat next to you. You knew Finnick cared deeply about Mags. You also knew that the older victor cared about Mags. Mags was a treasure to distract 4. No one wanted her back in games. You sure as hell didn't. You didn't know who else was going to be at the games until you reached the capitol. Part of you hoped. Prayed you didn't see Tara. But then if you didn't see Tara. You'd see her sister. Sam.

"You would have done the same if you could. Have they aired who's going to be in the games?"

"No, you both won't find out until we get to the capital. Now we have to talk it's about what's gonna happen in that arena." Dewey, a victor from district 4 said as he walked into the room. His face showing nothing but determination.

You weren't sure how this was going to happen. You didn't know if this plan was even going to work. But it had to. These games couldn't continue. Seeing how far Snow was going to get rid of Katniss Everdeen it was a show of how much power this man really had. You were in the dressing room with Finnick, the stylist was doing his job with Finnick. You had already been finished. It wouldn't be long before you would have to make your way to the carriages, this tribute parade felt completely different from the first time you were in the games.

While Finnick was getting ready you stepped out of the room. The halls were as could be expected. Busy. Even though the halls were busy the people didn't even give you glimpse which you were thankful for. You need to find the people of district 3. You needed to find either Tara or Sam.

Making your way down the hall, seeing some of the other tributes. Most of them you knew on a more friendly way. Like the female victor from distract 7, Amber Freeman. She was a feisty, but yet brutal.

You were pulled out of your thoughts, quite literally, when someone gripped your wrist and pulled you into a dimly lit room.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" A whisper filled with anger and concern. But it was a voice you missed. A voice a part of you wished you didn't hear. Cause now she was in danger. Even with that plan that had been set. You couldn't help but to pull her in. Taking the short woman into your arms. Missing the warmth she had always gave you. You felt the moment she basically melted in your arms. Her arms wrapping around your bare waist

"I'm still angry you're here. You were supposed to be sa-I'd rather be here with you." You cupped Tara's cheeks. Looking into the dark brown eyes that quickly became your favorite. If Tara was here it meant that she had volunteered for Sam.

"Gosh you're such a sap. But I love you for it." Tara had fallen for you the first time she had met you. From the beginning she had shared a bond with you. Something she had never felt, as happy as she was to be in your arms again. The worry that you will also be in the games had grown. She had to have you by her side. She didn't care about no one else in that arena. Just you. And if she had to kill everyone else so be it. You. You had to live.

The air was tense. You could feel it. The training room was filled with all the tributes. You had separated from Finnick. Remembering the plan. To make allies. All you knew was, for a fact to have Tara by your side. You had to keep her safe. You knew she was capable of taking care of herself, she had been the victor to win the games the quickest. Killing the last tribute by stabbing the tribute from district 9 in his mouth with a knife.

Tara was a force to be reckoned with.

"That's a good fishing hook."

You looked away from your work, seeing the girl on fire. Seeing her in person was a whole lot different from seeing her on the projector. She looked like any other teenager. In times like these you kinda of forgot how young Katniss and Peeta really were. At the end you were basically the same age.

"Thank you Katniss."

"It was a noble thing to do for Mags."

"She's like a mother to me. I wasn't going to let her go through this again." You finished the hook and offered a small smile towards the brunette. "You wanna learn? It looks hard but it's pretty easy." Sparing a look at Tara who was busy talking to Peeta. Remembering that these victors from district 12 had no idea of the plan that had been set in play.

"Yea." She said with a small smile. Accepting the help from the other victor.

Even with everyone trying their best to stop the games. There was no sopping the inevitable. Which was why you found yourself at the edge of the arena with Katniss, Peeta, Finnick. Tara had been separated with her partner from the start. Which had killed you. Every time that cannon went it brought fear, dread. You were supposed to be with Tara. Make sure to watch her back like you're supposed to. But she had promised, swore that she'd be okay.

"I promise, I'll be okay." Tara had looked up at you as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Playing with your hair at the back of your neck. Her eyes filled with nothing but love. Her smile gracing her face as she looked at you. Her dimples on display for you to lightly kiss. You absolutely loved her dimples. From the moments you shared together, there was never a moment you didn't take the opportunity to kiss her dimples.

From the sight of the blush on her cheeks, you knew she liked the light kisses as well. "I worry. I'm scared if I'm honest." Your own arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. "I can't lose you Tara."

Her hands moved to your cheeks. Gently caressing your cheeks.

"And you won't. We will see each other again." She had sounded so confident, so sure that nothing could separate each other.

And Tara had been sure. When she reunited with you on the beach, she had never felt so happy and relieved. The sound of the canons going off had truly been frightening to hear, not knowing if you were okay. You had clearly not cared that she was covered in blood when you hugged her. Ignoring the confused looks from everyone else. She had hugged you just as tight.

Letting you help her wash off all the blood she had on herself. "Hey, you okay?" Drawing your attention away from her hair as she tilted her head back slightly to look up at you. Watching as you looked away towards the others and then back to her.

"Yea, just-Tara, Y/n come on we have a plan."

Tara should have pushed for you to answer, with chaos that followed she had been so certain that everything would go according to plan. Maybe with some bumps, but adamant that you would okay. The explosion had been loud, hot, she had felt her body flying through the air from the force of it all. Losing you in the middle of all the chaos, her back hitting something solid before her would went dark.

The sound of voices yelling had been what startled her awake. The immense pain coming from her leg had her crying out.

"Tara, hey it's okay, you're okay."

Her eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Trying to regularize her erratic breathing. Opening her eyes, she noticed, that she was now on a hovercraft. Looking towards where she heard the sound of a familiar voice.

"Sam?"

Offering a small smile, the older Carpenter was stood right next to where her sister was laid. Preparing herself what she had to do. "Hey sis, you did good out there."

The smile Tara had was short lived when she realized you were missing. You would have been right next to her, should have been tight next to her the moment she woke up. But your presence was absent. Unless you were hurt.

"Where's Y/n? Is she hurt?" Seeing the way Sam was avoiding her eyes she knew it couldn't be anything good. You were probably really hurt. Really hurt if you weren't in the room with her. Tara's mind was running all types of scenarios. All of them causing her heart to race in a type of panic.

"Tara, Y/n's tracker was still in her arm when the explosion happened. Amber was able to take Katniss's out but Y/n was fighting with the victors from district 2 Jill Roberts and Charlie Walker." Sam wasn't sure how to tell her sister. That the girl her little sister was madly in love with was-

"Sam! Where's Y/n?" The question was repeated but this time with more aggression that was deeply laced with fear, a clear sign of Tara wanting to know where you be located. She sat up the pain of her broken leg that shooting up her spine

"Tara." The hands on her shoulders were firm. "Y/n didn't make it out of the arena, she was taken to the capitol along with Peeta."

"Tell us where they took Katniss Everdeen and the rest of the victors."

Your head hang loosely, your wrist were red and sore from bulling on your restraints. The torture you were enduring was too intense for your body. But you would not crack. You'd never say anything. You heard them doing the same thing to Peeta.

"I don't know." You mumbled. Your hair was roughly pulled back, a groan escaping your lips.

"Lies!"

"I don't know." You said through gritted teeth. The hold this guard had on your hair was getting more painful as the seconds passed by.

"You won't talk, we will make you talk."

Tara had been restless the moment they had landed at District 13. She was angry, worried, she couldn't imagine what the capitol was doing to you. The torture you were for sure being inflicted upon. Just the thought of you being in pain was causing her eyes to fill with tears.

"I have to get her back." Tara sat up on her bed and got out. Getting her crutches to find the people in charge. She didn't care that her leg was broken and that it would take up to three to six months.

Leaving the room only to see Katniss Everdeen talking to Finnick. Seeing Finnick, Tara wanted nothing more than to punch him. He was the one that was supposed to cut out your tracker. With that in mind her blood shot red eyes narrowed as she made her way to the taller boy.

"We will get them back. I promise you that." Katniss had seen the fire in the shorter girls eyes. Knowing that Tara was about to take her anger out on Finncik. Just like she had done. She could relate to the anger, to worry that Tara was feeling. She had seen the embrace Tara had shared with you back on that beach. The way they looked at each other. It was a way no friends did. Let alone victors that were in game that was kill or be killed.

