#jt writes fic

[jtl07]

one chance (take it)

When the dizziness fades, she finds Beatrice standing in front of her and it takes Ava’s breath away, being here with Beatrice, being here with her like this: unbound, unburdened; free. Ava grabs Beatrice’s hands - laughs, lest she start crying because who would’ve ever thought this would be her life? The most wonderful girlfriend at her side, the entire world at her fingertips; the most miraculous, incredible life. She can hardly believe she has all of this, here, now. Can hardly believe that there’s even more to come. or: the one told backwards

[ghostbsuter]

It was Halloween, they were in Central City for some candy pickings (if their fathers know, it's too late, they're here and absolutely getting that stomachache in the morning once they're done here.).

Jon— Superboy had Robin in his grip, flying from apartment complex to houses, one ear out for flash, incase the hero accidentally stumbles upon them.

(He's doing some extra patrol, it was Halloween after all.)

It was spooky day and when they finally rest up on a roof, rummaged through their goods, did Robin and Superboy notice the glowing skull at the bottom.

It looked like it could be from gotham, honestly. It was creepy, dirty and Jon has it in his hands, studying and playing with curious spark in his eyes.

"Put that down superboy—! That's clearly cursed!" Robin warns, trying to take the skull, yet the other dances from reach.

"If I rub it 3 times, do you think I get 3 wishes?"

"Those are genies you're talking about, not skulls!"

Not waiting further nor listening, really, superboy rubs the skull 3 times and—

Nothing happens.

"Nothing. Will you pit the damn skull down now?"

Sighing, Superboy does so, until the skull starts glow.

And glowing it is, a bright green, frost growing along the ground and it was beginning to eat the entire apartment if they didn't do anything!

As the cool mist grows, they step and tense as a figure approaches through.

"Congrats, no idea how but you guys found Pariah Darks former skull! So much less work for me now."

[erinwantstowrite]

guys please stop asking me to review other people's fics 🙏 i would only give a review of someone's writing if it was not a public setting and they asked me to beta read. it's fanfic, not published writing. two completely different worlds!!

[bluewatersfairy]

daydreamin' - j.t.

a/n: I started writing this at the beginning of the '22-'23 season and have been meaning to do something with it for literally 2 years. Hope you enjoy lmao!

synopsis: reader gets a little too lost in her head whilst on set with Jayson

warnings: mature content, MINORS DNI! small mentions of oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, exhibitionist kink mentioned/depicted, slight degrading/name calling (literally once if you squint), filth but like in a fun way.

word count: 5.3k (imagine if i could just shut the fuck up)

•••

Time felt slowed and your eyelids were droopy, despite the clock behind you reading 11am.  An early call time mixed with a red-eye meant that there wasn’t much time to rest horizontally, or at all.  Some things were worth the sacrifice for though.  He was most definitely one of those things.

When the story first landed on your desk, you almost couldn’t believe it.  The Celtics had been playing on your television for as long as you could remember.  You’d grown up watching every draft and noting down each new player that joined the roster.  You were always in to support the new up-and-comers as a child and in your professional life.  

You’d written and pitched a few stories about the young core over recent years but nothing had ever been picked up for a full length piece.  The best you got was a short piece for one special edition that highlighted the great women that stood behind the biggest sportsmen in sports today.  The NBA section was one of the smallest word counts you’d been given, but you did the best you could.

A full length piece like this being handed to you, a cover story no less, made little sense to you.  You weren’t going to turn it down, but it took you a few minutes to process what was being asked of you.  Truthfully, it hadn’t properly sunk in until you were on the plane, flying cross-country for a 48-hour stay.  A full cover story on someone with all eyes on him meant that it was going to be the biggest opportunity of your career.  Not only was it a big deal for him, it was for you too.  You were not going to let yourself waste it by getting lost in him. 

Even as the sirens wailed, trying to pull you back to reality, your eyes couldn’t pull away from Jayson.  Like magnets, his hands forced you to scan over his chest with his next pose.  The fake sweat that had been sprayed over him caught the light as the photographer wanted and your heart almost stopped.  You didn’t understand why this story meant he had to pose for thirst-trap-like pictures in his Celtic uniform.  Did the universe have something against you?

Someone called your name from behind you and snapped you out of your daydream.  They were clearly impatient, the sound of a clicking pen matching with the click of dress shoes on concrete floors.  With your attention turned back to the little prep work you had left to complete, you did a final once over of the questions you’d prepared for Jayson.  His agent was watching every move you made and when you finally handed them the sheet, they marched off calling a hurried ‘thank you’ to you.  

You took a deep breath for the 100th time and looked over your recorder again.  Full battery?  Yes.  Storage status?  Completely empty.  Vocal tests?  All three completed.  It was fine, perfect even; ready to go whenever Jayson was.  Your anxiety, however, was making it difficult for you to be ready.  In a quiet tone, you started to count to ten, reaching for a cracker as you did.  You needed to nibble on something that wouldn’t come straight back up.  Looking at your hand holding the cracker, you noticed just how obviously your now jumpy nature was.  Your nerves were starting to present to others; this is not good, you thought to yourself, just fake it, smile and push through.  You needed water, a lot of it.  Was your throat always this dry?

“They want me to wear a tie,” Jayson’s voice cut through your thoughts, forcing you to turn around a little too quickly.  His deep and raspy tone had caught you off guard.  Your body’s immediate response was to send spirals to the pit of your stomach and float to your chest with impeccable speed.

“If you’d rather not, I don’t think it’s necessary?”  you replied, your uncertainty and want to please him clear as day. 

“Nah,” he shook his head and flashed his charming smile at you, “they’ve got a vision, I’ll stick to it.”

He had changed into his formal look for the shoot.  It was a classic black Dior suit with a white button up.  It was tailored to his figure beautifully and gave him a really classically handsome look.  It was the lining of the suit jacket that made it special as well as the socks he wore.  Custom-made with embellishments of his home city and his mother and sons’ names stitched over his heart.  He looked incredibly dapper and handsome, clean and perfect.  

You swallowed and let your eyes fall to his hands as he showed you the three ties he’d been given.  They were all quite simple and classic, but you were immediately drawn to the Dior silk black ribbon tie with a bee embellishment

“Which one do you think?” Jayson held all three of them up to his chest and posed for you.  He let out something of a chuckle, his eyes focusing on you as he scrunched his nose.  He was absolutely adorable, and he was starting to make you melt.

You gently tapped on the tie you thought was best and expected him to step away and give you a second to breathe.  Instead, he reached behind you to put the unchosen ties down before putting the one you had selected over his shoulder. 

“Here,” Jayson said, starting to tweak his collar, “could you, y’know?”

You nodded your head quickly and took the tie from him, your fingertips lingering against his warm skin for a second too long.

“They’ve got a stool here somewhere,” you said more to yourself than him as your eyes scanned the room.  You spotted it and brought it over to him, hoping it would help close the height difference.

Jayson’s gaze stayed on your face from the moment you lifted the tie from his hand until the moment you stepped off of the stool.  It was intense.  It didn’t help the way he smirked when you fiddled with the tie.  Or the way he tugged on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.  You almost told him to stop, not that you were actually sure what it was that you wanted him to stop doing.  If anything, you were the one that needed to stop. 

It took almost every part of you to stop the image of you wrapping the tie around his wrists instead of the collar of his dress shirt.  Like dominos, the scene that unfolded couldn’t be stopped, so you’d just have to push it down and ignore it.

Ignore the way he’d look, completely naked with his wingspan stretched out to either side of your bed.  The cool black silk ties secured his big hands against the wooden headboard.  He didn’t struggle against the ties, all he did was wriggle his wrists to see how much he could do.  It wasn’t a lot, he could tell this wasn’t your first time. 

His head turned away from his wrists to find you standing at the foot of the bed, only in an emerald green two-piece lingerie set.  It complimented your deep brown skin devilishly well, Jayson couldn’t look away.  He let out a deep, throaty groan as he watched you slip your thumbs under the hem of your panties and began to pull them down your hips.

“You’re so good to me,” he part moaned, “look at you baby, I can’t say nothin’.”

His entire body flexed as you knelt on the bed only in your bra.  You licked your lips and watched his girthy cock move with the rest of his muscles.  You were so tempted to crawl up his body, and stop with your mouth hovering dangerously close to his dick.  Teasingly, you’d kiss the tip and gently caress the shaft.  Your mouth watered at the thought.  You knew yourself well enough that you wouldn’t stop with a little teasing.  You’d end up taking the whole thing in your mouth, making a mess of your lipstick and your mascara as your eyes watered.  

To compromise, when your mouth hovered over his cock, you gripped the shaft with your left hand.  Jayson’s response was similar to one of pain or a burn – a gasp of surprise that expressed both pleasure and discomfort.  It made you giggle and you wondered if he had ever been like this with anyone else.  

“Fuck,” he dragged out as he watched your spit fall from your plump lips to his tip.  

You rubbed your thumb over the head and dragged the saliva down his shaft, pumping him so you could hear him sing out in pleasure.  He threw his head back and looked up for the first time that night.  He was met with the surprise of a lifetime.  You had had a mirror on the ceiling installed, and he now had two of the best views possible. 

“You could be a professional,” Jayson said as he looked over himself in the mirror.  “I’ve never been able to get my ties just right.”

“I’ll add that to my resume,” you smiled at him and carefully stepped down from the stool.  “Great sports journalist, even better tie-tyer.”

“You could pimp yourself out to fashion houses and modelling agencies,” he laughed, “you’d get an inside scope of what goes on behind the scenes as well.”

“That’s not half bad, actually.”  You shared a moment of laughter, and another of silence and gazing at each other before you were brought back to the real world by the photographer.  

Jayson went back to posing, though now it was less structured.  They were getting shots of him smiling and showing off the inside lining of his jacket, as well as a few of him holding his shoes.  You took a seat and let yourself go over your notes, though you were still distracted by him.  You weren’t sure if it was that he was a natural in front of the camera or simply that he was very handsome, but every time you looked up, he looked beyond good.  You were constantly reminded of just how fine he was and it was so overwhelming.  

He oozed that type of physical attraction that you felt deep in your uterus.  Your whole body just wanted him everywhere and there wasn’t much to stop it.  His quiet manner was no help either.  As a journalist, you were always digging for a bigger story and you wanted to just get into his mind and learn as much about him as possible.  He was easy to talk to, and you found that a connection between the interviewer and interviewee was what made a great piece.  

You needed this to be the best story of your career, an opportunity like this had the possibility of elevating your life and opening countless doors.  Hopefully, you’d finally get that job offer that would bring you to the east coast, the one you’d been looking for for close to a year.  

Your name being called from across the room pulls your gaze away from Jayson and you began to make your way over to what looked to be a team meeting.  There wasn’t much for you to say or do, except listen and nod when appropriate.  Jayson’s team was taking the lead of a majority of this shoot as he had a few other things he had to fit into his day.  You knew going in that the interview portion would come at the end, that you were really only there to get a feel of the vibe and find your footing with him.  

“I’ve gone over your questions,” Jayson’s agent turned to face you, “they’re good, nothing I can tell he won’t answer.  He seems to like you as well so he should give you more than you need for this to be an excellent cover story.” 

You nodded your head, agreeing, to show you were listening and noticed their gaze had gone back to Jayson.  When you turned to follow it, you found Jayson was looking directly at you.  He wasn’t being subtle about it either.  When your eyes found his, he smiled his stunning smile and the camera flashed.

“I might need you to cover him more often if you can get him to smile like that,” his agent commented, “he’s like a child sometimes when he smiles for the camera.”  Without another word, they’d walked away and you were standing alone again.  

You could sense that things were starting to move a bit quicker.  His team seemed to be prepping more and you caught bits and pieces of the requests and questions being thrown around amongst them.  Someone was sent off to get coffee, someone else was sent outside to make sure the balcony was accessible, comfortable and private.  You had assumed you would interview Jayson inside but it seemed everyone else had a different idea in mind.  

It was Jayson who approached you first to invite you out there to get started.  In your past experiences of interviewing professional and famous athletes, this wasn’t a norm.  Usually you were sent to the preferred interview spot to wait for the interviewee and they certainly weren’t the people to direct you there either.  But this was Jayson.  This is the narrative he’d created for himself, a polite, respectable young man.  

He walked two steps behind you, now in a pair of grey sweats and a black Jaylen Brown graphic tee.  He was more relaxed now and in turn, you felt a little more at ease.  If he was still in his Dior suit, it would’ve been a different story, you would’ve felt under-dressed in your business-casual outfit.  

“It’s beautiful out here,” Jayson said as you both stepped out, his hand reaching to the small of your back to guide you around the table and chairs to see the view properly.

“It is,” you breathed out as you placed your hands on the balcony rail.  You felt like you could see forever from right there, like you were at the top of the world.

“It’s so much better at night, when all the city lights are on.  You really feel like you’re on top of the world,” he paused as he placed his hand next to yours, “it’s romantic too.  All the lights in the dark, you’re just a world away from everyone else.  No one can see or hear you up here, it’s comfortable.”  you watched closely as his hand moved to rest on top of yours. 

