#and then they are EXACTLY like Carolina so they get along...well??

[peapod20001]

Baby Carolina & new dad Rory is underutilized by me

[oysters-aint-for-me]

had a dream last night that i was watching a true crime documentary and the crime was - well before i get into it i would like to preface this by saying i’m still not entirely sure who jerma is or why he’s so popular. i don’t hate him or love him, it’s just that everything i know about him has been forced upon me and i’m pretty sure like 75% of it has been lies. like i know he’s a streamer and i’m pretty sure he’s a man but that’s really all i know.

ok. so in my dream, it was a world in which there had been a hurricane jerma (as in, a hurricane named Jerma) that was really really bad, like katrina-level bad, that had hit florida and south carolina (but somehow no other states)

the true crime documentary was about how two years before hurricane jerma had hit, jerma himself had actually tweeted the date the hurricane ended up hitting the land along with this picture:

and that was it. nothing about a hurricane, just a date and that picture. and the documentary made the case that somehow jerma WAS responsible for the hurricane.

then, after the documentary dropped, jerma’s social media accounts still existed but everything he had ever posted had been deleted and replaced by an edited version of the above image which i cannot recreate exactly but it looked like this except with hyper-realistic mascara-smeared bloodshot eyes:

[willieverseetheland]

de-stressing

Will Graham x fem!reader

Summary: You take Will on a much needed vacation to take his mind off of work (and redirect it on you)

WARNINGS: 18+, Established relationship, smut, kinda rushed so bear with me PLEASE

Things had been rough for Will these past few weeks. This recent case had his full attention. It had him stressed, working long hours, coming home late, waking up in the night soaked in sweat. Technically, the usual Will things, but worse. You felt like you barely had any time with him. Not to mention, you hadn’t been intimate in weeks.

Lying next to him at night you found yourself imagining his body pressed against yours, legs intertwined, each other’s sweat and moans filling the cool night air. Heat growing between your legs. You wanted to touch yourself but you didn’t want to wake him, considering how little sleep he’s been getting.

One morning while walking the dogs you had the perfect idea. Vacation. Something quite foreign to Will, but that’s exactly why it was perfect. He works himself too hard. What more could Jack possibly need him for you thought. Just a few days for him to unwind, and for you to get what you desperately needed.

You thought through your options. Somewhere warm, maybe South Carolina? No. Will wasn’t a beach person. Hotel in the city? Definitely not, too many people. Cabin in the mountains? Perfect. You looked online and rented a quaint little cabin in the mountains in West Virginia. About 2 hours from Wolf Trap. Nothing too far but away from work and people. You asked a friend to take care of the dogs while you were gone. You had everything figured out.

When Will got home that night you revealed your plan.

When he walked through the door you greeted him with a hug and kiss to the forehead.

“Welcome home, handsome” you smiled.

“You’re in a rather pleasant mood tonight” Will remarked.

“Well, I have some good news to tell you”

“And what is this news?” He questioned

“We are going on a little vacation, just me and you, in a cabin, just for a few days.”

“I’m assuming I don’t really have the option to say no”

“You would be correct. You need this, we need this hon” you placed your hand softly on his cheek

He sighed, “You’re right, I haven’t really been myself recently, things have been difficult”

“Great! We leave tomorrow night, I will pack our things while you’re at work”

The next morning after Will heads out, you begin packing all the essentials. Your sexiest underwear, along with a very skimpy bikini, you forgot to mention that there’s a hot tub.

You decide to drive there to let Will relax. You blast your favorite songs on the stereo, much to Will’s annoyance, but he loves you so he tolerates it.

The first thing you do when you arrive at the cabin is slip your bikini on and jump in the hot tub, Will soon follows after.

“Isn’t this just what you needed?” You question with a smile

“I want to lie and say it’s not, but god this is nice” Will sighs in relief.

"Well... I bet I could make it even better" You bite your lip slightly as you look up to meet his gaze

"Is that so?" Will asks with a sly grin

You move closer to Will, untying your bikini top as you do.

He reaches out to grab your hips as you swing your legs over his straddling his lap. When you finally slip off your top Will's eyes scan your body, focusing on your breasts. He leans in the kiss you; the kiss is deep, hungry. You can tell he's needed this just as much as you.

He moves from kissing your lips to your, jaw, neck, then shoulders. You moan in response causing Will to bite down slightly, immediately soothing the spot with a lick. He leaves hickeys across your chest, he loves marking you, nothing too visible to others but just enough for him to see, a reminder that you belong to him.

You feel him hardening beneath you. Needing friction, you begin to grind your hips down on his. This elicits a deep groan from Will. He tugs at your bottoms; you get the message and lift your hips allowing him to take them off. You return the favor, pulling his trunks down causing his cock to spring free. You've been thinking about this moment for days, you're already so wet and he barely had to touch you.

You lower your hips, lining his cock with your entrance. As you sink down you let out a ragged gasp, he stretches you perfectly, it's been so long you almost forgot how big he truly was. Will grips your hips tighter, tight enough to leave marks, you hope. After you adjust, you move faster, finding the perfect pace. Will bucks his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside you. One hand grips Will's shoulder while the other snakes up to tangle in his hair.

Every groan, whimper, and moan sends chills down your spine. You love when Will is vocal, and he's especially vocal tonight.

As he gets closer to the edge, his thrusts become increasingly rough. He moves one hand from your hips to rub circles on your clit.

You can feel your release quickly approaching as Will works you perfectly.

"Fuck Will, f-fuck!" you moan

Soon you fall over the edge, moaning loudly as Will continues to fuck you senseless.

He wraps his arms under yours, gripping your shoulders. He fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own. But the way your walls pulse around his cock, he's soon to follow.

"Y/n, I'm close" Will's breath is hot against your ear

"Inside, please" you beg

At that, Will comes undone. His head falls forward, coming to rest his forehead against yours, breath heavy and hot. The feeling of his release inside you gives you a feeling like no other. You feel so close to him in this moment. The two of you sit there in each other's arms, feeling the other's heartbeat.

"I've missed you" you say, so quiet it's almost a whisper

Will kisses your forehead and embraces you tighter

"I've missed you too"

Sorry it's rushed and mediocre! I was running out of ideas and wanted to get this out since I haven't published in a while, I promise I will do better next time lol, thanks for reading! :)

[the-offside-rule]

Mick Schumacher (Mercedes AMG) - Smoothie

Requested: no

Warnings: none

"No problem, come again!" Y/n said, smiling through her mask as another customer left. She let out a sigh as she returned the computer to see which order was next. The door opened and in walked a blonde man with blue eyes. Y/n smiled over to him, assuming this next order was his. "Hello there, can I help you?" she asked as politely as possible. "Hi, I'd like a smoothie please." he replied. She sensed a bit of an accent butt she couldn't tell exactly where it was from other than it was definitely European. "Perfect and have you pre ordered?" Y/n asked. The man looked at her a bit confused. "No, I don't think so." he replied. "I'm so sorry, I can't give you a smoothie until you pre order it." she explained. "You could go out and order and then come back in and collect it if you'd like?" The man nodded. "Of course, I'll be back in a minute."

She smiled and waved as the man walked back out and went back to the register. "What do you think you're doing?!" her coworker Carolina shrieked. "W-what? What do you mean?" Y/n asked. "What did you do? You just kicked out Mick Schumacher!" Y/n arched a brow. "Should I know who that is?" Carolina rolled her eyes. "That is the son of the seven time world champion of F1 Michael Schumacher! You can't just kick him out!" Carolina shouted. "He didn't order, I can't let him in if he hasn't ordered." Y/n said. "He's special Y/n!" Carolina whispered. "How? Is he jesus christ or something?" Y/n asked, starting to get frustrated. "No, he's famous!" Y/n shrugged her shoulders. "Okay and? I don't care if he is Barack O-fucking-bama, he's not coming in without ordering. That's just the policy-"

"Why did you kick a formula 1 driver out of my shop?!" Joey, the manager came storming out after watching the scene unfold from his cameras. "He's just another customer-" Y/n tried to defend her actions but Joey wasn't having any of it. "He's a celebrity! Not to mention how famous his dad is!" Y/n was just about having enough of hearing about hwo this guy was. "Once again, and?" Joey's blood boiled. "He could do some great stuff for the business!" Y/n scoffed. "I'm sorry but I doubt this man is going to throw it up the shop's name and address on his social media out of the blue. He's just another customer." She said. Up popped a little notification on the computer, saying an order was placed and surely enough, there was the Mick Schumacher up there. "You better hope he doesn't have anything bad to say about you."

"Hi, you can come in now. Sorry for the wait." Y/n smiled, letting the German in. "It's no problem at all. I don't mind waiting." he replied. "Okay so banana and strawberry yes?" she asked walking alongside him to the counter. "Yes please." he said. Y/n walked behind the counter and made up the smoothie under the watchful eye of Joey. She cupped it up and walked back out to see Carolina chatting to the German who was very clearly uncomfortable with her so of course, Y/n rushed in to break it up. "And here you go. Have you paid online?" Y/n asked, moving Carolina out of the way. "Er, yes, yes I have but I'm going to just tip you a bit." The German reached into his pocket and pulled out a five pound note and smiled at her. "Oh thank you so much. That's very generous, sir." Y/n said. "It's Mick." he replied. "Pardon?" Y/n asked. "It's Mick. You can call me Mick." he said repeating his name. "Oh, okay. Well thank you very much Mick. Sorry if I caused an inconvenience earlier it's just, you know the new regulations for health and safety." Y/n said. "Oh no, I totally get it. Safety first." Mick chuckled. "Exactly."

There was a brief silence between tbe two, not knowing if Mick was going to leave or not but then Y/n just decided to brush it off and move along to serve some other customers. "Well, thanks for coming around and sorry again." she said fixing her mask. "No problem. Thanks." Mick replied before turning to walk away. "If you need anything Mick, just come right back!" Joey said as Mick walked out, kind of embarassed from being made a fuss out of. "Can you guys stop? He was obviously uncomfortable with being treated like a celebrity so just treat him like a normal human being, okay?" Y/n snapped at the two. Joey furrowed his eyebrows at her sudden authoritive tone. "You literally threw him out, we need to give him a reason to come back." Joey exclaimed. "You're scaring him away, I'm just saying." Y/n began typing into the computer yet again. "You know what? You're working overtime. You can close up shop." Y/n blinked in disbelief. "Joey, you're taking the piss completely now, there's no way you're being serious-"

"I'm being completely serious!" Joey raised his voice and cut her off That was end of discussion. Whatever Joey says, goes, end of story.

Y/n walked about wiping down tables, humming to herself. She heard a knock come from the door, making her groan. "We're closed." she called. The figure still stayed there. "Hey! We're closed!" she said again but the person still stayed there. "Oh for fuck's sake-" she muttered before grabbing her brush and marching towards the door. "Did you not hear that we are closed-" she was cut off by herself as she saw a beaming Mick Schumacher standing at the door. "I- Mick, we're et closed. I'm sorry." she said opening up the door. "Oh I know. I was wondering if you wanted any help?" he offered. Y/n ram her fingers through her hair. "Well, as much as I think you would be a help, I just couldn't. It's my job so." She said, trying to usher him away from the door. "Why are you still here? Everyone is gone home." Mick asked. "I got overtime for being cheeky." she explained. "When I was there?"

"What? No, if course not-" Mick cut her off. "I watched it through the window for a few minutes so don't pretend that it wasn't my fault. Just let me help. It's not that big of a deal." Y/n debated for a moment on whether or not she should let him in. "It is kind of my fault you're here and plus, it's starting to rain." Y/n opened the door and let him in. "I'll let you help but only because its starting to rain." Mick nodded and grinned as she walked by. "Oh definitely, definitely." he mumbled. The pair set off working for a while, Mick mainly sweeping up and Y/n counting the money and refilling different containers. As she was cleaning out one of the machines, she noticed a certain blonde man staring at her in the reflection. She watched him for a few more seconds before deducing that he was in fact looking at her. "You okay over there?" Y/n asked through a grin.

Mick jumped up and quickly thought of a lie. "Well, my mother usually cleans the blender after I use it at home but erm- I can't clean it properly." he stuttered. "Mmh, so you can drive these advanced cars but you can't clean a blender?" He nodded in return. That was the worst excuse he has ever made up in his life. She however, couldn't wipe the smile off of her face as she watched in amusement. "Alright, so I guess you start off by making sure the machine is off and then you go looking for any clumps or leftovers in the blade of the blender. Now, what you'd want to do is-" In all honesty, Mick wasn't listening. He was just watching how focused the girl in front of him was trying to clean a blender. He liked how her hair was tied up and how a few strands just fell out of place and perfectly onto her face.

"And that's about it." Mick snapped out of his daydream and smiled. "You get all that?" Y/n asked. Mick nodded. Ne wasn't even listening but could you blame him? Y/n looked oh so gorgeous. "Yeah but just in case, erm...how about you come over and supervise my cleaning the blender?" Smoothe Mick, very smoothe. "Are you trying to flirt?" Y/n grinned. "Is it working?" he asked. "Not in the slightest but good effort." She turned back around and finished off cleaning the rest of the blenders, leaving Mick a bit flustered. "So, that's us done." Y/n sighed. "Yeah. Maybe I could help you again next time. You know, since I now know how to clean a blender." Y/n chuckled at Mick's remark and nodded. "Absolutely. Well, I'll see you around-"

"Actually, could I maybe take you-" Mick was thinking, thinking if the right words to say and not sound creepy. Y/n knew what he was going to ask but she wasn't the best communicator either. "Take me to a basement?" she joked. "What? No. Erm, could I maybe take you out? Like to hang out for something?"

"You don't know what you're doing, do you?" she asked him. "No, not a clue." he replied. "Well if I was in that situation I wouldn't know either but I think I'm supposed to say yes and then you pick a time that suits you." Y/n said. "Yeah, I think you do. So Friday, 8pm?" he asked. "Wow. Those are random but at the most cliché of times." she chuckled. "Yeah, I can go then." she said. "Perfect, I'll pick you up then." Y/n watched as Mick walked away. She wondered how long it would take for him to realise that he didn't know where she lived and surely enough he came jogging back. "Hey, where do I pick you up?" he asked. She chuckled and took a pen out of her pocket. "That's my address and my phone number in case you need me before then." she said clicking the pen and shoving it back into her pocket. "Now, I'll see you around." Mick joked. "I hope I do. See ya Mick." Mick watched as she walked away to her car and drive away. He was going to miss her but hey, it was only until Friday.

[allbark-no-bite]

who are you mad at.

topper thornton x reader (wc: 3.4k)

summary: Topper doesn’t appreciate John B’s friendship with his girlfriend. sometimes all it takes is a blowjob and a little bit of forgiveness

warnings: 18+ smut, blow jobs, mentions of blood, over possessive boyfriend

author’s note: not me actually writing something with plot lol. i cannot believe all of the support i got on my last post, thank you all! i’m know that this isn’t Rafe lol, but i hope you’ll all give it a shot!

————————————————————————

As a little girl, I could never understand why the sheriff and the judge always drank coffee on my grandads front porch. It took me a few years to realize that it was probably for the same reason that the judge's grandson was always so sweet on me.

Politics in a small town like Kildare run deep on family ties and favors. It's all about who's blood is running through who and who's bed you wake up in when the sun comes up. As my best friend Sarah has often laughed about, it's all about how you know or who you'll blow.

Speaking of which, Topper's zipping up the fly on his jeans, fingers fumbling as he misses the hole for the button and has to try again. His cheeks are noticeably flushed, blue eyes distracted as he fidgets with his shaggy but nevertheless, neat crop of hair. No one would expect anything less of Figure Eight's golden boy.

I can't help but smile, biting my lip in an effort to conceal it from where I'm knelt on the floor. He's stupidly pretty. Blue eyes, straight nose, chin that dimples when he smiles.

He must feel my gaze on him because he catches my eye as he's buckling his belt and looks back at me. "What?" he laughs, breaking out into a bashful smile that matches my own.

"I don't know," I say, still smiling, and accept the hand he offers to pull me to my feet.

I don't remember when exactly Topper and I stopped being friends and started actually dating. It all happened so naturally that I don't know if we ever really distinguished between the two. One day we were just friends hanging out, getting drunk at the Boneyard, and then the next week he's kissing me at a party for everyone to see, like it wasn't a big deal that my best friend was kissing me. In some ways I guess it wasn't. It had never occurred to me that I would date anyone else. Sure Topper had dated Sarah for a while, but even that was short lived, and he had always been very upfront with me about it.

"Just you, I guess," I propose, grinning wider as he circles his arms around my waist, pulling me into him.

He's dressed up nicer than usual this evening for the Carrera's anniversary party in a billowy blue and white button up and khakis. The light colors pale in comparison to his bronzed skin, a likely permanent feature that the Carolina sun has given him.

"Really?" he hums, pecking my lips as my head tilts back to look up at him. My lips purse pliantly in response. Topper brushes aside the hair from my shoulder and hums, immediately pleased with the amount of exposed skin that he is rewarded with. The tank top that I'm wearing gives him the opportunity to ghost his lips along my shoulder until he settles on placing a kiss to the crevice of my neck.

My fingers curl into the brunette roots at the base of his neck at the attention. "It's not often I get you to myself."

With Topper's mom being the overbearing mother that she was, and the pressure that came with being the Judge's grandson, it was hard to get him out of their sights. However, if either bothered him, he never confessed such qualms to me. Such reasons are also why I think he was more privy to the political concept of our relationship than I was.

I remember being sixteen when a neighbor called the cops on one of Kelce's parties well after midnight. Of course no one knew this until Shoupe and a couple of his deputies showed up, sirens blaring. Most definitely a little buzzed and close to sobbing in the backseat of Shoupe's patrol car, I couldn't understand why Topper was so calm at the time. He just kept repeating, 'Don't worry about it, baby' and 'It'll all be fine'. At the time I hadn't noticed we were the only ones not in handcuffs. I thought for sure I was going to spent the night in jail and then my parents were going to kill me the next morning. He obviously knew something I didn't because twenty minutes later the patrol car was pulling into my driveway, Judge Thornton waiting on the porch with my grandad to take Topper home. The three of them shook hands and not a word was uttered about the incident again.

Topper dips his head to capture my mouth again, his teeth catching on the pout of my bottom lip.

Pressed to the front of my body, I feel his dick twitch in interest. I'm half compelled to drop to my knees and suck him off a second time just for the hell of it. The only problem is that he's got lipstick smeared on his mouth and his shirt is wrinkled and he's going to be late.

"Topper—" I begin.

"I know—I know—I know," he stresses, leaning down to kiss behind my ear again and then my cheek. "I'm going, I'm going."

Just when he pulls back and I go to step away, he grabs my face again, drawing my mouth back for another kiss.

"Topper—"

"I love you," he mumbles quickly after what is probably his hundredth kiss. "Okay. I'm going. I'll see you in a minute."

I watch him slip out the back door of the pool house we'd escaped to momentarily. I look over at the clock. What was supposed to be a quick five minute make out had turned into nearly half an hour. Thankfully, no one had been sent to look for us — namely my friends. Besides Kie and Sarah, the boys were off treasure hunting with Big John.

With all of the craziness going on in the past week, I was glad for the occasion to celebrate and enjoy the party. The evening air is cool and people are chattering excitedly, laughing and enjoying drinks. I spot Kie with her parents as I move throughout the crowd and she waves me over with a smile. Once I’m close enough, she latches onto my arm.

“We’ve got to get out of here. Big John was kidnapped, the boys are running off to South America to save him, and my parents won’t let me out of their sight,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

“Shit,” I whisper.

“Yeah, shit,” Kie stresses.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, I’m on it.” Turning to her dad with the brightest smile I can muster, I link arms with Kie. Thankfully, I fit in the with standard of friends Kid’s dad wants her to have, and he seems to be thankful I hang around.

“Hey, Mr. Carrera. I’m just going to steal Kie away for a moment. I promise we’ll be right back!”

He blinks, as if thinking about it for a moment before nodding. “Okay, just stay out of trouble you two.”

“We will!” I take off, dragging her with me as soon as the words leave his mouth. We haul it through throngs of tipsy guests, dodging anyone who might think to stop us.

“Wait!” Kie yelps snagging my arm before we reach the dock. Out of breath, I skid to a stop beside her.

“What—”

“Oh God,” she breathes.

Heart racing with adrenaline, I take another step towards the dock, dragging her along with me. “Kie, whatever it is, we have to go—”

“It’s John B. He’s talking to Topper.”

Straight ahead of us, I can make out John B’s wild head of hair and dingy yellow shirt. Him being the taller of the two, I glimpse the familiar white of Topper’s shirt just in front of him. Their voices are escalating by the moment, and I can make out the sound of Topper saying, “I want to know why you’re looking for my fucking girlfriend—”

“Oh God,” I repeat this time.

“(y/n), you need to go,” Kie stresses.

I take off before she even finishes her sentence, not even excusing myself as I dash past unsuspecting guests. People have started to stare and a sizable crowd has formed around them.

“— just because she’s your girlfriend doesn’t mean she can’t have friends without you.”

Topper scoffs. “Oh I see. This is about your little treasure hunting bullshit. So you think you can just run around with my girlfriend, do whatever the hell you want with her without me knowing?”

John B shoves him backwards, hard. “That’s not true!”

“John B, stop!” I shout, shoving my way to the front of the crowd as Topper catches himself. But it’s too late, John B is already grabbing the front of Topper’s shirt and yanking him to his feet.

The thing is, it’s not that Topper can’t defend himself, he’s more than capable of holding his own. It’s that he won’t. He won’t ruin his reputation in front of half the town. All he does is sneer, breathing hard as his blue eyes glint with hate. Topper had never liked my friends, only tolerated them for my sake — up until now.

“You think I don’t know?” Topper jeers. “All you’ve ever wanted is to get with (y/n).”

That’s all it takes for John B to swing. I scream as Topper stumbles backwards to the ground. Chaos erupts around us. I see Mr. Carrera hoist Topper to his feet, and my heart clenches at the sight. Blood is leaking from his nose and a dark rouge colored ring has already begun to form around his eye. When I move forward to help him, John B grabs my arm.

“We have to go. Now.”

My feet planted into the ground, I glance down at his split knuckles, and then back at Topper. Who do I choose? My best friend or my boyfriend?

Voice strained, I turn to John B. “I can’t just leave—”

“HELLO!! Now or never, guys!” JJ is on the dock with Kiara, and Sarah. Pope and Cleo are already in the boat.

“Go!” John B urges, shoving me in front of him. With one last look over my shoulder at Topper’s bloody face, I take off running down the dock with John B behind me.

—

I know he's mad before he even yanks the passenger side door open and drags me by my elbow to the car. Although his scowl and matching black eye are pretty heavy indicators, it's the stalk from the drivers side and around the front of the Jeep that tips me off.

"Get in the car, (y/n)," he barks without so much as a second glance at me.

John B and Pope glance at each other apprehensively. JJ and Kiara share similar looks.

With the passenger side door now open and Topper waiting for me to march myself over there, I hesitantly stand my ground. Anxiously, I swallow back the swell in my throat. "Go home, Top."

He throws his hands up in exasperation and shakes his head. "This—this is fucking ridiculous. Get in the car, (y/n)."

When I don't make a move either way, Cleo speaks up. "Leave her alone, man. She ain't gotta go nowhere wit' you." Her thick accent rings out loud and clear, but Topper pretends as though he doesn't hear her.

Having enough of our back and forth game, Topper strides over and grabs a firm hold of my elbow, intending to move me himself. Although I take a reflexive step backwards, I don't fight him off. At the same time, John B steps forward, ready to give Topper a black eye to match the other.

"John B, no," I immediately blurt out, twisting as best I can in Topper's grasp. "It's fine. It's fine." Sighing I turn back to Topper. "Okay," I relent. "Let's go."

We drive in silence for a while, waiting for the other to speak. I'm half hoping he won't and we'll make the entirety of the trip without uttering a word. Across the seat, we make eye contact and I scowl at him for the split second our eyes meet. Then I turn away and cross my arms with an air of defiance.

When I glance sideways at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes fixed on the road. I know him well enough to know that he's weighing out his options on what to say, determining what kind of conversation we're going to have.

He opens his mouth, starting to say something, then closes it and drags a hand over his jaw. "How many times did I call you?"

I shrug. "I don't know—"

"God dammit, (y/n). How many times did I call you!??" He slams his hand down on the console this time.

"I DON'T KNOW, TOPPER."

I do. Twenty-seven. He called twenty-seven times in addition to the missed texts and multiple question marks. I don't admit that though because it's easier to scream back at him than to admit that I was purposely avoiding his calls.

"You have got to stop hanging around with the wrong people. Start making better decisions." He's lowered his voice to a more appropriate volume now.

I glance over at him, a narrowed look on my face. "Who are you mad at, Topper?" I question. "Because I don't think it's me."

In the drivers seat, he continues to stare ahead at the road. "It's always fucking John B, isn't it. You always have to go to his rescue."

I set my jaw, knowing where his mind is and where this is going. "I didn't sleep with him, Topper."

Topper scoffs as if to make light of the situation. "Oh, for sure. You really expect me to believe that?"

"It's not like that. He's my friend."

We pull into his driveway, and Topper finally turns to me after parking the car. "Yeah? Well I'm your friend too, (y/n). You ever fucking think about that? Why do you think you're not sitting in jail right now with the rest of your so called friends?" He jabs a finger into his chest. "Me. Because I care about you!"

My back pressed up against the passenger side door, all I can do is blink in surprise. I'm not used to Topper yelling at me, and I'm not so sure I like it. I'd never thought about it that way before and guilt begins to creep into the pit of my stomach. My eyes suddenly sting and my nose burns with the threat of tears.

"I'm sorry," I whisper barley audible, my voice cracking.

Topper falls back heavily into his seat and sighs, running a hand over his face. Without a word, he gathers his keys from the truck's ignition and steps out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Teary eyed, I watch him take the steps up the porch and pace up and down the length of it while repeatedly running a frustrated hand through his hair. I get out of his truck and walk up the steps after a few minutes. Confident that he's done yelling but unsure of where we stand at the moment, I stop just short of him.

Hands in his pockets, Topper runs his gaze over me from head to toe after coming to a stop in front of me before he emits another heavy sigh and curls his hand around my jaw, forcing me to look upwards at him. "Answer me when I call you, alright?"