Tara looked away from the blonde man. Looking at the tall girl, "How? They're in the capital Katniss. Who knows what that asshole is putting them through."

Placing a hand on the short girls shoulder. "We will get them back."

You have never felt so hungry. So sore, you were sure you had a few broken bones. The guards had just finished one of their daily beatings. Your body covered in bruises, cuts and welts. Your back burned like crazy, preventing you from laying on your back. You had no tears left to cry, but yet you still felt so scared.

They asked you about Katniss, the rebellion, Peeta, the games, the plan. Tara. They kept on asking about Tara. That's what scared you. You didn't know where Tara was at. Or if she was even alive. You weren't even sure what day it was. Or how longs it's been since you saw Tara.

You barely registered that Peeta's screams had stopped. He had been suffering his own type of torture.

You knew they had forced Peeta to speak to Ceasar.

"Peeta?"

His sobbing stopped, the sounds of his whizzing breath was all that was heard. "...I warned Katnisss."

You didn't even know what was happening out there. But you knew from the way the guards were acting it was bad. The sound of footsteps had you mentally preparing you for what's to come. Waiting for what horrors of the day awaited you

Seeing the men in masks barging into the room. Seeing the cart filled with the tools they were going to use. The fear growing in your stomach at the sight of the different syringes. You tried to fight. You always did, never making it easy for them. It always lead to you being brutally beaten. You once had succeeded in hitting one guard in his private area. Being able to take his weapon, beating him and the other guard in with the baton. You had tried to retrieve the keycard, but you hadn't gotten far. Only making it to the front of Peeta's cell, ignoring Peeta's pleas to leave him before more guards arrived.

The punishment you received the days that followed had been horrible. The pain that you were put in those days had almost killed you.

All you wanted now was to see Tara again. All you wanted was Tara.

Sam, Amber, Chad, Ethan and Gale had all been in the hovercraft. Sam had promised her sister that she'd bring you back to her. Although a part of her was afraid on what they were going to find. The small window that was open while the Capitols defenses were down. They were using said window to recuse you and Peeta.

Amber had demanded to go as well. She had felt guilty, it had been her job to take out your tracker. If Finnick was unable to do so. Tara had wanted to go as well. But she was not allowed. Not when her leg that was still broken.

The silence had been chilling. No one single guard was in sight as they stormed the halls. Clearing, searching every room they passed. The dread that filled her heart every single second that passed. She had to locate you.

"Holy shit, Sam I found her." Amber's voice brought her out of her head. She hurried towards Amber, only to see her next to someone that didn't even look like you. What scared her was that it looked like you weren't breathing.

"Sam is she breathing?"

She had forgotten that Tara was able to see from the live feed that her helmet was recording. Before she could answer the lights in the once dark was now bright. The night vision goggles that she had on became almost blinding. The static coming from her ear was enough for her to know that the connection back home was lost.

Tara paced, the best she could with a broken leg. It has been two hours since they lost connection with the Sam and the others. She didn't have a chance to see you. Amber's camera had cut off before she could see you.

"Tara, they've arrived. They rushed Peeta, Annie and Y/n to the hospital wing." Sidney said from her position at the desk that overlooked everything.

Tara didn't wait, moving as quickly as she possibly could. Passing Katniss who was also quick to find Peeta. She didn't care about anyone, just you. Before she reach the doors that hopefully lead to you she was stopped.

"No, Sam. Move. Get out of my way." She tried to get around her but the firm hands on her shoulders had stopped her.

"She's in surgery right now Tara. You can't go in." Seeing the way her sisters eyes were filled with tears. The clear desperation of wanting to get to you. "I know you want to see her but we have to let the doctors work."

The next five hours dragged on. With no updates on you was making Tara feel like she was going crazy. Until the doctor finally came out. She was out of her seat in no time.

"She's stable, she suffered a lot from the hands of the capitol. She has three fractured ribs, a broken wrist, she severely malnourished, her back is filled with lacerations, some barely healed and others, if not most fresh. She's in room four, go on ahead."

The pain felt like it was all over your body. Your back felt like it was burning. The emptiness in your stomach felt so painful. Your arm, your ribs, the pain was everywhere. It was almost too much. The burning sensation of your irises at the bright lights that shinned down on you.

You couldn't remember what happened. The last thing that you did remember was the guards storming into your cell. That had been the last thing you remembered.

A warm hand taking yours was what brought you out of your head. The pain momentarily easing as you opened your eyes once again. The room was now dimly lit. Your eyes looking down at your hand, the one that was being held. But you had been through this so many times. The relief that always flooded your body at the sight of your beautiful brunette. Only to have it ripped from you. They only used tracker jackers venom on you a few times. But it had been enough for you to break.

"Hey baby." Her voice was just like before. Expect this time, she had some faded bruises. Not like other times when her face was clear of any harm.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Refusing to give into the venom. Yet there was nothing you could do when it came to tracker jacker venom. The hallucinations always seemed so real. Like how Tara always appeared in your hallucinations, but to blame you for leaving her behind. Always appearing to be de-, she would blame you. But this time it was different. This hallucinations was even holding your hand.

"Y/n?"

"You're not real."

Her heart broke, as tears filled her eyes at the sound of your voice. The strain of your voice, the denial that filled it. The way your voice cracked. Your eyes refused to open. The doctor had told her that you had traces of tracker jacker venom in your blood. "Y/n I'm real. I'm here. Open your eyes for me."

You squeezed your eyes tighter, until you felt the familiar warm sensation of her palms. You fought against your fears and opened your eyes. In your hallucinations Tara never touched you. But here she was. "T-Tara?"

The soft sob that escaped her lips, "Yea it's me baby. It's really me."

Seeing the familiar brown eyes, the safety that they brought had you bursting into tears. All the pain, the torture (physical and mental) it all came at you at once. Overwhelming you in a way you never imagined you'd feel.

Tara climbed on to the bed, the best she could without hurting you. Or her leg. Taking you into her arms, you didn't complain about any pain but she was still careful. You leaned closer into her arms. Her arms wrapping around you

"You're safe now. You're safe."

You were still struggling. Your bones felt weak, you felt drained with no energy. The doctors said that it was normal, seeing that it had only been two weeks since you were rescued. The fall of the capitol had happened a few days ago. Snow was dead, Finnick was dead as well. That had been hard to hear.

"Tara?"

Tara hadn't left your side at all. Helping you whenever she could. "Yea? Do you need anything? Water? Are you hun-I love you." The worry settled as it was replaced with the pure love she has for you. The love in your eyes was something she never got over.

"I love you to."

The games were permanently over. Life without the games was going to be different but she knew it was going a good type of different. A safer life with you was all she ever wanted.

And now she had it.

#tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #fem!reader #x reader #the hunger games au #Jenna Ortega character

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allisluv · 7 months ago

Note

blurb for finnick and the reader’s first public kiss in the arena? they’ve been secretly dating and the capitol has always seen them as ‘best friends.’ one night finnick couldn’t help him seeing her look so in the moonlight and he just pulled her in for a kiss.

shoreline.

summary: finnick kisses you in the arena, outing your relationship to the public.

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!victor!reader

content warnings: not proofread and probably not my best work, mostly fluff

The waves crash against the shore and the foam soaks the ankles of your wetsuit. You had offered to take the first watch while Peeta and Katniss slept, and Finnick had insisted on staying up with you.

Your fingers trace shapes in the damp sand and Finnick tilts his head to lock eyes with you.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?" Finnick asks, reaching up and running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbones.

You squirm under his intense gaze. It's like he can look right through you and see into your soul. "Nothing," you whisper innocently. Finnick fixes you with a look that says he believes otherwise. You manage to hold your ground for another few seconds before relenting. "I hate it here," you sigh.

"I know honey," he offers you a sad smile and falls quiet, running his thumb over your knuckles. "Would a kiss make you feel better? Cause you look real gorgeous in the moonlight baby," he grins.

Your eyes go wide and you itch to put some distance between the two of you. "People are watching," you point at the cameras hidden in the tall trees.

"Let them," Finnick shrugs. "I love you, honey. I'm tired of pretending I don't."

Your heart flutters in your chest and your insides turn to goo. "You are such a sap," your lips quirk upwards into a smile and you pull him into a kiss.