You tried to imagine it, what it would feel like to be this far removed from everyone, just you and him.  The small of your back seemed to burn as you tried to remember what it felt like to have his hand there.  What would it feel like if there was no material in the way, and he was pushing you forward, making your back arch?

Pitch black surrounding you and just the sparkling lights of the city far below you.  You can barely hear the cars driving by, just the soft breeze brushing past your ears and the melodic rhythm and harmonious sounds of your grunts and moans mixing together.  You’d felt far too exposed when Jayson had first started to undress you but his mouth had quickly erased all your worries and insecurities from your mind.  He covered you in kisses before he reached your core.  He’d turned you around so fast, you’d barely had a moment to catch yourself on the balcony before he’d buried his face in your pussy, his tongue lapping at your folds and only breaking to nip at your inner thighs and round ass. 

The second you’d got him naked after he’d chivalrously made you cum twice, his body was immediately pushed up against yours.  Your hands were hot on his body, grabbing at his waist and hips while your lips fought against his own.

“You’re eager,” he teased as he broke away from your lips, grinning as he dropped his head to your clavicle, “‘bit of a change from before.”

“I think it’s more than you’re an exhibitionist and I think logically about how sex with us works.”  Jayson stood up straight at your rebuttal so he could look down at you properly. 

“Exhibitionists like to be seen and heard, look around princess,” he smirked as he spun you back so your ass was pressed to his front again, “no one can see or hear us up here.”

Jayson, truthfully, was exhilarated by the freedom that came with fucking outside and it became very obvious to you, very quickly.  He was louder than usual, but he was making you that much louder too.  His voice was rough as he told you to let him hear you, telling you to say his name louder and louder.  He wanted you to praise him unashamed and let everyone know exactly who was making you cum at that very moment.  

He also wanted someone to see how good you were for him, he was basically begging to see a flash in a window somewhere.  Jayson Tatum and his beautiful mystery whore, oh he could see it in white writing as he pulled out and sprayed his load on your back.  

“Do you want a napkin?”  Jayson asked as he got comfortable in the chair across from you.  

One of the people from his team had brought out their coffees and had given Jayson a handful of napkins.  You made a note in your mind that it was likely because he asks for extra when he had his son with him and it was just what his team did without thinking.  

You smiled and took one from him before crossing your legs and letting yourself relax into the chair a bit.  You mumbled a thanks as you slipped it under your tablet that was resting on your lap.  

You pressed the green button on your voice recorder and placed it on the table in front of you before asking Jayson if he was ready.  He nodded his head eagerly and rubbed his hands together.

“Where would you like to start?”  you smiled across at him and he returned the smile.

“In the middle, like all the good stories.” 

That was what you wanted to hear and you glanced at your notes, not that you needed to.  You knew exactly where you were going to start.

“In your relatively short career thus far, you’ve managed to accomplish many things other players spend their entire lives trying to reach, and many retire without touching the surface.  You’ve got gold medals, a signature shoe, multiple all-NBA placings and now a world championship, and that’s within the world of basketball.  If we stepped out, we could list so many more business endeavours.  We know you idolised Kobe and his own off-season adventures and his life outside the league went far beyond basketball.  What I want to know is what you want your future off-seasons to look like?  Do you have a desire to pursue something creative?”  

It was a long-winded question, but asking it made Jayson light up, this seemed to spark something that he was eager to share.  Starting in the middle was always the best when you had a good vibe with an interviewee.  You’d managed to create an emotional bond of sorts with Jayson already so you didn’t have to do the relationship-building-questions.  You could just ask something incredibly personal and trust that you would be given something you can easily build off of.  And that was exactly what Jayson gave you.

He begun by explaining that in the last two-years or so, he’d grown an interest in art and had started something of a collection.  “It’s not necessarily something to brag about compared to some of the collections I’ve been exposed to in the art-world, but it’s a start and I’m really proud of it.”

He was inspired too, he continued to explain.  He loved the portraits and landscapes he’d been exposed to and the realism of it all, but he was a story-lover above all things and it’s those type of paintings that draw him in.  

“You don’t always know straight away what you’re looking at, but when you read or hear the title of the painting, or a brief explanation about it, you start to see the painting as the story it is.”

“Would you ever consider picking up a brush and trying something yourself?”

“I think about it all the time,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “but I wouldn’t want it to be for anyone but me, y’know?  Like them sex portraits and intimate art pieces that are created out of lust and love.  

“I’m lucky ‘cause my job is my passion, right?  I go to work and I train really hard and play even harder and while basketball is a creative process, it’s set in its ways.  I’m so attracted to the idea of doing something that’s physically and mentally freeing and I think that’s why I’m kinda obsessed with those types of paintings and why I wanna make them myself.”

He paused for a second, his eyes pulling away from yours for the first time since he’d started talking about it.  “Maybe,” he adds quickly, “I maybe want to make them myself.”  He laughed lightly and shook his head a little, definitely questioning a little bit why he’d said so much.

But it was good, it was what you wanted to hear from him.  It humanised him, showed more of his personality that he was so protective of.  It was an easy spot for you to jump from as well, you had a million things that you could ask from here and you sure as hell were gonna ask them.  You just had to avoid anything to do with sex and lust, because that was where you’d been stuck for the better half of the last 3 hours since you’d arrived at this shoot.

It was not helping you at all either, that Jayson was manspreading in his seat and you could definitely see his dickprint in his grey sweats.  It was unprofessional, of course, but you could not stop looking at it every few minutes.  And while he was talking about a sex portrait, you could’ve sworn you’d seen it react.  God help your mind and where it was running off to in that moment.

A locked door and a series of paints could be spread all around him and he could be instructing you what to do.  Promising you everything was safe and it was just an idea he had, and a massive canvas he’d found a little too easily.  

Or maybe it would start more innocently.  He’d wanted to try a live-model art class but it felt a little wrong for him, as a well known face and figure around Boston, to show up to a class to draw a naked woman.  So instead, he’d ask you to.  Sketching would turn to painting, or him trying to do something abstract.

“Can I see it?” you’d crossed your arm over your chest, holding your large breasts from spilling out as you walked to stand beside him.  He had this look of amusement on his face that you quickly shared.

What he’d painted and sketched maybe looked somewhat like you, if you focused on your body shape, but everything else was unclear.  You bit back a laugh and tried to wait for Jayson to say something regarding what he’d done.  

“I don’t think painting is my God given talent,” he mumbled quietly and before you could stop yourself, you started laughing.  Jayson turned to look at you and watched for a moment, before he very smoothly flicked paint over your arms and chest.  

“I didn’t say anything!” You squealed as he managed to throw a small amount of paint on you again.  There was this look on his face now that seemed so joyous yet dangerous, like he was plotting something that was no good.  

Your suspicious were confirmed when he started to pull off his own clothes and you realised that he was evening the playing field – this was now war.  Like teenagers, the two of you started running around the room throwing paint at one another and laughing with the highest amounts of joy you’d experienced in so long.  It was freeing and peaceful.  The type of thing, you realised, love songs and stories were made of.  

“God, I love you,” Jayson confessed as he grabbed you around the waist, his chest covered in the red and yellow paint that covered your hands, and you covered in the blue and green that covered his.  

“I love you,” you replied with a massive grin, your arms wrapping around him and you pressed your lips to his.  

“I have an idea,” Jayson smiled as rubbed your core over his dick.

“Are you ever not horny?” you asked, feeling just how much he’d started to feel in a very short amount of time.

“‘Could ask you the same thing?” he smirked before raising his eyebrows at you.  

It was the easiest transition from him holding you to the two of you on the floor, on top of a massive canvas he’d had laying there for the past few days.  You’re on top of him, hands pressed against the canvas as he switched between gripping your hips and your tits, while you rode his cock like a pro.  Your head was thrown back, the lube he’d drenched on his cock before you climbed on made everything feel so much better.  

“Roll your hips just like that baby,” he encouraged you with dark eyes, “you know how to do me right.”

You keep going on top of him until he tells you to stop.  You climbed off him and watched as he hit his cock roughly.  He didn’t want to cum yet, he wanted to do more, you could see it in his face.  You carefully lent forward, your hands leaving prints on the canvas and you gently kissed his lips.

“You okay?” he asked softly as he slipped his hand down your back.

“I’m okay, baby,” you smiled, “I’m just checking if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he echoed and kissed you again, “I have an idea though.”

He sat up as he spoke and moved to be behind you.  He kissed your shoulders and your neck and moved you gently, but with a certain sense of control that made you that much hotter.  You on all fours had given him this idea of your body’s print on the canvas.  Your tits were covered in paint, as was the rest of your torso, it would be a sight to see.  One he needed to see.

He pushed your chest down and guided your ass up leaving your pretty pussy on full display for him.  He let a stream of spit drip onto your throbbing hole and pressed his thumb against it, rubbing and teasing you and making you moan loudly.  You pushed your hips back and wiggled your ass, trying to get him to slip inside you again.

“I want you face down and ass up till I fill that pussy up,” he ordered, his hand pushing you down even more so you were pressed fully into the canvas.

“Whatever you want Jay, just fuck me.”

When he slipped into you again, he filled you to the hilt and did nothing to hold himself back.  He fucked you into the canvas and watched with a devilish grin as you spread your hands out to try and grip on to something.  It left pretty marks over the canvas and made him think more and more about how your tit print is gonna look.

“Your tits are gonna look so good on here baby,” he moaned before smacking your ass, “almost as good as you fucking feel right now, oh fuck.”

You turned your head to the side and let your moans sing along with his.  He was so turned on that it was driving you crazy, you didn’t even know what it was but you needed it to happen more.

“Are you gonna cum?”

“Say that again?” you asked as you lowered your coffee mug from your lips, your cheeks red.

“Are you gonna come?” Jayson asked again, “to the ring ceremony?  I know you’ve covered me and Jaylen before, so it would make sense if they fly you out for it.”

You smiled and nodded your head, “I hope they do.  I’ll let them know you asked, might give them the push to do it.”  

“You can give them my number if you want, they can call and I’ll let them know that I personally want you there.”  He winked at you and made you blush yet again.  

You only had a few more questions left, you’d gotten a lot of content from Jayson in the past 30 minutes, you were really grateful for it.  You knew it would read well too and would most likely give you more opportunities for future cover stories.  You knew you could write this well.  You were determined to as well, not just for yourself but for Jayson too.  

You had one final question to ask and it made you smile, this was all very full circle considering you started with a middle-type question.

“Lastly, how are you?  How does it feel to be doing a cover story?”

He chuckled a little and rubbed his temple, “no matter how many I do, I always love doing them.  I forget how good it feels to be in front of the camera, honestly.  I feel real important and I really enjoy being the centre of attention.”  

You giggled a little at this comment and it makes him smile even more, “I really enjoyed talking to you too, I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Hopefully when I’m in for the ring ceremony,” you replied and you both share a short laugh before you’re thanking him and officially ending your audio recording.

Wrapping things up is a much quicker process than getting everything set up.  Before you know it, you’ve shaken everyone on his team's hands and thanked them for having you.  The photographers have told you they’ll be in contact within the next few days and just like that you’re standing in the elevator and the doors are almost closed.

Almost closed before someone stuck their hand in and forced the doors open again.

“Sorry,” Jayson said and slid in quickly, and pushed the closed door button.  He moved to stand beside you and together, you watched the doors closed.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all day,” Jayson mumbled as he cupped your face in his hand and kissed you.  You welcomed his embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Hey baby,” you cooed, looking up at him.

“How long are you here for?” he asked, his hand not so subtly grabbing at your behind, “I’m not leaving your side for the rest of it.”

“30 hours,” you went on your tiptoes quickly and kissed the base of his neck, “I have a couple things I want to do.”

“Mm,” he hummed at the feeling of your lips still on his neck, “I’m so proud of you, this is such a big opportunity and you crushed all that shit.  Everyone was saying they’re so impressed with you.”  

“Do you wanna show me how proud you are?” you asked looking up at him, finally feeling like you can let out everything you’ve been feeling and thinking about.

“Oh,” Jayson said as he realised, “okay then, we gotta go.”

[senditcolton]

Homecoming: Craving

i could eat that girl for lunch. she dances on my tongue, tastes like she might be the one.

summary: JT Compher is back in Denver. Unfortunately for you, your craving for him hasn't subsided. But fortunately, you are blessed with Mikko Rantanen - your boyfriend who seems to share your hunger towards his former teammate. bonus epilogue!! song inspo: LUNCH by Billie Eilish word count: 8.7K warnings: smut! threesome (MFM, no explicit MxM but bisexual Mikko is heavily implied), oral (m & f receiving), ass-eating (f receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), anal sex (f receiving), cumplay, dirty talk, and just general depravity.

“Didn’t think you missed him that much.”

The deep voice startles you out of your reverie, your eyes darting from the ginger that had occupied your attention since he stepped foot in the bar to your boyfriend Mikko sitting next to you.