Nodding, I swallow under the weight of his hand as his fingers travel down to my throat. His blue eyes are focused and yet lack their usual jubilance. I nearly whine in relief when he leans down to kiss me.

He tastes fresh, like he always does, a mix between peppermint gum and mint toothpaste. The taste resonates within me a type of unspoken forgiveness that I sense is being granted as his other hand presses my body into his. I can feel the rigid outline of his cock through the thin fabric of his shorts, and it sends my heart racing in anticipation.

The thing about Topper is that he's always been able to read me impossibly well, and so when he disconnects our mouths by using the leverage of his hand on my throat to hold me back, he chuckles airily. "Feel me? That's what you do to me, you little tease."

I paw at him, grabbing at the waistband of his shorts to pull his body closer. Topper is nearly a foot taller than me, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, Top."

He hums, the thumb of his hand moving to tug at the swollen pout of my bottom lip. "Are you? He's only giving me a hard time now, not even allowing me to answer before his thumb slips into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. "Going to be good for me then?"

The weight of his thumb is so soothingly familiar that I forget to respond in favor of suckling around the digit.

"Baby." He's quick to remind me, drawing his thumb from my mouth and swiping it wetly across my cheek to grip my jaw again.

My flushed cheeks forced into a pout, I nod as much as his hold on me will allow. "Mhm."

Topper glances over his shoulder, briefly surveying the closed blinds of the windows looking out on to the front porch, and then back to me.

"Alright, on your knees, pretty girl."

He doesn't have to ask twice. He's undoing his belt with one experienced hand and gathering a fist full of my hair at the back of my head with the other. Once removed from the confines of his boxers, his cock bobs at the freedom.

If there's one thing myself and multiple other girls in the Outer Banks can attest to, it's that sucking off Topper Thornton is a pleasure. I'd heard the rumors whispered around school even before we started dating. It was weird at the time, having to hear that kind of thing about my best friend, but once we started dating, I understood where they were coming from. With some guys, blowing them is an outright chore, but not Topper. He knows exactly what he's working with and how to use it.

Once again, he's heavy in my mouth. This time in a pleasurably aching way. His tip nudges the back of my throat, and I have to remind myself to relax and breathe through my nose as tears spring to my eyes. He swipes away a stray tear before it can fall.

"There you go, baby. Good."

He doesn't buck up into my throat, forcing me to gag and sputter as I try to accommodate his length — at least not this time. Topper just fists my hair and rocks slowly back and forth, eyes rolling as my throat clenches around him. My nose nearly digs into his pelvis by the time he's satisfied that his cock is nestled as far as it can get into the heat of my throat.

With the makeshift ponytail, Topper pulls almost all of the way out of my mouth before guiding himself back in. Each time the mushroomed tip kisses the back of my throat, he pulls his cock out of my mouth again. All it takes is a few good strokes before he's spilling into my mouth, moaning while I struggle to take him all. He pulls out when he's finished.

"Swallow," he instructs, tilting my jaw back so that I have but one option. Not that I would argue with him anyhow. I'm used to how he tastes, salty and strangely satisfying, His hot release slides down my throat. At first I would have wrinkled my nose at the thought of such a thing, but strangely, I've become accustomed to the taste. It's uniquely Topper, as odd as that sounds.

He helps me to my feet and plants another slow kiss to my swollen lips. I keen at the attention, my brain feeling sluggish and wishing he would just wrap his large hand around my throat again.

"I love you," he finally murmurs, pressing a find kiss to my forehead; a stark contrast to his manhandling moments before.

"Love you too."

Around us, the porch goes dark for a split second and I bolt into Topper's arms before the lights flicker back on. This repeats a few more times; long enough for us to realize that his dad is likely on the other side of the front door.

Topper groans. "Shit."

"Shit."

[wlntrsldler]

whoever said about pm luke with him taking pics or vids HAS ME THINKING LIKE OH EM GEE imagine him getting a little burner phone just for that reason and five stars like “really 🤨” she’d be like “this dude is unbelievable” LMAO i make myself giggle, if you can a little blurb would be so funny and cute

suggestive content ahead!

"babe," luke called as he entered the hotel room the two of you were sharing in arizona. you joined them on their second tour once the school year finished. unfortunately, you were going back to north carolina in a few weeks for practice, but you were thankful that you got a few months with luke and the boys.

you paused the tiktok video you were watching and turned to look at your boyfriend. you placed your phone on the nightstand, furrowing your eyebrows when you saw the shit-eating grin on luke's face, "oh, what now, luke? whenever you look at me like this, i know something's coming."

"well, me. i'm coming."

you let out a snort, laughing into the crook of your elbow as luke crawled over to you on the bed. he chuckled at your reaction, a sense of pride blooming in his chest at how you always seemed to laugh at his stupid, boyish jokes. you wrapped your arms around his neck, "you're so.... is your mind always in the gutter?"

"only with you," luke hummed, pressing light kisses along your jaw, "not my fault, baby. i got the most gorgeous girl in the world in my bed, wearing nothing but my shirt."

"okay, be right back. i'm gonna put more clothes on."

"don't you dare!" luke bellowed, pulling you back down with a thud when you teasingly tried to get up. he caged you under his arms, hovering over your body as he regained his breath. "but wait, i got something and i'm excited about it."

"mhm, what did you get, pretty boy?" you got comfortable on the pillows. you reached up to play with the chain around his neck, flushing at the new pendants that he added along with his poisoned mercury pendant. five, silver stars along his chain. "show me."

"remember how we both agreed that it would be nice to have something to watch when we're apart, especially when one of us can't facetime?"

"yes," you sighed out, already feeling a familiar warmth bubbling in your stomach. it was hard not to when luke's eyes were darkening as he spoke to you. "what about it?"

"you know how our biggest worry was shit getting leaked?" he asked. you nodded. luke smiled, digging in his front pocket to pull out two, brand new phones. "i got us burners."

"are you serious?" you gasped, eyes twinkling with desire. you grabbed one of the phones from him and inspected it. "did you really just buy two new phones to make a movie?"

"yeah," luke blushed, "we don't have to do it if you're not comfortable. i will return them asap. just say the word, but in case you wanted to, i got us two so we don't have to risk sending videos back and forth and increase the risk. plus, it means that we'd have to go two rounds each time. for fairness purposes."

you rolled your eyes playfully, "for fairness, of course."

"i'm nothing but fair, five star, what can i say?" luke grinned.

"you're unbelievable," you whispered, leaning up to kiss his neck. luke groaned at the feeling. you took the phone that was still in his hand and placed it on the nightstand with your actual phone. you sucked on luke's collarbone, leaving a faint mark, before trailing up to his ear, "me first."

luke bit his lip, nodding. he peeled off his shirt and took the phone you were offering him. he bunched up the shirt you were wearing, staring up at you as he began leaving kisses down your sternum, "exactly what i was thinking."

[mendeshoney]

take me back to eden (part 1/2)

A/N: well I had an idea about andrei and as per usual @pyotrkochetkov​ @smileysvech​ bullied supported me until it was finished. as you can see, this story is going to be posted in two parts, so keep your eyes peeled! title is from “take me back to eden” by sleep token

Summary: Andrei’s retired, Assistant GM of the Carolina Hurricanes, and a little lonely, so he decides to be a little like Edward Lewis. 

Pairing: andrei svechnikov x f!reader

Part 1 Word Count: 22,144

Warnings: nine year age gap, older man x younger woman, basically “pretty woman” with andrei, love at first sight(Ish), he falls first, she falls too, he falls harder, sugar daddy vibes, angst, fluff, smut, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

September

The Premiere Suite at The Mark Hotel.

So…this was it. 

Immediately after swiping the key card and letting himself into the suite, he goes about unpacking. Quickly, he puts his belongings away in the bedroom of the suite, before moving back into the living area, heart pounding with every step.

He’d bought a bouquet of red roses along with a crimson red vase, and he stores the vase in a cabinet in the little kitchen first. He moves further into the room, setting the roses on the coffee table before grabbing the ice bucket and heading down the hall to fill it. When he gets back, he places a bottle of champagne in the ice bucket, and rests it beside the roses, accompanying it by placing two champagne glasses down next to the bucket. 

He heads back into his room, pulling out the little blue box from Tiffany’s in his leather duffle bag, tucking the box into the pockets of his pants, then heads back into the living area, examining the space.

This was enough, right?

Enough to prove that either he wasn’t new to this (which he was) or that he was capable of being a gentleman (jury’s still out), he wasn’t sure.

He’d never done this before, never had to, never needed to, and never thought to.

At thirty two, officially retired from hockey and now serving as Assistant General Manager of the Carolina Hurricanes, Andrei had his fair share of ex girlfriends, previous one night stands, former friends with benefits, and the like in his youth. He’d thought he’d been close to true love once before, but that crashed and burned in flames before he even realized he was standing in the ashes of the aftermath.

Too focused, he’d been told. He was too focused on hockey, on this sport, and it wasn’t enough, so she left. And now, he couldn’t exactly deny that she had been wrong.

Lately, he was far too busy and much less interested in anything other than working to even consider the possibility of anything more. Working for the team that had given him the chance to live out his childhood dreams was where his heart, mind, body, and soul were focused, and he poured his all into it every day.

But sometimes, some days, he could admit to himself that as much as he liked being alone, he did feel lonely in the quiet corners of his office and in the solitude of his bedroom. 

“You need a Pretty Woman,” his brother had told him almost a month ago.

“A what?” He remembers saying, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear as he typed out an email.

“You know the movie? With Julia Roberts?” Evgeny said, as if that was supposed to mean something to Andrei. “The one mom used to watch all of the time.”

“The prostitution one?” He said, vaguely recalling it now. He mainly remembers trying to make as much noise as possible with Evgeny so his mother would relent and allow them to change the channel to watch cartoons or hockey.

“Da,” his brother had said, “It could be discreet, maybe a little more your pace.”

Andrei had all but rolled his eyes and shot it down, calling his brother an idiot before confirming that he’d be home for the holidays and hanging up.

Then two days later, he was out to dinner with a few of the players on the roster during a preseason dinner, and overheard a couple of veteran players on the team chatting with a newer player about helping him find a date to their eventual Canes Bash, the renamed organizational casino night. 

“It’s worth a shot,” one of the veterans, Mason, had said. “You said you’re out of options, that’s an option.”

The newcomer, Eli, looked extremely skeptical. “But isn’t that like…illegal? It’s basically prostitution.”

The veteran players had shushed him, leaning in closer and lowering their voices even though Andrei could still hear them. 

Eli was sitting to his immediate right, for fuck’s sake.

“It’s an escort service.” The other veteran, Olly said from his spot across from Eli. “They’re based out of Manhattan but have employees all over the country. They serve high profiled clients and work with the utmost scrutiny. You have to submit pay stubs to even prove you can afford one of their employees and both parties are required to sign an NDA.”

“Why does it sound like you’ve ripped that right from their website?” The rookie questioned, skepticism still present in his tone.

“Because maybe we’ve used it once or twice,” Mason shrugged. 

“You have?” Eli asked, and Andrei could tell he was starting to slowly lean into the idea.

“It’s simple,” Olly assured him. “When you register yourself on the website, you fill out an application and basically create an account with them. You have to sign the NDA before your account can be official. Then you submit your pay stubs and a copy of your ID or passport. If those clear, then they do a thorough background check on you, more thorough than a government job, even, and if you pass the background check, they send you a questionnaire to fill out that helps them understand what you’re looking for, but it also lets them know if they’re the service you’re looking for, or if you should take your interests elsewhere.”

“Yeah,” Mason chimed in. “If they believe they can help you, they ask for your availability where you’d like to meet, and then once you pick a city, day, and time, they set up a meeting place, all expenses paid by the service. It’s like a consultation.”

“What about the girl?” Eli asked. “Do I get to pick her?”

“They select them for you based on your questionnaire answers.” Mason said, “But they’ve never set us up with a bad pick.”

“Yeah,” Olly chimed in, smirking. “Remember the blonde bombshell I brought to the team Christmas party last year?”

Eli’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “She was an escort?!”

Olly and Mason shushed Eli once more, though no one else at the dinner table seemed to have been paying any attention to them.

Hockey players have certainly heard, and discussed, far weirder and far worse.

“Did you just watch ‘Pretty Woman,’?” Andrei had teased, and laughed at the stricken expressions on Mason, Olly, and Eli’s faces.

“Uh yeah,” Mason had said nervously. “It’s a classic.” 

Andrei nodded, “It is, it’s a great movie.” Then turned his body as if he was tuning into the conversation the head office was having to his left.

To be fair, he should technically be involved in this conversation anyway, since it is his job, but instead, for some reason, he keeps an ear trained on the rest of what the boys to his right are saying.

“Look, do you wanna go for it or not?” Mason asked, “If you do, I can send you a referral link, or you can just use my name when you apply. It speeds up the time between application and your first meeting.”

Eli made a hesitant noise. “I don’t know. What if I don’t like the girl they picked? I can’t bring a weirdo to the Canes Bash.” 

“That’s what the initial meeting is for.” Olly explained. “The consultation, remember? First visit is free, and then the only payments you have to worry about are for bookings once you get to the first date and beyond. If you like the girl, you tell her what you need her for, and if she agrees to work with you, you book everything moving forward through the website. That way you’re not spending money up front.”

“It’s no strings attached before you even solidify anything.” Mason said, then nudged Eli. “So what do you think? Are you in or what?”

There was a pause, and Andrei sensed Eli’s lingering hesitation, but still, the rookie persisted and said, “Yeah, why not? Fuck it. I’ll do it. What’s this thing called again?”

“Daughters of Aphrodite,” Olly said with a dreamy air to his tone. “Unofficially, that is. Aptly named, but it would obviously raise some eyebrows. So officially, their business name is Eden.”

That night, after Andrei went home, he found himself opening up his laptop as he lounged in bed, looking up “Daughters of Aphrodite” online. He’d found nothing but tellings and retellings of the goddess of love, so he took a chance and searched up “Eden” instead.

Sure enough, there it was. He hesitated all of two seconds before clicking into the website, and didn’t think twice about filling out the application. True to Mason and Olly’s word, he had to sign an NDA before his account could be created, and submit a copy of six months worth of paystubs, his identification, fill out paperwork to commit to and then actually go for STD testing, and when they asked if he’d been referred to the service by anyone to expedite his application process, he listed Olly’s name, figuring Mason probably would’ve lent his referral to Eli instead.

And now, three weeks later, here he was.

In Manhattan, at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, moving into a suite for the weekend.

About to have a consultation…with an escort.

If the consultation went well, his plan was to take this person to a nice dinner, and maybe go out for drinks afterward. Eden had footed the bill and booked the suite for the weekend in case they decided on other activities, but Andrei wasn’t going to hold his breath.

He still wasn’t sure if he was going to stick around, let alone if this other person would be interested.

As he looked around at his little set up, part of him felt like maybe this was too much, but he couldn’t just show up here with nothing. They had his pay stubs, knew his income, knew he was a high profile client using their services for a reason.

Sugar daddy. 

That was one of the things on his questionnaire, asking if that’s what he was looking to be. 

He hadn’t said yes, but surely it wouldn’t be inappropriate to provide his incoming date with…well, some sugar.

Besides, it was just roses, champagne, and the diamond tennis bracelet from Tiffany’s sitting in his pocket. 

Before he could start pacing, Andrei removed his tie and his blazer, resting it over the back of the chair at the desk in the room before loosening the top few buttons on his dress shirt, then unbuttoning and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. He raided the mini bar, pouring himself a shot of vodka, downing it, then pouring another larger serving, one he could sip at to calm his nerves.

He sat in the lounge chair, scrolling through his email to re-read the instructions one more time.

“...after checking into your hotel and arriving at your room, feel free to take your time settling in and getting comfortable. Once you’re ready, please text the code “5683” to the following number, and we will notify your date for the evening that you’re ready for them. They should arrive no later than twenty minutes after you send the directed code.”

Andrei felt a sweat start to break out on his back.

He texted the code not long after he finished unpacking, which was about ten minutes ago.

She could get here at any time, and it wasn’t until Andrei realized that, that he began to panic a little.

He had no idea what this woman would look like, no idea how old she was. He said he wouldn’t agree to anything more than a couple years older than him, and nothing more than ten years younger than him, so he knew she was somewhere in that range. 

But what if she wasn’t his type? What if he wasn’t her type? Even if he was a client, Eden made it clear that the girls were in control, that they had the agency, so what if she decided to break it off the second she saw his face? What if there was no chemistry? What if -

A soft pattern of three knocks on the door broke him from his thoughts, and he cursed to himself. 

She’s here.

Resting his glass on the side table near his chair, he gets up, strolling to the door and checking his appearance in the mirror before answering.

Not his best, but not his worst.

It’s a consult. He reminds himself. Doesn’t have to be anything more.

He takes a deep breath, flipping the deadbolt and twisting the handle, breath caught in his lungs as he opens the door and -

And…

And…

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

This…this is…

It has to be a joke.

There’s no way a woman this beautiful, a woman this perfect, is working for a service like this.

Now he understood why Olly got so dreamy when he said the service was called “Daughters of Aphrodite.” 

Because if this woman were anything other than a demi-god, daughter to the most beautiful creature in the world, he would surely think he was living in an alternate reality.

Fuck, the woman in front of him could be Aphrodite for all he cared.

God damn, ona krasivaya. She is beautiful. 

She should be on a throne somewhere, modeling on a beach, walking a runway, hell, in a house baking cookies for her husband and children because…because…

This woman should be someone’s wife. Someone’s girlfriend. Someone’s partner. 

Not an escort here in a ritzy hotel suite with him.

“Um…hi. Andrei, right?” 

He blinks.

God and her voice.

Your voice.

You.

Your…everything. 

No, it’s you’re, definitely you’re, because you are everything. 

“Shit,” Andrei hears you curse under your breath. “Um, ty Andrei Svechnikov? Vy govorite po-angliyski?”

He blinks again, like an idiot, because wow he was not expecting that, and now he’s harder than a rock in his dress pants. Granted, your pronunciation isn’t the best, but it’s damn near perfect, and he crumbles. 

“Yeah,” he hears himself say, mentally patting himself on the back for not letting his voice crack, “It’s me. I’m Andrei.”

You smile softly at him and he feels like his heart just jumps right out of his chest and lands at your feet, screaming “take me love me accept me please.”

“Hi,” you say. “It’s nice to meet you. Is now still a good time?”

He nods, too dumbstruck to say anything else. His whole body buzzes in response the more you speak to him, and he swears any second now a flying baby in a diaper is going to swoop in and stab him in the butt.

“Yeah,” he says after a second. “Now is still good.”

“Oh okay,” you say, nodding slightly. Then, when he doesn’t move, a soft laugh leaves your lips, a laugh that he swears sounds like little bells, and you tilt your head to the side. “May I come in?”

Idiot.

He laughs too, hoping it doesn’t sound too nervous, and nods, stepping to the side. “Yes yes, I’m sorry, please come in.”

You cross the threshold, passing by him and he gets a whiff of your perfume, the breeze left in your wake chilling him to the bone.

“Almaznyy,” he hears himself whisper, watching you wander further into the suite. 

Diamond. 

A living and breathing diamond.

He swears a string of curses to himself as he shuts the door behind him and flips the deadbolt, then thinks better of it and flips it back. No one else but him has the key to this room, and he doesn’t want you to think by flipping the deadbolt that you’re trapped here.

Although, he wouldn’t mind if you trapped him in here.

He follows after you, finds you staring at a photograph blown onto canvas on the wall just shy of the coffee table.

The coffee table currently holding your roses. 

Shit.

He rushes to the table, grabbing the bouquet and turning towards you. He catches the way your eyes roam over the canvas, over the flowers and shadows, and he smiles a little.

“Interested in art?”

You shrug absently with a hum, your eyes still locked on the photograph, a fond and knowing look on your face. “Somewhat. My mom used to paint, and my brother got me into art as well.” Your body turns toward him first, followed by your head as you say “I’m not quite as good, but I dr- oh.”

You pause, smiling widely at the roses in his hand, and Andrei takes a chance, stepping closer and eliminating some of the distance between you two. “These are for you,” he says, “As a thank you.”

“They’re beautiful,” you say with an awestruck smile, taking them and cradling the bouquet in your arms. “Thank you.”

This image of you would be seared into his brain for the rest of his life, he swears. 

“I have a vase for you to put them in, if you’d like.” He offers. 

“How considerate,” you say. It sounds teasing, but the smile on your face is sincere. He holds out his hand, nearly regretting it when you blink at it for a second, before your hand lands in his and - 

The electric bolt that runs up his arm when he finally touches you can’t be a coincidence.

Especially not when he looks at you, wondering if you felt it too, and judging by the shy look that suddenly crosses your features, you definitely did.

Not only that, but fucking hell your skin is soft.

So soft, better than silk or velvet. 

He has to contain his excitement when he laces your fingers together, and you give him a reassuring squeeze as he leads you to the kitchen. He pulls the vase out of the cabinet and starts to fill it with a little water at the sink while you lay the roses down, gently removing the twine and then the brown packaging from around it.

Andrei finds himself quickly reaching for your hands after putting the vase down on the counter, not wanting you to prick yourself on any thorns. 

“Let me please, almaznyy,” he says. You smile, eyebrow raised in confusion at what he’s called you - and god if he was going to survive this night he’d have to work to not make you do that as often - but you don’t move at all when he comes up behind you, keeping an inch between your bodies, arms on either side as he works the roses apart, inspecting the stems for thorns.

He didn’t pay anything astronomical for them, but they were a rare type of crimson red rose, and he paid enough to hope that they didn’t have thorns on them. 

Thankfully, they didn’t. When he raises his hand to lift a couple into the vase, yours move to grab a couple of more. Together, the both of you arrange the two dozen roses into the vase, and almost naturally, you let out a happy little sigh as you relax backward, body gently pressing against his.

It’s a ghost of a touch, but he can tell you fit perfectly against one another.

“They really are beautiful,” you say, then turn your head to look up at him, lips curving into another brilliant smile. “Spasibo.”

His heart spasms. 

That was five.

Five smiles in the span of about five minutes.

He was prouder of that than he was any record he set during his career.

With a smile of his own, he takes a step back, watching you turn and lean against the counter a little, and holds out his hand once more. This time you take it without a second thought, and follow him as he leads you over to the couch.

You both sit next to one another, you sitting a little sideways to face him, and he gestures to the champagne. “Would you like some?”

“Sure,” you say, and now all Andrei wants to do - on top of making you smile - is keep you talking.

He needs to hear more of that pretty voice like it’s the last he’ll ever hear on this earth.

As he expertly pops the top and begins to pour a glass, he asks “How old are you?”

It’s a jump from the first question - or questions -  he wanted to ask, the main one being “What is your name?” which he was told explicitly in his instructions email that he was not allowed to ask. 

The Daughters of Aphrodite could only offer their names to the clients if they decided that they wanted to - or if their clients had earned it - and the clients could not ask under any circumstances. It was part of the point that the women held the agency here. 

His other questions fell along the lines of “Are you married?” and “If you’re not married, are you available for a summer wedding next June?” Both of which he also did not ask.

He’d get the answer to all three eventually…he hoped.

“I’m twenty three,” you respond, accepting the flute of champagne from him. “My birthday was a couple of days ago.”

His heart hammers in his chest. 

Nine years. 

She’s nine years younger than you, his brain screams.

Eden sure cut it close with this one.

“Happy belated birthday,” Andrei says, turning a little in his seat to face you. As he does, the corner of the jewelry box in his pocket pokes his thigh. He reaches into it without a second thought, relieved when he brings it out and sees that the little white bow is still in excellent condition as he holds it out to you. 

“I didn’t know it was your birthday, obviously,” he begins, “But I saw this and wanted to buy it for you, so maybe it was meant to be.”

He winces internally at his choice of words, but then a bashful smile breaks out on your face, and you place your champagne flute down on the coffee table, taking the gift with gentle fingers.

Six smiles! 

Hell yes.

You pause before pulling the bow, looking up at Andrei with a little furrow in your brow.

His heart kicks in his chest, demanding to be let out, demanding to comfort you and ease whatever just made you pull that face. “What is it?”

“This is just awfully nice of you, and I didn’t get you anything.”

Two things run through his mind in that second and he’s blurting them both out before he can stop himself or think of any consequences. “I wanted to, you deserve it. And I don’t need anything in return.” then “Your other clients don’t get you anything?”

You fucking idiot. He curses himself. He didn’t even think of the fact that you’ve probably had other clients, that you’ve been around other men, and his blood starts to simmer, this unexpected feeling of jealousy twisting his stomach uncomfortably. 

But you don’t even blink, just shrug your pretty shoulders and say “Not really, no. Well, not at first maybe, not at the consultation.”

Okay.

He was not going to think about the fact that other men had gotten to have a consultation with you or that some had also made it past the consultation with you. He was not going to picture a beautiful being like you entertaining the likes of fuckers like Mason, or Olly, or Eli.

God.

What if you’d been with them? What if you knew Mason or Olly? What if Eli had already applied and maybe even gotten a consultation before Andrei could have? What if you had a consultation scheduled with Eli next? What if -

“And they usually don’t get me roses,” you add softly, fingers still brushing against the bow. 

“Then they’re idiots.” He deadpans.

You lift your head up at that, blinking at him, and he worries he may have upset you, but then you laugh, a little loud, melodic and sudden, and his heart soars.

“Open it,” he says gently, gesturing to the box with his chin. 

Your fingers finally pull the bow off and gently lift the lid, removing the carefully folded tissue paper to reveal the tennis bracelet nestled inside. 

It’s a platinum bracelet, designed to resemble vines curling around the wrist when fastened. Within the leaves on the vine are round brilliant and marquise diamonds, though he doesn’t think they can hold a candle to you. 

His actual diamond.

Almaznyy.

Almost as if the marquise diamonds can hear him, they twinkle a little in the light in protest at him when you manage to lift the bracelet from its little cushion.

He thought it was fitting - vines, Eden, garden of Eden.

Oh god, now he thought it was stupid.

Why would he think getting you a bracelet reminding you of your employment was a good idea?

“Oh, Andrei,” you coo.

And god if he doesn’t fall in love with you right then just based on the way you say his fucking name.

“Do you like it?” He asks.

You nod emphatically, looking up at him. You look a little dazed, the disbelief present in your eyes. “I love it, it’s beautiful. Would you help me put it on?”