#the hunger games #grace talks🐚🌷#thg #headcanons #hcs #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #the hunger games x reader #hc #blurb #blurbs #finnick odair x you #fanfic #thg fanfic #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x y/n #writers of tumblr

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val-of-the-north · 9 months ago

Text

More observations for the trailer I am going insane!!!

I can't claim the original observation of this candle tree detail is mine, but it's from a Japanese Twitter user, here's a screenshot of the post and a link to it as well [x]

The rest of this observation IS mine though, so let's get to it:

With all the talk of cardinal sin, Messmer having a few parallels to Lucifer as pointed out by some friends of mine [x] I have to wonder if he is the cause of a speculated first burning of the Erdtree.

If this is the first time you have heard about this concept, I'll give a short summary. You know how Leyndell is covered in ash by the time we reach it in-game, and how that goes unexplained? We know for a fact that must be the Erdtree's ashes because after we claim the Rune of Death and the Erdtree burns even more, the capital is entombed in it.

We are also told that the Age of Plenty, an age in which the Erdtree gave physical blessings from its sacred sap, swiftly came to a close and the tree had to be changed to simply an object of faith...

So the theory claims that the reason why the Age of Plenty ended so swiftly was due to the Erdtree being set on fire. In theory spaces, the go-to culprit for this speculated action has often been the Gloam-Eyed Queen, with her connections to fire (Blackflame specifically) and Destined Death, but now there's the possibility that this was all Messmer's doing after all. Promotional material and dialogue seems to really denote his affinity for scorching and setting things ablaze.

This probably also means he is the inventor of that scary flame construct that according to Miyazaki as per this interview [x] was an old war machine, no doubt used during this "unsung battle".

Another important part of Messmer's design is the two snakes, which point us back to the Age of Plenty! Godfrey likely ruled during and directly after that time, and the arenas were likely built because of him. It had to be during Godfrey's rule because by the time Radagon became Elden Lord the practices of the colosseums had died down, as told to us by the Ritual Sword and Shield Talismans:

One of the more interesting aspects of the gladiatorial battles that once took place is the snake symbolism on the gladiators' armor.

So the snake was a symbol of a generic "traitor to the Erdtree", and it predated Rykard's blasphemy by an entire age at least... so what if it wasn't generic at all and it represented Messmer himself? He might have been the perpetrator of a betrayal so foul that Marika removed all traces of his existence from her empire's history, but kept the symbol of the snake as a spiteful reminder of him and all other subsequent traitors. After all, she does seem to have power over which one of her children gets remembered or not, and if not her, then the collective of the Golden Order:

Do note that we don't know when she said this. It could have been while she was still at the height of her rule or right before the Shattering. What we do know for a fact is that the soulless demigods inside the Walking Mausoleums have no known history to speak of, which is quite unlike Godwyn, one of the more accomplished members of the family. So yeah, being forgotten by history might be something the Golden Order does to those they deem unfit, so Messmer could be a likely candidate for such treatment... except instead of doing nothing noteworthy he did TOO much lol.

Now I gotta wonder if Marika hated him more or less than her Omen babies. One could argue that locking them down in a sewer close to where she lives was done more as an obligation than any true resentment. She could have sent them to the Shadow Lands if she really wanted them gone and unaccessible, as that place seems filled with Crucible-related things...

I am not saying she was a good mother to them because she didn't kick them to the Shadow Lands, but perhaps she DID have some small affection for them that she really couldn't follow through with.

Of course, maybe she just couldn't banish them anymore after banishing Messmer for whatever reason (maybe she cut-off a connection to that realm?). However, the most likely possibility is that he WAS known like the many soulless demigods and that Mohg and Morgott predate him. It's just that while those two were born undesirable through no fault of their own and were thus only hidden away, he BECAME undesirable which was worse in Marika's eyes so he gets the extra banishment and the removal of all of his history... there are so many possibilities...

#elden ring #messmer the impaler #shadow of the erdtree #elden ring dlc #hi I am really excited if you couldn't tell #I'll try not to think about it too much for now since otherwise I'm gonna blow up because the info will never be ENOUGH #still I'm gonna speculate if some new cool revelation comes up #val-post

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hugheses · 9 months ago

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Jack Hughes #86 of the New Jersey Devils arrives at the arena before the game against the San Jose Sharks at SAP Center on February 27, 2024 in San Jose, California. (Photo by Kavin Mistry/NHLI via Getty Images)

#jack hughes

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kitnita · 1 month ago

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Ty Dellandrea (53) and Will Smith (2) of the San Jose Sharks arrive at the arena before the game against the Anaheim Ducks at SAP Center on October 12, 2024 in San Jose, California. (Kavin Mistry/NHLI via Getty Images)

#hockey #sharks #san jose sharks #ty dellandrea #will smith #when did ty acquire this prep school ass blazer & why has he worn it twice now since becoming a shark #z:edit

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tkwrites · 1 year ago

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Shoot the Moon - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from instagram

Title: Shoot the Moon

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Original female character

Warnings: comfort, fluffy beginnings, smut (18+ only), oral m & f receiving

Summary: Quinn comes home exhausted from a rough road trip. After a good night's sleep, he decides to try out some new things with Sarah.

Word count: 5,500

Comments: this is my first fanfiction ever posted, though I've been writing them for a long, long time. I hope you enjoy!

Shoot the Moon

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

I made tacos at your place, so don’t pick anything up on the way home.

This simple text sent gratitude rocketing through Quinn. He just needed to get home. They were on the bus to the arena, then he would drive the 20 minutes to his apartment, and to Sarah who was waiting for him with his favorite meal. The bus seat was digging into the bruise on his right hip from where he’d hit hard two days ago. It felt better when he was moving, but sitting still was torture. It had been on the plane and it was here again.

He was so glad to be home. It was near the end of the season, and he was tired, his body, time and emotions drawn out well beyond their limits. He couldn’t wait to get a good night's sleep next to Sarah. He had never missed someone like this. He'd never noticed the absence of her weight in the bed next to him, or missed the smell of her perfume in such a tangible way. He was beginning to feel like he couldn't and didn't want to live without her.

The next road trip they went on, he needed to bring something with her perfume. Maybe that would help him sleep better.

When he finally opened the door to his apartment, Sarah walked around the couch to greet him. His bags hit the floor and he collapsed against her, nuzzling his nose into her collar bone and taking a deep breath.

“God, I missed you so much,” he said, pulling her flush to him. She was in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of leggings. It was the very thing he’d been hoping she would be wearing.

Her hand went to the back of his head to stroke her fingers through the dark waves there. “I missed you too.”

They stayed that way for a while, just holding each other. Quinn felt like he might cry, being back with her. Man, love had turned him into a sap.

He understood why the older guys were always so anxious to get home to their wives.

He moved just enough so he could catch her lips with his. A different kind of sigh moved through his body when she returned the kiss.

After a few minutes of gentle, loving kisses, a loud gurgling came from his stomach, and Sarah laughed as she pulled away. “Let’s get some food into you,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into the kitchen.

“You sit,” she said, gesturing to the table, “I’ll bring you a plate.”

After setting a full plate in front of him, she went back to make herself one. He was certain she’d eaten earlier, but didn’t want him to feel alone. It was eight already. All he wanted was to eat and fall into bed with her, letting her hold him. His eyelids seemed to get heavier at the thought.

“Don’t tell me my food is that boring,” she teased sitting next to him.

Shaking his head, Quinn tried to blink away the tears welling up in his vision.

Sarah set down her taco and put her hand on his forearm, “what’s wrong?”

He sniffled. He felt like a kid, coming home from a bad game and crying to his mom. Except this time, the disappointment of loss was soothed by a swell of gratitude like he’d never felt before.

His voice was thick and a little higher than usual as he said, "I don't know, just coming home to you, and to this,” he gestured at his plate, “I just feel so lucky.”

She smiled, and leaned over a corner of the table to kiss him, “I love you too. Now eat before you get too tired and wake up hungry in the middle of the night.”

He laughed, remembering the first time he’d done that very thing when she started sleeping over. She'd come out with his shirt on, voice and eyes bleary with sleep as she asked what was going on. Her eyes went wide when she flipped on the light and found him with a sandwich in his mouth.

If he ate too early in the evening, hunger pains would wake him in the middle of the night. Nothing was going to wake him tonight if he had anything to say about it.