“What?” you say, partially because you brain didn’t quite register his words and partially because your mind was still playing the images of JT’s fingers wrapped around his beer bottle. How the trace of liquor on his lips catches the dim lighting of the bar and how they could feel pressed against your own lips or against your –

“I said,” Mikko smiles, once again breaking your trace as you try to shake those fantasies out of your head. “I didn’t think you missed JT that much.”

Your heart flips in your chest, your eyes locking with his. There is a hint of mischief sparkling in his blue irises, one that only increases as he takes in your hesitation. Granted, you weren’t sure what he was implying – if anything at all. But you had managed to keep the… infatuation? Desire? Craving… you had for his now former teammate a secret ever since those feelings first appeared. You weren’t about to admit them now. Your silence gives Mikko time to elaborate but as soon as he does, you realize that your appraisal of JT Compher had been anything but subtle.

“You’ve been staring at him since he arrived.”

The heat rises to your cheeks before you can stop it, the embarrassment flooding through you unbridled.

“Oh. Um, yeah, um. It’s just, uh,” you stutter out, the gaze of your boyfriend not accusatory but still too much for your mind to handle. It doesn’t help your case when, in your stumbling, your eyes dart back to the man in question. Perhaps thankfully, your jumbled explanation is cut off by Mikko’s warm laughter and the sound instantly soothes you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says scooting closer, his arm wrapping around you, hand gripping your waist as he pulls you into his body, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. You let some of the anxiety depart from your body, Mikko’s own heat helping you relax. You grab your drink, ready for the alcohol to put you even more at ease. It almost works until you feel the warmth of Mikko’s breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“JT missed you just as much.”

You weren’t sure if it was the words he said or how he said them – in that hushed sultry tone – that has you choking on your drink, the coughs coming in quick succession. Mikko doesn’t do anything to help you, probably enjoying your flailing. Eventually, your breathing rightens and you flip your head to stare at him with the most bewildered look painting your features.

“What?” you say, the only word that your brain could muster falling from your lips. It isn’t the clearest question but one Mikko intrinsically understands anyway.

“Neither of you were being very subtle,” he cooly explains. His blue eyes are still locked on your face, taking in the shift of your expression as the information sinks in. The fact that Mikko was able to read your desires so easily made you flounder but not as much as his words ‘neither of you’; a subtle implication that JT potentially wanted you the same way you wanted him.

Your eyes fall away from Mikko, trailing back towards JT. The redhead is still ignorant to your stare, still laughing with the other guys. You watch his movements: the way his plain white t-shirt stretches across his shoulders, the flex of his forearms, the spark in his dark eyes. Your observation is once again cut short by the shifting of Mikko behind you, pulling you closer to him as he deftly brushes your hair away from your shoulder, exposing your neck.

“Do you want to give him a homecoming you’ll both remember?”

You force yourself to take one of the deepest breaths you’ve ever taken, trying your damnedest to suppress the carnal hunger that had easily found a home in your lower abdomen. With quick look back at your boyfriend, you take in his expression: curious and ever patient. It would be romantic, the way he is looking at you, juxtaposed only by the fact that he had almost hauled you onto his lap, the heat radiating from him only increasing the fire already surging in you.

“Are you…” you start to say, a part of your mind still reeling from the fact that this wasn’t a dream brought forth from your subconscious because JT Compher was back in Denver. “You’d be okay with that?”

You finally manage to choke out the question, giving way to you need for your boyfriend’s former teammate.

“Did you forget about last summer already?” he says, one eyebrow quirking upwards, a teasing lilt to his reply. You feel another rush of desire as the images of skin still slick from the sauna and the phantom sensation of two pairs of hands on your body flash through your mind.

“I mean, with him?” you clarify. Summer was Mikko’s idea, one you gladly went along with but this… he never expressed any interest in JT. That craving was entirely yours.

“Kisu, you’ve indulged my desires. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

The smile that appears on your face this time is not shy or bashful. Instead, it is devilish, wicked. How you managed to find someone like Mikko – a man who never balked at your desires because he understood and sometimes shared them – was a miracle to you.

Your eyes once again slink back towards JT and this time, your gaze meets his. A sigh falls from your lips when you feel Mikko burying his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulders, his lips pressing against your skin. Your stare never leaves JT, your mouth falling open in a soft sigh as his brown eyes drink you in.

It takes a moment before an equally devilish smirk appears on his lips. He takes another swig of his beer as he watches your body react to Mikko’s kisses, that heady stare forcing flames to lick at your abdomen.

“Careful with those eyes, kisu,” Mikko whispers. “We are still in public.”

It’s a meant as a tease but you’d be damned if that knowledge doesn’t send another surge of heat through your body. You shift impossibly closer to your boyfriend, his hand moving to grip at your opposite thigh, finally pulling you into his lap. It takes all your strength to quiet the moan that wants to fall from your lips as your ass grazes against his groin, feeling how hard he is already, your eyes briefly fluttering close. Judging from the rumble that emanates from Mikko’s chest, you can tell that he feels the pulsing of your own core. You regain enough composure to shoot one last sultry look in JT’s direction before turning your attention to Mikko.

“You’re one to talk,” you quip, your hips rolling to subtly grind against him, a thrum of power humming through you as you watch his jaw clench and feel his grip tighten. Those shocking blue eyes re-open, a small grin appearing on his lips in response to your words and actions. You feel the hand that had been residing on the top of your thighs disappear, his fingers coming to trace your jawline, guiding your face so he can properly press his lips against yours.

You relax into the kiss, your body reacting the same way it always did when you kissed Mikko. It was so easy, so effortless, sinking into the gravity of him. Your own hand lifts to cup his face, your fingers deftly tracing the cut of his jawline, his stubble tickling your skin. Mikko’s arm wraps around your body, his hand now splayed across your stomach, his own fingertips coming to dip underneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against the smooth skin he finds there.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The deep voice that had haunted your darkest fantasies sounds from somewhere close by and you force yourself to pull away from Mikko. The heat that had been bubbling inside of you surges at the sight of JT standing in front of the corner booth table, his heavy stare dancing over your body perched on your boyfriend’s lap.

“You’re always welcome to join.”

If it was any other night, if it was any other person, if the previous ten minutes hadn’t already happened, your words would be a slip of the tongue; a poorly worded invitation for JT join the two of you in the cushioned booth. Any potential innuendo that could be attached would have been laughed off with a small chuckle and an embarrassed heat in your cheeks. But tonight… the only warmth that thrummed in your body was miles south of your face. You can see one of JT’s eyebrows jump up along with one of the corners of his mouth.

“Am I?” he asks, his eyes darting to Mikko.

“Like you don’t want to J,” Mikko chuckles, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Acting like you didn’t tell me she’d never leave your bed if you had her.”

Every piece of information that casually falls from your boyfriend’s mouth has your mind spinning, your own head tilting in curiosity.

“When was this?”

“Last year,” JT replies, finally sitting down, his jeans scratching against the cracked leather as he scoots in, his body crowding your space. “When you showed up at the gala in that silk dress. How Mikko let you out of the house, I don’t even know.”

“Like to show my girl off,” comes your boyfriend’s reply and you just know his lips are twisted into that cocky grin. “Share her with the world. With my teammates.”

It’s a verbal sparring of subtle innuendos and insinuations. JT’s brown eyes, now appearing even darker than normal – a combination of the low light of the bar and the desire that was barely hidden – flit back to meet your gaze.

“What about former teammates?”

The question hangs in the air, directed to both you and Mikko even though JT’s eyes never leave yours. He must’ve been able to sense that this craving was entirely yours and Mikko was just along for the ride. That assumption is only encouraged by the feeling of Mikko nuzzling into your hair, his voice a quiet whisper heard only to you.

“Go on, kulta. Tell Comph how much you’ve wanted him.”

The shiver runs through you – one of not only desire at Mikko’s quiet demand, but one of appreciation for the man holding you. The only man that you ever thought about spending your life with, something he knew – probably one of the reasons he was comfortable sharing you with his friends.

“If it were up to us, you’d already be in our bed,” you reply. Your words make it clear that you were still Mikko’s girl; that your lust for JT didn’t outweigh your love for your boyfriend.

You can see JT’s eyes flick over to Mikko and you once again intrinsically know the expression on his face, the seductive eyes that he is directing towards the redhead. If there was any shock, JT masks it well, his gaze returning to you with a small grin.

“Isn’t it? Up to you, I mean.”

“Are you that ready to be our plaything, Compher?” Mikko quips, his own desires getting bolder the longer the conversation goes. JT chuckles with him, undeterred.

“If that’s what you want me to be.”

If you thought the fire within you was blazing before, now it was scorching. JT’s deference to the two of you, his intrinsic understanding that he was the outsider in this situation, his willingness to submit, his crystal-clear desire that he wanted you in whatever way he was allowed to have you… it made you weak.

“This is supposed to be your homecoming present J,” you murmur, finally offering up the proposal Mikko suggested moments ago directly to him. “You sure you don’t want to call the shots?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” JT replies and you must restrain yourself from crawling off your boyfriend’s lap and into his, kissing him in full view of the bar and the rest of the Avalanche players.

“In that case,” you start to say, elongating the syllables as you glance back to Mikko, his blue eyes sparkling with a mischief that is surely reflected in yours. That devious smirk reappears on your face as you return your gaze to JT. “Do you remember our address? Or do you need a reminder?”

“I think I got it but maybe a text just in case. Definitely wouldn’t want to get lost and miss out.”

“We wouldn’t want you that either.”

The remainder of your time at the bar is a somewhat successful attempt at acting like it was the end of any other night out. The calm removal of your body from Mikko’s lap and all three of your bodies from the booth, the quiet departure of you and Mikko, unnoticed by everyone with the exception of JT, who had returned to the small group of Avs players under the guise of wishing them goodnight so he could return to the hotel before Detroit’s lights-out curfew – a curfew that wasn’t enforced until much later.

The instant you and Mikko are secure in his car, you lean over the center console and bring his lips to meet yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers tangle in your hair as he kisses you back until you pull away.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips.

“Anything for you, rakkaani.”

You sink back into the passenger seat, Mikko’s hand finding its usual place on your thigh as he drives down the Denver streets. The ride home is filled with the ambient noises of the city as well as a quiet discussion of how the night would go; what you wanted out of it, what he wanted, what JT would be comfortable with. The conversation lulls, the barebone framework of a plan in both of your minds.

It is in that silence that Mikko’s hand slowly starts to caress your leg, tracing the seam on the inside of your thigh higher, chuckling at the way you shift in your seat, impatient. Finally, the two of you come to a stop in the driveway and it is a scramble out of the car and through the front door, leaving the deadbolt undone for JT later.

Mikko wastes no time pulling you up the stairs and into the bedroom, his large hands cupping your face to kiss you again. Your body goes lax in his hold, hands reaching over his broad shoulders, twisting into the soft cotton of his shirt. Mikko’s lips trail down across your jawline and onto the soft skin of your neck, busying himself by sucking a mark into your skin. You are content to lean your head back and let him claim you, your only sounds contented sighs. That is, until Mikko’s hands deftly undo your jeans and slip under the waistband of your underwear. A soft moan falls from you as his fingers trace your slit and you can feel his chuckle against your skin as he finds you wet and wanting.

“That desperate for someone else?” he quietly teases. “My little kisu.”

It is hard for you to give a solid response; partially because of how amazing Mikko’s movements felt against you and partially because well… he wasn’t wrong. The fact that in a few minutes, your fantasy of sharing a bed with JT Compher would be coming true just made that fire in you roar stronger.

“How’d I get so lucky to have such a dirty girl all to myself?”

It’s that subtle confirmation that he was enjoying this just as much as you that made you pull away from him, his hands retreating as yours tug the material of his shirt over his head. He helps expose his bare skin to you, the sight of his sculpted body never failing to make you weak. Mikko’s hands quickly return to you, mirroring your movements by pulling your top off your body, revealing the dark red lace stretched across your chest.

“Did you think this would happen when you picked out this set?” Mikko questions, his hands tracing your sides to help tug down your jeans, the matching underwear snug against your hips.

“Planned on having you tonight,” you say, stepping forward, your fingers deftly come to rest on the front of his pants. “J’s just a pleasant addition.”

A grin stretches across Mikko’s face before he pulls you back to his lips. Your hands now blindly undo the clasp of his jeans, your fingers twisting into both waistbands as you pull at the material, leaving him naked. It is instinctive, the way you reach for your boyfriend, Mikko moaning at the sensation of your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking him slowly.

“Kisu, need your mouth,” he groans and you smile, never tiring of the way you can make your 6-foot-4 boyfriend beg for you.

You gladly sink to your knees on the plush carpet, eyes bright as you look up at Mikko, hand still wrapped around the thickness of him. Your lips press against his thighs, working kisses up the skin. Your mouth briefly suckles his balls, feeling them tighten against your tongue before you slide your lips along the length of him. Mikko’s fingers comb through your hair, gathering the strands into a makeshift ponytail as finally wrap your lips around him.