“Of course, almaznyy,” he murmurs, reaching forward to take the jewelry from your hand. You hold your wrist out, and with nimble fingers he secures the bracelet to your wrist. He indulges himself a little by letting his fingers graze along the skin, before grabbing your hand again, lacing your fingers together and resting them on the couch cushion between you. 

“It looks beautiful on you,” he says truthfully, eyeing the way the bracelet sits on your wrist, how it looks so perfect next to his rolex, and how they punctuate your joined hands. 

“It fits like a glove.” You say, voice full of wonder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it in my life.”

The boost to his ego is instantaneous and he can’t help the smirk that crosses his lips before he smothers it with a smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

You smile, seven, eyes looking him over for a second. “Is that what you need me for? Someone to shower with roses and pretty jewelry?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and Andrei feels himself go red.

For a second he managed to forget about the circumstances surrounding your presence. For a second, he managed to convince himself this was your third date. For a second, he managed to convince himself you already belonged to him.

Not in a nefarious way. People never belonged to other people, he always believed that. 

But god dammit if he didn’t already belong to you. 

“I um,” he fumbles, doesn’t really know what to say.

You scoot closer, unlacing your fingers and resting your hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. “It’s okay, Andrei. I’m here for a reason, aren’t I? I just want to help.”

Well fuck.

Now he doesn’t want to tell you. How can he possibly tell you he overheard players on a team he’s supposed to be helping to manage talk about your company? And how could he say that he figured it would be a good quick fix to ease the loneliness he felt some days? 

Especially on the days when he realized most of his friends and former teammates were either getting married, already married, some with kids, and he still felt like he was lost in the ocean, treading water for some unknown reason, and that as much as he wanted that all for himself, he just didn’t have the time?

“If it helps,” you offer, “I can kind of guess.”

Andrei blinks. “You can?”

You nod, suddenly growing a little shy as you admit “I kind of Googled you?”

He laughs then, the small tension that had built in the room starting to break. “Oh? Find anything interesting?”

You smirk, dragging your hand down his arm and lacing your fingers back together. “I did. Admittedly I don’t do it with all of my clients, but your name sounded familiar, so I looked you up.”

“And?” He teases, leaning in a little. “Do I live up to Google’s expectations?”

You snort a little - so fucking cute - and a small smile graces your lips again as you try to find the right words to say.

Eight. Fuck yeah.

“You’re a busy man,” you begin, looking down at your joined hands. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. You might not be the general manager, but you’re someone that your organization trusts, and that puts you in a precarious position. Because you can speak to and for the team, and be the middleman between them and your administration in a way that hasn’t been there for them before. The team is your life, you spent your whole career there, so it’s understandable, but that doesn’t leave you much room for anything else. That must be pretty lonely for you.”

Andrei’s dazed, and a little fucking pissed that the most he’s heard you talk this evening is because you’re talking about him, and he makes a mental note with himself to change that as soon as possible. 

“You need company.” You finish, rubbing your thumb in comforting circles on the back of his hand, and Andrei feels the anxiety begin to seep out of his body. “I’m happy to give that to you, Andrei. Whatever that may look like.”

His eyes coast up to your face, skepticism in his gut, but your face is completely sincere, not a sliver of doubt or humor. He swallows, nodding. Instead of confirming your suspicions, he turns your hands around, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand now. “And you? What do you need?”

You blink at him. “Me?”

He nods again, “Yeah you, almaznyy. What made you want to do this?”

“Eden?” You clarify, and Andrei nods again, squeezing your hand gently. “Well, as you can probably imagine, it’s good money. It helped put me through college, since I was putting myself through school. I actually stopped once I graduated. I put most of what I earned into savings, and thought that would be enough to live a normal life while I worked a normal job. And I had that for a few months. But then I…” your voice trails off and your brow furrows again, like you’re trying to figure out how much to say.

You can tell me everything. He wants to tell you. I won’t judge, I just want to know. 

“I decided I wanted something different,” you finally say. “Something more, so I came back to Eden. They welcomed me back, and now they’re helping me make sure I get what I want.” 

“What is it that you want?” He asks.

You shrug. “What does anyone want these days?”

It’s cryptic, and Andrei doesn’t pry any further, no matter how badly he may want to. Instead, he squeezes your hand and asks “Well, what do you need from me?”

You raise a brow, surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how can I help you? To get your something different?”

You smile a little, but it’s not like the others, so he doesn’t add it to the count. This one is more…considering. Like you’re assessing if the sincerity in his voice is actually there, or if he’s just playing his part. “You already are,” you eventually say. 

He watches as your eyes continue to examine his face, looking for…well, he doesn’t know exactly. But he’s content to sit there and let you do whatever you want. As far as he’s concerned, you can do whatever you want. And he also uses the opportunity to etch you into his memory, every inch of you, just in case. 

“But this is for me,” he says after a moment.

“I know,” you murmur with a smile before casting your eyes down to your joined hands. “And it helps.”

Nine. 

He swallows. “Are you lonely too?”

You purse your lips, shrugging. “Isn’t everyone?”

Cryptic again, but then you’re looking up at him, and there’s this…it sounds cliché, but there’s this twinkle in your eye, and he feels his pulse skyrocket in his veins. 

“Why the gifts, Andrei?” 

He feels his heart sigh dreamily when you say his name. “What?”

You gesture down to the bracelet on your wrist with your eyes, before flicking them back up to his face. “The bracelet, the roses. I love them, don’t get me wrong. But…why?”

Andrei shrugs. “It felt…” he searches for the right words. “Appropriate. I don’t know.”

There’s a look of consideration on your face. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

He shakes his head, suddenly…shy. He’s immediately transported back to his first year as a rookie, how uncertain everything seemed, and how lost he felt more often than not. He remembers stumbling through English, feeling awkward trying to get to know his teammates and make friends, to get people to like him.

He wants you to like him. 

He knows in his gut he’s pretty much got a crush on you at this point, which is insane, considering you met…maybe twenty minutes ago? Thirty?

And he doesn’t really know how these things are supposed to go…at all. When he tells you as much, you giggle a little, squeezing his hand. “That’s okay, we can take this slow.”

He nods. “Slow is good.” Then, “How about dinner? Would you like to have dinner with me?”

A dazzling smile crosses your features before you say “I’d love to go to dinner with you,” and he beams. 

Ten. Ten smiles and dinner. Hell yeah.

~

October

Andrei glances down at his phone, smiling at yet another picture of Luka, Evgeny’s newborn baby boy and his second child. He was born a few days ago, but given Andrei’s duties with the team, he couldn’t be there for Evgeny and Sara. 

He’d sent presents of course, and his mother had taken the liberty of sending Andrei hundreds of photos so far, and Evgeny clearly felt comfortable following in their mother’s footsteps, sending Andrei at least twenty pictures a day. 

Evgeny was just as bad when Mila, his two year old daughter, was born. Photos every day that eventually dwindled down to weekly, then monthly as she got older.

In the photo Evgeny had just sent, Luka’s chubby newborn body was swaddled in a blanket and donning the light yellow baby hat Andrei had sent them. 

Andrei: Milyy i tolstyy

Cute and fat.

Evegeny sends back an angry face emoji.

Evgeny: Ne nazyvay moyego rebenka tolstym

Don’t call my baby fat

Evgeny: pridurok

Dickhead.

He chuckles to himself before pocketing his phone, casting his eyes back up. 

He watches from the stands as the players skate down the ice, running through drills in preparation for the first home game of the season later this week. Right after that, they were immediately on the road, heading to play the Rangers over the weekend.

A weekend where he’d get to see you.

He grabs his coffee cup from the holder in front of him, taking a large sip as he catalogs every player, assessing for strengths, weaknesses, who needs help, who can work on what. He looks for the holes in their plays, looks for the ways they can improve, looks for anything and everything that the team needs.

“Skyler’s looking good,” Andrei notes. “Role of ‘Captain’ suits him.”

From beside him, sipping on his own coffee, Coach Brind’Amour nods. “Yeah, he’s enjoying it.”

Technically, he’s not Coach Brind’Amour anymore.

These days, he’s the General Manager, but Andrei’s known him too long and respects him too much to call him anything but ‘Coach.’

Skyler, Coach’s son, is about the same age as Andrei, but started with the Canes a few years into Andrei’s career. The two of them became quite close, but whereas Skyler’s career continued, Andrei’s had to stop. 

There wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

“What are you seeing?” Coach asks him, gesturing to the ice.

Andrei smiles a little. “Probably the same thing you are.”

“They’re a good team, need a little more work.” Coach confirms.

Andrei hums a little. “They’ll be ready.”

They both eye the banners in the rafters. 

2024 Stanley Cup Champions. 

2027 Stanley Cup Champions. 

2032 Stanley Cup Champions.

The last one makes Andrei feel a little bittersweet, and he tears his eyes away.

“They can do it again,” Andrei confirms. “We made sure the additions to the team would see to that, not prevent it.”

“Now you sound like me,” Coach teases. 

Andrei laughs, and shrugs. “You were right most of the time.”

“Most?!” Coach cries, incredulous. He shoves Andrei playfully, and they share another laugh before directing their eyes back to the ice. 

They watch the rest of practice relatively quietly, a few other people coming to sit with them now and again as practice goes on, talking to them about upcoming meetings, home opener preparations, player contracts, the list goes on.

Andrei contributes his opinion when he can and when asked, still getting used to his new role. A couple of times, Coach shouts something down the stands so the new head coach or the captain can hear, and even encourages - and manages to convince Andrei - to do it once as well, noting a spot that needs work with a couple of the defensive pairs.

After practice, he and Coach head into the locker rooms to talk to the new head coach and give the players some words of encouragement. 

At one point, he notices Olly looking at him from out of the corner of his eye, and when Andrei spares a glance at him, Olly looks away, almost like he didn’t think he’d be caught.

Strange.

On the way out, Andrei tells Coach he’ll catch up in a second before he stops by the player’s stall. “Looking good out there, Oliver.” 

Olly looks up, surprised to see him there. From next to him, Mason giggles, bending down to fiddle with the tape on his socks. “Thanks Svechy, I appreciate that.”

“You two feeling good about the home opener?” He asks, gesturing his chin to Mason and leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Yeah man,” Mason answers, eyes on his skates now. “Feeling great. You think we’re ready?”

“Did it last year,” he answers. “Looked great in pre-season. Who says hurricanes can’t strike twice?”

They both grin at that, and then Andrei nods at them, dismissing himself.

When he steps into the hallway, his phone buzzes with an email notification, and his heart nearly skyrockets out of his chest when he sees the subject line.

“Booking Confirmation Details - Eden Hospitality.”

He curses silently to himself, nearly jumping in the air when there’s a tap on his back.

It’s Coach, who laughs at Andrei’s red face, and Andrei quickly locks and pockets his phone. 

“Sorry Svechy,” he says, “Didn’t mean to scare you. You coming to the meeting upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Andrei says, sighing a little in relief that it was just Coach Brind’Amour. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Another long, nearly painstaking hour later, Andrei’s finally back in his office.

It’s a cozy space, not as large as the General Manager’s office, or the coach’s office, but it’s decent enough. There’s many photos of his journey with the Canes along his wall, and pictures of his family on the wall closest to his desk. His desk is L-Shaped, and it allows him to face his office door, a couch along the wall, two chairs in front of his desk, and a shelf and mini stall for his gear in the corner. 

Checking his schedule on the calendar on his computer, he’s instantly grateful to see he doesn’t have to do anything for another hour and a half, so he pulls out his phone and brings up his email, clicking into the confirmation from Eden.

“Thank you for choosing Eden Hospitality for your booking purposes!

Your reservation beginning this Saturday, October 17th at The Mark Hotel in the Premier Suite is confirmed. Please note that any and all reservation changes must be made within 48 hours of the arranged date. Proof of payment is attached to this email in a reviewable and downloadable PDF. 

We also wanted to confirm we received your latest copy of blood testing for STDs, and thank you for your compliance with our booking policies. As a reminder, this will need to be done prior to every booking request to ensure booking can be completed. Failure to comply will result in termination of your account with Eden Hospitality. Attached is also a copy of your companion’s recent blood testing, for your reference. 

Check in as per usual at the front desk, and feel free to either leave your bags with the front desk, or you can head on up to your room. Please feel free to text your companion to arrange a time and place to meet, should you wish to meet outside of The Mark Hotel.”

His heart catapults out of his chest when his phone buzzes in his hand with a new text message.

“Almaznyy,” the name reads, and a kilowatt smile crosses his features. He opens your text thread with one another, his smile growing impossibly large as his cheeks heat.

Almaznyy: You miss me that much, don’t you?

Andrei: Almost every second since I said goodbye to you last month

The dinner date had gone incredibly. Wonderfully. Stupendously.

(That last word was one Skyler had taught him.)

The chemistry the two of you shared was…literally off the charts. It felt cosmic, fated, almost, just so naturally right that Andrei drove himself paranoid the more he thought about it, because he wanted to know if you felt it too.

You had spent the night, but nothing intimate had happened other than the two of you holding hands as you laid on Andrei’s bed and talked for hours until you both fell asleep. When Andrei woke up, you were in the kitchen, freshly showered and changed and making breakfast on the stove, a fresh pot of coffee already brewed. 

Eden had held your bags at the front desk for you as per consultation protocols, since the Daughters of Aphrodite weren’t required or expected to stay past the initial consultation if they’d made their decision or come to an agreement with their client, but if they chose to stay, their belongings weren’t far away.

The fact that you had chosen to stay made him happier than you’d ever know.

You didn’t unpack like he did, but your things were in a weekender bag in the corner of his bedroom, and though he didn’t want to admit it - mostly because he didn’t want to get ahead of himself - he quite liked seeing your toothbrush next to his on the bathroom counter.

Almaznyy: Well maybe I missed you a little bit as well

Andrei: Really?

Shit shit shit, he didn’t mean to press send on that. He didn’t want to unsend it either, but now that it was out there -

Almaznyy: Yes really, I had a wonderful time with you

You sent a heart emoji with that last message.

A heart.

Alright, now he was just outright blushing, and he folded his arms onto his desk before burying his head in them like a lovesick fool. 

In fairness, he’d had a wonderful time too.

After eating the delicious breakfast you’d made, he took your hand across the kitchen island and offered to take you out to do whatever it was that you wanted. It felt appropriate, felt good, knowing he could do that for you.

You took him by surprise when you asked if you could go to the Bronx Zoo. He half expected something a little more…well, he wasn’t sure exactly, but the zoo hadn’t been it.

He complied, of course, and the two of you got dressed. You in jeans, a light sweater, and sneakers, and him in black jeans, a white long sleeved shirt, sneakers, and your new bracelet that you hadn’t taken off since he put it on. You both took an Uber there, and spent most of the morning and early afternoon wandering around, looking at every single animal exhibit, some of them even twice, and taking pictures along the way.

Andrei took more than a few…hundred…pictures of you on his phone. Most of them were candids, some videos of you looking at the different animals, making faces or cooing at them from the viewing windows, and others of you just…being around him. 

(He locked about ninety five percent of the photos in a private album on his phone, just in case.)

After that, you took him to your favorite lunch spot on the Upper West Side, and then to your favorite book store in the city. 

For dinner, he insisted on cooking for you, so you went to Whole Foods, giggling when he pushed you around on the cart as you grabbed all the necessary items for Beef Stroganoff. 

You helped him while he cooked, though he would’ve been much happier if you had just sat on the stool, looking as pretty as you did, sipping your wine and letting him just…cater to you. 

You praised him over the dish, in which he immediately texted his mother about afterward to thank her for insisting on teaching him at least that, to which she just replied “???”

That night, the two of you fell asleep talking again, your hands linked with one another under the sheets.

The next day, you played tourist. Checking out the Natural History Museum, the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, got lunch in Tribeca, and then went to the driving ranges at Chelsea Piers. You had dinner together at Prime Catch in Hell’s Kitchen, and spent the rest of the night talking again, until you both fell asleep, this time, with you in his arms. 

So yeah…it was pretty wonderful. It didn’t even matter that he didn’t get the chance to kiss you, he just had so much fun being with you, being around you, that he didn’t care about what happened next, or what didn’t happen.

It had been tough to say goodbye to you, especially when you left him with a little wave, a kiss on the cheek, and a “see you soon, Andrei,” but he managed to contain his excitement for the next time.

At least, until this very moment.

He composes himself, sitting back up and grabbing his phone.

Andrei: I had a wonderful time too

Andrei: What do you want to do this time?

He feels like a teenager again, waiting as the seconds pass for your response, and when it comes, he’s pretty sure he wants to squeal with excitement.

He doesn’t even know how to squeal.

Almaznyy: I’ll let you choose, where would you like to take me on a date?

~

This was definitely a date. 

Your fourth date, technically. And you said ‘date,’ so he planned for a ‘date’, but as he waited for you as the seconds ticked by, he was worried it wasn’t enough. 

He waited on a bench in front of the Met wearing a dark baseball cap, a gray sweater, bomber jacket, jeans, and sneakers. It was a little chilly out in Manhattan, so he held two of the small, blue signature New York coffee cups in his hands, one with coffee for him, the other with hot chocolate for you.

His knee bounced up and down with nerves, eyes scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of you approaching. 

Eventually he sees you emerge, a large scarf wrapped around your neck, covering up your white knit sweater. You’re wearing black jeans and sneakers, your little black bag on your shoulder and in your hand are…

Two blue signature New York coffee cups.

As you get closer, you spot him on the bench, glance at his hands, and then the both of you are laughing by the time you reach him.

“Great minds think alike.” You tease, sitting next to him. “Is that hot chocolate for me?”

He nods, gesturing with his chin at the cups in your hand. “That coffee for me?” 

You nod too with a smile, and he shakes his head. “That’s some serious telepathy.” 

“I’m pretty sure most people call it chemistry.” You tease, “Here, you drink the coffee I got you, and I’ll drink the hot chocolate you got me.”

You place the excess cups next to you, then exchange the designated cups. He watches as you take a sip of your hot chocolate, smiling when a happy sound crosses your lips. 

“How are you, almaznyy?” He asks, reaching a hand out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his hand dropping to his lap unceremoniously.

“Good,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours. “And you, Andrei?”

“Good,” he nods, “A bit busy, but good.”

You nod, taking another sip. “You have a game tomorrow night, right?”

“Mhm,” he manages through a sip of his own coffee. “Have you ever been?”

“To Madison Square Garden? Or to a hockey game?”

He shrugs. “Both.” 

“I’ve been to both,” you say honestly. “Couple concerts and I think two games?”

“Would you like to come?” At his question, you turn your head to look at him, surprise lining your features. Andrei just shrugs. “I’d be upstairs working for most of it, but I know a guy, if you want to go. ” He adds with a small smirk.

You hum, tilting your head to the side a little. “If you’d like to have me there, sure.”

“Would you want an extra ticket or two to bring friends?” He offers. 

“If you can swing it, and if it’s not too much trouble,” you say. “I think my roommates know someone on the Rangers, so they’d probably like to come.”

“You just let me know how many people, and I’ll take care of it,” he swears, leaning closer as a breeze comes by. 

You bury your nose in your scarf, shivering a little, and Andrei frowns. Immediately, he’s putting his coffee down beside him and pulling off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. When the fabric rests on you, you turn to look at him, a warm smile on your face.

“You sure know how to woo a girl, don’t you, hotshot?” You tease, then reach for his hand, squeezing it. “Thank you.”

“Of course, almaznyy.” He says, squeezing your hand in turn, resting your joined hands on the bench between you. You’re both silent as you finish your initial drinks, and now that your other drinks have gone cold, Andrei tosses them both in the trash nearby before standing, tugging on your still joined hands a little to get you to come up with him.

You take him by surprise when you stand, releasing his hand and wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your nose in his chest. His hands are immediately falling on your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. “What is it?” He murmurs.

“Missed you a little, I guess.” You say honestly, voice slightly muffled by his sweater. “I had a lot of fun last time.”

“So did I,” he admits. “I missed you a lot, too.”

You hum, the noise vibrating against his chest. “What are we doing here?”

Andrei looks up at the Met, then back down at you. “You said your family liked art, and you told me that you liked to draw. I thought…” his voice trails off as he hesitates. 

Was this too personal? 

“Thought what?” You press, gently rubbing his back. 

“Thought you might like to teach me a thing or two. About art.” He eventually says. When you look up at him, there’s an iridescent beam and goofy but excited tilt in your smile, and his heart hammers in his chest.

You gave him that smile a lot last time.

He was more than thrilled to see it again. He didn’t think he should start counting them, not this time, but he definitely would keep this one in his pocket for later.

Gently, he untangles his arms from around you and grabs one of your hands in his, squeezing once. “Ready to go in?”

You nod, still smiling from ear to ear as you trail after him into the museum.

~

Almaznyy: In the lexus level suite with my friends

Accompanied with the text is a selfie of you smiling from ear to ear in a Hurricanes beanie, his bomber jacket, and a Carolina Hurricanes hockey jersey underneath. You’re holding up the peace sign, the bracelet he gave you twinkling in the light.

Andrei: On my way 

He grabs two security guards and an MSG employee, asking if they can escort him down to your suite.

They guide him quickly through back halls and to an elevator, where after a short ride, he arrives at your level and is promptly escorted to your suite, where they fuck off to the other side of the hall so he can have some privacy.

He opens the door to a barrage of giggling that almost immediately ceases when he steps in. 

Your eyes lock on one another almost instantaneously and it’s like his world narrows down to just you.

He’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact you said you wanted to be here, that you were excited to be here and share this with him. 

Your friends are sharing knowing looks with you from where you’re all standing at the buffet spread, but you ignore them, offering Andrei a soft smile and almost immediately going to embrace him, wrapping him in a tight hug as you murmur a “hi” into his chest.

Andrei laughs, dropping a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring his own “hi” into your hair as he wraps his arms around you.

It’s been less than a few hours since he’s seen you last - having left you at The Mark earlier in the day so he could prepare for the game, and you headed into the West Village to join your friends in getting ready for the evening - and he still felt your absence like a gaping wound in his chest.

When you pull away, you take his hand, leading him over to your friends.

“Girls, this is Andrei, my boyfriend. Andrei, these are my friends Tiffany, Katie, Cee, and Maya.” 

His whole world screeches to a halt as one word rings in his ears.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

“H-hi,” he stutters, “Nice to meet you.” He holds a hand out as he greets each of your friends, who greet him in turn.

“Thank you for letting us tag along,” Maya says.

Cee tacks on “We really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he says, brain still playing catch up.

Did he imagine it? Or did you definitely call him your boyfriend?

“It was nice of you to get this suite all for us.” Tiffany adds, eyes darting around the space that’s definitely meant for at least a dozen people.

Katie nods in agreement. “We hope it wasn’t inconvenient.” 

Andrei shakes his head. “No, it was my pleasure. Is everything okay so far?”

“Fantastic,” you assure him, then turn to your friends. “Can you guys give us a minute?” 

They all nod, sharing knowing looks once again before grabbing their plates and drinks, heading toward the front of the suite and out to the seats, getting ready to watch warm ups.

You turn to Andrei then, a sheepish smile on your face. “I’m sorry that I introduced you as my boyfriend, they just…my friends don’t know that I work at Eden, or what I do. They still think I work at my last job. I thought it would be easier.”

His every instinct says he should frown, or that he should be sad, but he also understands.

And also really, really likes the way you make the word “boyfriend” sound. 

Even more so, he likes the way it makes him feel.

But…in reality, he’s not that, no matter how much he would like to be.

Or at least, he’s not that yet.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I get it, it’s alright.”

You scrunch your nose. “Are you sure?”

Andrei shrugs, “I mean I would do the same if I was in your shoes.” If I knew your name, he wants to add, but doesn’t. Would that be okay with you?”

You give him a shy smile and nod a little. “Yeah, that would be okay.”

He feels a little out of place then, but then his eyes coast down to the jersey you’re wearing beneath his bomber jacket. He tugs on the logo at your torso, gesturing with his chin. “Where’d you get this?” 

“Made a stop downtown at the NHL store after you left earlier,” you say, offering him a cheshire grin. “Picked it up.” 

His eyes narrow playfully. “Who’s jersey is it, almaznyy?”

You shrug, tugging the bomber jacket closer, covering yourself up a little. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see later.”

Andrei makes a move like he’s about to scoop you up, when there’s a knock on the door and one of the security guards he came down with pops his head in. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but they’re calling for you in the locker rooms, Mr. Svechnikov.” 

“Give me a minute and I’ll be right there.” He promises. The guard steps out, shutting the door, and this time, Andrei does scoop you up, and you laugh gleefully, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around.

When he puts you down, he bends his head to tell you to have fun, to text him if you need anything and that he’ll come see you during intermissions if he can.

But then you take him by surprise, dragging your arms from his neck, trailing them down his chest, and gripping his tie in one hand, yanking him down the rest of the way as you rise up on your tippy toes and kiss him.

You’re kissing him.

This is your first kiss.

Yebena mat'. Holy shit.

It takes his brain a second to catch up and for his body to follow suit, but when it does, he’s got his hands on your waist and he’s pulling you closer, pressing his lips against yours firmly as he follows your lead, his entire world flipping on its axis in the process.

He doesn’t want this to end, has never been less interested in a game of hockey, ever, in his life, because all he wants right now is to take you straight back to The Mark and kiss you till the sun comes up, kiss your lips, your neck, your collarbone, trail those kisses down your stomach and -

You pull away, eyes glazed over a little and still lingering on his lips. On instinct, Andrei licks them, and your eyes flash, tracing the movement of his tongue.

“I um…” You start to say, but Andrei leans down and kisses you again. It’s chaste, not nearly enough of what he wants to do, but it’s enough for now.

“I know,” he murmurs. Because he does. “Later,” he promises.

Based on the look in your eyes, you know he’ll keep it.

~

It’s later on during the game that Andrei feels a tap on his shoulder, and he tears his eyes away from the ice, looking to where Coach is pointing. 

It’s the jumbotron, and there’s some kid dancing free and wild, people in the stands cheering him on or dancing along with him, but behind him, Andrei’s attention is stolen.

Because there you are, dancing with your friends, looking so wild and free, and a smile creeps up on his face. Then, that’s when he spots it.

Your jersey.

The seven evident on one arm, the three on the other. 

Your friend Maya grabs you and makes you do a little twirl, and then the “SVECHNIKOV” emblazoned on your back is on the screen, and the camera zooms in tighter on the child, blowing up your image along with it. The Canes fans cheer at the sight of his jersey, some people even standing, and it does something to his insides.