His tears subsided, soothed by her knowledge of him, her scent and the food filling his stomach.

He put the plates in the dishwasher, as she went about putting away all the ingredients. There were a lot of moving parts to this meal. He didn't even know he had that many food containers in his house. Maybe she had brought them from hers.

“You can go lay down while I finish this,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

Quinn shook his head. He’d been too long without her. He wasn’t about to willingly walk away now.

When they finally made it into the bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers, and washed his face in the basin beside hers. She removed her leggings, and threw some of the pillows onto the floor. Usually, she would stack them in a chair, but apparently, she was as anxious to get into bed as he was.

They lay on their usual sides. She’d already seen him cry that day, so he didn’t feel as hesitant to ask for what he wanted.

“Can you hold me?” he asked. It came out quieter than he thought it would.

Sarah smiled, and scooted closer to him so their noses nearly touched, and she could bring her arms around him.

“No like,” he felt his cheeks get hot, “can I be the little spoon?”

“Sure, roll over.”

“I can’t. My hip.”

“What’s wrong with your hip?” she asked. “You told me you were fine."

He winced, a flash of guilt in his face, "I don't have any major injuries."

"But you have minor ones?" She pulled back the blanket to get a better look at him.

“I took that hit and landed right on it in Calgary, and it’s bruised to high heaven,” he said. “It's not really hurt, but it's tender.”

Her fingers brushed down his side, and despite his exhaustion, his skin still reacted - shivering onto high alert. She pulled back the band of his boxers to reveal a dark purple bruise that had gotten bigger since the last time he’d looked at it. Apparently sitting on the plane hadn’t helped him at all.

“Oh, Q,” she said, voice turned nurturing instead of the coddling or "buck up!" he got sometimes from the trainers or his teammates.

“Here,” she said, rolling on top of him.

If this was any other night, this would play out much differently. He kissed her still, because he’d been thinking about it for too long, and she was here. She was here. He was home, and she was here with her perfect mouth, and her cute, crinkly smile. He couldn't resist her.

She deepened the kiss, devouring him like she just couldn’t wait any longer. She'd missed him so much. She knew he was tired. He'd been tired all week, but she finally had him back in the city - back in their bed - and she couldn't not.

Quinn felt himself groan. His hands reacted instinctively, rucking her shirt up, anxious to feel more of her skin.

Breaking away, she moved her mouth to the spot under his jaw that she knew made him weak.

“Sarah,” he breathed.

She responded with a slow glide of her tongue.

“I want you so bad,” he whimpered, “but…”

She pulled away from his neck to look down at him. "But?” she repeated.

“I’m so tired, I don't think I can keep it up.” A hot flush spread down his neck and onto his chest, “I’m sorry,” he babbled, “I really, really want to, but can we wait until morning?”

She bit her lip and nodded, swallowing down the hot desire she felt.

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," he promised.

Her mouth melted into a smile. "I know you will," she said before pecking him on the lips.

Sarah rolled off of him, onto the other side of the bed. “Scootch over,” she said.

He did and she settled, tucking her body against his.

“Wait, I need my pillow.”

They did an awkward shuffling dance to switch pillows without sitting up.

Once settled again, she sighed into him. Every part of her was touching him, and he would have given her anything at that moment. He could even feel her nose against the back of his skull.

He felt supported and loved, and home. Finally home.

She draped her arm around his chest and he found her fingers with his own, lacing them together.

“I love you, Sarah,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“I love you too Quinn.” Her breath tousled the short hairs on the back of his neck, “I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you.”

“I missed you so much,” he said, finding a way to somehow pull her closer.

As sleep overtook him, he found himself thinking for the first time in a relationship how much he wanted to be with her forever. How much he wanted to make a real commitment to her. He’d never felt that way before. He should call his dad to see if he could use his grandma’s ring. The thought was startling, and he realized he was getting ahead of himself. First, she needed to move in. He wanted her here. Everything was so natural with her. Finally, he really was home.

Quinn couldn’t remember ever sleeping so well. He’d slept fitfully on the road trip, despite his exhaustion and usual ability to sleep anywhere. His brothers had been quick to send him funny memes about him looking like a zombie. He came home feeling like a zombie.

Waking up now, things felt right. He wasn’t sure he could say it in any other way. It all just felt better and brighter. He felt rested, and invigorated for the first time in seven days. He was on his back, and Sarah was tucked against him, on her side. He finally had a day to himself, and he was going to spend every second of it with her.

Her t-shirt had ridden up through the night, and her bare thigh was pressed against his.

Spending some time memorizing that feeling, he waited for her to wake up.

“Hey,” he said quietly after ten minutes when she showed no signs of stirring.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she tucked her face into her pillow, mumbling something he couldn’t understand.

He laughed a little, and tried again, this time squeezing the arm around her.

“What time is it?” she asked, her morning voice hoarse and a bit deeper than usual.

That voice stirred something in him. It always had. It took him back to the first time she’d slept at his apartment. Waking up next to her was something he could never forget. The way she’d wrasped, “good morning,” before kissing him softly. It was one of his favorite memories.

He glanced at his watch, “a little after seven.”

She groaned and tucked her face behind his shoulder, “it’s too early to be up.”

Laughter bubbled up his throat. “We went to bed at 9. That’s almost 10 hours.”

Looping her arm over his chest, she somehow managed to pull herself closer to him as her leg covered him, her knee to his opposite hip. “Still too damn early,” she said, settling her head on his chest.

“If you want me to go back to sleep, straddling my thigh isn’t the way to do it,” he teased.

“I’m not straddling your thigh,” she protested, “I’m cuddling.”

“I can still feel all of your skin.”

She rolled her eyes, “if you want me to be up at seven, you better have a damn good reason, Quinn.”

Rolling onto his side, Quinn cupped her cheek in his hand. He kissed her gently before rolling on top of her. “Is this a good enough reason?” he asked, working his leg between hers before licking farther into her mouth.

“Mmmm… I don’t know,” she said, making a big show of shrugging her shoulders, even as her fingers were winding into his hair.

He pulled back, “you want me to stop?”

Her big blue eyes looked up at him, looked right through him, and it sent a shockwave through his whole body. God, how had he ever managed without her?

“No,” she said, voice quiet, the morning hoarseness starting to wear off, “I’m up now.”

“Good,” he said, “because I am too.” Leaning down to capture her mouth again, his hands pushed her shirt up.

She pulled back with a groan, “did you just make a dad joke during foreplay?”

His smile was impish, “maybe. Did you like it?”

She rolled her eyes even as she was pulling him back down into the kiss, “It’s a good thing I love you, Huggy.”

He groaned at the use of the nickname. “Please don’t call me that in bed,” he begged, moving his mouth to her neck.

She giggled a little before it bled into a moan. The sound shot straight to his groin.

He had some theories he wanted to try out.

Half way through the roadie, he had shared a room with Elias.

The only explanation for the conversation that followed that night was Quinn's exhaustion. If he were normally rested, he likely wouldn't have brought it up at all. But sitting there mindlessly watching Sports Center, listening to Petey talk to his girlfriend in Swedish, he wondered if he was doing things wrong with Sarah.

It's not that he felt Sarah was unsatisfied. She didn't seem to fake it, and their connection was only made stronger when they slept together. Even on nights when sex was off the table, but she still stayed over, sleeping in the same bed seemed to solidify their relationship more.

Still, he worried. He wanted to be good for her, to be the best for her. And maybe their sex life was normal, but it didn’t seem like anything from the romcoms he’d seen, and he wondered if they were missing something. Maybe he wasn’t giving her something she needed.

Anxiety always came easier when he was tired. That was the only reason he asked Petey what he thought being a good lover meant when he got off the phone.

“Does Emma like everything you do?”

“Everything?” Elias repeated, laughing, “no.”

“No, like in bed?” Quinn felt his skin get hot. This was not the kind of conversation they usually had.

Petey's pale skin flushed red. “Are you asking me how my girlfriend likes to have sex?”

“No. I mean maybe? I just mean, I want to make sure Sarah's satisfied, but I'm not sure how to do that.”

“Have you talked to her about it?”

“Not really.”

“I think that's probably your best bet.”

“Yeah. I just feel like there are things I should know.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Like, foreplay stuff.”

“Do you not usually do that?”