“Perkele, always so good for me,” Mikko groans above you and you take more of him into the wet cavern of your mouth, tongue slowly tracing along every vein, moaning at the taste. You bob your head, relishing in the sound of Finnish curses falling from his lips.

“Fuck.”

A new voice sounds out and your eyes slide over to see JT standing in the doorway.

“Not sure what I was expecting but this wasn’t it,” he chuckles, the initial shock fading from his face as he steps deeper into the room. “Guess I took a little too long.”

“Nah, she’s just a desperate little slut,” Mikko replies, encouraging you to continue your movements against him. “Aren’t you, kisu?”

The question – along with the sight of JT now standing next to your boyfriend, his own dark eyes staring down at you – makes another rush of arousal flow between your thighs. Your only response is to stretch your mouth to accommodate more of Mikko, his head falling back as JT’s lips twitch in a smile.

“Look so good like this, baby,” JT whispers, crouching next to you, his hand tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing the mascara-stained tears off your cheek. “D’you like having your face stuffed with cock?”

“Why don’t you find out, Comph?”

JT moves out of your line of sight but you can still feel the heat from his body circling you. His hands find your hips and you can’t stop the way they roll as your back connects with JT’s chest. You moan when you feel his own erection against your ass, his hands trailing down in between your thighs. A soft moan falls from JT as he feels the ruined material of your panties, your arousal continuing to flood the fabric as he presses his fingers against you, your movements against Mikko faltering.

“So wet, sweetheart,” he whispers, the hand between your thighs disappearing, coming to trace up your body, cupping your breast, fingers teasing your nipples through the lace.

“Told you. My girl gets so turned on from sucking dick,” Mikko murmurs, his blue eyes looking down at you with filthy admiration.

You whine, their words making you even more desperate, one of JT’s hands coming to rest on your neck. Your movements against Mikko finally stall as JT’s lips connect to the column of your throat, sucking an identical mark next to the one your boyfriend had previously left. There is a gentle tug on your hair, calling your attention back to the man standing above you.

“Need me to take over?”

You hum an affirmative, your jaw going slack as you hold yourself still – a little difficult considering the heat of JT behind you, his lips now peppering kisses against your shoulders. With a quick blink up at Mikko, you let him slide deeper into your mouth.

“Fuck, Rants,” JT groans against your skin. “Can feel you in her throat.” His words are accompanied by a soft press against your neck, increasing the tightness around Mikko, making a loud moan fall from your boyfriend.

“Niin vitun hyvä,” Mikko mutters.

Your eyes stay connected with his blue ones, his hips lightly thrusting. You feel JT’s chin come to rest on your shoulder, his own gaze lifting to meet Mikko’s as his hand once again pushes on your throat. Mikko’s cock hardens in your mouth at both the sensation and the sight of two pairs of doe eyes looking up at him.

Another almost growled curse falls from your boyfriend’s lips before he pulls back, the sudden absence of him making the saliva and precum flow. You lick the remnants off your own swollen lips with a sigh as your body leans back against JT.

“She’s all yours, Comph.”

“Finally,” JT murmurs, his fingers reaching to turn your head to him, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

The mutual moans fall from both of you in response to finally tasting the other. Your hand finds the nape of JT’s neck, pressing him closer as you deepen the kiss, tongue gliding against his. JT’s other hand pulls your hips back, moaning into your open mouth as you grind on his still confined length.

“Such a needy girl, aren’t you?” JT asks, breaking the kiss to thrust against you again, pulling another whine from your lips. “How long have you been wanting this, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. A while?”

You couldn’t quite remember when you started to view JT as something more than your boyfriend’s teammate, when your platonic glances took on a more carnal energy.

“Still can’t believe this is happening,” you continue, voicing your disbelief. “It’s surprising.”

“Surprising that I wanted this too or surprising that it took this long to admit it?”

“A little bit of both,” you reply, your gaze dropping to his lips before looking back into his eyes. “Imagine the fun we could’ve had if we had a whole season together instead of two days.”

There is no subtlety in the way JT’s irises darken in response to your words and you swear you can see every filthy image that passes through his mind at the prospect of sharing you for more than a single night.

“It’s a shame.”

“It is a shame,” he agrees. “Guess that means I’ll have to make the most of my homecoming present.”

“I guess you will,” you whisper, lifting your head to kiss him again.

The two of you stay there for a brief moment; kneeling on the carpet, pressed against each other, bodies writhing, soft moans and whines filling the bedroom. JT eventually breaks the kiss, forehead pressing against yours as those deep brown eyes capture you in his stare.

“Can I feel that talented mouth of yours?”

Your own eyes sparkle, a smirk appears on your lips with ease. There was nothing you wanted more than to feel the weight of him on your tongue – something you were sure he knew. Yet here he was, asking anyway. What a gentleman.

“Take off those clothes and get on the bed, then you will.”

JT kisses you once more time before pulling away, following your directions. The absence of his warmth makes you pout but that disappointment is quickly extinguished when you spin on your knees to watch him strip. Your eyes stay pinned to his body, relishing in the sight of his exposed skin – a sight that you only ever imagined.

You were lucky to say that your imagination didn’t come close to reality.

His ivory pale skin a delicious contrast to the fire red of his hair and beard. The way his muscles moved beneath his skin, a testament to his profession. The light smattering of hair across his chest and down his stomach, your gaze following its trail. The moan that falls from you is desperate when he takes off his pants and boxers, his hard length slapping up against his abdomen.

“Like what you see, kisu?” you hear your boyfriend ask from somewhere behind you. You glance back to find him sitting in the armchair in the bedroom corner, a hand around his cock.

“He’s so pretty, Mikko,” you reply, the words twinged with desire. Mikko just chuckles, his eyes lifting from your frame to JT’s, his own gaze raking across his former teammate’s naked form.

“He is, isn’t he?”

Your eager eyes reconnect to JT and you can see the shiver that runs through him, pinned under both of your hungry gazes.

“Fuck, you two are going to be the death of me.”

“Get on the bed, baby,” you whisper. “Let me take care of you.”

No more encouragement is need as JT quickly climbs onto the still-made bed, resting against the pillows before his eyes return to you. You unfold yourself from your kneeling position, now standing in front of him at the foot of the bed. The power you feel, the desire that thrums through you at the sight of JT patiently waiting for you makes you wicked. You decide to tease him more, your hands reaching behind your back and undoing the clasp of your bra. The material falls from your chest and you feel irresistible when you hear two different moans fill the room – one from someone who has seen you naked a hundred times and the other from someone who was seeing you for the first time.

You step forward, crawling on top of the mattress, your knees sinking in the plush sheets. Your siren eyes look up to JT as you move closer between his spread legs.

The sight of him makes your desire swell, a carnal need to taste his skin appearing. You lean down, following a similar path up his thighs as you did Mikko’s a few moments ago. Your lips move to his hipbones, kissing the taut skin there before following the cut of his body, JT’s stomach contracting every so often in response to your soft touch. You soon reach the base of him, your tongue darting out to lick his silken skin. A moan sounds from above you, encouraging you to drag up his length to the tip of him.

You see JT’s hands bury themselves into the sheets, his chest already heaving as he looks down at you. You take pity, closing your mouth around him, moaning at the taste of him against your tongue. It’s intoxicating and you don’t stop yourself from sinking further down, JT’s moans and soft grunts encouraging you to take him deeper.

“Fuck. God, you’re so good – she’s so good, Rants,” JT whines as you work your tongue against him, swallowing him inch by inch. You hear your boyfriend’s soft chuckle from somewhere behind you and it’s only a moment until you feel his hands on your hips, toying with the waistband of your underwear.

“Yes, she is,” Mikko practically growls, fingers twisting around the lace and dragging the material down your thighs. You moan against JT when the cool air of the bedroom hits your molten core, the whines only increasing when you feel Mikko’s lips trace over the curve of your ass to the place where the muscle meets your thigh.

Your focus on JT wavers when Mikko’s large hands pull at the globes of your ass, spreading you open and you hear him moan at the sight of your soaked pussy. Mikko doesn’t hesitate, diving into your core, his lips working against you. You have to take a few deep – albeit ragged – breaths before turning your attention back to JT, wanting to make him feel good.

It was his homecoming after all.

Mikko doesn’t make it easy, his tongue alternating between plunging into your heat and flicking your clit, muffled whines escaping you. His hand once again gropes your ass, opening you more and you can feel the electric shiver run down your spine as his tongue trails up, past your core, against the small strip of sensitive skin before circling your puckered hole.

You remove your lips from JT’s cock to let out a loud unbridled moan. You look back, eyes connecting with Mikko’s baby blues, your hips rocking as he eats your ass, one hand lifting to press against your core, not neglected for a moment.

“Sweetheart,” JT calls out, your gaze returning to him. “Don’t stop, please.”

You nod softly, little whimpers and whines still falling from you as Mikko continues his ministrations. The sensation steals all your attention and that realization causes you to reach out for one of JT’s hands, practically prying it from the sheets and guiding it to your head. You preen when JT’s fingers burrow into your hair, gently taking hold and pulling your mouth back onto his hard cock. You hum appreciatively as JT’s hips gently pulse, thrusting into your mouth.

A soft sigh escapes as you let yourself relish in the sensations at each end of your body. You trace every inch of JT in your mouth while your hips move against Mikko’s tongue still buried in your ass, his fingers caressing your soaked core. Above you, JT’s moans increase and underneath you, you can feel his rhythm falter. His stuttered sounds call Mikko’s attention, his lips disappearing from you.

“Gonna cum in that sweet mouth, Comph?” he asks, his voice heavy. JT’s only response is a strangled moan, his hand twisting deeper into your hair. “Go on. She wants it. Don’t you, kisu?”

Mikko’s question is punctuated with the press of his fingers plunging into your core. You moan, your eyes darting up to meet JT’s, hoping that your silent plea is understood. JT reads you with ease, even after only a few minutes of having you in bed. His movements increase, fucking your face as his head falls against the pillows. It is only a moment before he stills, holding you in place as his release hits the back of your throat. You gag lightly, his dick twitching in your mouth as his grip goes lax. You slide your lips against him, cleaning any remnants from his skin before remove yourself from him, eyes flicking up to see his brown irises trained on you.

A soft smile appears on your face before your mouth falls open in a gasp, Mikko’s fingers still buried inside you, thumb coming to press against your clit.

“You get so wet from being a good little slut,” he mutters, his hand working against you, forcing more of those delectable sounds from you. Your head falls to rest on the top of JT’s thigh, your body rolling.

“Please, Mikko, want your mouth back on me,” you whine, one of your hands reaching back to spread yourself open, an emphasis to your plea. Mikko’s response is a dark chuckle, fingers curling inside your core, causing your walls to flutter.

“Keep your eyes on Comph, sweet girl. Show him how pretty you look when you cum.”

That demand is all Mikko says before his mouth returns to your ass. It takes all your will-power to keep your eyes open and locked on JT as the dual sensations of Miko’s tongue and fingers pull you closer to the edge. JT just watches you; the way your body writhes, the way your mouth falls open, your tongue occasionally flicking over your lips as you whine.

“Feel good, sweetheart?”

You respond with a small nod, another whine falling from you. JT brushes the side of your face, his hand trailing down from your temple, across your jaw until his thumb presses against your plush bottom lip. You easily take the digit into your mouth, noticing the way JT’s eyes darken, his dick twitching with renewed interest.

“Gonna cum for me? Come on, sweetheart. Want to see it.”

JT’s quiet demand is all it takes for you to fall over that peak, your eyes finally closing as the warmth explodes from your core, the energy of your orgasm thrumming through your entire body. You can faintly hear Mikko moan, his tongue trailing down to your core to drink the sweet nectar of you.

“Such a good girl,” Mikko mutters, pressing a kiss against the base of your spine as JT removes his finger from between your lips.

Your body warms with his praise, your eyes fluttering open. The first sight you see is JT above you, his stomach clenching as he holds himself upright. Your eyes quickly dart to his length, semi-hard. Without hesitation you to reach up and grip him, your hand sliding with ease over the saliva-soaked skin. JT moans, his cock hardening again in response to your movements.

“Want his dick that bad, huh?” Mikko questions, his hand caressing the outside of your thigh and your gaze darts back to meet his blue eyes.

“Can I have it?”

“Like you have to ask,” he chuckles in response. His fingers trail down, hooking the underwear still resting in the crook of your knees. He carefully slips them off your body as he departs from the bed. “Why don’t you show J how pretty you look riding cock? What d’you say, Comph? You’d like that?”

“Fuck yes,” comes his desperate reply, your hand still working against him, a laugh falling from you and Mikko.

“Go on then, mirri. Take what you want.”

You don’t need any more coaxing, hand falling from JT as you crawl higher up on the mattress, one leg swinging over his body to straddle him. You lean down to kiss him, your hair creating a curtain your faces. JT happily accepts the kiss, moaning at the lingering taste of him in your mouth. Your hips roll, the sensation of your soaked folds gliding against him causing another moan to emanate from his chest. You movements continue until his dick is once again rigid underneath you. You tear away from the kiss, lifting your torso up, hands finding the sturdy planes of his chest.