His jersey.

You’re wearing his jersey.

And he never cared about shit like that before, not really. Most of the wives and girlfriends never actually wore their husband or boyfriend’s jersey unless it was for some charity event or a coordinated effort in the playoffs. 

And you’re not his wife, or his girlfriend (yet), but he suddenly feels…

He feels completely less lonely. Feels less like he needs Eden’s services, and more like he just needs you.

Andrei feels like a boyfriend. A proper one. Yours.

“They still love you, buddy.” Coach Brind’amour says, and Andrei laughs, playing it off.

“That’s cheating,” he admits, gesturing to the screen, where they finally move onto another person. “That one was mine.”

Coach’s eyebrows raise a little. “The girl in the jersey?”

He nods, suddenly sheepish. He did say he was going to introduce you as his girlfriend, and you said you were alright with it, so he tells Coach “Yeah, she’s mine.”

“Well shit, Svechy.” Brind’amour teases. “About damn time.”

Yeah, he thinks to himself. I know.

He pulls out his phone then, shooting off a text.

Andrei: You little sneak

The three dots pop up, then disappear, then pop up again before your message comes through.

Almaznyy: You like it? 

Andrei: I never thought I’d say this in my life, but I’ll like it better when it’s on the bedroom floor

Almaznyy: I think that can be arranged

~

Andrei’s bouncing off the walls with anticipation as the elevator ascends to your hotel suite.

The Hurricanes won the game, and while he’s excited for the team, he’s also pretty fucking excited for himself.

It’s like your kiss broke the dam within him, destroying all of his restraint and hesitation. He’d been shaking with anticipation as every second passed between the second he left your suite to the very second he’d been able to get back to you once he was done playing Assistant General Manager. 

That’s something he’d never thought he’d say in his life.

He was fucking ecstatic to have this job, to be given a job for the team he’d stuck with since day one, a team that had given him everything. 

But this? You? 

This felt like a once in a lifetime kind of thing, and he wasn’t going to waste another second away from you.

A part of him felt bad about you saying goodbye to your friends so early, but this was his time with you.

Technically, as twisted as it made him feel, he paid for it…so…

When he finally unlocks the door to the suite, you saunter inside ahead of him, stripping off your shoes, socks, his jacket and your beanie, dropping them to the floor. His heart pounds harder in his chest, watching as you turn your head over your shoulder just slightly, enough so that he can see the mischievous smile on your face before you unbutton and unzip your jeans, dropping them to the floor and stepping out of them, sauntering ahead toward the bedroom with a flick of your hair behind you.

“Yebat’,” he groans out loud. Fuck. 

The sight of your bare thighs hidden beneath his jersey is the last thing he sees before you round the corner, and the image of those thighs wrapped around his head tents his pants in a second and propels him forward, stripping off his tie and suit jacket and kicking his shoes and socks off as he goes, leaving them in the same trail as your belongings.

When he gets to the bedroom, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, all jersey and bare thighs, and the smile that spreads on his face is wide and bright.

“Posmotri na sebya,” he murmurs. Look at you. 

He steps in front of you, inches between you now, and takes in the way your eyes track him as he gets on his knees, placing his hands beside you on the edge of the bed and leaning forward.

You spread your legs a little to let him settle between them, and Andrei closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours as he shuts his eyes, losing himself in the feel of you. He feels your hands drift up his chest, gathering the material of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He feels your thighs bracketing his torso, then they’re wrapping around him, ankles locking behind him and he bites down on your lip a little, a small pleased sound leaving your mouth that reverberates in his body.

“C’mere,” you say between kisses, and he rises up, places his hands under your thighs as he moves the two of you up the bed, resting you against the pillows and slowly placing his weight on top of you.

“Almaznyy,” his own voice sounds far away to him, probably because that’s where he feels like he is. 

He feels like this is too good to be true, like this is all a dream and he’s going to wake up any second and feel like the last month that you’ve been in his life has all been an illusion.

Everything’s moving so fast, and he just…he’s suddenly worried that you might not be on the same page.

It makes him pull away, just a fraction, and you make a small noise of protest, trying to pull him back to you. 

Andrei smiles, catching your hand and kissing it. “It’s okay,” he says. “I just…” He pauses, swallowing past a lump in his throat.

You tilt your head, taking in his expression. “What is it, Andrei?” 

He shakes his head - partly out of disbelief that this is happening, and partly because he’s worried this is all in his head. “I don’t want to do something you don’t want. I don’t want to do anything if you don’t want it too.”

“Andrei, Andrei look at me.” You implore, framing his face with your hands. “I’m here, with you. Not because I have to be, not because of this job, I am here with you at this moment because I want to be, okay? I want this. I want you.”

It’s exactly what he needed to hear, but suddenly the words are too much to bear, it feels like something he doesn’t deserve. 

“What do you need?” He pleads. If he can know what you need him to do, maybe he’ll feel better about deserving this moment with you. “Tell me what you need here, what you need tonight, what you need from me. What can I do, almaznyy?”

“I just need you,” you coo, pulling him back down to you for another kiss.

“Is that all?” He presses, resisting for just a moment to look you in the eyes, so you can see him, so you can understand.

He’s asking about tonight and beyond, asking about what he can do to help you get what you need out of this arrangement, to make this more than a contractual obligation.

“Just you, Andrei,” you repeat, meeting his gaze straight on.

“If we do this…” he begins. “If we do this, then…”

“I know,” you insist. “I still want it. Do you?”

Andrei shakes his head, smiling at you. There’s…he can’t put it into words. 

The draw he feels to you is…otherworldly. 

And you’re beneath him now, in his jersey, his last name on your back, four dates under your belt, and you’ve got the most insane chemistry together, and he already likes you so much that he worries it would scare you if you knew how badly he’s wanted you since that very first second.

“You don’t get it,” he insists, bending his head a little, rubbing his nose against yours gently. “The things I want…if we do this…” he says again, finding your eyes. “If we do this, there’s no going back. Do you understand? If I touch you, I can’t go back.”

You nod, “I know. I don’t want to go back.”

You’re still not answering his question, not really, and he knows that.

“You can tell me you know,” Andrei breathes out, still a little dazed that this is happening. “You can tell me anything.”

You smile at him, nodding and murmuring “I know,” before pulling him down to kiss you again, and he feels it, feels the way you try to communicate to him through your lips, pressing your body against his, that this - here and now - is mutual.

And that’s going to have to be enough. 

This time, there’s no more waiting, no more hesitating, and he kisses you back full force, pressing his hips to yours and pushing you into the mattress. His hands wander up the jersey, feeling the lace material at your hip and on your ribs and he needs to see it. 

You must read his mind, because you’re reaching between the two of you and grabbing at the jersey, pulling it up and over your head, and all Andrei sees is black lace.

His cock throbs painfully against the zipper of his pants, and he meets your eyes for just a second, asking permission, and you’ve barely nodded before he’s bending his head, sucking the skin of your exposed breast into his mouth and groaning at the taste of you, the feel of your skin beneath his tongue.

You gasp a little, back arching and he winds his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his name crosses your lips in a dreamy sigh.

“Say it again,” he demands, dragging his teeth over your skin as he switches to your other breast, pressing his palms against your back. “Say my name again, almaznyy.”

“Andrei,” you breathe out without hesitation, “Feels so good.”

He sucks your skin into his mouth, flicking his eyes up to gauge your reaction, and when he finds you already looking at him, his pulse skyrockets, and your hips move, grinding your core against his clothed abdomen.

Freeing one hand from behind you, he brings it forward and between your bodies, trailing his fingers over the lace and down toward your core, pressing gently against the lace, a moan escaping his throat before he can stop it when he feels how wet you are.

“This for me?” He murmurs quietly, trailing his tongue in the valley between your breasts, playing with the hem between your legs.

You nod, breath coming out in heated pants. “Only you, Andrei. Just you.”

Only you.

Just you.

He lets those words ring in his ears, lets the syllables settle in his bones and cloud his mind when he presses his fingers at the fabric and tears, ripping the black lace thong from your body before stuffing them in his pocket and shuffling down the bed.

You’re sitting up on your elbows, looking down your body at him as he parts your thighs, his large hands digging into the flesh as his eyes take in the one place he never imagined he’d be lucky enough to see in his life. 

“Trakhni menya,” he nearly croaks. Fuck me.

Your glistening pink heat stares at him, inviting him closer, calling to him, and he answers the call without a moment’s hesitation, leaning forward and burying his face between your thighs, dipping his tongue into your dripping center and sucking.

The sound of his lips and mouth working against your pussy fill the bedroom quickly, obscene and loud noises echoing off the walls. He eats you unabashed, unashamed, and unrestricted. You thrash against his mouth as pleased moans and whines escape your throat one after the other.

Your hands fly into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp and tugging the tresses between your fingers, pulling him closer and pushing him away all at once. His lips barely detach from your skin when he pulls away to take a breath, not wanting to be too far from his current task, not wanting your skin and your taste so far from him ever again.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and your back arches, nearly tearing your hips away from him and he moans out a little displeased sound, pulling you closer and bracketing his arms across your belly, keeping you locked against his mouth. 

“Andrei,” you pant again, desperation in your tone, “Please, please I’m so close.”

He quite likes the sound of you begging.

“Come,” he commands, murmuring against your clit. “Come for me, I want to taste you.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth, hard, and he keeps his eyes on you, your face, and your body, gauging for the little tells he wants to memorize, store in his memory for the next time he gets to do this with you, and the next, and the next, and the next.

You go silent all of a sudden, heaving breaths stopping as your orgasm hits and your mouth falls open in a silent cry, brows furrowed and eyes shut tight while your grip in his hair tightens, thighs bracketing his head as your body shakes through your orgasm. The taste of you floods his mouth and he groans in delight, savoring every drop happily as he continues to lick and suck until you’re all but forcing his head away, giggling and delirious.

“Andrei please,” you breathe, “Please just come here.”

He obeys, crawling up your body until he’s close enough and he bends his head, accepting your kiss and massaging his tongue against yours, sharing your release. He lets you unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders, lets you pull his shirt over his head before he unhooks your lace bra and tosses it aside, and then you’re completely bare for him.

“Let me see you,” he pleads, sitting up and back on his haunches just so he can look at you.

You preen under his gaze, back arching slightly as you stretch, a cheshire grin crossing your features as his eyes roam over you, trying his damndest to commit the sight of you to memory.

“Ty takaya krasivaya,” he praises. You’re so beautiful, allowing his admission to linger in the air and one of his hands to wander up your calves, your thighs, before it settles on your waist, the other hand unbuckling his belt with deft fingers.

“Spasibo,” you say almost shyly, sitting up and then reaching out, unbuttoning his dress pants and then lowering the zipper.

The corner of his mouth ticks up, his expression curious. “What did I say?”

He watches with bated breath as your hands dance on the waistband of his boxer briefs, and one of your shoulders lifts in a small shrug. “I think you called me beautiful,” you respond, eyes slow as they drag up his body and toward his face.

Andrei leans down, playfully suspicious when he says “And how did you know that?”

You shake your head, dragging that beautiful bottom lip between your teeth before bringing your eyes back down, dipping your fingers into his waistband. “Lucky guess.”

Andrei doesn’t believe that for a second, but his protest dies in his throat the second your hand dips into his underwear and wraps around his cock, grip firm as you tug a little at the base of him. 

A loud but pleased groan echoes out of him and his head tilts back, nearly going cross eyed as you tug again, and his hand shoots out, circling your wrist gently as he shakes his head. 

When he manages to focus again, he raises his head and looks down at you, the furrow in your brow and pout of your lips damn near breaking his heart.

“Did I not do it right?” You ask, concern lacing your tone.

He reaches a hand out, thumb smoothing the furrow in your brow before dragging over your lower lip. Your tongue darts out, licking the pad of his finger before you gently suck his thumb into your mouth, and chert voz'mi, damn it if his cock doesn’t throb painfully in your grip.

“Almaznyy, I don’t think there’s a single thing you could do to me that wouldn’t be absolutely right, or feel fucking amazing. But I need this first time with you to last more than forty five seconds, okay?”

Understanding crosses your features, and a pleased smile makes its way onto your lips. “Oh,” you say, a little dazed, almost surprised, and it baffles Andrei right back.

How could you not possibly know how you undo him? How could you not know that you rattle his very existence in the best way? He feels like it’s so obvious now, like there’s no way he’s been playing it as cool as he’s believed this entire time. 

He smiles at you, voice teasing when he says, “Yes, ‘oh,’ almaznyy. It’s you, it’s what you do to me.”

“You do it to me too, you know.” You say. The response is almost immediate and your words go right to his heart.

Again.

He rises from the bed then, dragging his pants and boxer briefs down his legs before he kicks them off to the side, then he’s climbing back on the bed and settling between your legs. Your hands frame his face once more when you pull him to you for a kiss, a kiss that quickly turns from innocent and reassuring to desperate and needy, soft and open mouthed as his tongue massages against yours, you opening up beneath him almost automatically, like you’ve done this together a dozen times before.

There’s a moment where he expects to be jealous, to think about the times you could’ve been like this with other people, but the moment never comes. 

Because deep down, and based on the way your body comes alive under his touch, the way you respond to him, the way the two of you move like your bodies know each other inside and out already, Andrei knows, he just knows that neither of you have ever experienced something this perfect in your entire lives. 

“Condom?” He asks between kisses, trying to work through his mental checklist. “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You barely even hesitate when you say “No, I’m clean. I know you are, too. I want to feel you. Is that okay?”

God. “It’s more than okay, almaznyy,” he assures you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I want the same.”

His cock slips against your pussy where you’re soaked for him all over again, and you both moan, grinding against one another as you make out until the need for one another just becomes too much to bear.

“Ask me,” he says, nearly begging. Because as right as this is, he still needs to know that you want this too, and that he’s not just imagining things. “Ask me for it.”

Your voice is syrupy when you ask “Please Andrei, please put it in. I want you so badly. I want you, just you, Andrei, no one else and I - oh my-” 

Your words are cut off as you gasp on an inhale, mouth open in another silent cry as your back arches, hips tilting just so that Andrei has to focus, has to keep his hips still as he focuses solely on the way you flutter around him and squeeze as he pushes in just an inch. The look on your face, the way your body reacts has him nearly roaring with satisfaction, with pride, his mind going blank as two words run through his brain on a loop. 

Ona moya, he thinks. She’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine.

You’re his. You belong to him, and he belongs to you. There’s nothing else in this world that makes sense.

“Breathe, almaznyy,” he pleads, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Need you to breathe, need you to tell me if it’s too much.” 

Your head shakes, frantic, and your next inhale is deep, gathering enough air in your lungs to steady yourself, and he rises again, eyes scanning your face desperately, needing you to be okay.

Your eyes lock almost instantly, and the look on your face is pleading, your words articulating the desperation behind them when you say “More, Andrei, please. Pozhaluysta.”

He curses, cock throbbing when he pushes inside another inch, and your hands fly to his ass, nails digging into the flesh of his cheeks as you try to pull him closer. “I know, I know,” he assures, “I’ve got you, almaznyy.”

“I’m so close again already, Andrei.” You murmur, tilting your head up and speaking the words against his jaw. “Please, just wanna feel you. Want you all the way inside.”

The way your words affect him feel nearly criminal, and he almosts debates grabbing his tie from out in the living area of the suite or your torn thong from his pants on the floor and using either of them to gag you, keep your mouth shut and stop him from blowing his load before he’s ready.

“Okay,” he says instead, trying to ease your desperation as well as his own. He pushes inside a little more, and when you nod, pleased mewls spilling through your lips, he keeps going until he’s seated all the way inside, can feel his balls pressing against your ass cheeks, and you both let out a satisfied groan.

“Khoroshaya devochka,” good girl, “taking me so well,” he praises, and you nod, eyes glazed over in pleasure.

“For you,” you say, all breathy. “Just for you.”

His hips stutter, causing him to pull out and push back in just a fraction, but it’s enough that your eyes flutter. “What did I say?” He asks, and watches in amazement when you give him a lazy smile, eyes still lost in the way he’s making you feel.

“You said I was a good girl,” you say, though it comes out slow, and Andrei nods, dropping a kiss to your lips, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away and pushes up on his arms.

“I did,” he confirms. He drags his hips backward until just the tip of him rests inside of you, and then he pushes forward, burying himself back to the hilt. The moan that echoes across the walls buries itself in his mind as he catalogs the sound.

He starts to fuck you in earnest then, hands resting on the backs of your thighs to keep you propped open and spread for him, allowing him to watch the way his cock disappears inside of you, the way you take him over and over, his cock glistening with your arousal everytime he pulls out. The sounds your bodies make are probably obscene, but they sound like perfection in his mind, and he keeps at it, his eyes locked on your face to gauge your reactions, to make sure that he’s not giving you anything but mind blowing pleasure.

It’s all you deserve. He’ll give you nothing but the best, and if it’s not to your standards, he won’t stop until he gets it right, until he knows everything you like, until his legs burn and his jaw aches and he knows every single way he can make you come until you see stars and your voice is shot from screaming his name.

“Andrei,” you breathe, hands fisted in the sheets. “I’m going to come.”

He nods, “Do it, almaznyy. I want to see. Let me see you.”

“Want you to come with me,” you plead, and he feels his balls tighten at your plea. 

Your bodies know one another, he’s certain of it now.

“I will,” he promises. “Need you to come first, need to make sure you come first. Come for me and I’ll give you anything and everything, I promise.”

Your pussy flutters around him again, and he drives his hips forward, focused on fucking you until your flutters turn into a near death grip as you squeeze him, back breaking on an arch as his name crosses your lips in ecstasy, body shaking as your orgasm rocks through your body.

Your arms shoot out as you yank him down, and when you kiss him, when he swallows your cries as your release drips down his cock, he can feel a tight knot form at the base of his spine as his orgasm hits him like a freight train.

His arms shake as he keeps you open to him, cock throbbing as his orgasm pulses inside of you, filling you to the brim as he claims you from the inside.

“Ty moy,” he says as his orgasm begins to calm, pressing the words into your hairline. “Tol'ko moy.”

You’re mine, only mine.

“Andrei,” you say, his name sounding like a plea and a confirmation to his words all at once, and his heart hammers in his chest. 

If you only knew, almaznyy. He wants to say.

But his name on your lips is enough for now.

It has to be.

~

November

He wakes up hard. 

Images of you run through his brain from his dreams into his waking life and he sighs, reaching for his phone on his bedside table.

There’s a text there from you, telling him goodnight after you got off the phone earlier, and though it’s late - or maybe too early in the morning, he’s not sure - he calls you anyway, figuring he could just leave a voicemail, and a surprised bolt of joy blooms in his chest when you actually answer.

“Thought you were asleep, malysh.” You say, and Andrei can hear your smile through the phone.

“I never should have taught you that word,” he teases. He’d taught it to you the morning after your first night together, after he’d pressed the word into your neck while he fucked you from behind.

“Why not?” You feign hurt. “You get to call me something cute, why can’t I?”

What he really wants to call you is your name, but he knows he can’t ask, and since you still haven’t offered, it’s probably because you don’t feel like the two of you are in the right place for it.

You’ll get there, the two of you, he’s sure of it. He’s waited this long, he can wait a little more.

“You’re just going to use it to torment me,” he says, sighing as he leans back against his headboard.

You hum to yourself. “Well you’re clearly tormenting yourself if you’re awake right now. What’s going on?”

He shrugs even though he knows you can’t see him. “Ya skuchayu po tebe,” he says. “Kazhdyy den'.”

I miss you, every day.

It’s only been a couple of weeks, but it feels like months in his mind. Especially now that he’s had you in his arms, now that he knows what it sounds like when you say his name when he makes you come, now that he knows what you taste like, how you feel beneath his hands and body, it’s like he’s got a craving he can’t satisfy and he can’t help but want more, even if it leaves him feeling starved.

“Oh Andrei,” you coo, adoration in your voice. “I miss you too.”

His heart stops and he takes a deep breath, clutching his phone tighter. “How do you know what I said?”

“I have my ways.” You say cryptically, and he can hear your mischievous smile through the phone.

“Have you been taking lessons?” He inquires. It’s possible, given how much you understood that night and so far.

You giggle, “What’s making you miss me so much?”

He’ll accept your change of subject…for now. “Can’t get enough of you.” He confesses, “I can’t stop thinking about the last time I saw you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” you say. “Or that night.”

Andrei feels butterflies in his stomach followed by a wave of sadness. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again,” he says honestly. “We’re in the height of the season now, and we’ve got a decent stretch of home games coming up, so it’ll be hard to get away to New York.”

“We don’t have to meet in New York, you know.” You say. “I can always come to Raleigh.”

He blinks, bolting upright so quick it almost makes him dizzy. “You can?”

“Yeah, Eden allows it so that we can travel wherever we need to. You don’t have to always formally book dates and times unless it’s based on your schedule.” You say. “I can always come to you, I just thought that…”

Your voice trails off, and Andrei frowns. “Thought what?”

You hesitate, and he feels it form a crack in his chest. “I thought you needed something more discreet, and that you liked being in Manhattan for the secrecy, so I never mentioned anything else. Plus, you always booked for The Mark Hotel, so…”

When you don’t continue, he swallows a lump in his throat. “I didn’t really know that. I guess I didn’t fully understand the booking parameters. Plus, I thought it was easier for you.” He winces at his word choice. “Not because of Eden, or anything, but because it was where we first met? So I thought it would be more comfortable for you..”

“No I understand, Andrei, I do.” You reassure him. “But I can come to you, if you’d like. If that’s what you want, or what you’re comfortable with.”

“I’d love that.” He says almost immediately. “I would love to have you here.”

~

You arrive in Raleigh two days later, Andrei picking you up from the airport. You’d offered to take an Uber since Eden would be footing the bill, but Andrei didn’t like that idea. 

You were his girl, his companion, and he’d take care of you himself, thank you very much.

He parks in the garage and waits for you at baggage claim, hiding beneath a baseball cap and his reading glasses just in case any fans recognize him. It doesn’t help that despite the fact that he’s retired, he knows his face is still plastered at the terminal exit as passengers come out and take the escalators down toward baggage claim.

Thankfully, you don’t make him wait long. He spots you coming down the escalator, wearing sweatpants and a baggy shirt Andrei recognizes as his own, a flannel tied around your waist and a duffel bag hanging off of one shoulder, your bracelet glittering in the fluorescent lights of the airport.

You spot him just as quickly, and Andrei enjoys the way the smile that stretches across your lips forms almost immediately. 

Andrei’s moving before he realizes, and he ends up at the bottom of the escalator just in time for you to step off of it, and then he’s hauling you into his arms by your waist, your own wrapping around his neck as he lifts you a little and spins you around, careful to move you both out of the way in the process.

Happy giggles spill from your lips as he presses kisses all over your face, grinning from ear to ear when he sets you down on your feet.

“Hi, almaznyy.” He greets quietly, arms still secured around you.

You rise on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his jaw, greeting him with an equally soft “Hi, malysh.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to the baggage claim area for your flight, choosing a spot close to the belt but far enough away from other passengers that he can still have you all to himself.

“How was your flight?” He asks, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“It was good,” you say, resting your head against his arm. “I’m just happy I’m here.”

“So am I, almaznyy.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the buzzer goes off and the belt of the baggage carousel starts to move.

You point out your suitcase after a few minutes and Andrei insists on grabbing it and taking your duffel from you, carrying both so the only thing you have to worry about holding is his hand in yours.

You make it out to his car and he makes sure to get you inside safe and sound before he places your things in the backseat, despite your protests of your suitcase messing up his leather interior.

He could care fucking less about that. All he cares about right now is that you’re here, in Raleigh, that he’s about to take you home for the first time, and that according to the confirmation email he got after you got off the phone the other night, the ticket Eden helped you arrange to Raleigh was a one way ticket. 

Meaning you were here for as long as either of you wanted, with no clear plans to send you back, and he liked that a lot.

He also liked that your suitcase felt heavy, meaning you probably packed for a long time.

All things that made Andrei feel like he should probably get a gift basket for Olly and Mason as a thank you for not being able to keep their traps shut at that dinner, maybe talk to Coach about getting them more ice time, maybe negotiating more money in their next contracts.

You held hands the entire drive to his house, your bracelet and his Rolex glinting in the sunlight from where they accompanied one another on his center console, and when he finally pulled into his garage and shut off his car, he felt a sudden rush of excitement fill his veins, and excitement he’d only felt whenever he got his day with the Cup. 

It was that initial feeling of him being able to carry it over the threshold into his home that made the victory feel surreal, and as he wheeled your luggage and carried your bag, holding your hand as he guided you inside his home and over the threshold, he realized this feeling, bringing you home, was better than any Cup championship he’d experienced.

It wasn’t even close.

The only thing that could possibly come second flashed in his mind, and images of him being able to bring you over this threshold in a white dress, layers of tulle flowing like a waterfall over his arms, and then not long after, being able to escort you over the threshold as you held a bundled up baby in your arms.

It seized the breath from his lungs so quickly he nearly choked. 

He’d never given so much thought to a god damn doorway before.

Oblivious to his predicament, you trail behind him as he leads you to his bedroom, eyes roaming over the expanse of his home, taking in every last detail.

“I’ll give you a full tour once you’re settled in,” he promises. “I just want to make sure you get comfortable first.”

“Okay,” you agree, voice soft in the mid morning hour.

When you finally get to his room, he lays your suitcase down on the bench at the foot of the bed, placing your duffel bag next to it. “You can sleep on whatever side you’d like,” he says, gesturing to the bed. “Feel free to make yourself at home. Bathroom’s through there,” he points to a door near the closet, “Fresh towels are already out for you. Would you like something to eat? I can make you lunch.”

You shake your head. “No, I'm okay for now, I ate a little on the plane.”

“Are you sure? Can I get you anything else?” he asks.

You shake your head again with a small smile, tilting your head toward the bathroom. “I’m sure, Andrei. Do you mind if I shower?”

“Of course not, feel free. I’ll uh…I’ll be in my office just down the hall, there’s something I have to take care of anyway.”

He closes the distance and drops a kiss to your lips, squeezing your waist in his hand before he leaves, wanting to give you space to yourself, to feel comfortable in his home. 

Oh god. 

You’re in his home.

His actual fucking house.

He can’t seem to get over that as nerves begin to settle in, tossing his hat to his desk once he’s in his office, running a hand through his hair.