“No.” He thought, then amended, “I mean we make out a lot. And she likes when I kiss her neck, so I do that. I get her off with my hands sometimes."

“Does she seem like she wants more?”

“I don't know.”

They ended up having an extensive conversation in which Petey talked about how Emma liked it. How on nights when they had the time he would give her two or three orgasms with his hands and his mouth before they had sex.

“She really likes when I suck on her breasts,” he said. “Actually every woman I've been with has liked that. I think Gretta told me that. She was my first girlfriend.”

Quinn had been mentally taking notes the whole time.

“Honestly,” Elias said, “it's best when I ask her how she wants to be touched and she tells me. That varies from day to day. Sometimes she doesn't even want foreplay.”

So now, Quinn mouthed his way up to her ear, and whispered, “how do you want me to touch you?” His voice was husky and deeper than normal. He’d never sounded like that before, but he'd never wanted to be good for any other woman like this before.

Her little gasp was followed by her hips tilting into his. Maybe Petey was on to something here.

“Show me how you want me to touch you,” he said, moving his mouth down to the soft spot under her jaw he knew she liked.

He nibbled it with his lips as their hips surged together.

Her hands were in his hair. And her fingers tightened as another soft moan escaped her mouth. The next thing he knew, she was sitting up, forcing him back onto his knees. She ripped her shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room. She was left in a pair of cotton underwear styled to look like men's briefs. They had tiny green flowers all over them and green trim.

“These are cute,” he said, running a finger along the waistband.

Her skin quivered under his touch.

She pulled his mouth to hers before placing his hands on her breasts. “Here,” she breathed against his lips, “touch me here.”

God, if this wasn't the hottest fucking thing he'd ever experienced. Why hadn't he ever thought to ask her what she wanted before? He didn’t have to guess, he just followed instructions.

Her hands covered his, and she led his fingers to roll her nipples. She arched into his touch and a whine escaped her throat. Her hands slid up to cling to his shoulders.

Moving his mouth back to the soft spot under her jaw, he listened to her panting breaths for a while. He wasn’t going to last long if she kept that up.

Time to put another theory to the test. He mouthed down her chest before wrapping his lips around her nipple and sucking. Answers came immediately.

“Quinn,” she moaned. Her hand cupped his head, encouraging him to stay there. Her hips ground against his own. He couldn’t hold back a moan.

“Fuck,” she whispered, heat pooling between her legs, “that feels so good.”

He’d never made her swear in bed like that. A ridiculous amount of pride swam through him.

He moved to the other breast and reveled in the groan that fell from her lips, a little louder this time.

"I want your mouth all over me," she heard herself say.

When they first got together, Quinn had been fairly inexperienced. Some due to them learning what the other person needed, and some, she figured, because he was used to quick hookups and had never been in the kind of relationship where a woman could teach him what she liked. If he had, that woman didn't know or appreciate the bliss that was oral sex. Perhaps she didn't see the potential Quinn could work with his mouth. Sarah didn't know how someone could miss it.

He got more bold as they got more comfortable, and she told him what she liked. Still, there were certain things she'd been dreaming about since they met that he seemed too nervous to try. He seemed willing now and she was teetering on the edge.

She whined when he lifted his mouth from her. He gave the puckered nub a kitten lick when she tried to pull him back down.

“Where else do you want my mouth?” It felt a little dirty to say out loud, but her response had him wishing he’d asked before.

She plopped back on the pillows behind her, and she groaned, louder still. He wondered if he might be able to get her to yell his name. The thought of it made him ache.

“I,” she panted, “eat me out, please.” Sarah was so turned on at the thought of him finally going down on her that her flirty filter was gone.

“You want it here?” he asked, sliding his hand down to cup her, still covered in the cotton briefs.

“Yes,” she moaned, “God yes. Please, Quinn.”

Quinn had only given oral sex once before. It was with a girl he dated in high school, and she all but forced him between her legs the first time they went further than making out.

When he had started, not really sure what to do, hoping for a little instruction, she shrieked about him being a selfish lover and stormed out. He hadn't even needed to jack off. The experience was so deflating he hadn't ever tried it again.

“How do you like it?” he asked now as he peeled the briefs down her thighs.

He knew what Sarah liked, but the thought of failing her made his heart heavy and his ego ache. He wanted to be good for her.

He had some idea from watching porn, but he knew by now that was an unreliable source.

She kicked her underwear off the bed, and she was bare before him. An ache opened up in his chest. How was it possible to love someone so much? It wasn't just lust, even though he felt that too. It was vulnerability and trust made into action.

“Like you do with your hands,” she said, "except with your tongue. I'll tell you if I need something more. I trust you.”

The anxiety fluttering in his chest calmed a little at her words. He decided it was better to just start. The baseline knowledge he had of her body told him things like the pressure she liked, and where she liked to be touched.

He stroked his hands over her hips, and settled between her legs.

“Tell me if you don't like something?”

She nodded, heart hammering with anticipation.

He leaned in and parted her with his tongue. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Soft and warm and delicate. Also delicious. Sweet, tangy and completely different from anything he'd tasted before. He loved the smell of her when they made love, and this was the same amplified ten fold. The release he'd licked off his fingers before didn't even prepare him for this. It was so much better. God, why had he waited so long?

She gasped and moaned, hips arching up to meet his mouth. Finally feeling his tongue on her was better than any of her fantasies.

"You taste so good," he groaned.

“Really?” she thought people only said that in books. Men written by women.

Now that he was here, a carnal, competitive need took over. He needed to get her off. It was more than a matter of pride. Now, it was something he couldn't live without.

“So fucking good,” he moaned against her as he licked and kissed trying different motions to see what she liked.

“There, there,” she said, body arching, hands fisting the sheets. “Right there. Don't stop.”

This was the most amazing thing he'd ever done. Part of him wondered why he'd waited so long. Most of him was thankful he'd waited to do it with someone he loved and trusted and who loved and trusted him enough to tell him what she needed. It was his favorite thing about Sarah.

"Quinn," she moaned, "suck please."

Sealing his lips to her, he pulled with his mouth.

Pleasure exploded through her veins.

The noises - the moans and mewls, the little grunts and gasps she responded with drove him on and nearly drove him out of his mind.

All of him was more turned on than he ever thought was possible just from giving her pleasure.

Fuck, why had he been scared of this?

Her fingers suddenly dove into his hair and tugged. He nearly exploded right then. Pulling back slightly, he breathed deeply through his nose to calm down.

“Quinn,” she whimpered, “I want your fingers.”

He was dreaming. He had to be. Lifting his head, he asked, “what?”

She whimpered at the sight of his face: chin wet, brown eyes soft with love, pupils blown wide with lust. “Your fingers,” she gasped, “I want your fingers inside me while you do this.”

He groaned. Where had this demanding, dirty talking girlfriend come from? Petey was a genius.

He went back to work, taking time to kiss and nip her inner thigh before licking her up and down.

“Keep your tongue there,” she begged. “Yeah, yeah, just like that.” Her hand slid to the back of his head, keeping him where she wanted him.

He eased a finger into her. Her hips bucked. “Quinn,” she moaned and it was louder than ever. “More.”

He slid in another, and she rocked with him.

“I… I…”

He lifted his head a little to look at her. She was practically writhing on the bed. “You look so beautiful right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, pushing his head down again. “Put that pretty mouth back to work.”

He laughed and lowered down. He found her pulsing nub, and licked it into his mouth, suction gentle but decisive.

There were a few more desperate moments of Quinn trying his best to please her and to not shoot off too early. It was like walking on the edge of a knife. Hopefully just because it was the first time.

“Oh, oh Quinn, I - I’m gonna…” she said before his name was wrenched out of her mouth in a strangled cry.

Her body pulled taught, legs flexing under his hand, as she clenched around his fingers.

The tension snapped and she collapsed, limbs limp.

“Holy shit,” she said quietly as she came back to herself, gently pushing him away from her core.

Quinn rose onto his knees and wiped his mouth on his arm. “I know,” He said, flopping down next to her. “I had no idea you had that in you.” He felt euphoric, and he hadn't even gotten off. Hearing his name drip from her mouth like that gave him a sense of pleasure and intense satisfaction he hadn't felt before.

She giggled, riding a high she hadn't felt in a long time. “I knew once you got up the confidence to give me oral, you'd send me to the moon, but goddamn."