JT simply looks up at you, pupils blown wide at the sight of you hovering above him. One of your hands traces down his body until you reach his cock. You gently grasp him, stroking him a few more times, spreading your arousal against his skin. JT’s hands find your hips, lifting and holding you steady as you align his length with your center.

The mutual moans that fall as you lower yourself onto him sound like something straight out of a porno. Your eyes roll back, chest heaving as JT sinks deeper into you, burying himself to the hilt.

“Shit, sweetheart. So fucking tight. So wet,” JT mutters from below you, his grip tightening so much that you’re concerned there might be bruises the next day. “God, Mik. Don’t know how you manage to leave this sweet pussy.”

“Knowing I get to come home to it every night helps,” Mikko replies, his quiet claim of you making your walls flutter around JT.

The two of you still, deeply breathing, memorizing every sensation, knowing that this might never happen again. The realization of limited time must hit JT because his hands start to pull at your hips, guiding you to grind against his cock. You follow his movements, gliding along his length, soft gasps falling from your lips at ever stroke of JT within you.

“You’re right, Mikko. She looks so fucking good riding me,” JT mutters, addressing your boyfriend who lingers at the edge of the bed.

“One of my favorite positions to have her in.”

The praise falling from both of their mouths encourages you more, your body moving in a more feverish pace. You lean your body back, hands switching from JT’s chest to his thighs, using that leverage to lift your hips. The new angle gives JT a clear line of sight and you hear his moan as he watches his length disappear into your center.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fucking perfect cunt taking all of me,” he groans, his hands lifting from your hips to your chest, fingers teasing your nipples causing more moans to escape you.

You are so caught up in JT – the feeling of him inside you, the lingering taste of him on your tongue, the heat radiating from his body – that you almost lose track of what your boyfriend is doing. That is, until you feel the mattress shift under the weight of another body. You hear the bedsprings creak as Mikko appears behind you, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“Look at you, kisu. Being such a good girl for Comph.”

Your only reply is to press your lips against his, having been deprived of his kisses for far too long. Mikko kisses you back just as fiercely, his hand coming to rest on the hollows of your collarbone. You can faintly hear JT curse underneath you as he pauses your movements, holding your hips still.

Mikko breaks away from you and you whine at the loss of both sensations. Mikko only smiles, his hand moving to your shoulder before he gently presses your body forward. You let him guide you folding yourself over JT’s body until your chests are pressed together. The proximity means that you trade Mikko’s lips for JT’s, an exchange that both you and he gladly accept.

You let yourself be engulfed in JT’S cinnamon whiskey taste and his scorching warmth. Faintly, you hear the click of a cap behind you and feel one of Mikko’s hands trace the curve of your spine. Another shift of the mattress, and you unabashedly moan into JT’s mouth when you feel the coolness of Mikko’s now lubricated fingers dipping between your ass cheeks.

“You want it, kisu?”

“Yes,” you whine, the single syllable word elongated in need. “Please, Mikko. Please.”

“Hold her still, Comph.”

JT follows your boyfriend’s orders, keeping his hold around your hips tight as Mikko’s fingers circle the ring of your ass, the skin now slick with saliva, your own arousal, and lube. When he deems you ready, the tip of his index finger presses into you. You moan, breaths becoming more rapid which JT notices. His lips connect to your neck to relax you, no doubt being able to feel your pulse jumping underneath your skin.

“Good, kulta?”

You can only nod frantically, the sensation driving you insane. Mikko chuckles, returning to slowly work you open, gently thrusting his hand until another finger slips in. The curse and whimpers fall from your lips freely at the dual sensation of Mikko in your ass and JT still seated deeply in your pussy. It is so much… and yet at the same time, not enough.

Your hands card through JT’s hair, pulling him away from the column of your throat, his dark eyes reconnecting with your lust-blown pupils.

“Move, J. Please.”

You see the barest nod of JT’s head before he is readjusting his hold on you, softly and slowly thrusting his hips up to meet yours. There is no stopping the downright pornographic moans that fall from you at the sensation of being stuffed to the brim by two absolutely beautiful humans. It makes your eyes roll back, your body tremble, your pussy flood. And when Mikko manages to slip a third finger past the rim of you, you shriek, your orgasm hitting you with the force of an oncoming train. Your whole body stills, eyes squeezed tight, mouth open wide as you let the waves of pleasure rush through you, groans emanating from both men at the feeling of both holes clenching.

“God damn,” JT curses. “Didn’t think this cunt could get any tighter. Fuck, sweetheart.”

“Y’gonna flood that cunt, J?”

Your boyfriend’s voice brings you back, his question making a new wave of heat flow through your already molten veins. You blindly start to press kisses against the column of JT’s throat, working your way up until your lips hover at the shell of his ear.

“Please. Wanna feel you. Wanna filled with you.”

Your desperate pleas make JT’s hips thrust a little faster, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making your body go lax. Mikko’s hand disappears from your ass, his other hand coming to gently wrap around your throat, pulling your body upright. You gladly let yourself be manipulated, gladly drink in the sight of JT below you: his brow furrowed, his pink lips swollen from your kisses, his pale skin marked with the love bites that you had left.

You hear JT’s breath hitch in his throat, his head being tossed back against the pillows and you whine at the feeling of his warmth spilling into you. Mikko swallows your noises by kissing you, his hand staying against your throat. A possessive necklace, a reminder that just because he let JT have you, you were still his. A fact that you would never deny.

The two of you eventually break away from the each other, eyes darting down to the redhead still left panting on the mattress.

“Holy fuck, sweetheart,” he gasps and you let a soft giggle escape you at his exclamation.

Mikko’s hands depart from your body, his weight departing from the mattress at the same time. The lack of support causes your fall, coming to rest on the sheets beside JT, his brown eyes gazing at you, hand gently stroking the outside of your thigh.

“You are so… amazing. You know that?”

“Wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” you tease, JT’s own grin appearing in response to yours. He leans in to kiss you, his movements now softer and gentler than all the previous and you can’t help the way you melt into him. A different pair of calloused fingertips appear on your skin and you pull away from JT to see your boyfriend standing over you. His hand dips between your thighs, a simultaneous moan coming from you at the feeling of your soaked core, JT’s cum falling from your folds.

“Want more, kisu?”

“Always.” 

“So needy. Ready to spread those legs open for anyone.”

“As long as I get to have you too,” you whine, Mikko’s fingers still softly tracing your pussy. Mikko leans down, his large body hovering over you as he captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

“You’ll always have me, rakkaani.”

The quiet testament warms you from the inside out and you feel his arms slide against your skin, one slipping under your thighs, the other under your waist. You gasp as he uses his impressive strength to lift you off the mattress, your own arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers teasing his golden curls. Mikko walks across the plush carpet before sinking back into the armchair, gently manipulating your body so your back is once again pressed against his chest.

You moan as his strong hands toss your thighs over each of his own legs, spreading you open, putting you on display. Your ass presses against the hardness of him and you shiver in anticipation when you realize what’s coming. Mikko’s hand – the one that had not been previously buried in your ass – traces down your body, coming to dance over your cunt, groaning at the ease in which his skin slips against yours.

“How does she look, Comph?”

The name draws your attention back to the bed, JT now sitting upright, eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“So pretty. Love seeing that cunt drip.”

His vulgar words cause your pussy to clench, no doubt making more of your arousal and JT’s previous release seep from you. Mikko moans at the sensation of it on his fingers, gently guiding the moisture downwards.

“Ready to show J how good you can be?” Mikko mutters, his words just loud enough for JT to hear.

You watch as his eyes follow the path of your boyfriend’s fingers, his eyebrows jumping when the implication hits him. You nod your head, your own hand reaching between your thighs as Mikko lifts you up. It’s easy to find and wrap your hand around Mikko’s already slick length, holding it steady as he spreads you open, lining up before gently pressing into you. Your whole body shudders at the sensation of him sinking into you, his gentle voice reminding you to breathe. You follow his commands, forcing yourself to relax as you stretch to accommodate his considerable length, your eyes rolling back. Eventually, Mikko stills, fully sheathed inside of you, hips flush against your ass as your core clenches around nothing.

“Fuck, I can see why you wanted to keep her to yourself,” JT curses.

“Gonna be thinking about this tomorrow night during the game?” Mikko teases, the traded quips allowing you time to get used to the feeling of him seated deep within you.

“Don’t know how I’ll be able to think about anything else.”

You feel Mikko bury his face in your hair, hot breath hitting your skin, his next words for only you to hear.

“That’s the whole idea.”

A quick huff of laugher escapes you, your boyfriend’s competitive nature coming forward. You both loved JT but he was indeed the enemy now.

You turn your head to mouth at Mikko’s neck, muttering a quiet plea into his skin – one that Mikko hears and responds to immediately. His hands grip the back of your thighs, slightly lifting your hips as his own start to gently pulse. Your moans echo around the bedroom, every press of Mikko within you causing your core to clench, more arousal spilling from you, additional lubricant for the obscene show. Your gaze catches JT’s stare fixed on where you and Mikko are connected, watching intently like this was something out of porno – one meant just for him. Which, in a way, it was.

You whine, hand reaching out to JT. This was his homecoming after all and although you were sure he loved the view, you didn’t want him to feel left out. JT slides off the bed and walks over, his lithe frame standing in front of you.

“Such a pretty little thing,” the redhead murmurs, his hands dancing across your chest. Mikko’s teeth gently graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

“He’s right, kisu. You’re always so good for me, so perfect.”

Their praise makes you moan. JT’s fingertips tracing down your body and eventually connecting to your soaked core makes you gasp.

His calloused skin collects your slick before slowly pushing into your core, moaning at the tightness of you around his fingers. Your hand shoots out, holding his wrist in an almost vice-like grip. You aren’t quite sure whether you mean to push him away, on the verge of overstimulation, or encourage him to keep going. But when you open your eyes and see those deep chocolate brown pools staring at you, you tug his wrist forward. A silent encouragement.

JT leans down, pressing his lips against yours as his fingers gently curl within you, your moans falling into his open mouth as he swallows every sound. Mikko’s breath is still hot against your skin, Finnish praise and guttural groans falling from his lips as he continues to thrust into you, his rhythm increasing. Your free hand comes to tangle in his blonde curls, holding him against your neck while your other hand releases JT’s wrist, reaching further. You finally manage to grab a hold of his cock, a hiss falling from JT as you softly stroke the skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines against your lips, seemingly on the verge of overstimulation himself.

“Please J, just one more. Let me take care of you, please.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your gentle words or your movements against his erection that causes JT to nod, letting you toy with him as he continues the movement of his fingers inside you. You recapture his lips in yours, your attention torn between your boyfriend’s hands on your skin, his cock stuffed in your ass, and JT’s hand pressed against your core. The ginger doesn’t seem to mind your sloppy handjob, moaning into your mouth anyway as you kiss him.

It isn’t long until Mikko’s grip adjusts, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you impossibly closer to him as his hips find an almost brutish pace, gasps and whimpers falling freely from your lips. JT gently removes his hand from your core before gently knocking your hand away from him. He takes a single step back, eyes returning to drink in the sight of both you and Mikko as your head lolls, your third orgasm of the night fast approaching. It only takes a few more pulses of Mikko’s hips before he falters, his teeth digging into the flesh of your shoulder as his orgasm hits him. The sharp sensation of his teeth coupled with the warmth of his release spilling into your ass causes you to cum. Every muscle in your body clenches, from your jaw down to between your thighs as the waves of pleasure roll over you.

Eventually, the intensity subsides, your thighs pleasantly shaking as your staccato breathing slows. Your eyes open to see JT still standing in front of you, his own hand now pumping his length. You smile up at him, sighing when you feel Mikko’s tongue laving over the indents that his teeth left in your skin, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your hipbones.

“JT, please,” you whisper, your voice slightly hoarse from your previous moans. “Want you to come. Wanna feel you on my skin.”

That seems to be all the encouragement JT needs, his hand now moving faster, small hisses and groans falling from his lips. He leans over you and Mikko, his free hand gripping the back of the chair to hold himself steady, eyes closing in overstimulated pleasure. You reach your hand upwards, cupping his jaw, your gentle touch drawing his gaze to you. You let your fingers brush through his beard, a small part of you wondering how pretty it would look drenched in your release. Your thumb moves to his mouth, pink and swollen from your previous kisses. A soft press against his plush bottom lip makes JT’s mouth fall open. You smile, softly guiding your thumb in, pressing against the firm muscle of his tongue.

“Perkele,” you hear Mikko curse from behind you and watch those brown eyes dart over towards your boyfriend, no doubt staring at JT like he was a meal. There’s no telling if your finger in his mouth or Mikko’s gaze is the final nail in the coffin but you find that you don’t care when JT’s eyes clench shut, gasps falling from him as you feel the warmth of him splattering against your stomach.

JT comes down, his chest heaving as he finds the strength to lift himself upright, your hand falling from his mouth as his eyes take in the sight of his cum on your skin. You smile, fingers still wet from his spit as you trace up your stomach, collecting the creamy release before lifting your hand to dip into your own mouth. A moan falls from you at the now familiar taste of JT against your tongue as you lick them clean.