He hasn’t been this nervous to bring someone home ever. He’d been so excited just to see you again, to have you here that it wasn’t until now that he worried what you’d think of the space, if you’d find it comfortable and homey and welcoming.

With a sigh, he pushes his glasses further up his nose as he opens his laptop, bringing up his emails and sorting through some of the things he needed to take care of for the team, welcoming the distraction even though it made him feel uncomfortable to think of anything but you for longer than a millisecond. 

Especially when you were down the hall, in his bedroom, in his shower, naked. 

The same shower he’d jerked off in thinking about you this morning, and last night. And the night before.

“O Gospodi, chto zhe ya nadelal,” he mutters to himself. Oh lord, what have I done?

He spends the next fifteen minutes willing himself to focus on the emails in front of him, tasks for him to finish up, people to respond back to, people to reach out to at the behest of the team owners and Coach Brind’amour. When his emails clear, he shuts his laptop and pulls out his phone, busying himself with responding to texts from Evgeny about the upcoming holidays, getting back to Evgeny’s wife, Sara, about potential Christmas presents for his brother, and his parents, checking in on them both.

It busies him enough that when you finally walk into his office - wet hair still dripping a little and body dressed in a baby pink spaghetti strap sundress, the only jewelry on you being the bracelet you never take off, your bare feet padding onto the carpet - he doesn’t notice at first. 

That is, not until you’re on the other side of his desk, knocking your fist playfully on the wood.

Andrei’s head snaps up from his phone, and he leans back a little in relief in his chair when he notices it’s you, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “You almost scared me there.”

“Sorry,” you breathe out in a laugh. “I believe I have an appointment with you, Mr. Svechnikov?”

He’s confused at first, until he sees the way your eyes twinkle mischievously, and he smirks. “Is that so?”

You nod, clasping your hands behind your back. “Mhm, I believe you’ve been expecting me, and I know you don’t like it when I’m late.”

Andrei places his phone back in his pocket, then folds his hands across his abdomen, resting his elbows on the armrest of his chair. “What is it you’re meant to be meeting with me about?”

“Don’t you remember? I’m your new assistant,” you say, releasing one of your hands from behind your back and trailing a finger on the other side of his desk. “I’ve been hired to help you and ensure your daily needs are met.”

“You’re a little underdressed to be an assistant, aren’t you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously.

You look down with a small pout, then back up to his face. “You don’t like it?”

“Hmmm, it’s hard to tell. Why don’t you come around the desk and let me see?”

He backs his chair up a little as you round the desk and then come to stand between his spread legs. Andrei pretends to deliberate, raising his hand in the air and twirling his finger before saying “Turn around, let me see all of you.” 

A shy smile works its way onto your face as you do a little turn, his cock immediately growing hard as he observes you taking slow steps to complete your circle before facing him once more, clasping your hands in front of you. “Well?”

“I think,” Andrei says, scooting his chair closer to you before his hands make their way to the backs of your thighs, thumbs rubbing at your skin. “That you’re perfect.”

“Why thank you,” you murmur, reaching a hand out and cupping his cheek. “You’re very sweet.”

He shakes his head a little. “If you knew what was going through my head right now, you’d disagree.”

“Well, what’s going through your head?” You inquire, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. 

“Why don’t you hop up on the desk and maybe you’ll find out?” He says, punctuating his statement with a light slap to the backs of one of your thighs. You gasp a little, leaning into him, and Andrei smiles, tightening his grip on your thighs as he stands, and you jump a little into his arms, your arms winding themselves around his neck as he backs you both up two steps, setting you down onto the wood of his desk gently. 

“I always have a lot going on in my head when it comes to you,” he admits, reaching up to grab your hands, kissing the backs of them before bringing them down to your lap. “I just don’t want you to…I guess I just don’t want to scare you away.”

“Skazhi mne,” you encourage, voice soft. Tell me.

Andrei’s eyes flash. “Tell me where you’re learning Russkiy.” He demands.

You giggle, “What’s going on in your head?” You ask him instead, and he narrows his eyes a little.

One of these days he’s not going to let you change the subject, but for now, he plays along. “I think about you sometimes,” he admits, circling his fingers around the bracelet on your wrist, pads running over the diamond studded vines. “I think about you on this desk, like you are now.”

“And?” You press, tracking his every move with your eyes. 

He hesitates to say more, unsure of how far to go with this, unsure of what he should reveal and what would be too…scandalous. 

“What about me on the desk, Andrei?” You ask, reaching a hand out to trail down his abdomen, resting on the waistband of his jeans.

He shakes his head, cheeks heating as his face goes red. He’s too ashamed, feels like he shouldn’t have been thinking such…dirty things about someone as pure as you. “I can’t, almaznyy. I-”

You surge up then, pulling his waistband at the same time and kissing him, hands traveling up his abdomen and to his face, where you pull his reading glasses off and set them on the desk next to his phone. Then, you take him by surprise, placing your hands firmly on his chest and shoving him back down into his desk chair. 

“I think this is where I, as your assistant, can help you articulate those thoughts.” You start, his favorite cheshire smile of yours creeping onto your lips. “Since it’s my job to make sure your needs are met, and to anticipate any future needs.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asks, well aware of how hard he’s breathing. 

You nod, and without another word, spread those glorious legs of yours to reveal your bare pussy.

Andrei’s breath catches in his throat. “Almaznyy,” he breathes, the word coming out like a pained sound.

“Malysh,” you say, voice teasing as your hand, the one donning your bracelet, comes forward and runs down your stomach and to the hem of your dress, pulling it up to bare yourself to him a little more.

He doesn’t know where to look. He wants to look at your face, wants to watch your facial expressions, but then he also wants to watch your hands, memorize the way you touch yourself so he can mimic the movements later, and he wants to keep his eyes locked on that little piece of heaven you’ve got between your thighs.

“Will this make it easier for you to tell me what’s on your mind?” You ask, trailing your fingers down and collecting the wetness already gathering, dragging it back up to circle your clit.

All he can do is nod, too entranced by your ministrations. He can feel his mouth start to water, watching one of the spaghetti straps of your sundress start to fall off of one shoulder, and good lord -

He reaches out, rubbing the hem of your sundress between his fingers. “Ty golaya pod etim plat'yem, krasavitsa?” 

Are you naked under this dress, beautiful?

Your brow furrows as your fingers continue to move in deliberate circles, and Andrei memorizes the pattern, tucks it away in his brain for later. “I don’t…I didn’t understand all of that,” you admit.

He smirks, but doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t know if he has the energy to think in just one language, let alone two right now, because all of his focus is directed on you and your body. 

“Boleye,” he pleads. More.

Now that you seem to understand, because you part your legs a little wider, scooting more toward the edge of his desk as you continue touching yourself.

Andrei rolls his desk chair a little closer so you can place your feet on the armrests and essentially bracket him in, giving him the perfect front row seat to everything going on. He reaches for his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them before he’s reaching inside his boxer briefs and pulling out his cock, giving it a rough tug to ease some of the pressure. 

Your pupils blow out wide as you watch him, and he jerks his chin at where your fingers are moving up and down your pussy now, where he can see the digits glistening from his vantage point.

“Move your hand.” He orders, and you do, prepared to move it to the side to rest on your thigh, but then Andrei’s making a small “tsk” noise, and your hand hovers in the air for a second. 

“Give it to me,” he says, holding one hand out while the other strokes his cock in slow movements. You place your hand in his and then he’s bringing the arousal coated digits to his mouth, sucking them between his lips and massaging the pads with his tongue, cleaning away your wetness and swallowing it down with a pleased rumble in his chest.

Your fingers leave his mouth in a soft ‘pop’ when he pulls them out, and he brings both hands to rest under your thighs, pulling you just a little bit closer to the edge, allowing his desk chair to also roll forward until there’s practically no space between you both, and then he’s bending his head, lips latching onto your pussy and sucking hard.

A surprised moan crosses your lips and Andrei’s hands hold you steady as you thrash a little, clearly not expecting him to just dive in so eagerly. Your hands slam against the desk behind you, using them to try to prop you up and keep you steady, and Andrei’s eyes are glued to your face.

He managed to learn what you liked best that first night, having the privilege to have taken you four times that night, insisting on tasting you every chance he got. He knows now that you like it when he turns his head just a little, tilting it so it’s nearly sideways and taking your labia and clit into his mouth and sucking, licking across the center of your cunt and teasing it as if he’s making out with you.

So when he tilts his head and does just that, taking you into his mouth the way you like, his name spews from your lips in a breathy sigh, and your arms shake at your sides.

Eagerly, he laps at you and moans in satisfaction when the taste of you and smell of you overwhelms his senses, having also learned that you like hearing him, like hearing how much he’s enjoying you and how excited he is to get you to come on his tongue. He doesn’t exaggerate the noises his mouth makes against you but does nothing to lessen or quiet them.

It’s his fucking house, and you’re on his fucking desk, at the mercy of his lips and tongue and spread out by his hands, so he’ll do whatever he god damn pleases. You can cry out for God for all he cares, it’s just the two of you in this room, and the only ‘God’ to answer your prayers for more is going to be him. 

“Andrei,” you moan, turning his name into a plea and dammit does he love that, too. It’s a sound he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. “Pozhaluysta,” you beg. Please.

You don’t have to beg, he wants to tell you. You don’t have to beg me for a goddamn thing. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just ask me and it’s yours, I’m yours. 

Instead, he just nods, pressing his tongue against you in the way he knows you like and spreading your thighs apart, pressing against the back of them to expose you to him more so he can feast on you properly.

It’s messy, wet, and loud, and Andrei couldn’t give a single fuck, not when you’re so close, your arousal dripping down his chin and your thighs are pressing up against his palm, shaking as you get closer and threatening to squeeze his head between the strong muscles.

“Can I come, Andrei?” You ask, syrupy sweet and desperate and his cock throbs in response.

He nods, brushing his nose against your clit as he does and you jolt, body nearly shaking in relief when his lips circle around your clit and he sucks in the pulsing rhythm he discovered had you coming in no time time, his tongue lapping at you and drawing you closer to release.

When your orgasm hits, your whole body shakes under his touch, and your arms fall out from under you, your back landing on his desk and then arching up, pressing you further into his mouth. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t back away, doesn’t do anything until you’re pushing at his head, and whining at the over sensitivity.

“Please malysh,” you beg, shaking against his mouth as he continues to lap at you. “It’s too much.”

“I’m a little busy, almaznyy,” he murmurs against your clit. “I’m cleaning up my assistant.”

You laugh through heaving breaths, fingers descending into Andrei’s hair and gripping the strands tight in your fist, tugging a little. He relents, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as you sit up, and then you’re fisting his shirt in your grasp, yanking him upright and kissing him, slipping your tongue inside his mouth and chasing the taste of yourself on his tongue.

You take him by surprise in the next second, shoving him back down in his chair and then licking the palm of your hand, wrapping it around his cock and twisting.

He hisses, hands gripping at your calves. He’s too sensitive and far too hard to be able to handle your touch. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to handle it, especially not now that he knows every inch of your skin and how it feels against his.

“Almaznyy,” he warns through clenched teeth when you twist your first over the head of his cock, squeezing and swiping at the bead of precum on his tip with your thumb. “Stop teasing.”

“Is that an order, Mr. Svechnikov?” You taunt, squeezing the head of his cock once more. 

A low groan leaves his lips, and he has half a mind to reach up and wrap his fingers around your throat, but instead, all he can do is hiss out a pained “Yes,” and then you’re using your other hand to reach out, yanking him a little closer before scooting all the way off of his desk and sitting right on his cock, taking him to the hilt in one go.

The gasp that leaves you both simultaneously is loud and echoes around his office, probably even down the hallway, and he can barely gather enough air in his lungs before you’re rising up again and then dropping down, and it feels like he’s going to burst at the seams.

“Oh my god,” he says, the words feeling like they’re being punched out of him as you slowly start to bounce on him. He tracks the way both of the straps of your dress hang off of your shoulders, the way that the bottom part of your dress is still raised from where he’d pushed it up earlier, and the bounce of your tits beneath the neckline.

He reaches out, tugging the neckline down and freeing them, and then you’re moving, sitting up a little taller, thighs bracketing his as you keep your pace bouncing on his cock, arching your back just so that when Andrei leans forward, he can easily suck your nipple into his mouth, laving his tongue over the bud while sucking your skin, hoping a hickey blooms there for him to admire later.

The moans spilling from your lips tell him you enjoy it, so he continues, switching to the other side and giving you teasing licks before he mimics his previous ministrations, sucking hard enough to hopefully produce matching marks.

Your hands find their way into the longer hair at the nape of his neck and tug so he’s looking up at you, and Andrei sees the way your glassy eyes take in his fucked out expression, sees how it spurs you on, your mouth dropping open in an ‘O’ everytime you sink down on his cock till he’s balls deep, then raise yourself up on your knees.

“Khoroshaya devochka,” he praises. Good girl. “Take it from me. Make yourself come on my cock.”

Nodding, you speed up just a little, thighs tightening on either side of his, and Andrei’s hands go to your ass, gripping the flesh and helping to move you up and down his length, keeping his eyes on your face to watch you, waiting for the way your eyes start to roll in the back of your head and waiting for the beautiful flutter of your pussy on his cock to let him know when you’re going to come.

“Andrei,” you whine, your grip in his hair loosening a little. “I’m so close.”

“I’ve got you,” he swears. He means it in every way possible. “Take what you need.” He punctuates his statement by burying his face in your neck and sucking on that sensitive spot he found last time, and it has you clenching around him in seconds, crying out as you pulse around him, body seizing as your orgasm washes over.

He has to take control then, gripping your hips and fucking you through it the way he knows you like, and it’s not long before he’s following behind you, pressing you down onto his cock as he pushes his pelvis upward, sealing the two of you together as he fills you up with his come, pulse hammering so hard in his body he can feel it in his ears.

As your orgasms subside, gently, he rubs up and down your back, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck and collarbone, happy to just sit here with you on top of him until you’re ready to move.

Eventually, you speak, voice a little raspy when you say “I think I need another shower after that.”

Andrei laughs, slowly standing and wrapping your legs around his waist, still fully seated inside you. “I think shower sex sounds like an excellent idea.”

~

The longer you stay with him, you two start to develop the beginnings of a routine together, and Andrei finds himself clinging to it like a lifeline.

In the mornings, you’re usually up first, wandering to some part of his massive house and drinking a steaming cup of tea or coffee, and it feels a bit like a game, Andrei wandering after you through his house to find where you’ve situated yourself for that morning. You usually only drink half of whatever you’ve made that morning, and when he finds you, he drinks the rest, still warm, before he takes your hand and drags you into the shower.

The first morning he did it, you pushed him to the built in shower bench and sank to your knees, took him in your mouth until he saw stars and came deep down your throat with a loud groan, repeating “Almaznyy” over and over until you took pity on him and released him from your mouth with a soft “pop,” the water trailing over your face making you look like a damn goddess. 

He came within like…five minutes, that first time. And though you clearly loved it and reveled in the effect you had on him, he would rather each time with you last longer than ten minutes, so he decided he wouldn’t let you take him in your mouth for a little while, especially if it meant saving what he had left of his pride and ego.

Sometimes, he would put you on the shower bench and get on his knees, burying his face between your thighs until you begged him for mercy. Other times, he pressed you against the tile wall, burying himself to the hilt and finding solace with you under the warm spray, filling you to the brim before fucking it deeper inside of you. 

Then, he’d wrap you up in one of his big, fluffy towels and dry you off, pressing you against the bathroom sink and kissing you until your stomachs rumbled. After getting ready for the day, he’d drag you out of the bathroom and to the kitchen where either you or him would make breakfast for the both of you, and then he’d either go to his office and work for a bit, or get dressed to head to the arena. 

If he stayed home to work, you’d either sit quietly with him in his office reading a book or sketching in a worn journal, earbuds in and playing music. He’d worried you’d be bored, but you assured him you were used to having to occupy yourself with things to do. That statement made him worry even more, but since you seemed to be fine, he didn’t push.

He’d work until there was nothing left for him to do, and he’d wait for you to either finish the chapter you were reading, or finish up the sketches in your journal. He had been tempted to ask you to see them, but given the way you hunched over your journal, like you’d been protecting it, he left it alone, figuring you’d share them with him if you wanted to. 

You’d spend the rest of the day together either making lunch, going out to eat, or with Andrei taking you around the Raleigh or Durham areas on little dates. So far, he’d taken you to the science museum, the North Carolina Museum of Art, taken you on a pedal boat ride in Pullen Park, brought you to Drive Shack where you both surprisingly and unsurprisingly kicked his ass, given you’d pretty much done the same when you brought him to Chelsea Piers, and just last night, he’d taken you to Rush Hour Karting.

He’d been there when he was a rookie in development camp for the Hurricanes, and he hadn’t been back in quite some time. It was nice though, to head back and make new and equally as happy memories there with you. You kicked his ass in a couple of laps, and since you’d raced with other people, there had been a round where a sixteen year old practically wiped the floor with everyone else, and it had made you and Andrei laugh a little when he’d been ready to boast about it until he saw Andrei’s face and freaked out, asking for a picture.

Those days where he could work from home and just be around you, taking the rest of his day to spend time with you, bring you anywhere and everywhere and spoil you silly? Those were beginning to be his favorite kind of days.

On the days he would go into his office at the arena, though, there are still particular advantages.

Andrei leaves his black card behind, insisting that you take it and make use of it as you need or see fit. 

The first morning he left it for you, he took it out of his wallet and put it down on the kitchen counter as he was heading out the door, and you just stared down at it, brow furrowed and lower lip jutting out in slight confusion.

“What is this for?” You had asked, holding it up in the air.

“For you,” he said, like it was obvious. “For you to use?” 

You pursed your lips, placed it back down on the counter and slid it back to him. “No, it’s okay.”

He frowned, ditching his bag by the door and rounded the counter to you. “I want you to have it, malyshka,” he insists. 

Your face scrunched up. “I know this next statement is going to sound weird, considering my job, and the circumstances of our…uh…relationship, but I don’t want your money, Andrei.”

“I understand, almaznyy,” he assured you. “But I don’t want you to spend your money. Not while you’re here with me,” he said, then tucked the card back in your hand. 

You stared at it for a second, then looked back up at his face, a small frown still on your lips, and Andrei couldn’t help but laugh. He reached out, smoothed the wrinkle between your brows and cupped your face in his palm. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and then looked down at you with an amused smile. 

“How about this,” he began, “Since you’ve appointed yourself as my assistant, why don’t you take care of a few tasks for me?” He gestured to the card in your hand with his chin. “Use the card to pay for them.”

A small smile crept up your face, and you tilted your head at him, intrigued. “And what tasks would you be referring to, Mr. Svechnikov?”

“I think you need a new uniform,” he said, keeping his tone playful. “Why don’t you go and find something nice to wear around our…home office.” He punctuated those last words with a wink, smirking when you giggled. “Whatever you like, whatever the price. Get yourself some office supplies while you’re at it too, hm?”

“Oh I see,” you said. “This is a company expense, is it?”

“More or less,” he nodded, dropping another kiss to your forehead. “But I want to see everything you buy when you buy it. Send me pictures so I can see, understand? ”

You agreed with that gorgeous cheshire smile of yours. “I do.” 

And god if all the blood didn’t rush straight to his cock, picturing you in white as you say those words to him in another life, another time.

When he heads to the office, he purposefully takes his red Lamborghini to the rink, leaving you the safer options of his Mercedes or his BMW to use to go and complete your ‘daily tasks,’ and Andrei waits like an impatient teenager for those texts from you to come through. 

He’s saved every single picture, and thank goodness he has, because the second he gets home from work, it’s like the two of you are instantly pulled together like magnets. No matter where you are in the house, he gravitates to you, and you go at it like rabbits until one of you gets hungry, or until you’re begging him for relief. The lingerie sets barely make it ten minutes without being absolutely torn to shreds.

Though he wasn’t sure where you’d bought them, he had half a mind to march into the store and demand to know why their fabrics were so flimsy.

He's torn the first few either at the waist or right down the crotch, and one of them he all but snapped the strap of the garter belt off, the strap basically now hanging by a thread. The only things that have managed to survive after your first couple of weeks with him are a baby pink lace set complete with garter belt and stockings, and the same set, but in crimson red.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” you accuse through heavy breathing later that night, eyeing the fallen scraps of black lace among the black satin dress on the floor. The only thing that had managed to survive tonight was your thigh high stockings, which Andrei found himself running his fingers over now, your legs draped in his lap.

“What do you mean?” He questions, thumbing at where the lace of your stockings met your inner thigh.

You shivered a little, but didn’t move away from his touch, “You’re ripping them on purpose so I have to buy more, and that means I have to use your card.”

He smiles, dancing his finger over the spot inside your thigh that he’d made red by rubbing his stubbly cheek against it as he licked at you for a blissful thirty minutes. “You caught me.”

“If you wanted to be a sugar daddy you could’ve just said so.” You say lazily, stretching your body out. You probably don’t mean for it to look so seductive, but Andrei’s hypnotized nonetheless.

“I didn’t want to be,” he says honestly. “But you changed my mind a little.”

“I figured,” you murmur, casting a glance to your bracelet. “But you like it, don’t you?”

“Like what?” He asks, tugging your legs and maneuvering you until you’re straddling him again.

“Providing, spoiling, ” you purr, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I like it when it’s you.” Andrei clarifies, tilting his chin up so he can press little kisses along your jaw. “Even if I have to fight you on it a little.”

“I don’t want a sugar daddy for money,” you drawl, pushing his hair away from his face. 

He stares at you, confused. “Isn’t that what they’re for?”

“If I’m gonna have a sugar daddy, I want him for sugar.” You explain, “Not money.”

“Ya ne ponimayu, chto ty imeyesh' v vidu, detka.” I don’t understand what you mean baby.

You roll your eyes playfully, pulling his chin up and kissing him softly. He moans into your mouth, hands resting on your waist and bringing you closer. You tease him with your tongue running over his bottom lip before you pull away, sitting back a little. 

“That kind of sugar,” you say softly, running your thumb over his bottom lip. 

It takes him a few seconds, but then it clicks, and he flashes you a cheeky grin. “Well I’ve given you plenty of that, too, haven’t I?”

You shrug, reaching between you to grab his stiff cock and bring it back to your pussy, slipping him back inside of you and sinking down slowly, “A little more wouldn’t hurt.”

He’s immediately scooting back against the pillows and then his hands are on your thighs, anchoring you to him while you ride him, beginning your fourth round of the night.

~

After a few weeks of you staying with him, you approach him in his home office one day as he’s about to get off of a call. There’s an apprehensive look on your face as you linger in the doorway, clearly not wanting to interrupt, but he waves you inside anyway, gesturing for you to sit on the couch against the wall. 

You obey, waiting patiently until he’s hanging up and placing his phone beside his computer to stand from your seat and approach the other side of his desk.

“What can I do for you, almaznyy?” He asks, leaning back in his chair. 

“It’s probably a silly question,” you preface, “But I figured I would ask just in case.”

He nods, folding his hands on his stomach. “Okay.”

“I uh…me being here isn’t interfering with your holiday plans, right? I don’t know if you do anything for Thanksgiving since you started living here, but since it’s in a week or so, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstaying my welcome.”

His brow furrows, mouth turning down into a frown. “You’re perfectly fine,” he assures. “I used to go to my coach’s house, but I haven't in years.” He pauses then, guilt suddenly coursing through his veins. “Am I…I’m not keeping you from your family, am I?”

You shake your head almost immediately, a strange look crossing your features. “No you’re not, we haven’t - I mean, we don’t celebrate. Haven’t in a bit.”

Andrei nods in response, but the guilt is still there, suddenly eating at his insides.

He’d been so wrapped up in you, so happy with your routines and the little corner of the world you’d managed to carve out for yourselves that he didn’t even think about the fact that he could’ve been keeping you away from your friends and family.

Or that he’s technically been keeping you away from his friends and family, too.

His mother’s been living with Evgeny the last couple of years, moving in to help Sara with their two year old and three month old babies, and his dad’s still back in Moscow, mostly by choice to help with Andrei and Evgeny’s grandparents. Evgeny and Sara sort of know he’s been seeing someone, but he hasn’t divulged much more, and he has no idea what you’ve been sharing with your family in turn.

Plus…he’s probably keeping you from other clients, which isn’t his favorite thing to think about, at all, but he can’t ignore the circumstances of how the two of you met, or how you came into his life. 

So as much as it pains him to say it, he doesn’t want to be like the beast keeping you locked in his castle against your will, so he takes a deep breath, and says “Almaznyy, if you need to go home, or if you need to go back, then-”

“I don’t,” you interject. “I’m good here.”

Oh…okay…

“No one’s missing you?” He asks. “You don’t have other clients?”

“I’m good here, Andrei,” you repeat, this time a little softer, rounding the desk. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Of course I’m okay,” he assures you, reaching for your waist and pulling you into his lap. “I was the one who asked you to be here with me. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want you with me.”

You nod, body relaxing into his embrace. 

There’s another sharp pain in his chest, and he rests his head resting in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

He can feel you tense for a second in surprise. “For what?”

“I didn’t think about…other people. I didn’t mean to be selfish, but I was, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh Andrei,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers scratching lightly at the base of his scalp. “I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty. I just…I didn’t realize how long I’d been staying here with you, and when I did, I knew I needed to check in. That’s all.”

“I like having you here,” he confesses. “It feels…”

“Natural,” you finish for him. “I know, I feel the same.”

You both settle into a small silence, Andrei content to just hold you for a second, to stay in this little bubble with you he’d built before he’d been forced to remember the two of you weren’t actually alone in this world together.

“What about Christmas?” He eventually asks you. 

You nod. “My family does celebrate it, kind of. But I would have to go home for that.”

“I would too.” He confirms. “We technically celebrate Christmas twice. Once for western Christmas on the twenty fifth, and again in January for Russian Christmas.”

You lean back a little, brushing his hair away from his face, bracelet glinting in the sunlight filtering in through the window. “Guess we’ll have to make the best of this next month or so.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning up to kiss you softly. “I guess so.”

A pang of sadness hits him, already not looking forward to having to let you go.

~

Read Part Two Here.