“You…” his brain was swimming, “how did you know it would be good? I've never done it before.”

“Really?” she asked, genuine surprise in her features.

“My first time kind of blew up before she could tell me what to do. I was only sixteen. How did you know?” he asked again.

“We kiss all the time, Quinn. I know the magic you can work with your mouth. I've been fantasizing about it pretty much since we first kissed."

“Holy fuck,” Quinn said quietly as her words sunk in. Four months. He’d been denying her of that for four whole months. “I'm sorry I didn't try sooner.”

She rolled on her side to face him. “I'm glad you tried it now.”

Leaning in, she captured his mouth, slanting into him and rolling them so she was on top.

Her mouth wound its way down his jaw, over his chest and down his stomach as she moved to kneel between his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his chest rising and falling quickly.

She glanced up at him, and there was a spark of teasing desire in her eyes he wasn't sure he'd seen before. “Returning the favor.”

All the air left his lungs in one big whoosh. His thoughts spun.

“I… you don't have to –” but her mouth was on him again, and he lost the words.

She didn't love giving blow jobs. She'd done it twice before. Once when they clinched the playoffs, and once when he begged for it explicitly. He knew it was something she endured rather than enjoyed.

The thought of her mouth on him right now, though, sent his arousal into overdrive.

“I want to,” she said. “You did it for me. I do it for you.”

Yet another reason giving her oral was turning out to be one of the best decisions he'd ever made. Not only had it gotten her off and turned him on more than he thought possible, it made her want to get him off with her mouth. He was definitely buying Petey dinner the next time they were out.

She slid his boxers off, careful of the bruise, and continued her teasing, mouth tracing over the v line of his right hip.

“Sarah, please." He was so riled up, he didn't think he could take any of her teasing.

He felt her lips curl into a smile against his skin.

His begging had the opposite effect he was hoping for. Instead of sinking a little lower, her mouth started moving back up to his.

A desperate sounding whine escaped him.

“Does this work for you too?” she asked before putting her mouth over his nipple.

Three seconds before that, he would have said no, but her hot, soft mouth on him shot a surge of pleasure straight down his spine. A deep growl ripped from his chest and his hips surged up, desperate for any kind of friction. He swore.

She moved to his other pec and he felt like he might just combust.

“Sarah, baby, please.” He begged, “please.”

Her mouth lifted from his chest and he tried to gain control of his breathing.

“I think that's a yes,” she said, a bit of laughter in her tone.

Shifting down, she let her lips trail over his stomach again.

When she finally took him between her lips, the shouted sound he let out was barely human.

His muscles corded tight, desperately holding himself back from thrusting into her mouth. He was panting praises at her.

She lifted her head and he whimpered. Had he ever done that before?

“How do you want it?” she asked before wrapping her lips around the tip of him.

"I-" He tried, but his thoughts kept getting jumbled. "Like that," he groaned when she ran her tongue under the head. "Can you - can you use your hand?"

Her fingers wrapped around him, and he mumbled something incoherent even to his ears.

“Hmm?” she asked not lifting her mouth.

He couldn't hold back from bucking up at the vibration.

When he settled, she added her hand into the mix, gently twisting with her fingers. Hot, heavy pleasure flooded his limbs, turning them to jello. Oh god, he was in heaven. Her name came out of his mouth, moaned like a prayer. He wanted to worship her for the rest of his life.

He was so strung out that he couldn't vet any of his thoughts. “I want to come in your mouth so bad.”

She looked up and their eyes locked. This image was going to be branded in his mind forever. He knew it would be a memory he called up on the road when he was missing her.

She nodded, just slightly and sucked a little harder.

“Fuck,” he said reverently. She’d never let him come in her mouth before. The thought alone had him tensing up right there.

He tried to hold back. But feeling her come apart on his tongue had brought him so close to the edge already. Now, she had her mouth and fingers wrapped around him giving him the most amazing head he'd ever received, telling him he could let go in her mouth. All after 10 days without her. It was a losing battle

“I -” he tried to warn her, but his body was its own master, demanding release. He came in a sudden flood of intense light and pleasure that pulsed out to his fingers and toes.

She made a small noise of surprise, but true to her word didn't pull away until he was spent.

Everything in his body went slack except his heart that pounded in his heaving chest.

Vaguely, he felt her get off the bed and listened to her walk into the bathroom.

When she came back, laying next to him with her head on his shoulder, she smelled fresh and Minty.

“Did you brush your teeth?” he asked, an edge of a laugh in his voice.

She winced, “I know I'm supposed to be all sexy and swallow, but I just can't stand the taste of it.”

Laughter bubbled out of his chest. “I don't care if you swallow. I don't really even mind not coming in your mouth, that was just a heat of the moment thing. Thanks for letting me anyway,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

She adjusted so she could kiss his lips. “I'm glad you asked for what you wanted. Thank you for sending me to the moon.”

He pulled her on top of him and kissed her. It was slow and intimate. The kind of kissing no one told him was more intoxicating than all the quick makeout sessions he had when he was younger.

“Do you think I can get you past it?” he asked.

“Past what?”

“Past the moon,” he said.

She laughed. “I mean, I guess anything's possible, but I'm not sure how you're going to top what you just did.”

“Well, I've got all day, and my only plans involve me showing you how much I missed you. So, tell me what to do and I'll take you wherever you want to go.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fan fic #quinn hughes smut #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #Quinn & Sarah Snapshots #quinn hughes fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey romance

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the-hinky-panda · 7 days ago

Text

War of the Roses Series: Part III

Warning: Mention of miscarriages and grief

At first, Bill doesn’t understand why you’ve taken him to a small courtyard that sits between the barn and the small indoor arena. It’s not a large area, just a square piece of grass with a few shrubs and flowerbeds. There is a small area surrounded by a low stone wall that has a bench and three rose bushes planted in the corner. It’s a quiet, thoughtful space that seems out of place with the barn.

But then he remembers something from his childhood. It had been raining for three days, not out of the norm in Missouri. His mother had recently returned home from an overnight hospital stay, and he was under strict orders to keep his twelve-year-old bullshit to a minimum. He then watched his father, the toughest son of a bitch he had ever known, go out into the rain and dig a hole in the garden off the back porch. He remembers how his father’s white t-shirt clung to his back as he planted a white rose bush. He remembers how his mother couldn’t watch from the back porch, and instead curled up in the corner of the couch and sobbed.

It’s a memorial space.

He touches the stone wall as you lead him into the space, says a silent prayer for the sister he never got to meet and the three children you were never able to hold. The somberness saps the fire he had been feeling since watching you sit across from him at dinner. For some reason though, standing there with you, knowing what you’re showing him, it feels far more intimate than the moment you shared in the barn.

“This,” you say quietly, “this is why he hates me.”

“You would think with the lives we provide them, scenery like this, homes like ours, never wanting for anything, they would be motivated to do their actual fucking jobs.”

Was this what Cal was talking about? Three miscarriages, was that reason enough to divorce someone? You gently take his hand and force him to unclench the fist he had made. “How can he hate you for something that’s out of your control?”

You shake your head. “The world is filled with people who hate other people for things out of their control. That’s nothing new, Bill.”

You made a solid point. “He thinks you’re doing this on purpose?”

“He does. He only married me so he could have someone to pass everything onto when he’s too old to manage it himself.” Your thumb fiddles with his pinky ring. “That’s how it works in your world too?”

It should make him uncomfortable that you acknowledge his true line of work but it doesn’t. If anything, it seems to pull you even closer to him. “It is.”

“I know I’m on my way out of this marriage. He needs someone to provide an heir and I’m not that person.” You swipe at your face with the back of your free hand and he realizes you’re crying. “I can’t do that for you either. So just keep that in mind.”

He pulls you close against his side, holding you firmly there and trying to ignore the feeling of just how fucking perfectly you fit there. “There are more important things in life than heirs and lineage. There will always be someone to take over a business, blood related or not.” He presses a kiss against the crown of your head. “You keep that in mind.”

You release a long breath, sinking into him for a moment before standing up straight. He sees the armor being put back into places and it causes something to twinge in his chest. It shouldn’t be necessary but he understands why it is. He takes one last moment, standing in this sacred place, and kisses you gently on the lips.

“You call me if you need anything,” he tells you. “Day or night, promise me you’ll do that.”