“Does he taste good, kisu?” Mikko asks and you turn your head to stare into his blue eyes.

“Mmhmm. You wanna taste?”

Your boyfriend nods his head and your fingers dip down to once again collect JT’s cum. This time however, you hold out your lifted hand towards Mikko, who gladly takes you into his mouth. A moan falls from him as he suckles your fingers, his own tongue dancing over every inch of skin.

“You two are going to be the death me.”

You giggle at JT’s words, a repetition of the statement he spoke earlier, your gaze and hand falling from Mikko. Your eyes leap up to meet JT’s, his own head slightly shaking in disbelief, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

“Welcome back to Denver.”

“Best fucking homecoming I could’ve asked for.”

Translations (from Reddit & Google) Kisu/mirri: kitten [used for very sexy women] Kulta: baby/honey Rakkaani: my darling Perkele: shit/fuck Niin vitun hyvä: so fucking good

author's note: here it is. finally. my sister fic to @comphy-and-cozy's fic Homecoming: Crush. (which if you haven't already read it, go do that.) so much credit goes to her, from this beautiful header to the entire concept of this fic. i was just lucky that she dropped it in my askbox one night and it infected my brain as well.

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @svexhenthusiast

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[brockkboeserr]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

[its-alittleobsessed]

Hobbies include: drawing a scale accurate floor plan of the house Dean winchester will move into in my new fanfic

[ambient-arena]

what if the narrative wasn't so horrifically fond of gideon. what if instead of the lobotomy harrow just straight up tore herself apart trying to pry gideons soul away from hers. what if she resorted to the same violent, animal desperation john did when trying to consume the earth but instead of trying to destroy she was trying to recover. what if harrow in an unimaginable fit of despair forced her entire soul and necromantic capabilities to their intense limits but it doing so inadvertently rendered the task she was trying to complete impossible. like trying so so hard to use necromancy to give gideon's soul back that she accidentally ended up cementing its place inside her as an eternal furnace even more. and then what if she just lived like that with gideons soul and memory inside her and it was terrible and everlasting. yeah what if also my brain is rotting out of my skull

[silverskye13]

It was a ✨ perfect day ✨

[fratercrucis]

sam whump makes me horny

[laurenairay]

Red Sundress - JT Compher

Summary: a little red sundress goes a long way (to making JT admit his feelings).

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: some bad language, self-doubt, JT is a bit of an idiot

A/N: I’ve had this song in my head all afternoon, so now you get to suffer the consequences.

Title from Head over Heels, by Restless Road

~

I’m losin’ my head over heels in a red sundress, and them ruby red lips looking my way.

~

You knew you had his attention the moment you walked in.

It was the height of summer, a typical local barbecue with friends, and you’d been trying for weeks to get JT to make a move. You’d known him for a few years now, and he’d flirted shyly with you on and off in the time he was home from Denver and Detroit, but this summer felt different.

At least you thought it had. The fact that he was still acting shy and not making a move, despite all your blatant signals, was starting to make you doubt his intentions. With everyone else, JT seemed so confident, smiling away, laughing like nothing mattered. But with you, something was holding him back – and it was driving you crazy.

There was no way you were throwing yourself at the feet of an NHL player, no matter how sweet he was. That was level of desperation you were set in your mind not to sink to. If he wanted you, he was going to have to damn well say it to your face. Still, you thought you’d make a move of your own – wearing a new red sundress, floaty and sultry with a deep v-neck – to get some kind of reaction from him. And by the way his eyes had been locked on you since you joined your friends? It seemed to be working. Sort of.

“He still hasn’t made a move? When you’re wearing a dress like that?”

You shrugged at your friend Liz, smiling sadly where you were standing with her and your mutual friend Millie, beers in hand. Sure, JT was looking – but he hadn’t even approached you yet and it was frustrating you to no end. Not even a simple hello?

“Idiot boy, no wonder you’re straight up trying to kill him,” Millie mused.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you said innocently.

“Uh huh, and pigs can fly,” she snorted, “that’s the kind of dress that means trouble and you know it.”

Your innocent smile slid into a small smirk. That was the idea. “I’m tired of dancing around this maybe-maybe not thing JT’s been doing. It’s been weeks. I’m just giving him a little incentive to make up his mind.”

“By the way he’s drooling over you? I’d say it’s working,” Millie snickered.

And yet he’s all the way across the yard, not taking action,” you shrugged.

Liz frowned, glancing over her shoulder to look at him, before turning back to you with a sigh.

“Stupid boy doesn’t deserve you. If he doesn’t make a move today then I’m going to set you up with at least three people who will,” she said seriously.

As much as you hated the idea of giving up on JT, maybe Liz had a point. You looked damn good, and if JT wasn’t going to appreciate it, wasn’t going to do anything about it, then it was his loss. Right?

“Alright, deal,” you nodded.

Millie just whooped, giving you a high five, earning a fond eye roll from Liz. The thing about Millie was that she wasn’t quiet in the slightest, so her whoop gained a lot of heads turning your way – including JT’s. He smiled inquisitively, tilting his head slightly, but you just raised an eyebrow. Come and find out for yourself. He looked a little surprised at your response, but still didn’t move from the group he was standing with, making you huff and turn back to your friends. Maybe Liz was right – maybe you deserved better than this, doubting yourself over someone that made you question your self-worth. Maybe.

But damn it you weren’t still holding out hope.

~

JT watched you from across the backyard, feeling a pang in his chest as you turned away from him with a slight frown on your face. He knew he was being a coward right now – everyone knew, it wasn’t like he was being subtle – but there was just something about you in that red dress and wedge heels that had his mind whirling. The moment he’d met you all those years ago he’d been overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by your confidence, your mind, your beauty, your smile. His sisters, his friends, your friends had all told him to make a move before you moved on, but it just wasn’t that easy.

It was like the whole world stopped whenever you appeared. So casual, so cool, so unattainable. So unbelievably out of his league that it wasn’t even funny. And yet there you were, giving him the time of day that other guys could only dream of. JT always felt like an idiot trying to impress you, desperate to earn one of your sweet friendly smiles, to make you genuinely laugh, to keep your attention on him. He honestly didn’t know why you kept flirting back with him after all this time, didn’t know why you hadn’t moved your attention onto someone who wasn’t such a coward. Every gathering, every party, every hangout he told himself that this was the time, this was the day he was finally going to say how he felt – but every time he backed out at the last moment.

He knew what a good thing he could have with you – so why couldn’t he just take that chance?

It wasn’t until your friend Liz caught his eyes and tapped her watch that he felt a wash of dread run over him. Tick tock time is running out. He knew Liz well enough to know that she wasn’t messing around. This was his last chance. He had to stop chickening out.

But how?

~

The slowly growing disappointment that filled your body was slowly dampening your mood. Your plan hadn’t worked. You’d bought this dress specifically for him. You’d worn the high heels, matched the lipstick, curled your hair, all for him and yet JT hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t even come over to say hello. Was this it? After all the flirting, was this the end of it? If it was, what a hell of a way to go. Fuck.

“Anyone want a drink?” you asked to your small group, wiggling your empty bottle in the air.

After a chorus of no’s you headed inside to the kitchen, pulling a fresh beer out of a cooler with a sigh. One more drink and you were going to switch to water. One more. If only you could find a bottle opener.

“Need some help with that?”

You flinched in surprise, not realising you weren’t alone, but turned to face the familiar voice anyway. JT looked good. He always looked so good.

“Nice of you to finally speak to me. I was beginning to think I had cooties,” you said curtly, sarcasm harsher than you intended as you took the offered bottle opener from him.

He blushed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck like the awkward goose he was, giving you a slight flush of satisfaction. Good. He should feel bad for making you feel bad.

“You look good,” he eventually choked out.

“I know I do,” you said, raising an eyebrow as you passed the bottle opener back.

JT huffed out a laugh. “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve said hi the moment you walked in, but my head’s been whirling with everything else I wanted to say.”

What?

Your face must’ve said everything your thoughts were echoing, because JT just laughed softly again.

“You mesmerise me. And I’ve been too much of a coward to tell you.”

Oh fuck.

“JT…” you breathed.

You mesmerised him? What the hell?

“I should’ve said something sooner. Should’ve stopped wasting so much time. But your red dress is killing me, babe. Am I too late?”

Babe?

Two could play at that game.

“Too late for what?” you challenged.

Because you needed to know what he really wanted. If it was just a quick fling because of this admittedly spectacular dress? Well, then you weren’t interested. By this point, you could admit to yourself, you’d fallen head over heels for JT Compher – so it was all or nothing.

JT smiled at your words, a look into his eyes that you hadn’t seen before – one that made you shiver. “Too late for you to take a chance on me. I want to take you out to dinner, sweep you off your feet. You like dahlias, right? I want to buy you bouquet after bouquet, each flower as perfect and beautiful as you. I want to hold your hand while we walk down the street, to kiss you good morning in my bed, to argue with you about your ridiculous reality tv opinions, to have you sitting in my lap making everyone jealous. I want to fly you out to Detroit every chance I get, have you cheering in the crowd at every home game. I want you, exactly as you are.”

Oh fuck.

JT bit his bottom lip to hide his smile, clearly pleased with whatever was showing on your face. But then his expression sobered a little, losing its flirting edge. “I understand if I’ve waited too long. You deserved better, everyone knows that. You deserved someone who was open and honest with you from the start, not someone who was too scared to take a chance on a beautiful girl. Because you are beautiful, babe, inside and out. I lose my mind every time I see you, and I know that I’m rambling like an idiot right now but I’m just sorry I haven’t had the courage before now. Give me a chance to make it up to you? I promise you I’ll be worth it.”

You felt your heart racing as his words sunk in. This was everything you’d been holding out for, the declarations like music to your ears. As much as your wanted to stay mad at him – not just for stringing you along but for making you doubt yourself – there was no way you could. No way in hell. The way he was being so sincere and vulnerable with your right now was giving you everything. He really wanted you. Why couldn’t he have said all of this weeks ago? Why had he drawn this out for years if he felt like this? Why had it taken him so long to admit how he felt?

“About time,” you breathed.

JT grinned sharply, your breath catching in your throat at the promise in his eyes. He looked hungry. “So what do you think?”

“I think you should kiss me,” was all you could murmur.

JT wasted no time in pressing you up against the kitchen counter and capturing your lips with his. With a soft moan you eagerly kissed him back, sliding your arms around his neck as his hands clutched desperately at your waist. So worth the wait.

~

Tagging a few people who might be interested: @typical-simplelove @fallinallincurls @callsign-denmark @wyattjohnston @comphy-and-cozy

@2manytabsopen @senditcolton @starshine-hockey-girl

[jtl07]

jtl07 fics, 2024 round up

tbh I felt a bit odd doing this because I was like, oh I didn't really write the last half of the year - but then I remembered shenanigans and all that and was like, JT, you totally were writing; just because it wasn't posted on ao3 doesn't mean it doesn't "count."

which is interesting too - looking at just word count for example, I had 47k total words posted on ao3 this year vs the 34k words posted (thus far) here on tumblr. that's kinda crazy to me - I didn't expect to write this much when I first started shenanigans. but I guess it really was what I needed what with all the changes this year (new city, new job, new hobbies like acting and stage combat, new and returned martial arts - plus the general messiness of healing)

so under the cut, I'll have some numbers similar to last year's recap just to see how everything went this year. there's no real conclusions here, and tbh I'm not sure if I'll do this again next year, because while it's interesting, I don't want to start chasing numbers yknow? (if you feel like asking about some of the fics i've written, feel free to ask a question from here!)

i guess the big takeaway is what matters is that I'm writing stuff I'm proud of, stuff I'm having fun with, and generally having a heck of a great time with everyone <3

ao3 stats

I posted 10 fics total this year on ao3. after doing all the nerdy things (looking at number of interactions, etc) here's what this year's spreadsheet looked like:

my top 3 fics this year were:

with this ring (will you, will i)

cooking with my (dead) mom

i see you clearly now (i hold you dearly now)

not really a surprise, as these were all quite popular from the jump. what was surprising, however, was when i combined stuff from 2023, cooking with my (dead) mom took the top spot from darling, call me yours:

cooking with my (dead) mom

darling, call me yours

i see you clearly now (i hold you dearly now)

that melts the blood inside our veins

past tense, future perfect

tumblr stats

okay so now shenanigans and noodles!

most notes: hickey (119 notes)

longest to write: the good boy prompt and @littledata's 2nd attempt at breaking shenanigans

longest word count: part 2 of the random cinderella au (1,394 words)

shortest word count: blushing (129 words)

first off, technically, the nametag one had the most notes (152) but since I posted it on ao3 as well, I didn't want to like double-count. also, not surprised at the ones that took a long time to write - generally, I tried to timebox my noodles and shenanigans but these two prompts were difficult in different ways (practice and the prompt, respectively) which was a fun challenge, and totally the point of shenanigans!