[mercurial-vroom]

🏎️ My F1 RPF Masterpost 🏎️

In honor of my newly-minted F1 sideblog, just thought I'd gather all of my recent F1 fics into one place here on tumblr -- all were fills for the fabulous (and still ongoing, so go read/write/prompt!!) F1 Kink Meme and have recently been de-anoned:

Delicacy (🍣 Carlando sushi fic - 6.5k words, rated E)

“I thought you were going to be good for me,” said Carlos, his voice pitching low in a way he knew made Lando shiver. He ran one of his thumbs gently along Lando’s lower lip, smiling a little at how his eyelashes fluttered in response. “You want to get your reward, no?” “Well, yeah. But I thought ‘being good’ would mean, like… sucking you off while you pull my hair, or letting you, I dunno, spank me or something. Not having to eat a frickin’ fish.”

You can be the poet (I'll be the song) (🎧 Landoscar DJ Lando AU - 9.5k words, rated E)

“You’re the F1 driver who will be up there with me tonight, right? Oscar…?” “Piastri, yeah. And you’re, er… LN4, I presume?” “Yeah, but you can just call me Lando. It’s my actual name.” “Like from Star Wars,” Oscar said, like an idiot. LN4 – Lando – thankfully laughed. “Exactly.”

I've got some real estate here in my bag (🚗 Loscar road trip fic - 28k words, rated E)

They decide to start in New York – Oscar’s never been, and it feels like a high-energy place to begin, before they’re suffering from highway hypnosis and potentially sick of the sight of one another – then to make their way south along I-95, through DC and the Carolinas and eventually down the long stretch of Florida to Fort Lauderdale, where Logan’s mom will be waiting with hugs and home-cooked meals for both of them. It feels like a nice little spread of Americana, Logan thinks. They’ll rent a car, and book the hotels as they go, and stop where they want to stop when they feel like stopping, just soaking in the fleeting and wonderful freedom of not having to adhere to a strictly regimented schedule of driving and training and press for the first time in months.

[johnnycakesswitch]

I have a few!

I feel like Soda and Pony just let out the most obnoxious burps after they’re finished eating and Darry HATES it because they’re so gross about it too

Darry always has to suppress himself from smiling Pony’s parent escher conferences because all his teachers say such good things about him and he’s proud of his brother

Additionally I feel like Pony has a few teachers he LOATHES and openly complains about and Darry’s just like “suck it up you’re gonna have them all year no sense in complaining” and he gets home from parent teacher conferences and he’s just like “I see why you hate them”

Soda hates being barefoot and would rather walk on hot rods with socks than the normal ground without them

Soda and Steve ransack the snack aisle at the DX except they always end up eating too much and suffer through being lethargic at work because of it

Soda would make those little macaroni signs for Pony at his track meets that say “go Ponyboy” and Pony loves it

Darry likes listening to shin brothers’ heartbeats and the sound of their breathing or whatever other internal noise because it assures him that they’re okay and he isn’t gonna lose them-he never outwardly admits it but when he’s positive they’re asleep he just rests his head on their stomachs and excuses it with “you moved in your sleep”

Pony is a wonderful baker actually

Mrs Curtis used to know how to play piano and taught Pony how to sing and Darry how to play piano. Pony doesn’t sing much anymore because he’s too shy and thinks it’s “not tuff” and to Darry it’s too painful. One time though after work he just started playing and honestly damn near cried. Pony maybe started singing along because it was a song he knew and they just sit in silence for a moment

Mrs Curtis was named Carolina but went by Lina :)

Soda’s eyes look like amber in the sunlight

That’s all!

Wait I’m crying over the idea of Darry going to school conferences, he would be SO proud to hear how well Pony is doing and would give him such a big hug at home and tell him how happy and proud he is. Pony would be like me as a child and the second Darry gets home he’s demanding to know exactly what the teachers said. And the first one is so real, they’re really just gross boys at their core 😭 and Soda would be one of those people who sleeps w socks on and Pony‘s just like alright… questionable behavior. Soda and Steve absolutely steal shit from the DX all the time, it’s a slow day and they’re bored, what else are they supposed to do besides gorge themselves in the break room on candy and soda? Darry is very suspicious when they come home and aren’t hungry for dinner after that. Soda making signs for Ponyboy is so 🥺 he’s the sweetest boy ever. I know you specifically said Darry but I can honestly see all three of them finding heartbeats comforting because like you said, it reminds them that the others are okay ☹️ piano playing and singing is real, I like to think too that Soda attempted to learn how to play the piano as a little kid but he would just cry because it was so boring to him and his mom was just like fuck it don’t learn how to play the piano 💀 I don’t have any name hcs for the Curtis parents but Carolina is a very pretty name. And yes Soda’s eyes are gorgeous in the sunlight, he’s just completely perfect

Thank you for these!

[fleetingofthegretas]

Good, Mama - !KISZKA! part 1? -Josh Kiszka x reader-

Some tw's/what to expect- fluff, drinking, drunk sex, edging

You and Josh Kiszka have been friends ever since you met him at the local library a few months ago. You were looking for a book on herbs & gardening when you saw a very small man in a onesie next to you, looking in the same section. You couldn't tell if he worked at the library or not, so you kept to yourself. After a few minutes of picking up books and trying to avoid awkward conversation with the stranger beside you, he finally breaks the silence.

"Don't read that one if you want pictures, read... this one!" He reaches past you and hands you a green book with a singular pressed daisy to the front. The cover reads "Wiccan Gardens: A guide to medicine & herbs you may need along your journey".

"How could you tell I need to look at the pictures?" You giggle softly to yourself as you take the book from the strangers hands.

"Based on your Doc Martens and your tote bag, I just kinda figured. Good luck with your read!"

He walks away, leaving the conversation just like he started it, confident and assuring. You notice that he didn't walk away with a book in hand & wonder to yourself if he came over just to talk to you after apparently observing your outfit. You glance down to your boots, ripped black leggings, mini black skirt, and oversized sweater as you kick your feet on the floor awkwardly.

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

You sit at a table at "Flora Cafe + Bakery", your favorite coffee shop while you read your newly picked out book. You were hoping to start a garden soon, now that spring is approaching. You hear the bell on the front door ring as a familiar face walks into the coffee shop. It's the guy from the bookshop earlier. You get ready to stand up to leave as someone scoots into the booth across from you. It's him, with a smile on his face.

"Hello, stranger. Nice to see you like the same places I do. I never got your name earlier."

"You didn't get it because I didn't give it. My name is Y/N."

He looks at you a little distraught from your remark, almost instantly fixing his face back to a little smile, teeth showing.

"You have a beautiful name. Nice to meet you Y/N, I'm Josh"

"Nice to meet you Josh. What brings you to my booth here?" You question him as you fold your hands onto the table in front of you. He mirrors you, folding his hands on top the table as well.

"I thought you seemed like you needed a friend mama, that's all. What brings you to Nashville?"

"I just moved here from North Carolina a few days ago so I'm still fairly new here. Haven't even gotten a couch yet for my apartment, that's how settled in I am."

"Tell you what, I can help you move in anything you need. I was once new here too ya'know? Moved here from Michigan with my brothers. You have a pen? Give me your hand."

You do as he asks, putting a pen in his hand from the depths of your purse then laying your hand, palm up, on the table in front of him. He starts to scribble something on your hand. He sets the pen down and dismisses himself from your presence.

"There ya go, if you ever need anything give me a call. I'm late to a meeting so I'll see ya at some point. If you would like to see me that is. See ya Y/N!" He runs out of the café and you watch him as he continues running down the road. What an odd guy. You glance down to your hand now reading what the stranger has left for you. A phone number followed by, "Josh :)".

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

Fast forward to PRESENT TIME!

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

It has been 4 months since you met Josh in that library for the first time. The 2 of you are practically inseparable now, your apartment is practically his at this point. Josh did exactly what he promised when he had given you his number. He brought his brothers over to help you move all your stuff into the apartment when you finally gave him the call. His brothers were all hot. Incredibly hot. There was Jake, who was a total sex machine. You could tell and often fantasized about it when you were alone in bed.

Sammy, his youngest brother was just straight up beautiful. Something about how tall he was really got you going, he often made fun of you for wearing chunky shoes just to make you seem taller. Sam was very physical with you, he liked coming over to teach you piano on some sweet thrift you picked up together when the boys were helping you move in. You always felt your heart skip a beat when your fingers would touch accidently while both heading for the same key.

Lastly was Daniel, or Danny. He was the non-blood brother but my was he just as beautiful as the rest. Danny had the physique of a greek god. You would often see him when he was on his morning jogs, you tending to your garden while he ran by sweaty as ever. Sometimes you would start to overwater your tomatoes because you would get stuck in the danny-trance.

Wednesday nights were wine nights for you. The boys always came over to partake in drinking with you. You enjoyed their company, after all they were all you had here in Tennessee. You were so incredibly thankful for them and especially thankful for josh. After all, you wouldn't have known any of them if he hadn't come up to you in the library that day.

Ding-dong!

Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

"SAM STOP! I'M COMING!" you scream from your bedroom. You shimmy on your pants, fresh out of the shower. Your hair is still soaking wet as you open the front door.

"Oh. I see why it took you so long. Didn't know we were getting a hurricane today." Sam steps through the door immediately heading to the kitchen to grab a drink.

"Why couldn't literally anyone else have been first to get here?" You whine and look at the clock. 7pm. The rest should be here any second now.

7:20pm - Danny arrives, making himself at home and messing around with Sam.

8:10pm - Jake arrives while Danny and Sam are playing the piano together. You're on your second drink.

8:30pm - You and Jake had been talking, mostly about the girls he is messing around with currently. Jake tells you all his dirty secrets, which feeds into your imagination even more. He's told you all about his dom side, and my oh my how you want to experience that at least once before you die.

Josh finally arrives.

He has his own key so he lets himself in, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey Y/N. Sorry I'm late!"

"Josh don't act like I wasn't expecting this, you're late to everything. How was your day?"

"Good, mama. How was yours?"

"Mine was good, busy with work per usual. I've been editing all day."

You were a photographer for a magazine based out of Nashville. You also helped write when they needed you too. You were always busy with work, besides your break throughout the weekend and Thursdays. Thursdays were your random day off throughout the week, kindly gifted by your boss. That's why you always made sure to have wine Wednesdays, alone or not. They had to count, too.

"I've been meaning to ask you if we could get a photoshoot done by you soon, we would pay you obviously."

"Josh, are you kidding? I would love to. Even just for free. Ask me and I'm there, you know that. What do you need pictures for?"

"Just our instagram, really. We need new, updated pictures. Plus we have some crazy cool outfits we need to put to use still. Daniel has been dying to wear this pearl-harness sort of thing we got a while back"

"I wish it didn't hurt so fucking bad to take it off though!" Daniel yells across the room. You have no idea what drink he or the other boys are up to. Jake brought Jack Daniels with him so the boys have been drinking that while you've been sipping your wine.

You giggle a bit as you start to feel quite tipsy, falling onto the couch. Sammy, Jake, and Danny are all playing Mariokart on your tv. Jake is playing as Bowser, Danny as Toad, and Sammy as king boo. Josh scoots in beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. The two of you laugh together at the boys screaming at their game.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 11pm - Everyone starts to feel tired, so people start leaving one by one. Danny is the first to leave, claiming he has to shower and do his "curly hair routine" whatever that means. Jake is next, leaving without reason. You assume he's probably on his way to a pussy appointment. Sammy and Josh are left. You and Sammy had both started to very drunkenly play the piano when Sam all of a sudden feels the zoomies and wants to go outside. You, wine drunk as ever, follow suit. Now running with Sam barefoot through the streets of Nashville, Momma Josh following closely behind to make sure you guys don't kill yourselves.

When you get back to the apartment, You are covered in dirt from the ground outside. You remember Sam tripping on a rock, which caused you to trip over him. You both went into a fit of laughter, rolling around in the grass clenching your stomachs when you roll into each other, still laughing. Sam props himself up on one arm, reaching down to pull grass strands out of your hair. You're both looking at each other when he starts to lean down-

"Oh my god that's where you went!"

Josh comes running down the hill, you and Sam both back to laughing at the situation you've gotten yourselves into.

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

You get back to the apartment and Sam says his goodbyes. He wipes his dirty hand across your face leaving a dirt mark over your entire nose. You laugh and shove him out the door, locking it behind him.

Josh stays.

"alright mama, let's get you in the bath."

You hear the water start. About 10 minutes later Josh brings you to the bathroom, telling you to get undressed. He exits politely, waiting just outside the door. You easily get your shirt off, revealing your gold nipple piercings underneath. You start to yank on your jeans, but they won't budge.

"Joshy! I can't get my pants off!!"

click

Josh walks in, he is just in boxers.

"Mama, did you try the buttons?" he very easily gets your pants undone, all that's remaining is your underwear.

"Can you get those down, or do I need to do that too?" he laughs

"I don't know Joshy, I think you might have to do it." you tease, his eyes widening

"I'm only joking" you say as you turn away from him, bending at a 90 degree angle and slowly sliding your panties down. You turn back to face him, his eyes huge, and same with... something else. You slowly get closer to him, placing your hand on his shoulder and whispering "Do I make you nervous?" across his lips.

"Yes, Mama."

"Good. I can feel your tension through the air, Joshy. Let me fix that for you" You say as you slide down his body, Pulling his boxers down with your hands as you touch your knees to the floor. You wrap your hands around him, a breathy moan coming out of him.

"Fuck, Mama."

"Yeah, we'll get to that later. be patient, Joshy baby."

"yes, Y/N"

You stop. "What was that?"

"Yes, Mama"

"Good boy."

You now take him in your mouth, tounge swirling around his tip, your hands on his chest. You start bobbing your head, going down further and further until you gag, and then tilt your head back to show him all the precum on your tounge. He gives you a knowing nod, and pushes your head back to what you were doing before.

"Fuck my face Joshy"

In moments your throat is getting obliterated, he is using you just like he probably uses his hand at home. You feel his cock start to twitch in the back of your throat, which is when you pull him out from your mouth.

"Not yet."

"Yes, Mama" he responds, but there is visible frustration on his face from edging him. You pump him with your hand again, and then stop.

"Get in the bedroom"

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

You instruct Josh on what you want to happen, telling him you want to be fucked missionary style. You move yourself up to him, kissing him. Wrapping your tounge around his, and he follows. He is growing so hard it makes you giggle to yourself.

"Turned on, are we?"

"Fuck yes Mama. I need to fuck you" His words making you wet instantly. You give him a few last lazy kisses, still sitting against him. You guide him inside of you, both of you exhaling deeply as he starts to go in and out.

"Faster. Good." He picks up speed pretty quickly. You then feel him stick his hand down onto your clit and begin rubbing circles on it.

"Feel good, mama?"

"Yes, Joshy" you say while struggling to get your words out. "fuck!" he slows down again, giving you soft hits right in your cervix. He starts to kiss the side of your neck leading down onto your collarbones. Since he gave you a 'break' you flip yourselves over to be on top. He looks at you with wide eyes.

"Now I'm gonna fuck you"

You watch him throw his head back into the bed the second you go down, his thick cock filling you up almost completely. The perfect fit. fuck josh is the only thought that comes to mind right now.

"You feel- so- good Joshy" You say in between going down on his cock, your ass slapping against his thighs everytime. His jaw tightens and his body shudders with tenseness from what you said.

"I feel good Mama?"

"Yes- fuck" he starts pumping up into you from underneath your body, your praise being his motivation. You hide your face in the nape of his neck, trying not to scream out with no success. Your screaming only motivates him more, now he's hitting your center harder, faster. fuck. Driving up into you as hard as he can. You'll definitely be walking weird tomorrow, good thing you can be home all day. He clenches your sides with both hands, as his cock starts to twitch inside of you. You feel yourself reaching the same point, you both climaxing together. Thank GOD for birth control.

"Fuck Mama" Josh says panting, still inside of you. You still have your face in his neck, breathing heavily and trying to regroup your thoughts while coming down from your high that is Josh Kiszka. After a few minutes your mind starts to work again. You realize Josh has had his arms wrapped around you this whole time, stroking your hair. You find enough strength to get yourself up, laying next to Josh.

"That was amazing Joshy"

"It was, sweet girl. Now its bathtime for you, okay Mama?"

"Okay"

Josh comes around to your side of the bed to scoop you up, bridal style. He lays you in the lukewarm water as you close your eyes. You smell the smell of your soap, vanilla lavender. You feel the touch to your skin, Josh starts washing the dirt and now cum off of you. You feel him put his hand under your chin, to tilt your head upwards. You open your eyes as he rubs the dirt on your nose with water.

"You should get in. please."

You move towards the drain to give him some space to get in. He sits down so you adjust yourself to be sitting on his lap, leaning back into him.

"Thank you for being here Josh. I don't know what I would do without you"

"You're welcome but you don't have to even think of that because I'm not going anywhere mama. You mean too much to me and some drunk sex isn't going to stop our friendship or the way I love you. Plus we still need that photoshoot so I can't get rid of you yet"

You turn your head back to glare at him only to see him smiling like a goofball, the both of you instantly laughing when your gazes meet.

The End!*** check authors note ;)

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

***AUTHORS NOTE!

Hey besties so obviously there is tension between miss Y/N and literally all the rest of the boys. Do we support making more parts to this? I'm all for it but want to see what y'all think!

[sissylittlefeather]

Anybody else love Tulsa McLean?

Home Sweet Oklahoma

A/N: This is a one-shot featuring one of my favorite Elvis movie characters from his 1960 movie GI Blues. I loooooove Tulsa and GI Blues for lots of reasons, but one of them is because I was born and raised in Oklahoma. I just couldn't help myself 😂. (Also please forgive any inaccuracies in my German, the geography, the time period, the military, etc. I did my best here.)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, masturbation (male), kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, and I think that's about it. It's pretty fluffy.

Word count: 6.3kish (I know it's long, but the backstory is important and it's a slow burn...)

When your father was transferred to Germany in 1956, the last thing you wanted to do was leave the states. You were just about to graduate from high school, so you argued and begged to be left behind. Of course, without a wedding ring on your finger, your father wasn't letting you live anywhere but where he was.

You never dreamed you'd love it here so much. Now, you've been here for four years and you've built a pretty good life. Still, sometimes you missed being back home. Not that you'd ever really had a place to call "home". Being a military brat wasn't easy and you'd never lived anywhere longer than 4 years at a time. Most places you only stayed 2, except for the stint in Colorado where your younger brother was born and the stint in Oklahoma where the twins were born. The time in Oklahoma was particularly memorable for you. You started 5th grade there and stayed until the summer before 9th grade. You were actually there long enough to make some good friends and experience your first dabbling in love. It was nothing serious, of course, but you'd never forget how he kissed you behind the swings at the park near your house. When you moved to North Carolina that summer, you were devastated.

Still, that was a long time ago, and living in Germany had changed you. You were a grown woman now, complete with a job singing in a night club. Your dad didn't love it, but being 22, you were more free to do as you pleased. And you typically did exactly that.

******

Tulsa, Cookie, and Rick were at the train station preparing for their transfer to Frankfurt. When they met the soldiers who just came from there, the first thing they wanted to know about was the girls. Where were the prettiest ones and what were they like? Rick was only concerned about one girl, Marla, who he had met and fallen in love with a year ago. Tulsa was ready to meet new ones and Cookie was along with him for the ride.

"There's only one dame to avoid." Turk warned.

"Avoid? That sounds like a challenge to me." Tulsa joked, his crooked smirk splayed across his face. He was the perfect combination of sexy and cute and he knew it. Girls didn't typically say no to him.

"You say that, but this dame is just mean. She's prettier than sin, but no man can get close to her. I'm telling you, don't waste your time."

"Well, now I'm really intrigued. Where do I find her?" Turk rolled his eyes at Tulsa's cockiness.

"She sings at the Cafe Amerikanisch."

"Amerikanisch? Is she--"

"American? Yes." Tulsa's eyes lit up. Picking up frauleins in a GI uniform was easy. A girl from back home would present a challenge worthy of his effort.

"Well, we'll see if I can't melt this ice queen." He looked at Cookie and wiggled his eyebrows. Turk scoffed. There was a whistle and everyone moved to board the train. As they walked away, Turk called out to Tulsa.

"Good luck! Her name is y/n!"

******

The Cafe Amerikanisch is owned by an American expat and is intended to serve as a haven for homesick soldiers and other Americans living and working in Germany. As an American singer, and a pretty good looking one at that, you are a perfect act for this particular club.

Tonight is a pretty normal Saturday for you as you sit in your dressing room waiting for it to be time for you to go on stage. Your shiny red dress is form-fitting with a dangerously high slit, but your legs are your best feature, so it doesn't bother you much. There's a knock on your door and someone lets you know you've got two minutes. You slip on your black heels and long black gloves and stand up, adjusting your hair in the mirror. The last thing you do is blow yourself a red-lipstick kiss for good luck and then make your way to the stage.

The band begins and you do your normal set, singing and flirting with the audience. You've just started your last song, a jazzy version of Dream a Little Dream of Me by Ella Fitzgerald, when you notice a group of American GIs come in and stand in the corner watching you. It's too dark for you to really see them, but your stomach drops and you have to actively stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Great, now you'll have to deal with them tonight.

You've learned from experience that the soldiers usually come in with one thing on their mind. For some reason, you seem to represent some kind of prize for them to win. You gave in once early in your career and fell in love head over heels just for him to disappear several months later. Since then, you've avoided these men like the plague and turned down, quite aggressively, every advance from one of them. It sounds arrogant to assume they're there for you, but it just always seems to be true. You don't intend on calling their bluff tonight or ever, really.

Seeing them standing in the corner sends up your defenses and you start to come up with reasons to go directly home after you finish singing. Finally, your set is done and you bow, smiling to the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. You head off the stage to your dressing room to change and get out of here. You're a little annoyed because you were hoping to stay and have a few drinks with some of the other girls in the show, but now you'll have to run home. Once you're back in your navy blue and white dress, you grab your coat and purse and make an attempt to leave. Several of the other girls stop you before you can get to the door, though, and you chat with them for a bit.

"Please get a drink with us, y/n!"

"No, I really need to go. I'm so tired."

"Just one? You always run out of here so quick."

"Alright, one drink. And then I have to go."

You let them lead you to a table, keeping your eyes on the group of GIs, waiting for them to try to approach you. You accidentally make eye contact with one of them and a bolt of recognition hits you. Why does he seem so familiar? No matter. You can ignore him, and his sweet blue eyes and perfect hair, the same way you've ignored all the others.

They stay put where they are, watching you, until after you get your drink. You're starting to think that maybe they'll leave you alone when you notice them making their way towards you. You down your drink in three gulps and say a quick goodbye to the girls. You stand up and almost run smack into the one with the blue eyes.

Between the alcohol and standing up so fast, you're a little dizzy and almost running into him knocks you off balance. He catches you with both hands on your upper arms before you fall.

"Whoa, honey, where are you headed so fast?" There's something about his accent that causes you to freeze. Who is he?

"Wait. Y/n?!" Your eyes scan up to his face and you try to place him. He's so familiar and he obviously knows you too.

"It's Tulsa! Tulsa McLean!" He steps back from you and gestures to himself.

Your heart stops.

"Oh my god. Tulsa..." Your hand goes to your mouth and you look up into his eyes.

You haven't seen him since you moved from Oklahoma 8 years ago. Your brain flashes back to holding his hand, going to the movies and getting hamburgers, and most of all, that kiss behind the swing set. You wrote letters back and forth for a while, but you lost contact once you both really got into high school. Now he's here, in front of you again.

"What are you doing here?" You ask. He points to his uniform.

"Isn't it obvious? What are you doing here?"

"My father..."

"He's here? I don't remember him liking me very much." He chuckles and looks around the club like your father might be right around the corner. You notice that the other soldiers are elbowing each other and laughing, like Tulsa has a real chance here and they're impressed. That makes your blood boil and you turn back to Tulsa coldly.

"Well, it's good to see you, but I really need to head home." He blinks, surprised by the change in your tone.

"Now wait a minute, can we go somewhere to talk?"

"No, I'm sorry. It's late. Goodnight." You turn and walk away. There's a pang in your heart as you do. You've missed him, a lot, but he's a soldier now. There's no way you can trust him. You swallow the lump in your throat as you walk out the door towards your house.

******

"Tulsa! We thought you were in for sure!" He and his group of friends make their way to a table to order some drinks.

"How do you know her?" He looks down at his beer when it comes, thinking about the time you spent together all those years ago. He hasn't stopped thinking about you in all that time.

"We went to school together for a while when we were kids." He's gotten unusually quiet and the guys look at each other in surprise.

"Isn't that a good thing? It'll make it easier, right?"

"Guys, I'm not doing this anymore."

"Aw, Tulsa, come on. You're our entertainment! You gotta prove to Turk that you can do it!"

"No, I'm done. I'm going to head back to the barracks. I'll see y'all later." He stands up and makes his way to the door. On his way out, he stops at the table of girls you had been sitting with.

"Hey, ladies. Do any of y'all know where I could find y/n?" The girls look at each other, hesitant to share your location with a soldier. Still, you live with your parents, so they figure your father will keep you safe if anything really bad happens. The girl that you're closest with, Maryann, tells him your address.

"Thank you. Truly." He flashes them a winning smile and heads for the door.

Cookie sees him walk out and turns back to the guys.

"Hey, fellas. I don't think this is over." They laugh and cheer. Your friends notice this and make a note to tell you later.

******

You're sitting in your room, brushing your hair and looking in the mirror, trying not to think about Tulsa. You've already gotten ready for bed, so you have on pajamas and your robe. It's really late and the rest of the house is asleep. The only lights on are in your small apartment over the garage. You live with your parents, but the house is large and you've got your own area with a bathroom and sitting room. Your father let you move over here when you started working at the club. This was the closest he would let you get to living on your own. Just as you put the brush down and go to get in your bed, you hear something hit your window. What on earth was that?

You ignore the sound and continue getting in bed. When you hear it again, though, you start to get nervous. You walk cautiously to the window and peek through your curtains at the street down below.

What the hell??

Tulsa is down there, throwing tiny rocks from the garden at your window.

How did he find you?!

When he sees you in the window, he waves like the 10-year-old he was when you met him. You open the window and call down as quietly as possible.

"Tulsa! What are you doing here?!"

"I need to talk to you!" He hollers.

"Shhhh! You're going to wake up my father. I'm coming down there." You look in the mirror quickly on your way down. Your pajamas will have to do, since you don't want to take the time to get dressed. And your hair is down around your shoulders, unfixed. But it's just Tulsa. He saw you in junior high; this can't be worse than that.