You smile slightly but nod your head. “Okay.”

He knows he needs to head back up to the house, that he’s been gone far too long and his guys will want to get on the road soon. But something is telling him to take you with him, to not leave you here. But you’ve survived for the last six years with Cal so he takes some comfort that you can survive another couple weeks before he can make it back to Tulsa.

***

When you go back to the house later that night, you go in the back door and take all the back hallways to the master bedroom to avoid Cal. You strip off all your clothes, bury them under your running clothes from this morning and then stand under scalding hot water for twenty minutes. You reluctantly wash Bill’s cologne from your skin, wash his fingerprints from your body and it feels wrong.

Cal doesn’t love you, he hasn’t from day one. The realization of that hits you full force. He knows of the rose bushes, the memorial garden that you planted there in the only place on the property that felt like yours. Cal hates the horses, never wants to see them or touch them. He flat out refuses to step foot into the memorial garden you planted and care for.

But Bill, who has no stake whatsoever in your plight, came to see the horses, not even knowing you were there. He willingly went to the small garden, stood there, understood the significance of what you were showing him without having to speak the words. He shared that burden of grief with you when your own husband, the father of the lost children, couldn’t be bothered with it.

You need a plan to get out of this farce of a marriage. You turn the water off in the shower and grab one of the towels. Your mind is racing as you dry off. You’ll need money, clothes, a place to stay, a place for your horses. The roses. Somehow you need to take the roses with you. You can’t leave them behind. Cal will forget them. He’ll forget them. You can’t let that happen. You pull on your satin pajamas and walk into the bedroom to a sight that makes your blood run cold.

Cal is in one of the leather wingback chairs in the sitting area of the bedroom, a whiskey glass in his hand. “Did you have a nice shower?”

Your eyes haven’t left the three suitcases sitting at the end of the bed. “Cal?”

“I think it’s obvious our agreement has come to an end.”

“Agreement? You mean our marriage?”

“Is that what you would call this? Huh.” He takes a sip of the whiskey. “I was under the impression that a marriage was between two people working towards the same goal. I told you what that goal was when we married.”

“I can’t…I don’t know…”

“Can you finish a sentence please?”

You take a deep breath and slowly release it. “I don’t know what you want me to do about not being able to carry a child. I can’t control that.”

He finishes the whiskey and sets the glass down on the side table. “What I want you to do is take your shit to whatever other bedroom you wish where you will sleep tonight. Tomorrow morning, you leave with what’s packed in those suitcases. You’ll get the horses out of the barn as soon as possible because they’re going to the knacker by the end of the week.”

Your stomach roils to the point that you bring a hand to your mouth. How are you going to find transportation and a place for your horses in four days? It’s going to cost thousands of dollars and you’re certain Cal isn’t giving you any portion of the estate.

“I’m going to take a shower now and when I walk out of there, I don’t want to see you in this room again.” Cal stands up and walks past you. “And as far as things that you can control goes, perhaps you shouldn’t have fucked my new business partner in a fucking barn.”

#bill bevilaqua x you #bill bevilaqua x reader #bill bevilaqua fic #bill bevilaqua

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mlmvoreconfessionals · 4 months ago

Text

Second part of the Smash vore tourney

Part 1 - <Part 2> - Part 3 - Part 4

D.K Y.oshi F.ox B.owser F.alco M.ewtwo S.onic K.ing Dedede L.ucario W.olf W.ii Fit Trainer D.uck Hunt R.idley K. R.ool P.iranha Plant B.anjo

Round 2

With eight contestants left, tensions are getting a bit higher now. There’s less mystery over who is going to have to face against who. D.K keeps glaring at Fox with a toothy grin, while S.onic and Wolf are sizing each other up. L.ucario is doing his best to ignore R.idley opening drooling over him and just barely holding back. B.owser wasn’t so worried, not really noticing that the P.iranha Plant is slurping over its lips as it stares at him, eager to taste K.oopa meat.

Finally, the next bracket is made, and the first two competitors can walk out to begin round 2.

P.iranha Plant v B.owser

B.owser grins as he sees the P.iranha Plant across from him. He was figuring it would give up pretty fast, let its king take the win and move on. So he stomps over, ready to grab it and eat. So he was a bit taken back when it suddenly launched his head forward and took a snap at him, just barely missing his nose.

“Hey, whaddya think you’re doing?!” B.owser demands angrily. “Did you forget who your king is?!” As if to answer him, P.iranha Plant attempts another lunging snap. This one, B.owser had to back away from to avoid. He snarls now, flames leaking out between his lips. This is treason! He’s going to make sure he teaches this plant a lesson.

Fire immediately spews forth from B.owser’s maw, hoping to roast the plant. It doesn’t as the P.iranha Plant begins to spin its leaves like a fan, taking to the sky and blowing the flames back. Its flying in towards B.owser, jaws snapping greedily, and the king has to dodge out of the way to avoid that drooling maw.

As soon as the plant landed again, B.owser charges in and dives into his shell, spinning around rapidly. He manages to sweep the plant up with it, knocking it around until it’s sent flying and crashing to the ground. B.owser pops back out and stands with a laugh. That should teach it!

He grabs the P.iranha Plant by the stem to lift it up. It’s jaws keep trying to snap, wanting nothing more than to devour all that K.oopa meat. B.owser puts a stop to that with a blast of fire that saps more of the plant’s energy out of it.

B.owser would rather this be actual meat than...well, the opposite of that. But at least it got thicker after its last match. So B.owser opens his drooling maw wide, lowering the P.iranha Plant inside pot first. A few wet gulps and slurps sucks it down, its head disappearing past his lips and down the hatch.

“Bleh...” That shouldn’t count as food at all, given that awful taste. B.owser’s guts boil wetly and the plant doesn’t last long in that lava-like tank. Barely a minute later, B.owser hikes up his tail and pushes out a single log. It’s even smaller than the last, with only a flower pot baked into the mess. B.owser can’t feel smug about that! The next meal better be worth it...

With an annoyed huff, B.owser is stomping off, declared the victor.

Fox v D.K

Once the grumbly B.owser was back, Fox and D.K were heading out to the arena. Fox doesn’t really like the way the ape is looking at him at all. But he gives his gut a squeeze, knowing that D.edede had been about the same size and now he’s nothing but fat. He’s sure he can do the same to the gorilla, even as D.K bounces his pecs just to tease the fox.

Both of them have the same strategy as before, with D.K winding up his arm while Fox starts trying to wear him down with shots. All Fox’s strategy does is let D.K prepare himself before he comes charging in. Of course, Fox is fast, and is able to bounce back when the ape comes at him and makes a grab for him.

It becomes a game of cat and mouse, with Fox running and leaping around D.K as the gorilla tries to take shots at him. Between his fiery leaps and illusionary dashes, Fox is usually able to keep just out of D.K’s grasp while laying some cover fire on him any time he gets a chance. All that’s doing is winding D.K up more.

When Fox tries to zip past D.K with another of his illusions, the ape actually saw it coming. D.K turned around the second Fox disappeared, and when he reappeared, large hands slam over his head on either side. It makes fox yelp out and leaves him stunned, giving D.K a chance to punch him with a wound-up arm and send Fox crashing face-first into the floor some distance away.

Fox groans out, trying to pick himself up. His blaster is sitting in front of him and he tries to reach for it. But he’s dragged back with a yelp and lifted off the ground, held by his ankle by D.K. He’s brought face-to-face with D.K, the gorilla grinning wide and toothily. It actually gets a slight whimper out of Fox. Then D.K lifts his free arm, showing off a furry pit to Fox.

Fox’s cry is muffled as he’s shoveled face-first into the ape’s armpit. Fox tries to push away or beat on D.K, but it doesn’t do anything. D.K just starts to push down on Fox and the smaller man begins sinking deeper. Fox kicks and struggles for a little bit, but once he’s up to his stomach, a hard flex from D.K’s arm ends that. His body spasms for a moment before going slack, the gorilla’s muscles growing thicker at the same time. Pushing down on his boots slurps the last of Fox out of sight, and another strong flex reduces his body into muscle mass.

D.K snorts and thumps his chest with a roar. He stomps his feet as he widens his stance and, in one smooth, full log, pushes Fox back out. The mass coils up under the ape, fur and bones poking out of him, the skull dropping first with its jaws still open. One a pair of boots push out and the log is pinched off, the deed is done, and D.K lumbers off smugly as he’s declared the winner.