[techno-rat]

techno and his relationship to dehumanization is SOOO important to me .

[bluewatersfairy]

nba masterlist

r = requested, f = fluff, a = angst, s = smut, * = newest

one shots:

more than enough - jayson tatum (s)

daydreamin' - jayson tatum (s)

could've been - jordan poole (s)

distraction - jordan poole (s)

homebody - lamelo ball (r, s)

fys - josh hart (r, s) *

series:

jordan poole series i

a. ease my mind (come over)

b. after hours (coming soon...)

more coming soon <3

[senditcolton]

Fire, Meet Gasoline

gasoline, pretty please, I wanna get off but you're such a tease..

summary: every time she stepped onto the motorcycle race track, Daphne Martin faced potential disaster. and yet, she was still able to ride. but when she is threatened with the possible destruction of two relationships she holds dear - her friendship with Jesse Compher and her tryst with Jesse's brother JT - will she be able to push through her fear. or will it all go up in flames? song inspo: reckless driving by Lizzy McAlpine word count: 10.9k warnings: forbidden romance [best friend's brother], alcohol mention, smut [fingering, oral - f receiving, unprotected penetration], and marijuana use. for Demi's (@wyattjohnston) Winter Fic Exchange to C (@comphy-and-cozy) - finally - with love

The can of beer in Daphne Martin’s hand was now lukewarm – a combination of time coupled with the fact she brought it into her shower. But she had needed both.

Her short, buzzed hair was no longer plastered to her skull from the sweat that gathered under her helmet. The lingering smell of burnt rubber that she always brought back home was no longer on her skin. And the two cans of beer dulled the ache in her shoulders and legs from where they hit the asphalt earlier that day.

First race of the season. And she failed. Spectacularly.

Her bike went flying. So had her body. And even though it was only one race in a season of twenty-two, it felt like her credibility crashed as soon as she did.

The first woman to climb the ranks of motorcycle racing, crashing out on the final lap. She bailed after an attempt to pass and now, all people would talk about is how she didn’t belong.

It didn’t matter that it happened between her and the racer in second. It didn’t matter that there was a significant gap between her and the next closest driver. Her failure was ‘proof’ to sexist fans, racers, teams, management – all of them – that she didn’t fit in the world of motorsports.

She had been hearing those whispers since she started. Most days, she could ignore them. But today…

So, yeah, she needed the shower. And the beers. And JT.

Her phone buzzes on the kitchen island, a text bubble popping up on the screen.

Almost there.

Speak of the devil.

The decision to call JT Compher was just as reckless as the decision to drink after a crash. If she was being honest, her tryst with JT had been a careless choice from the start. She should’ve thrown away the hastily scribbled number that he left on a scrap of packing paper six months ago; the morning he had shown up on her doorstep to help her move in.

Hell, she probably shouldn’t even had let him in her apartment. But perhaps the shock of her bar bathroom hookup from the night before turning out to be Jesse’s brother made all rational thought fly from her brain.

That was an excuse that she used when she thought back on that day. As for why she had kept his number and ended up calling it on a semi-regular basis for nights like these… she had no excuse.

Except the fact that JT Compher was amazing in bed.

There probably should’ve been some guilt in her chest about keeping this… relationship with JT from her best friend. But there wasn’t. Or, at least, Daphne didn’t think she had to face it. Jesse was still in Toronto, 372 kilometers away. There was no way that she would find out what her brother and Daphne were doing, barring a surprise appearance at one of their apartments while they were together.

However, that risk did still exist. Daphne was well aware that one wrong misstep could cause her to lose the friendship she shared with Jesse as well as JT. But as long as this was kept a secret, she was safe.

That was the compromise. This way, Daphne got to keep them both.

The knock on the door breaks her out of her reverie, her body unfurling from the sofa as she pads towards the front door. Her almost empty beer can is abandoned on the kitchen island before she unlocks the deadbolt, swinging the door open to find JT.

There is a brief pause as the two of them look at each other. Daphne can see JT’s dark brown eyes trace her face before darting down to glide over her body, the bruises and friction burns on her bare arms and legs plain to see.

“It could’ve been worse,” she says, simultaneously confirming and quieting his concern and Daphne notices the subtle relaxation of JT’s shoulders. But when his eyes lift to connect with hers again, a new expression flits across his face. One of understanding, most likely brought on by the heaviness shining in her own eyes.

“JT,” she whispers, the words quivering with a quiet plea.

The sound of his name is enough to make JT step forward into her apartment, taking her in his arms and kissing her. There is no stopping the sigh that escapes Daphne’s lips, her entire body melting into his hold.

This is why she kept calling JT when she knows she shouldn’t. No one else could make her mind empty with just a kiss. And that’s what she needed right now.

Daphne faintly hears the front door close; JT must’ve kicked it shut because his hands were still on her hips and his lips were attached to hers. He presses her body deeper into the apartment, manipulating her to his whim. And she lets him.

She feels the edge of the marble countertop dig into the small of her back, the sensation startling her enough to break the kiss. Her own brown eyes connect to JT, his own face desperate and she can feel his hands tighten around her hips. The silent implication of what he wanted is all she needs to plant her own hands on the island, helping him lift her onto the marble, even though her shoulders ache in protest.

The pain is immediately silenced by JT’s body slotting between her now outspread thighs, his lips reattaching to hers. Another sigh falls from her, this time unmuffled as JT’s kisses trail from her mouth to cross her jawline. His path forces her head to loll to the side, exposing her neck to his onslaught.

She can’t stop the way her hips roll towards him as he gently sucks a hickey into her pale skin, desperate and needy. The sensation of his calloused hands against the bare skin of her legs is sinful, as is the way his hands climb higher, dipping under the hem of her oversized shirt.  JT’s hands glide higher underneath the fabric, over the ridges and dips of her hips, waist, and ribs. He traces every curve deliberately as if she was a racetrack that he needed to memorize.

Daphne’s own hands scramble across his shoulders, relishing the feeling of his muscles moving beneath his cotton t-shirt, tugging at the fabric in a silent request. JT complies, pulling away from her before tugging the material over his head. Her eyes rake down, never tiring of the sight of him. JT lets her before his hands return to her body, this time removing her own shirt, leaving her perched naked on the countertop, except for a pair of underwear on her form.

Normally, the way JT’s eyes appraise her exposed skin makes a heat pool in her lower abdomen, his carnal desire always on full display. But when his eyes zero in on her torso, another flash of concern appears in his eyes instead of the usual hunger, Daphne knows the cause:

The bruises mottling her torso.

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice calling JT’s attention back to her.

“Are you?”

Daphne can hear the weight of the words and part of her knows that he is not just asking about the physical pain. It’s like he can see her completely. He didn’t just strip her of her clothes – it feels like he’s stripped her down to her soul and can see the deep-seated hurt lingering within her. How he can do that, Daphne doesn’t know. She doesn’t really want to find out.

It’s too intimate. It’s too close. It’s too dangerous.

She should make him leave. She shouldn’t entertain this anymore. JT was fire and she was gasoline. She knew that he would be her destruction. But at the same time, she wanted him. Desperately.

“I just need you,” she whispers, a sliver of truth falling from her lips. She can see the soft smile appear on JT’s lips as he steps forward again, his hands guiding her legs to wrap around his waist.

“You have me,” JT murmurs, his voice dripping with emotion before he kisses her again. His head once again ducks down, only this time, his lips move against the soft skin of Daphne’s decolletage before wrapping around one of her nipples. Daphne’s body leans back, her shoulder blades connecting with the marble. The contrasting sensations of the cool stone and JT’s hot mouth creates a rush of arousal.

“JT, please,” she whines, fingers brushing his ginger hair away from his forehead, her words emphasized with another roll of her hips. She can see those dark eyes dart up to hers, tongue never ceasing its movements against her chest. One of his hands however, glides over her hip and down her leg. A sigh of relief falls at the sensation of JT’s touch, dipping inward and tracing up her thigh, moving closer and closer to her molten center.

The mutual moans bounce around the space when JT’s fingers hook around the cotton of her panties, pulling it to the side before they slide over the slickness of her folds, no longer obstructed by the fabric.

“You really need it, don’t you sweetheart?” JT murmurs against her skin as he continues to stroke her pussy, more and more of her essence coating his skin. “That desperate, huh?”

Daphne’s only reply is a sharp moan as one of his fingers dips inside of her. The curl of his lips against her skin makes her more needy, her hips rolling as a silent plea for him to continue. JT doesn’t tease, wasting no time before sliding another into her heat, his hand almost covering her core. Daphne grinds her hips against him, her clit catching against the rough skin on the heel of his palm, making shivers run down her spine.

“That’s it. Take what you need,” JT mutters before his lips wrap around her other nipple, teasing the flesh into a stiff peak. His encouragement is all Daphne needs, her body desperately chasing that impending orgasm that she can feel coiling in her stomach.

When JT’s teeth gently scrape over her pebbled skin, the spring snaps, the warmth of her release rushing through her and her body stills. She can feel the vibration of his moan against her chest; a reaction to her trembling body as the high ebbs, her breathing returning to a steady pace as he removes his hand from the apex of her thighs.

JT finally lifts himself up to stand over Daphne splayed out on the countertop. Her eyes take in the sight of his normally plush lips now even more pink from his previous ministrations. His own darkened eyes glance down at her body, surely admiring his handiwork: her cunt exposed, tits slick with his spit, her neck and collarbones littered with the bruises that he had left instead of those made by the pavement.

JT’s hands move up her body, sneaking under her arched back to pull her up into another kiss. She holds onto him, practically clinging to his frame before their lips separate and Daphne voices the only thought bouncing around her mind.

“More.”

A wicked grin appears on JT’s face, all too willing to grant her request. He guides her body back down, hands dropping again, twisting in the waistband of her underwear. This time, he pulls the material down, sliding it over her legs before crudely discarding it somewhere in the room. The sensation of the cool apartment air hitting her core causes Daphne’s legs to instinctively close, JT’s body no longer between them. However, their path is stopped by JT’s hands instantaneously pulling her thighs back open, his fingers digging into the supple flesh.

Another gasp turned sigh escapes Daphne’s chest as JT’s lips reattach to her body, trailing across her collarbones and down. She thinks he must feel her heart beating against her ribcage as he places soft kisses in the valley between her breasts before descending even lower.

The feeling of his lips pressing against her inner thighs is both delectable and yet, still not enough to satiate the hunger thrumming through her body.

“Please,” she whines, her hips moving to coax him to the place she needed him most until JT’s lips finally connect with her soaked core.

A moan rumbles from him at the taste of her, the vibrations causing a similar moan to fall from Daphne. His mouth moves against her, his tongue tracing her folds and there is no stopping the curses that fall from her lips.

When JT’s lips close around her clit, Daphne’s entire body shudders, the muscles in her legs desperate to close around his head; which they would have if it weren’t for his strong hands holding her open.

“So fucking sweet, darling,” JT mutters before reattaching his mouth to her core. After having her in his bed multiple times, it doesn’t take long for JT remember what makes her writhe and gush, alternating between quick flicks of his tongue and gentle suction of his lips. But when his mouth dips down, his tongue plunging inside her, there is no stopping the way Daphne’s breath catches in her throat, body jolting upright.

“Oh god, fuck JT, right there,” she whines, one hand supporting her as the other tangles in JT’s red hair, holding him against her. Even though she knows he would never be cruel enough to pull away.

JT’s dark eyes lift to meet hers and Daphne whines at the sight of his face nestled between her thighs, tongue expertly continuing its movements, pushing her closer and closer to that edge. Daphne dissolves into a moaning mess above him, hips practically grinding against his face, head thrown back as her free hand attempts to find purchase on the smooth marble.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” Daphne gasps – as an encouragement or as a warning, she isn’t sure. JT isn’t deterred, keeping the same steady pace of his movements, those brown eyes glued to her face. The slow-building pressure finally comes to a head and Daphne can feel her entire body tense, the orgasm barreling through her.

She hears JT groan at the way her cunt clenches around his tongue, her essence coating his lips and chin as he works her through her orgasm. Daphne’s thighs tremble against his shoulders as she slowly comes down, JT’s tongue lapping up every trace of her release before finally tearing himself away.

The sight of JT’s russet beard now soaked with her arousal make a soft whimper fall from Daphne. He lifts himself up onto his feet, one hand coming to cup the back of her head and pulling her in for another passionate kiss – one that she gladly melts into, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue.

Daphne lets out a surprised squeal as JT’s hands slip under her thighs, lifting her off the countertop. Her legs hook around his waist as he carries her across her apartment before pushing open the door to her bedroom and depositing her on to her bed.

“Better?” he asks when he pulls away, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Much. Thank you,” Daphne sighs before glancing down his body. She can clearly see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, her mouth watering at the sight. “Want me to take care of that for you?”

“Nah,” JT chuckles, shaking his head.

“Are you sure?”

“Not necessary. Could I use your shower though?”

“Yeah, of course.”

JT gives Daphne another gentle kiss before he disappears into her adjoining bathroom. Soon after, she hears the shower turn on and she finally lets her body sinks into the sheets.