You tiptoe down the stairs and open the front door as quietly as possible. You pull your robe tighter around yourself and step out into the chilly night air, dragging the door closed softly behind you.

"What? Talk fast. I'm freezing."

"Maybe we should go inside?"

"Nice try, soldier. I'll be okay. Just talk."

"Well, I hadn't really thought of what I was going to say. I just needed to see you again." He smiles sheepishly.

"Tulsa. Why?"

"I'm not entirely sure." You scoff and start to go back inside. He grabs your arm lightly to stop you and his touch sends shockwaves through your body.

"No! Wait! I just... I haven't ever stopped thinking about you..."

"That was a long time ago, Tuls..."

"Have dinner with me." You shake your head no. "Please, Birdie..." Your eyes snap up to his. He called you by the nickname he made up for you back then, when you used to sing while he played the guitar. You can hear his junior high voice, "You're just like a little songbird. My very own Birdie."

"Just dinner?" You can feel yourself melting a bit and it bothers you.

"Yes. I promise."

"Pick me up tomorrow at 8." He nods excitedly and you turn to go back inside. You really hope you don't regret this.

******

Tulsa watches you walk back up to the house. He's still a little in shock that you said yes. He also can't believe what a beautiful woman you've become. He knew you were cute, but this is something entirely different. As he turns to go back to the barracks, his mind wanders to the way you looked in your red dress. It hugged every curve perfectly and your leg was peeking out through the slit. He longed to see both of your legs without the skirt in the way. And then you came downstairs in your pajamas and were somehow even more beautiful with your hair falling down around your shoulders. He imagines taking your robe off and running his hands up and under your silky pajamas. When he realizes how aroused he is, he decides to get a cab so he can sit down and not be wandering the streets of Frankfurt with a blatantly obvious erection.

Back at the barracks, he's the first one home for the night. He figures the other guys are still out at the club. His mind wanders back to you in the red dress and what it might look like on the floor of this room. Before he knows it, he's turned on again and he decides to do something pretty risky. He pulls his army-issue blanket over his lap and frees his painfully hard dick from his pants. As he touches himself, he imagines what your small, soft hands might feel like on him. The possibility drives him insane as he begins to stroke himself faster and faster. Then, he thinks of your beautiful red lips wrapped around him and he moans softly. He knows he probably doesn't have much time before the other guys come home, so he continues to move his hand up and down, moving his foreskin back and forth, the friction making his hips buck into his hand. His mind stays focused on you and your curves as he imagines holding your hips and pounding into you, first from behind and then with you on top so he can watch your breasts as they bounce with his motions. The image is almost overwhelming and he feels his release building. Finally, when he pictures the face you make when he gives you an orgasm, he comes hard, moaning your name with a string of cuss words.

His blanket is ruined, so he uses it to clean himself up quickly and then tosses it in his laundry. He's breathing heavily, a little embarrassed at having just gotten himself off to the thought of you, when he hears the guys coming down the hallway. He tries to slow his heart rate and gets ready for bed, laying down just as the door opens.

"Hey Tulsa! You missed a helluva night! You shoulda seen this girl Cookie was talking to!" He rolls over pretends like they woke him up.

"How'd it go with your girl?" They all look at him expectantly.

"Oh, well, uh, we're having dinner tomorrow night." They whoop and holler, the amount of beer they had becoming obvious.

"We knew you'd get her! Nothing like a connection from the past to get a girl to go weak in the knees for ya!" Tulsa frowns.

"It's not like that, fellas." He tries not to think about what he just pictured you doing. "We're old friends. That's all. Now let me go back to sleep." He rolls back over as they continue talking and laughing. He tries to go to sleep, but he can't stop imagining you curled up next to him in your silk pajamas.

******

You're standing in front of your house in your favorite pink dress when Tulsa pulls up in a cab. You forgot that he wouldn't have a car, since he's a soldier. He hops out and opens the door for you, but you shake your head.

"We'll take my car." He pays the cab driver and follows you to your BMW convertible. His mouth pops open when he realizes it's yours.

"Nightclub business must be good." He jokes. You remember how much he loves cars and toss him the keys.

"I don't really feel like driving tonight." His eyes light up and you can't stop yourself from smiling. He really is an attractive man. This might be harder than you thought.

You guide him to a restaurant, where he parks and runs to your side of the car to open the door for you. He still has his southern manners. Once you get to the table, you both relax a bit and it feels more like the two of you used to be, talking and laughing easily.

"And how's your mama? She was always so sweet to me." You ask, taking a bite of your food.

"That's because she loved you! Always said you were too good for me. She was probably right." He looks at you shyly. "But, she's good! She and Daddy still live in the same house. I haven't seen them in almost 2 years." He gets a little somber and you can tell he must be homesick.

"Are you almost finished with your tour?"

"I've got three months here in Frankfurt and then I'm free. I can't wait to get back to the states." You look down at your plate. He's going to disappear in three months. Don't get attached.

"What about you? Will you be headed stateside any time soon?"

"No, my father is about to retire, but he wants to stay here. And even if he left, I'd probably try to stay. I like it here and I don't really have a home in the US. Not like you do."

"You could always come back to Oklahoma." He cuts himself off before he says "with me." You look up at him, noticing that it seems like he wants to say something else, but he doesn't. Instead, he changes the subject to talk about your singing career. He tells you he has formed a group with some of the guys and has been performing whenever they get a chance. He also tells you about how they want to open a nightclub when they get home.

"See, you could come sing in our club! Be our main act!" You know he's joking, but there's an edge of seriousness to him that makes you wonder.

You continue to talk and laugh through the rest of dinner and it feels good to be with him, like he brings out a part of you that you forgot exists. A happy, hopeful, youthful part of you that's been buried since you had your heart broken.

You sit together at dinner for a long time after you finish eating and even when you can't sit there any longer, you're still not ready to be away from him. He suggests a drink somewhere and you agree with a swiftness that you fear gives you away.

You like him. A lot.

He's still the sweet, funny boy you loved so long ago, just in the body of this charming and devilishly handsome man.

You decide to take him back to the Amerikanisch for drinks. It's familiar and you know everyone that works there. You sit at your table together and continue your conversation from before. At one point, he says something really funny and you put your hand on his on the table. He stops laughing and looks at you longingly. You let him take your hand and hold it, running his thumb over your knuckles softly. Your heart beats faster and you start to wish that you were somewhere other than a crowded club so he could kiss you if he wanted to. And something tells you that he wants to. The spell is broken, though, when his friends come in and see you together. He gets up to take them to a different table.

"I'll be right back, Birdie." He uses your nickname again and you wish it didn't make you melt all over again.

As soon as he's gone, Maryann joins you at your table.

"You need to watch out for that one."

"For Tulsa? No, I've known him for a long time. He's not that kind of guy."

"Yeah, well, his buddies sure think he is." She tells you about what she and the other girls noticed last night.

"Just be careful, okay? I'd hate to see you become some kind of trophy for him." You nod and look over at him at the table with the other soldiers. You can't let yourself forget he's one of them.

******

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We had a feeling you'd be here with y/n and we wanted to come check on your progress. And even if you weren't, Cookie wanted to come see his waitress."

"Check my progress? I told y'all that's not what this is. You're about to ruin the whole thing." Tulsa raises his voice slightly to let them know he's serious. Cookie's waitress comes by and he disappears to follow her to the bar. The rest of the guys agree to back off, so Tulsa makes his way back over to you. There's another girl sitting with you, though, and he recognizes her as the one who gave him your address.

"Thanks again for helping me find her...?"

"Maryann. Nice to meet you. I've been hearing a lot about you in the last ten minutes." She stands up and lets him sit back down. As she walks away, she gestures to you that she's watching.

"What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing really. She just worries about me since..." You trail off, not really wanting to talk about why.

"Since what?"

"Since Mike." Tulsa looks uncomfortable and brings his eyebrows together in a frown.

"Who is Mike?" You don't want to, but you feel safe with Tulsa, so you tell him the whole story. How you let him take you out, let him convince you to fall in love with him, let him make you believe he wanted to marry you, let him have you. When you get to the last part, Tulsa looks away from you, obviously affected. The thought of you with another man makes him sick to his stomach. The thought of that man hurting you fills him with rage. He suddenly wishes Mike was around, so he could punch him in the face and then take you in his arms and protect you.

"That's why you don't trust soldiers." You nod, not wanting to let the tears that have gathered in your eyes find a way to fall. He's dying to put his arm around you and comfort you. He wants to wipe the tears from your eyes and make sure you never cry again. But you're still in the middle of a crowded club.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" He asks, trying to sound as genuine as possible. You look over to his table of friends hesitantly. He looks down at his hands, frustrated by the fact that they've made you nervous. He'd give anything not to be wearing this stupid uniform right now.

"Yes." He looks up at you, pleasantly surprised. You decide to trust him, despite everything. He stands up and puts his hand out for you to take, so you grab your coat and wrap your fingers through his. At your touch, his heart skips a beat. This might be more than just rekindling a friendship.

******

When you get outside the club, the cold wind hits you and you shiver. Tulsa puts his arm around you, and you let him, warmth spreading through you.

The only place you can think of to go is back to your house. You recognize that this might send the wrong message, but you're not exactly sure that is the wrong message at this point.

Once you're in the car, Tulsa asks where you want to go.

"Home."

"Oh. Okay." He thinks you mean without him. You scoot close to him in the front seat and put your head on his shoulder.

"I want you to come with me." He tries to hide his excitement and fails, but instead of being annoyed, you think it's really cute. He puts the car in drive and you make your way back to your house.

Thankfully, the house is dark when you get there. You weren't looking forward to explaining to your father why Tulsa was coming upstairs with you. Instead, you both take off your shoes and walk as quietly as possible until you reach the safety of your apartment.

As soon as you close your bedroom door, you both burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. You're grown adults sneaking around like teenagers. He sets his hat down on your dresser while you take your coat off. You stand there for a while, staring at each other in silence. Then, slowly, carefully, he reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek, brushing it softly with his thumb. You close your eyes and lean into his palm. Your heart is beating so fast and your eyes flutter open to meet his blue ones. They're soft and calm, like the ocean on a still day. As he leans in, your fingers begin to tingle. When his soft lips finally meet yours, a tidal wave of desire washes over you and you're filled with a need for him to touch every inch of you. The same wave seems to hit him as well because he moves his hands from your face to your waist, pulling your hips in close to him as you throw your arms around his neck. Your lips part and he slides his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours. You feel your body heat up as he presses against you, kissing you passionately.

After a few minutes of being locked together like this, he pulls back from your lips and looks into your eyes again.

"Is this really what you want, Birdie? I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you into anything." You think for a second. If this continues, you know you won't be able to stop yourself from falling for him. But do you want to stop? Tulsa isn't like the others. He knows you. And even if he is leaving in a few months, you've found each other once before. Who's to say you won't do it again? You're ready to stop being scared. And three months with him sounds better than a lifetime with Mike.

"Yes, this is what I want. You are what I want, Tulsa." He dives back into the kiss and never looks back. You walk backwards towards your bed, pulling his tie off and starting to unbutton his shirt. He finishes your work and drops it on the floor, his lips never moving from yours. His hands move to the back of your dress, finding the zipper and carefully pulling it down to the small of your back. As he runs his hands back up to your shoulders, his fingers graze the skin that was under your dress and the electricity is palpable. You wiggle your shoulders as he slides the top half of your dress off. He kisses down your neck to your shoulder and each place he presses his lips burns with a newfound heat. You push your dress down over your hips and let it fall to the floor with his shirt. He slides the tips of his fingers under your slip and pushes it down too. Then, he pulls back and looks at you standing there in your garter belt, hose, bra, and panties.

"Wow." You blush a little with his burning gaze moving up and down your body and move to cover yourself with your hands.

"You don't have to hide from me, baby." He gently moves your hands away from you and you start to feel more comfortable. His presence is comforting, even as you stand there nearly naked. You take a moment to look down his body, running your hands from his shoulders down to the waistline of his pants. That's when you notice that his dick is hard, pressing against the fabric of his pants dramatically. You look up into his eyes and he looks away and clears his throat like he's embarrassed. You put one hand on his cheek and softly move his face back to making eye contact with you. Then you take your other hand and touch him over his pants, rubbing up and down his dick carefully.

"Mmm." His eyes close and his hips buck forward into your hand. He is desperate for your touch, just as you are for his. He moves his hands up and down your sides and then finds the back of your garter belt with his fingers. He undoes the hooks and then sits you down on the edge of the bed. Kneeling down in front of you, he slowly unclips your hose and drops the belt to the floor. Then, he gently rolls your hose down each of your legs, lifting each ankle to his lips and pressing a kiss there. He kisses each of your knees and then pushes them apart to kiss the inside of each thigh. As he gets closer and closer to your center, you feel your arousal begin to gather in your panties. He stops before he gets there, though, and stands up. You lean forward and unbutton his pants.

"Wait, honey." He puts his hands on yours and stands there looking down at you, breathing heavily. He wants to savor this moment with you. He's been with women before, but something about this feels like another kind of first time. It's a little overwhelming and he wants to make sure it doesn't move too quickly. He looks at you sitting there in just your bra and panties. You might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Even his imagination didn't do you justice. Is this what it feels like to be in love?

"Should I... should I put on pajamas or something?" You look around the room, assuming something about you must have turned him off, despite his continuing erection. He sits next to you on the bed.

"Oh, no, honey--"

"You don't like me?" You look at him with tears in your eyes. You didn't realize it mattered to you so much, but now you know. You so desperately want him to want you, to like you, to love you the way you've realized you've always loved him.

"Don't like you?! Baby, I-I... well... to hell with it... I love you." Your eyes snap up to meet his.

"Y-you do?"

"Aw, hell. Yes, y/n I do. I always have." He searches your face for some kind of reassurance that he's not alone in this.

"I love you too..." you whisper it, but it's enough for him. He puts his hands on your face and pulls you into a deep kiss. He lays you back on the bed, running his hand down your body. He kisses down your neck, whispering "I love you" in between each kiss. His hand makes its way to your center and he moves your panties to the side, sliding his finger up your slit to the place that makes your back arch and a moan escape your lips. He smiles at how easily you come undone in his hands. After a few second of this, he slips one finger into you and then two. The feeling of some part of him inside you is enough to drive you to the edge. He sits up on his knees and slides your panties down and off. Then he climbs in between your legs and pushes his fingers back into you, moving them in and out rhythmically. You're overcome by the sensation of his hands on you and the intense emotions that are running through you. He loves you. But more importantly, you love him. Everything physical that's happening is just an expression of that and you never want it to end. Just as you think you're going to lose control, he lowers his mouth onto you and adds his tongue to the movements he's already making. You gasp and it doesn't take long for your orgasm to build up and crash over you like waves on a beach, over and over again out to the edges of your body and back again.

"Oh, yes, Tulsa!" You cry out as you shudder and pulse around his fingers. He sits up on his knees and finally lets you undo his pants, kicking them and his underwear off quickly. He unhooks your bra and literally throws it to the side. Now, it's like he can't move fast enough. He needs to be inside you as soon as possible. You help him with this task, lining him up with your entrance before he pushes into you hard and deep.

"Oh shit." He moans. "You feel so good, Birdie." When he uses your nickname again you whimper and kiss his neck. He begins to pump in and out of you and both of you begin to sweat. You feel him inside you, hitting all of your most sensitive places. The rhythm he keeps is not too fast or too slow, his hips pressing into yours and driving him deeper inside you. You can't believe how good he feels like this. But you want to repay him for the pleasure he gave you at the start, so you push him off of you and lay him on his back next to you. He follows directions easily, waiting patiently for you to straddle him and lower yourself onto him. Groaning with the change in sensation of having you on top of him, he reaches up and cups both of your breasts while you bounce. The picture that you make, sitting there on top of him, drives him absolutely crazy.

"God, you're beautiful." He moves his hands to your hips and starts to thrust into you deeply. You roll your hips to meet his over and over, your hands on his chest. His eyes roll back and close as his mouth is opened partially. The look of pleasure that he has makes you want to keep doing this forever. His arousal fuels your own as you continue to grind against him.

"Yes, don't stop!" You moan again as another orgasm builds inside you, starting in your abdomen and spreading through your legs.

"I'm gonna come, baby." He opens his eyes and tries to watch the expression on your face, but he's overwhelmed by his own ecstatic pleasure as you reach your climax together. You feel his warmth inside you and know it's risky, but you don't care. In that moment, the only thing that matters is you and him together, bodies intertwined and breathing heavily, your skin pressed against his. You lay on his chest and he wraps his arms around you and kisses your hair.

"Birdie, that was..."

"...everything." You look up at him from your position on his chest. You've never felt anything like this before, emotionally or physically. You gently run your fingertip down the line of his nose and he grabs your fingers and kisses them. The intimacy between you goes beyond the simplicity of sex. You belong to each other.

Eventually, you get up to go to the bathroom, thinking about everything that just happened. It seems like fate that you would run into each other again. And after what just happened, you don't ever want to let him go.

When you get back to the bedroom, he gestures for you to come lay beside him. He's under the covers now; it looks like he doesn't want to go anywhere either. It's fine by you that he stays. You wish he could stay forever. That's when you remember that he's leaving in 3 months.

"Tulsa, what are we gonna do?"

"About what, honey?"

"You're only here for a little while." You crawl into the bed and snuggle up against him. He's not worried about anything, though. In his mind, he's going to buy a ring tomorrow.

"Come back to Oklahoma with me." He says it matter-of-factly. You think about what that would mean, leaving your job and your friends and your family behind. But you've moved so many times before. And this time, you wouldn't be moving away from somewhere, you'd be moving towards a home with him.

"Okay. I'll go home with you. I'm not sure how my father will feel about me moving without--"

"--a ring on your finger? Let me worry about that part." He makes his crooked smirk-smile and you kiss his cheek.

"I trust you..."

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I wasn't sure if anyone would want to be tagged, since this is technically not an Elvis fic...

[probably-impossible]

Crush

A story about the End of the Wild West; or, the Prophet sees two trains explode on his one-hundred-and-fourth birthday.

(Aka my Activity 1 for the @dollarstrilogyevent that I got way too into hahahaha)

By his own reckoning, Prophet was one-hundred and four years old as of that September in 1896. Perhaps unsurprisingly he had lost most of his hearing, but his vision was still good. He saw the door of his shack swing open, and he struggled to sit up in bed. “I've already found Jesus and I'm not buying anything!”

The face that poked around the door belonged to Fluke Dudley, a young man who worked on the ranch that had sprung up next door. He was just about the only one who visited him anymore. “It's me, Prophet,” he said. “I w- - - - - to - - - - you- -”

“Speak up, boy!”

“I SAID THERE'S SOMEWHERE I'D LIKE TO TAKE YOU TODAY!”

“What? Where's that, then?”

“IT'S A SURPRISE!” Fluke scratched his nose and grinned. “For your birthday. You'll like it, sir, I promise.”

Prophet grumbled but allowed Fluke to lift him into the rickety wheelchair that sat beside his bed. “Don't need remindin’ about no birthday,” he said. “I've had about ten too many of ‘em, I reckon. Wish someone had put me out of my misery back when the goddamn good-for-nothing trains took my hearing!”

“Oh, don't talk like that.” 

“I'm a hundred and four years old, I'll talk however I damn well please!” 

Fluke rolled him out of the shack, towards one of the ranch's small one-horse wagons. He lifted the old man up onto the seat and stowed the chair in the bed, then jumped up and flicked the reins.

Prophet squinted at the scenery as they rolled slowly alongside the train tracks. “I used to get visits from all sorts of people, you know,” he said. “I used to know everything about everybody in these parts. They'd come from miles around to see me. To get their information.”

Fluke nodded. He'd heard this story before. 

“Lawmen, outlaws, drifters,” Prophet continued. “Bounty killers. I've seen them all. But they just don't make men like that anymore. I tell you, boy, things have got too civilized around here.”

“ - - - - ”

“What?”

“I SAID YOU'RE RIGHT!”

“Damn sure I'm right.” Prophet leaned over the side of the wagon to glare down at the tracks. “It's all the fault of those trains! They take all the civilized folk from out east, load ‘em up into their carriage cars with the lacy curtains and little fruity drink trolleys, and send ‘em out here. And soon enough there's so much civilization around a man can't hardly be himself anymore.”

Prophet leaned back and went silent for a while. “I wonder how many of those young men who used to come and see me are still alive,” he said. “They strung up Willie Foster last year, I know that. And Kid Frasier fell off his hoss. That old marshal Colby… whatever happened to him?”

“He got killed in a shootout, you said.”

“Right, right. Davey and Red Kelly done it, and then they run off to Mexico.” He blinked as another wagon passed by them. It was loaded up with people, chatting and laughing. He lost his thought for a moment, then picked it back up again. “Angel Eyes… he's long gone. That retired colonel went back to North Carolina. Now what was that young buck's name… Manco. Fell off the face of the earth, far as I can remember. And worst of all, poor old Cheyenne…”

“Shot in the gut by the president of the railroad company,” Fluke muttered.

“...shot in the gut by the president of the railroad company! Did you ever hear of a worse way to go?!” Prophet sighed. “Somehow I outlived them all. Now I'm the last of a dyin’ breed. They just don't make men like us anymore.”

“No sir,” Fluke said. There were more wagons around now, and people walking along the tracks, too. They all seemed to be going in the same direction. Fluke tipped his hat as they passed by a group of ladies holding parasols.

Prophet looked at him skeptically. “Where exactly are you taking me? There sure are a lot of other people headed this way.”

“You'll find out soon,” Fluke said. “We're almost there.” 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with my hair!”

“I SAID WE'RE ALMOST THERE!”

As they kept riding the crowd really started to thicken. They passed by lemonade stands and carnival games, a grandstand with a band, even a circus tent. “Just this once I'm glad I'm deaf,” Prophet muttered. “Who's runnin’ a goddamn county fair along the train tracks?”

Fluke slowly drew the wagon to a stop and pointed up at a large banner that had been hoisted next to a section of the track. It read ‘Crush, Texas. Est. September 15, 1896.’

“The railroad company's putting on a demonstration,” Fluke said, raising his voice even more than usual over the sound of the crowd. “They're gonna take two old steam engines, run ‘em as fast as they can, and crash ‘em right into each other!” He beamed with pride. “How do you like that for a birthday present, sir? You and me are gonna watch two trains smash each other to smithereens!”

Prophet blinked. “...What? The railroad company’s gonna smash their own trains?” he said, puzzled. “What for?”

“They're old engines, I guess,” Fluke said. “No use for ‘em anymore.”

“So they're crashing them? What, with all these people around?” 

“It's supposed to be very safe. No chance of the boilers exploding or anything, that's what the man from the railroad said.”

Prophet went quiet for a while. Fluke felt his own excitement start to deflate. He'd been so sure the old man would love to see this. All he ever talked about was how much he hated trains! The whole affair seemed perfectly designed with him in mind. But he didn't look excited. In fact, he seemed a little… sad.

“The railroad company…” he muttered. “Making a whole damn spectacle out of busting up some old trains that aren't good for nothing anymore. And it's perfectly safe. ‘Course it is.”

A ripple of excitement went through the crowd; rumbling could be heard in the distance. Fluke slouched on the bench of the wagon. “...I'm sorry, Prophet. I thought for sure you'd like to see it.”

“Oh, don't look so damn mopey, boy,” Prophet said, gently. “Old bastards like me can't ever be satisfied with nothin’, that's all.”

They sat there in silence for a while. Fluke listened to the rumbling while Prophet watched two black dots appear on either end of the horizon and grow steadily closer. 

Eventually the rumbling grew to a roar, and an anticipatory hush fell over the crowd. The ground began to shake. The trains were close enough to their destined meeting place now that Prophet could make out the shape of the engine cars, could see the smoke billowing from their antiquated stacks. For the first time in his life, the sight of the damn things didn't fill him entirely with hatred. They were being put out to pasture, just like him. To make way for newer, better trains. And when it happened it would be a perfectly-designed show, perfectly safe. Perfectly civilized. 

The two trains met right beneath the banner. There was a mighty crash, so loud that even Prophet could hear it, and the sound of splintering wood. Then, a moment of total silence. 

When the explosion began, time seemed to slow for Prophet. He could see a bright orange light well up within each of the smashed engines, then blossom into two beautiful balls of flame. The light danced in his eyes, and he smiled with glee. The boilers of the old engines had blown up after all. The sight of it was breathtaking. 

All this took place within less than a second. As the fire billowed outwards, the force of the explosion sent millions of pieces of metallic debris straight into the gathered crowd. Prophet grinned with ecstasy and thought about how awful this was going to be for the railroad company. Oh, they were going to have hell to pay for this. It was a fiasco. Maybe it would even drive them out of business...! Of all the ways for a man like him to go, this was a fine one. He was grateful the boy had brought him out here, after all.

The explosion nearly knocked Fluke from the wagon, and he felt a stinging pain in his forearms as he shielded his face. It was all over in only a moment. He could hear groans and shouts from the crowd as he slowly regained his senses. He looked down at his arms; he'd been hit by some shrapnel, but not badly. 

He turned quickly towards Prophet, then froze. The old man lay flopped backwards over the wagon bench, unmoving. 

A metal bolt had gone straight into his forehead. Even so, there was a satisfied smile on his face.

[im-immortal]

Small Miracles

Beth Greene is not dead. Though it is not for a lack of trying.

After eight long years spent in the CRM's grasp, struggling to find reasons to continue surviving, Beth finally finds her reason: Rick and Daryl are alive, and they are closer than she ever could've guessed. Now she must take advantage of her only opportunity to escape and track them down.

Along the way, she revisits all of the places that changed her into who she has become. And she is forced to remember who she truly is at heart despite how unrecognizable she finds herself.

But she has an unexpected ally along for the journey. Just the same as her, he is somewhat of a living miracle. Except he's no longer living... he's a walker.

Moonshine Awards 2023 Third Place Winner for Best WIP ZA, and Second Place Winner for Best WIP Reunion/Fix It!