L.ucario v R.idley

L.ucario winces slightly when D.K returns, his musk even thicker after taking on another meal. His sensitive nose can’t take it. Wolf has the same problem, his laughing over the battle only stopping because he had to cover his nose. D.K at least had a smug grin on his face when he sat down.

L.ucario is happy to get out of the room and out to the field. He’s joined by his opponent, R.idley, the alien creature twitching in anticipation for the match. Both of them are sporting a bit of extra fat from their last matches and they intend to be the one to have more in the end.

R.idley strikes fast by launching in and grabbing L.ucario. The jackal is then slammed into the ground and dragged along until he’s tossed into the air and struck with R.idley’s tail. It makes L.ucario howl out and he comes crashing to the ground soon, reeling in pain. R.idley immediately follows up by launching a volley of fireballs at the P.okemon.

L.ucario takes a hit from a couple before he’s finally able to get up and move out of the way. It’s clear to him that R.idley is trying to exhaust him with unrelenting attacks. L.ucario can feel his aura surging through him, his weakening body causing it to only get stronger. He has to find a balance here--if he takes too many hits, he’ll go down. But if he can do this right, he’ll be able to stop the alien in one shot.

L.ucario tries to rush in, but R.idley is quick to take to the sky and launch himself at the P.okemon like a missile. It sends L.ucario skidding back, just barely able to miss snapping jaws that tried to end him, and he’s hit with R.idley’s tail again right after. The P.okemon staggers slightly, finding exhaustion creeping in already. R.idley senses that weakness as well and launches forward, jaws open wide to devour his opponent.

What R.idley gets instead is a blast of powerful aura right in the mouth from L.ucario’s paw. It makes the alien shriek as he’s suddenly knocked backward and onto the ground. His head is left spinning, all the damage he’d done blasted right back at him with a Force Palm. L.ucario doesn’t give a second to let this opportunity go to waste. He grabs R.idley’s tail and, after a few rubs to his crotch, stuffs it right down his cock.

With a wet slurp, R.idley is dragged along the ground, his tail disappearing rather quickly. With a groan and a shake of his head, R.idley is coming to. He tries to push himself up again, but he’s sucked deeper, his legs folding up against his torso as his ass is now disappearing into the P.okemon’s cock. L.ucario is trying his hardest to keep a stern expression, not wanting to betray the clear pleasure he’s getting from this.

There’s a lot less pleasure on R.idley’s face, as he screeches and claws at the ground, trying to pull himself backwards. But L.ucario’s cock was stronger, still pulling the space pirate deeper despite the resistance. Deep claw marks gouge through the ground, R.idley’s screeches like nails on glass as he sinks in further and further.

L.ucario’s sack bulges out and hangs down more as they’re filled. R.idley’s stomach is already sinking down, his legs and tail now trying to stretch the P.okemon’s sack out. As R.idley sinks in up to his chest, he pivots to trying to slash at L.ucario. Both of his arms are seized by the wrist, L.ucario’s powerful aura shooting shocks through him. It keeps him still enough to let his chest and shoulders sink down. With a final cry, so does his head, and L.ucario finally releases his arms to let those slurp down his cock.

L.ucario shivers slightly and lets out a sigh through his nose. He’s already stroking himself, eyes closed with a tense expression. His nuts are resting on the ground, R.idley thrashing within, the flesh stretched tight around his large form. With a huff, L.ucario flexes his nuts, getting a cry from R.idley as he’s suddenly smashed into a more compact form. L.ucario is once again focusing his aura, using it to end his prey as quickly as possible.

R.idley tries to fight back as best he can, stretching out the P.okemon’s sack with trashing and kicks. But L.ucario clenches each time, forcing R.idley back into a ball. A thick, boiling churn comes from those working nuts, R.idley’s cries replaced with sputters and coughs. Each time L.ucario’s sack clenches, the sharp and clear details of R.idley’s form is looking less defined. Even his powerful body can’t do much against a broiling sack and his useless thrashing grows weaker and weaker.

In only a few clenches, R.idley’s screeching has turned into weak cries. He can barely make the rounding sack bulge with his weak struggles, only getting thick sloshes to come forth. With another clench, even that stops, only some whimpering noises rising over the sounds of bubbling. L.ucario tenses, gritting his teeth and clenching again. R.idley finally goes silent as L.ucario howls, a geyser of cum shooting forth and splattering to the ground.

Everything gets painted white quickly, gallons of seed striking the ground with each rope that fires. Large bones strike the ground as well, R.idley’s skeleton having managed to survive long enough to come back out. Not that it does him any good, as even his skull ends up slamming into the ground, jaws still open wide from his final cry.

The intense orgasm comes to an end soon after that, L.ucario left panting and huffing from the overwhelming feeling. His legs are wobbling slightly but he manages to hold his ground. He feels much better at least, R.idley’s aura giving him a large boost. Not to mention the new merchandise he’s got swinging between his legs, his nuts a bit fatter and cock bigger. L.ucario tries not to blush as he wipes the mess off of himself.

The announcer had declared his victory after that, L.ucario walking from the arena once he’s collected himself.

Wolf v S.onic

L.ucario doesn’t make any eye contact with the others as he gets back and sits down. He’s still blushing a bit over that moment of vulnerability. The viewing room is getting emptier with time, and the last pair of contenders are both impatient at this point. They’re both up and moving before L.ucario has even sat down.

On the field, Wolf and S.onic are both exuding confidence. Naturally, both of them believe they’ll easily come out on top and are eager for a chance to prove it. Wolf smirks, showing off his teeth as he spins his blaster in his paw. “I was hoping I’d get to show up that birdbrain myself, but taking you down will be just as good. Cocky and blue...that’s close enough.”

“You’ll have to keep up with me to do that,” S.onic retorts, stretching out. “Oh wait, F.alco did keep up...and I still dumped him. So, I guess this’ll be even faster.” S.onic curls up and begins to speed along the ground, rocketing for Wolf.

Wolf does try to avoid it by lunging to the side, but he’s not fast enough to get totally out of the way. S.onic catches him in the side and he hits the ground with a growl. S.onic turns fast and comes barreling in to run him down again, but Wolf has enough time to aim his blaster and fire at the spinning speedster.

It’s enough to make S.onic come tumbling to a stop, landing flat on his stomach. He groans and rubs his head as he pushes himself up. Wolf is in front of him, grinning wide, blaster aimed down at S.onic. “This keeping up just fine?”

“Not quite.” S.onic bounces back just as Wolf fires, avoiding the shot. Then he comes flying back in with a homing attack, hitting Wolf in the chest and making the mercenary stumble. More shots fire, but S.onic speeds away from them, only to come in for another homing attack as soon as there’s an opening and knocking Wolf’s blaster away.

With a snarl, Wolf tries meeting S.onic head on instead, slashing with his claws at the next homing attack. It knocks S.onic out of the air, but the force of hitting it knocks Wolf back onto his ass as well. S.onic lands on his feet, and so is able to launch into another homing attack. Wolf, unable to get back to his feet, attempts opening his jaws for the incoming attack.

It’s not enough. Wolf yelps as his head is pulled into the blue blur instead, and the rest of him soon after. By the time S.onic hits the ground, Wolf is gone from sight, and he’s still spinning around. He comes to a screeching halt, standing tall and visible again. A hand rests on his stomach, looking a bit plumper, and a stray belch escapes him. Some gray fur flutters out of his jaws and nothing else. “Not bad. Maybe space food gets a bad rap, I’ve been enjoying it lately!”

A low groan rumbles out of S.onic’s stomach and he winces. “Woof...goes right through me, though.” He squats down, grunting as he pushes. Like F.alco before, Wolf escapes the hedgehog’s bowels all at once, a thick log baked around his skeleton and clothes sliding out onto the ground.

Wolf slides out skull first, his jaws still open wide and an eyepatch connected to the skull. Then the rest follows, his uniform still worn over his bones, slightly tattered and stained. All of it sits half naked in the foul waste. Boots pushed out soon, and S.onic pinched the log off with a content sigh.

He speeds out after they, gone from the room just as the announcer declared his victory. And with it, that was the last of the space-faring mercenaries.

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