Chapter 26 // Part 17: North Carolina III

A moment of silence passes over them. Or, more realistically, hangs over them. Like a bomb waiting to drop. Like a noose waiting to tighten. And then, unable to be left hanging in this purgatory of uncertainty for even a moment longer, Beth takes a long drag off her cigarette and holds the smoke in her lungs for as long as possible before asking, “What was it?” “What was what?” Amanda shoots back, though her tone betrays her ignorance. Beth pauses. She exhales long and slow, watching the cloud of smoke expel from between her lips and dissipate before her eyes. “What was it that—what made you think he loved me? What made you so sure? You an’ Edwards?” Another moment of silence passes between them. Beth can feel the tension like a physical thing. Like a rope pulled taut, like a bubble ready to burst. Still, she doesn’t turn her head to look at Amanda. She simply waits.  Then Amanda speaks softly, her voice cracking as she recalls, “Well… the way he looked at you. Anybody with eyes could’ve seen it. But I guess that was something more subtle. For all we knew, it could’ve been the guy with the Colt Python who loved you—the way he grabbed you once you made it over to their side. But… no. It wasn’t him. He loved you like a daughter, or a little sister. That was obvious.” “Rick,” Beth manages to say. “What?” “The guy with the Colt Python. His name is Rick.” “Oh, right…” Amanda mumbles, clearing her throat awkwardly before going on, “Well, it uh, it was the looks on all their faces after Dawn shot you. It was the way he-he didn’t turn away. Rick turned away real quick. Like he was wiping the blood off his face, but it wasn’t that. He was wiping away something else, and he wouldn’t look at you after, he just kept looking at us, at the floor where your blood was pooling. But Dixon—he didn’t hesitate. He had this look on his face. It was something I’ve never seen before. I-I don’t think I’ve ever seen it since. The way he pulled out his gun and fired so fast, blew that bullet right through Dawn’s head before she could get more than a couple words out. Everything after was kind of a blur. I can’t tell you exactly what happened. I don’t remember it. But what I do remember is seeing him on the floor. “I was just standing there, useless. I thought your people were gonna kill us. I thought they were gonna shoot us all dead just like he’d shot Dawn. I begged ‘em not to, I tried to step in and stop more pointless deaths. But they didn’t even try to kill us. They all seemed… shocked. Or-or more sad than shocked. But he was the saddest. He was crying. He was picking you up like he thought—like he thought you’d wake up. He was shaking you, and then he was just… crying. Begging. Nobody moved. Not even Rick. Everybody just watched. We watched him pray, and then we watched him pick you up and carry you out in his arms. You were heavy. You were dead weight. They all knew it. All of your people—they knew it, they tried to help, but he pushed them away. He wanted to carry you, all on his own. He had you in his arms and-and he looked back at us. At me, at Edwards, at everybody. He looked back with this expression that just… it told us to go to hell. He looked back at us like he was promising something. Like he was promising he’d be back to make us pay for killing you. And then he carried you out. All the way down. And he-he never… Beth, he never looked back. Not once. All he cared about was you. We all saw it. We had no idea. Not until you took that bullet. We had no fucking clue.”

[harknessxo]

Chapter XII ✦ Know It’s For The Better

Paring; Rhea Ripley x Roman Reigns

Summary: Rhea makes a decision, was it the right one?

Warnings; bit of angst, kinda smut

Word Count: 4.3k

Playlist

Masterlist

A/n: nothing…

Flashback from SC

Her phone began to ring exactly at 10:00 AM, making her stir from her sleep as she turned to her side, slowly opening her eyes while reaching out to her phone to turn off the alarm. Rhea slowly sat on the bed as she rubbed her eyes, trying to force herself to wake as she took her phone and unlocked it. She checked to see if she had any texts from the boys or any emails that she needed to take a look at, but so far, nothing. Yet.

This was her last day along with Roman in South Carolina. They both didn’t have anything on their schedule to attend to as this was their last day and plus, they would be leaving for the airport this afternoon to head back home. Technically, they could spend the remainder of their last day doing whatever they wanted. Though she kept in mind that they had until 4:30 PM to check out from the hotel.

She looked to her side to see that Roman was still asleep, the tribal chief not being awakened by the sound of her alarm. Both of them had spent the night together again, their clothes tossed across the floor and both of them laying naked on the bed with the covers being the only thing that covered their bodies. Slowly, and careful not to wake up, she sat up from the bed, finding Roman’s shirt as well as her panties as she put both of them on before she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She then finished doing so as she rinsed her face before she dried her face with her towel, walking out from the bathroom afterwards when she once again heard her phone ding with text messages, specifically from the group chat that she was in, along with her boys and the Bloodline.

She opened the texts as she sat back on the bed and read them.

J: what time do y’all come back tonight again????? @Rhea @Roman

S: 🤦🏽‍♂️ Jimmy I already told you earlier-

F: Jimmy, they’re coming back @ midnight.

J: nvm

DP: Thank god y’all are coming back THANK GOD

Rolling her eyes, Rhea decided to reply back to Damian’s text in the group chat.

R: So now you’re admitting y’all can’t survive w/o us? lmfaooooo

DM: he’s been stressed ever since you two left lol

J: his hair’s been getting gray just like Paul’s when Roman was out 😭😭

DM: LMAO

DP: Stfu Jimmy 😒

J: 🤣🤣🤣

R: we’ll call you guys when we leave, but please text me or Reigns if u guys want or need anything before we leave

F: stay safe sis

DM: we miss you

J: translation: “I miss you mami pls come back rn.”

DM: 🙄

Rhea shook her head and smiled before she set her phone aside and decided to wake Roman.

“Reigns, get up.” She finally spoke, inching closer to him as she shook and patted his shoulder.

“Five minutes…” He grumbled as he stirred slightly, shifting his body only a bit.

“Oh come on, I was the one riding you last night, no way you’re this tired already. If anything, I should be the one tired.”

Roman only turned slightly as his eyes opened, giving her a look. “Are we really fighting over this now?”

“I don’t know, are we now?” She asked him as she crossed her arms. He only stared at her before he noticed the shirt that she wore.

“… is that my shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” Roman grunted as he stood, fetching his underwear and sweatpants from the ground before he turned to her. “Give it back.”

“Nah.”

“Ripley.”

“You have a pair of panties from me, are you going to give those back?”

“Come on, I need to run downstairs to get us breakfast.” He insisted while she arched an eyebrow.

“You have plenty of other shirts, why this one?” Roman sighed in defeat before going onto his suitcase for another shirt.

“You’re gonna give that back to me.” He told her as he put on another shirt.

“And if I don’t?”

Roman was about to walk inside the bathroom when he paused in his steps as soon as Rhea said that. He seemed to contemplate for a few seconds before he turned his head to her.

“Alright, okay, let me rephrase that.” He began while Rhea crossed her arms at him. “If by the time we finish eating breakfast you don’t give me that shirt back, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Yeah, I highly doubt that since you won’t give me my panties back.” Rhea tsked while leaning comfortably on the bed. “So, you could say we’re even now. You have my panties, and I have your shirt.”

Roman looked at the time on his phone. He seemed to contemplate yet again while Rhea watched him until he spoke. “… Breakfast doesn’t end until 11:30.”

“Reigns.”

“Which means, I have an hour and thirty minutes, plus I can always just order delivery instead, so, last chance; give the shirt back or we’re about to have problems.”

“Oh, you want to go down that route now?” She asked him as she pulled out a pillow.

“No, no pillow fi—“ A pillow was suddenly thrown at his face as he yelped and paused. He then caught it with one hand as he looked down at it before he looked up at her as she retrieved another pillow.

“If you want this shirt back, you’re gonna have to fight for it.”

“… okay, that’s it—“ Before Rhea could react, he attempted to get back on the bed and immediately, she began to smack him with the pillow repeatedly as he shielded himself in defense.

“Aw, what happened now? You can’t even fight back—“ The second she was distracted, Roman suddenly took the pillow from her and the next thing she new, he immediately grabbed her by the waist as his other free hand began to tickle her side.

“Wait—!” She yelped before she suddenly burst out laughing, struggling in his hold while he kept tickling her.

“You’re giving up the shirt now?”

“You son of a— stop—!” She only laughed despite being tickled, up until after a while, she suddenly managed to find her chance as she grabbed his wrist and flipped them over, straddling him on the bed while also pinning him down. Both took a moment to catch their breaths while they looked at each other.

“Giving up now?” She asked him beneath her breath while smirking down at him. He only gazed up at her momentarily, looking as if he wanted to say something at first which was noticed by Rhea. Her smirk slowly faded as she also gazed down at him.

Maybe perhaps it was because she wasn’t ready for him to tell her what she thought he was going to say, or maybe it was potentially the heat of the moment, but she couldn’t help but close the distance between them as they shared a passionate kiss. Her hands were already reaching to remove his shirt while his own hands went underneath the shirt that she wore from him as he caressed her skin. As soon as his shirt came off, she threw it across the floor before she began to lead kisses on his jawline, neck, and chest.

To say the least, they both made sure to only last for thirty minutes that morning, knowing that even if it was their last day like this, it didn’t matter to them for now.

But a deep, unknown, and discreet part of her wished that they had more time.

“—and with that, we conclude the matter as to why the suggestion of splitting the tag titles had come up to us initially. Now we understand that with you being champions and with war games coming up, it’s not the best option, although I really want you to consider the possibility of giving the tag team division a higher chance and—“

Rhea sat in her chair as she listened to it on and on, wishing that it had already ended as she leaned back on her seat too comfortably. She almost wanted to roll her eyes while hearing Adam speak, twirling the pen that she held in her right hand as she sat between Damian and Finn.

“Listen here, with all due respect, Pearce.” Damian began. “Finn and I should have a say in what we do with our championships. Isn’t that the point of it? Plus, we have an agreement with the Bloodline in the first place. Us spreading the titles apart just to give others that opportunity makes zero sense when you can literally just come up with other types of championships.”

“Well, to be fair, Priest has a point.” Nick admitted as he shifted in his seat. “Despite the Bloodline being on Raw and the Bloodline on Smackdown, everyone is quite acknowledging the fact that both of your groups are now one group at this point.”

“Although, it’s not made official yet.” Adam said as he crossed his arms. At that, everyone within the group looked at each other, then everyone’s heads turned to Rhea and Roman specifically. Roman then outstretched his hand to Paul’s direction as the wiseman gave him a contract.

“You see Pearce, we knew you were going to mention that, so…” Roman then handed the contract to Pearce as he blinked and took it, reading the contents of it as Roman began to explain. “This contract includes everyone’s signature. And when I say everyone, I mean the Judgement Day and the Bloodline.”

Pearce narrowed his eyes as he read the contract before he looked up at Nick, who also wanted to take a look at it as the former wrestler showed him the contents of the paper. As Nick read everything, Rhea spoke.

“You also said you want to give other wrestlers the opportunity, no?” She asked. “Well, this is another way of doing it. By having both our factions unified officially and being able to be on both brands, we can defend our championships and give the spotlight to every superstar in these locker rooms.” She then looked at Adam and Nick firmly as she crossed her arms. “You both want to give people chances, but we? We want to remain on top. So, since we both want something… all we need is your signatures, as well as Triple H’s, and we can call this a day.”

She concluded her speech as she leaned back on her chair once again. All eyes were set on Nick and Pearce as they both contemplated over the contract. Nick then whispered something to Adam’s ear, the latter looking hesitant at first before he sighed and nodded. They then all saw as both men signed the contract.

“We will notify Triple H to be in touch with you all regarding the contract.” Adam said before he stood. “Make sure to also keep a copy of it once he signs as well. We will also discuss this with him as well. But as of now, with Triple H’s signature, this will be fully official.”

“Good. So now we’re good to go then?” Rhea immediately asked as she stood up along with the others.

“Yes, yes it is.”

“Great.”

“Pleasure doing business with you two.” Damián said as he shook both Nick and Adam’s hands, the others also doing the same before they all began to walk away from the conference room. As they did, Rhea heard her phone ring as she looked to see that Raquel was calling.

“Hey Raq, I just got out of the meeting, ‘sup?”

“Ay, al fin, loca. Shayna and I are waiting for you outside, we’re gonna go and pick up Zoey and then we’re heading out.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute, see you.” She then hung up as she kept her phone in her pocket before she turned to Damian. “I’m heading out. If anything happens, text me.”

“I got you. Stay safe though.” Damian nodded at her as they fist bumped one another before she began to walk away. She managed to head outside the parking area where Raquel and Shayna had been waiting for her. Raquel was in the driver’s seat of her rental car as she decided to move to the passenger seat to allow Rhea to be the one driving.

“She’s still at the hotel?” Rhea asked as she put her seatbelt on.

“Yeah well, she overslept. I told her not to go to the gym last night but noooo, her dumbass didn’t wanna listen.” Shayna said as she texted her phone. “But I’m letting her know that we are on our way.”

“Where are we going anyways?” Rhea asked as she arched an eyebrow while she began to drive off.

“Whenever we want,” Raquel shrugged. “Chica, it’s a Saturday. We get to do whatever the fuck we want today. And plus, you need a break.”

“Thanks for reminding me again.” Rhea almost said sarcastically while Raquel gave her a look. After a while, they arrived at the hotel as they waited. Raquel was the one to call Zoey’s phone as they waited at the parking lot when they heard the door open.

“Shut up, I’m here!” Zoey said almost urgently as she got inside the car and sat with Shayna in the back. “What’s the occasion anyways? Y’all were rushing me like it’s the end of the world.”

“We are going to places. Wherever Rhe Rhe decided to take us to.” Raquel casually said. “And I’ll be paying.”

“Well as long as we get to chill, I’m cool with it.” Zoey simply commented before she perked up. “Oh by the way, Rips, I hope you’re ready for that match at Survivor Series against me.”

“Oh, you bet your ass that you’ll be in for Hell, I’ll tell you that.” Rhea scoffed as she fixed the rear view mirror before she drove away with them.

“Well, if Liv doesn’t get to you fi— ow!” Shayna yelped when Zoey smacked her in the shoulder.

“Hey, no Liv, no Dom, no Roman, not even a word of them. We talked about this.” Raquel told Shayna sternly.

“Sorry…”

The group continued to chat about many things until they stopped by a red light. Because Rhea’s phone was connected to the car’s Bluetooth radio, a call came through, and everyone could see that it was Roman calling.

“Girl, I thought you blocked him—“ Zoey blurted out while Rhea sighed and rubbed her head.

“Fuck my life.”

“Ah ah ah, you’re not answering.” Raquel quickly said. “Just let it ring.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Shayna immediately agreed.

“… guys, it might be something about the meeting—“

“Oh you have GOT to be kidding me, Rhea don’t you dare—“

“We signed a contract thirty minutes ago, so Reigns might have an update for me, Jesus.” Rhea snapped at them as she huffed. “Plus, it’s just one phone call. Won’t take that long.”

“… Okay, fine, answer it. But only if we hear it.” Raquel told her as she sighed deeply. Rhea only nodded as she went ahead and answered the call.

“Reigns, whatever you have to say, make it quick. I’m quite busy here.”

“Just wanted to let you know that Wiseman just spoke with Triple H on the phone. He wants to arrange a meeting this Monday with us.”

“Alright. We accept.” Rhea replied as she made a left turn, all the while Raquel, Shayna, and Zoey listened carefully. “Time and place?”

“Next Monday at 10 AM before Raw.”

“Good, we’ll be there.” Rhea was then about to hang up when Roman suddenly spoke.

“Also, I know you’re busy and everything but… if there’s a chance if we can meet up tomorrow and—“

“Nope, she’s busy with us, so bye bye!” Zoey immediately interrupted as she reached the screen and hung up on the call.

“Zoey what the fuck—“

“Hey, I’m saving your mental health girl. You’ll thank me later.” Zoey said as she smiled while Shayna tried her best not to laugh beside her.

Rhea stared at Zoey incredulously from the rear view mirror. “You did not just do that…”

“I mean, I would’ve done the same.”

“Raquel, please.”

“What? It’s true.”

“Look, Zoey’s right though.” Shayna told her. “Don’t think about them for now. Get your break, you can worry about your own shit later.”

Rhea sighed as she continued to drive away. The group spent most of their day hanging out in several places for the most part.

Up until nighttime, the group returned to the hotel as they got out of the car and walked together.

“We should do that more often,” Raquel commented as she carried her purse and her phone all in one hand. “I’m kinda liking this whole thing, to be honest with you guys.”

“Yeah, even better than dealing with shit at work.” Zoey snorted as she looked at the time in her watch. “I’m heading to the bar for a bit, does anyone wanna join?”

“I can” Shayna folded her hands inside her pockets before she turned to Raquel and Rhea. However, Raquel yawned as she shook her head.

“Sorry guys, as much as I want to, I need to take a few z’s… I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“I might go for a swim in the pool for a bit. It’s not that late anyways.” Rhea mumbled as she also looked at the time in her watch.

“Alright, if you guys change your minds, you know where to find us.” Shayna told them, her and Zoey bid the other two women farewell as they went to the bar while Raquel and Rhea went to the elevator.

“Told you this was a good idea.” Raquel said as she pressed the button of the elevator.

“Aside from Shayna and Zoey screaming and singing in the car like a pair of hyenas? Yeah, it was.”

“Oh please, you were literally headbanging whenever your favorite songs played the entire time.” Raquel snorted.

“We should do it more often- but only after I retain my title against Zoey.”

“Oh, you’re THAT confident, I see you.”

Both laughed as they went inside the elevator. As they did, Rhea felt her phone vibrate in her pocket as she blinked and retrieved it.

She had three texts. One from Dom, one from Roman.

And unexpectedly, a third one from Liv.

Her smile dropped as she sighed deeply while Raquel noticed. “You’re making a face, something’s wrong. Let me guess, Roman texted?”

“Close.”

“Roman and Dom?”

“Closer. One more.”

“… no way.”

“Yep.”

“What the hell does Liv want—?”

“I don’t know, and frankly, I do not care right now.” Rhea immediately said as she kept her phone inside her pocket once again before the elevator stopped as they both got out.

“Do you want me to talk to her? Because I can gladly deal with her again if I have to.” Raquel asked as they both went to Rhea’s room while Rhea went to unlock her door.

“No. No, I’ll be alright.” She reassured her as she exhaled. “I’ll deal with her on Monday.”

“Deal with her? Rhea what do you—“

“I spoke with Adam and apparently, Liv wants to settle this score with a non-title match. And because unfortunately I need to keep everything settled again, I had no choice but to accept.”

“Rhea, fighting Liv isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Well, try telling her that. She was the one that asked for the match.”

“Look- let me talk to her first. Tomorrow.” Raquel insisted to her. “That way maybe you don’t have to deal with her the hard way on Monday. You have a lot on your plate right now, and I want to help. I really do.”

Rhea stared at her for a moment as she pondered, considering her idea before she leaned against the wall. “You know, if only the circumstances were different, I’d have you join the Judgment Day.”

Raquel chuckled at that before her expression immediately changed to a serious one. “Yeah no— thanks, but no thanks.”

“That’s what they all say at first until they give in. I’m just saying.” Rhea said as she smirked while she opened her door. “Think about it.”

“Still a no- but hey, I’m open to hang out with you guys though. Except Dom, you know damn well that we will argue like little kids.”

“Hey, I can’t guarantee that he won’t be around. Even if we’re broken up, he still hangs out with Priest and Finn and only talks to me when needed, so.” Rhea said as she crossed her arms while Raquel scoffed and slowly walked away.

“Same thing with Reigns then?”

“Sadly, too. Although it’s a bit different, now that you mention it…”

“Oh come on, why do you always pick pussies?”

“Well, they are what they eat.”

“Chingona—“ Raquel almost howled laughing while Rhea also couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction, watching as her best friend walked to her room. “Alright, I’m hitting the hay. See you in the morning! Take care!”

“No promises!” Rhea replied back.

“You will promise!”

“No I won’t!”

With that, Rhea went into her room as she closed the door behind her. She placed her things on the table lamp beside her bed before she removed her shoes and plumped herself down on the bed as she looked up at the ceiling. She rested there only for a bit, considering whether she should head down to take a quick dive on the pool and then come back and sleep or just finish off her day for now. She looked at the time on her watch before she made her choice and went to the bathroom. She would rather go in the morning after she did her daily workout in the gym.

After a quick shower, she went to grab her suitcase as she had the towel wrapped around her body, looking for a set of comfortable clothes to sleep with. She managed to dig for a pair of panties, followed by a pair of black shorts. She then went to look for a shirt when she noticed one in particular inside her suitcase as she blinked and— wait, this one looked a bit bigger on her than usual...

Blinking, she took a closer look at it when realization dawned on her.

Roman’s shirt.

“Fuck.” She mumbled as she snatched a bathrobe from the bathroom and placed it around her immediately while also putting on her panties and shorts underneath. No, she can’t have his shirt here with her. She had to give it back to him. She was trying her best to give herself some space from him and everything else going on- what if he also went to try and look for it when he realizes that he doesn’t have that shirt with him?

She held the shirt in her hands, debating whether she should go and find him to give it back when she heard a knock on her door which startled her. “Fuck—“

“Ripley, it’s me.” She suddenly heard Roman’s voice from outside. At that, Rhea paused as she looked at the door, then at the shirt in her hands. “Look… I just want to talk.”

She remained silent, hoping that he would assume that she wasn’t there in the first place. However at the same time, she just wanted to open the door to him and tell him.

But tell him what, exactly?

“Rhea, I know you’re there. I just heard you curse earlier. Look, if you don’t want to talk the —“

“Wait, hold on.” She immediately called out as she replaced the bathrobe with another shirt of hers from her suitcase. She then looked down at his shirt before she took a deep breath as she once again took it and went to open the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Are you doing alright?”

“… I’ve been worse.” She only mumbled before she looked down at his shirt and gave it to him. “I uh, I packed it by accident… I figured I should’ve returned it to you.”

“No. No, it’s fine. I… I didn’t come here for that, anyways,” He said to her. Rhea went silent at that as she looked down moment before she looked up. “I wanted to check on you.”

“Look… I’m sorry, it’s just…” She mumbled, trying to find the right words to say. “I’m just trying to keep it together at this point.”

“I know. I get it. It’s been rough, but look, I’m here if you need anything and—”

“No, Reigns, it’s…” Rhea trailed off as she sighed deeply. For some unknown reason, she felt a knot form on her throat as she tried to compose herself as she spoke. “…I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound like a dick, but…I need some space. I need some time. Alone.”

“...Well, if that's what you want- if that’s what you need, then that’s what i’ll give you.” He softly cupped her face before placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, as if saying goodbye. He then gave her one last look before walking away, right when tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“Fuck.” She cursed underneath her breath as she went back inside her room and locked the door behind her. She allowed her tears to fall from her eyes as she rested her back against the door. She then looked down at her hand and realized that she still had his shirt.

He never took it back.

Without a word, she simply went to turn off the lamp in her room before she laid down in bed, holding the piece of cloth close to her and even hugging it for dear life as she laid on her side. Had she made the right choice?

Taglist:

@sassginaswanmills @riptideripley @tonuitekan @eepyslut

[redistrictgirl]

As of October 13th, 2023, Kamala Harris is slightly favored (63% chance) in the race for the presidency.

Well, this is interesting. You usually don't see a bunch of new uncertainty three weeks before an election. But that's exactly what we've gotten in the core seven swing states, even as the rest of the battlefield narrows. Undecideds have generally ticked up and Trump has become more competitive at the margins along the Blue Wall - it seems voters are waffling on both candidates, Harris especially. I'll fully disclose that I am one of those voters in the wake of Texas Senate nominee Colin Allred's capitulation on trans rights (my single most important personal issue) and the risk of other Democrats adopting that strategy, but I imagine that for others, it has to do with Ms. Harris tying herself to the Biden administration further and Mr. Trump being... himself.

Closest States:

Wisconsin (64% chance for Harris) - Back to Earth for the Vice President here as her vote share declines to about 48.5% - still enough to be a clear favorite in the Badger State, but not enough to prevent her opponent from having a strong opening. Blame it on a 49-47 R poll from the highly respected Quinnipiac.

Nevada (67% chance for Harris) - It's probably an outlier, but my model is certainly taking note of the Wall Street Journal poll here that gave former president Trump a 49%... and his opponent a 43%. It's not particularly important for the Electoral College, but one would like to see more polling here.

Georgia (67% chance for Trump) - Well, this is a surprise in the other direction. The three polls here this week were largely a draw, with a 50-50 tie and one lead at 48% vote share for each candidate. It's a pretty big leap of logic from my model, but hopefully we'll get a clearer picture in the Peach State as more polling comes out in the last few weeks.

North Carolina (73% chance for Trump) - Meanwhile, the Tar Heel State narrows as the latest batch of polling shows most of the waffling on Ms. Harris' side. The fundamentals were never on Democrats' side here, so a one-in-four chance still isn't half-bad for them.

Arizona (74% chance for Trump) - This state has actually shown daylight for Mr. Trump, thanks to his securing two 51% marks in three polls this week. The fundamentals are basically what's keeping this state from being penciled in for the Republican.

In other news, New Mexico (99% chance for Harris) has reverted back to its fundamentals.

Overall, if you're a Republican feeling very cocky or a Democrat having a panic attack, don't, even if the topline and some pivotal states saw some big swings. I'm going back to my old friend, the card analogy, here - drawing a club and a spade are still clear Harris wins, it's only the heart that requires you to flip a coin now. And as always, the diamond is a Trump win - that was always a possibility! I'm curious to see whether the race narrows further or becomes a clearer Harris win. Either way, the Vice President's campaign should be all-hands-on-deck to stop the bleeding.

[spectres-fulcrum]

Okay not going to lie I think Hamilton's famous "Cold in my professions, warm in my friendship, I wish, my dear, Laurens, it might be in my power, by action, rather than words, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that till you bade us Aideu, I I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set you" paragraph finally clicked in my brain during my shower.

Like I had been pretending to know exactly what the fuck it all meant but I really was like. I half get it. But now I get it. I think.

And yes I feel like a complete idiot cause it took me like 5 months.

So like they were a thing, but more like friends with benefits. They didn't talk about it much. Hamilton didn't realize he was falling in love, much less admit it out loud, until Laurens was gone to South Carolina and Hamilton realized Laurens had been married all along. And he isn't the biggest fan of mankind, but he let Laurens become his friend, and how dare Laurens dare grow to hold his heart as well? But as men are often weak to the people they love, he will forgive Laurens for not admitting he was married, as long as, for both their sakes, they continue on as they have been.

And no it's not going to change the way I write them all that much(Cause I know I write historical them way too romantically) unless I want to go that route but-Damn. They were much more Swiftian than I originally thought. Treacherous(The line about doing anything you say, if you say it with your hands, cold in his professions indeed), Delicate, Cruel Summer, Willow. Probably more.