Unfortunately, the absence of JT causes the memories of earlier to return to her brain unbidden. That was the only bad thing about a temporary fix – when the high fades, the fears and worries are still there. However, she couldn’t even begin to fix her racing mistakes until a week later – the scheduled next race. Right now, temporary fixes were all she had.

Daphne rolls her body over, hand reaching for her nightstand, pulling open the top drawer and taking out the small box from the depths. She sits up in the bed, her legs crossing as she flips open the box’s lid, grabbing the rolled paper and a lighter from the contents. She places the joint in her mouth, flicking the lighter to life and igniting the tip. The smoke hits her lungs as she inhales and she lets out a sigh, climbing off the bed and returning the box to its place before wandering over to the window and cracking it open.

The night air cools her skin, which is beneficial as it both further relaxes her but also dims the desire that surges when she hears JT’s moans, not completely muffled by the sound of rushing water and her bathroom door.

She could join him. But the combination of the alcohol she had drank earlier, the two orgasms that JT brought forth, and the weed now penetrating her already tired muscles forces her to return to the bed, her body sinking further into the pillows.

Daphne looks out the window, breeze gently ruffling the curtains as she lets her mind go blank. The sound of the bathroom door opening, the released steam creating a delectable contrast on her bare skin causes Daphne’s eyes to return to JT. His sweats are back on his body, his damp hair now cascading over his forehead.

She wordlessly holds the joint out to him – an offering that he gladly takes after he climbs onto the mattress beside her. The roll is passed between the two of them until it burns down, Daphne snubbing it out onto the ashtray next to her bed. It is impulsive, the way she turns towards JT, her body curling around him but the cross-fade must’ve removed her inhibitions. JT has no such qualms, moving to wrap his arm around her, fingers caressing her bare skin as she rests her cheek against his chest.

“Are you okay?”

JT’s voice breaks the silence, soft and delicate as if he was afraid to shatter any sense of peace that had been created. A heavy sigh falls from Daphne’s lips, her shoulders raising in a shrug.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

The question could easily be seen as a dismissal – a sign that Daphne didn’t want to talk about it. Looking back at this moment, Daphne wishes JT would’ve taken it as one. But he didn’t – doesn’t.  

“I just saw the headline about your crash,” JT confesses.

Daphne lifts her head to look at him, catching the look in his eyes, much like the one he gave her when standing on her doorstep. He knew. And he was worried about her.

“Is that why you came over?”

“Is that why you called me?”

Daphne doesn’t give a reply because he was correct… but perhaps not for the reasons he thought.

Earlier that night, she had dialed JT’s number to give herself a distraction from the mistakes she made playing on repeat in her brain. But now, pinned under JT’s heavy gaze, the quiet voice that had recently grown louder over the months shouted a different reason for her call.

She needed him – not just as a distraction, but as a source of comfort.

And that need – that dependency on someone else – frightened her. It scared her back when she first realized how much she yearned for him, but it was even more terrifying now as JT looks at her with the utmost tenderness, his fingers still tracing mindless patterns against her skin.

That fear is what causes her shoulders to shrug again, her body lifting fully, forcing JT’s arm to fall from around her.  

“It was nothing. I tried to pass and bumped, causing my bike to spin out. Completely normal.”

“Then why do you seem so upset?”

“Because I’m the one that it happened to,” Daphne humorlessly chuckles. JT doesn’t respond and she looks over her shoulder to see him staring at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m a woman, JT. In a very male dominated sport. Any mistake I make is just fodder for the people who believe that I don’t belong. A chance for them to say, ‘look, we told you so’.”

Another sigh falls as she turns away, her fingers absentmindedly playing with a loose thread in her comforter. The cross-fade could be blamed for why the next words slip from her mouth.

“Maybe they’re right.”

“What?”

The incredulous voice of JT, coupled with the shift of the mattress as he sits upright partially startles Daphne before she realizes that she spoke that thought out loud. And now she had to answer for it.

“Maybe this is as far as I go,” she explains. “I’m tired, JT. I’m tired of having to constantly prove myself and it’s never enough. I’m tired of giving miles and getting an inch in return.”

“That – that doesn’t make sense. This doesn’t sound like the Daphne I know.”

A sharp huff escapes Daphne unbridled, her head whipping around to stare at JT. She couldn’t say whether it was her inebriated state that made her react so sharply, or whether it was his words – the presumption in them even as care hung on every syllable.

“How would you know what I sound like?” she retorts, not bothering to keep the venom out of her voice. “Who even are you in this equation, JT?”

She can see JT recoil at her viper sting, shock dancing across his face before it hardens into sheer determination.

“I’m someone that cares about you.”

“You don’t get a say in how I live my life. You’re someone that I fuck on a semi-regular basis. Nothing more. Hell, I shouldn’t have even continued to entertain the idea of you in my bed past that first night.”

“Then why do you keep calling me?”

Daphne knows the answer and yet it dies on the tip of her tongue. The fear kills it before she can speak. The sheer desire for JT just meant more to lose if she ever lost him. And considering who both of them were in this situation – brother and friend to Jesse – the chances of this ending sooner rather than later were exponentially higher.

Murphy’s Law: everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

So why risk it?

“Because apparently I have poor judgement,” Daphne spits out, directing every ounce of malice into the words to mask the pang of her heart. 

The silence falls, weighted with every word said and every word left unsaid. JT just looks at her, those big brown eyes seeming to pierce through her ski, down to her bones. Whatever he finds there good enough as JT lets out a sigh before throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, removing himself from her sheets. Daphne watches as he walks across her bedroom, opening the door to the rest of her apartment.

“Where are you going?”

Her question stops him at the threshold, his hand gripping the molding around the doorframe as he glances back towards her.

“I’m leaving. If you want to quit, I’m not going to stop you.”

His words could be referring to her racing career alone, but based on the heartbroken glimmer in his irises, Daphne is inclined to believe that he’s also talking about them. He doesn’t confirm her suspicions though. Instead, he keeps his word, disappearing from her line of sight. A few seconds pass before Daphne hears the creak of her front door opening, followed shortly by the click of the latch returning to the doorjamb.

That click resonates through the apartment and penetrates her ribcage. The reverberation of that finality is what shatters her already delicate heart, the ache incomparable to the ache in her already bruised and battered body.

And this time, she knew temporary fixes would never be enough.

She was here for Jesse.

That was Daphne’s manta as she walks towards Little Caesars Arena. Her motorcycle was parked in a garage a few blocks away and her blue denim jacket hangs over her shoulders, the gold jewelry adorning her septum and ears sparkling in the downtown lights – a call towards the Toronto Sceptres logo and colors.

The PWHL had come to Detroit for their Takeover Tour and the city was blessed to be able to watch another Compher play hockey. The tickets had appeared in Daphne’s email months ago from Jesse, with a silly gif attached begging her to show up.

There was always a glint hesitation in her attendance, and although the reason for that hesitation had shifted and changed, it still existed. Because Daphne’s ticket was situated right next to the rest of the Compher family; Jesse’s mom, dad, her sister Morgan, and JT.

The initial concern was having to sit next to JT through a two-hour game, pretending like they were just friends and not each other’s regular hookup. Now, she had to sit next to JT and act like her heart didn’t ache for him still.

It had been almost a month since JT left her apartment and left her reeling. She had returned to the racetrack, to distract herself from feeling the shattered pieces of her heart piercing into every space of her chest. Heartbreak turned out to be a great motivator and she placed podium in the past three races she had competed in. Although the success didn’t fill the hole in her life where JT used to reside.

Daphne descends the stadium stairs, her hand gripping the railing a little tighter when she spies the bright ginger hair of JT, an empty seat next to him. She takes a deep breath before walking down the row, apologizing to the fans already sitting until she stops right next to JT. He must see her jean-clad legs out of the corner of his eyes, his hands finding the armrests as if he was about to lift himself up to let her pass. Until his face turns towards her and the action stills when he registers that it’s her standing next to him.

“Daphne.”

Her name falls from his mouth in soft exhale, so quiet that she barely hears it over the din of the other voices in the arena.

“Hey JT,” she replies, offering him a gentle smile. He doesn’t return her grin, his face reverting to a neutral that stings more than if he had glared at her in disgust.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for Jesse,” she explains, settling down into the vacant seat and trying desperately to ignore the woody scent of his cologne flooding her senses. “She invited me and, well, she’s my friend so I’m here to cheer her on.”

She swears that she can see JT’s face soften, his lips twitching into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before it was interrupted by a feminine voice.

“JT. Who’s this?”

Daphne looks down the row to see the bright smiling face of who she assumes to be Jesse’s mother. It’s easy for Daphne to stick out her hand across JT towards the woman.

“Hi, I’m Daphne. I’m a friend of Jesse’s from Toronto. You must be Valerie.”

“That would be me! This is my husband Bob and Jesse’s sister Morgan. You seem to already know JT.”

“Yeah,” JT says to his mom, although his eyes never leave Daphne. “Jesse asked me to help Daphne move in when she first moved to Detroit.” His explanation is both accurate but also a little misleading – ignoring their actual first meeting was a little more illicit than JT unpacking boxes.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Valerie replies, leaning back in her seat. “It must have been nice, being able to know someone in the first few days of moving to a strange city.”

“Yeah, it was.”

Daphne more so directs the words towards JT, letting them linger in the hope that he can read her as easily as he always could. Unfortunately, the lights dim before she can decipher any expression appearing on JT’s face, a cheer going up from the crowd. Daphne directs her attention to the giant screen hanging over the ice as the teams are introduced, cheering loudly when Jesse’s name is announced.

The game is fun and exciting, the Septres scoring a last-minute goal to win and collect 3 points (something that JT explained is different than the NHL’s point system). Daphne enjoyed listening to and learning from the Compher family – even if they might not have been the most unbiased source. But then again, what sports fan was? Even the people in the stands at the raceway were aggressive in their support for their favorite driver and the Compher’s weren’t just cheering for a team. They were cheering for their family.

Valerie insisted that Daphne join them afterwards, JT leading them towards the parking lot where Jesse would leave from. She tried to give an excuse as to why she couldn’t but before she could, Morgan linked their arms together and pulled Daphne forward. That effortless acceptance made Daphne’s heart skip a beat – the way that they allowed her to slot so easily into the Compher clan, getting lost in the chatter as they wait for Jesse to appear. It made her wonder how much she had really lost that night a month ago.

Her eyes occasionally dart to JT to see if similar thoughts are running through his mind but every time her gaze lands on his face, it’s entirely neutral – a pleasant smile but no sense of emotion directed her way.

An excited squeal breaks through the noise and Daphne sees Jesse running towards them, her arms outstretched. She steps back, letting Jesse embrace her parents first before hugging Morgan and JT in kind. Her heart softens at the sight of the family, so perfectly united and she has to push back the images of herself included in the group as JT’s girl, not just Jesse’s friend.

Daphne finally clears her throat, the sound catching Jesse’s attention and Daphne can’t stop the grin that pulls at her lips at the sight of Jesse’s jaw dropping open in joy.

“Hey girlie,” Daphne says, her voice lifting in a playful tease and it seems as if those words are what snaps Jesse out of her frozen trance, her body lunging forward and practically leaping into Daphne’s arms.

“Oh my god, you made it!” Jesse squeals, jumping with joy as she embraces Daphne before finally pulling away. “How have you been? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in months!”

“I’m good,” Daphne laughs, the bright energy rolling off Jesse in waves making her feel lighter.

“Has Detroit been treating you well?”

The question is innocent but Daphne can’t stop her eyes from flicking back towards JT. And for the first time that night, she feels like she can see a flash of some emotion pass over his face. Daphne sighs, turning her attention back to her best friend, not wanting to get lost in… whatever her and JT shared.

“As well as it can,” she answers truthfully.  

She isn’t sure if it’s the drop in her voice or the sadness that twinges the edges of the syllables that causes Jesse’s eyebrows to furrow, noticing the weight on her friend’s shoulders. But before she can press further, Bob’s voice forces her attention back to her family.

“Sorry sweetheart, but we’ve gotta go. Gotta catch an early flight to Chicago tomorrow.”

Daphne lets go of Jesse, allowing her to run back to her parents, hugging them both. She can hear the murmured congratulations that pass between them before Bob and Valerie depart, waving back to the four of them one last time as they melt into the crowd. It isn’t until they are completely out of sight does Jesse turn to the remainder of them.

“What about you, Morgan? Do you have to leave?”

“My flight isn’t until tomorrow evening.”

“JT?”

“I’ve got to get on a plane to D.C. but that’s not until the afternoon.”

Daphne laughs at the sight of a wide smile splitting across Jesse’s face as she glances mischievously at her siblings.

“So… drinks? I’ll buy.”

“Why would you be buying? Your team just moved into third place in the league,” Morgan teases her back before jostling her brother’s shoulder. “If anything, they should be on JT since his sisters are visiting his city.”

“I can see what you’re trying to do lil sis and it’s not gonna work,” JT quips in response, a soft grin on his face.

“Fine. Then I guess, Daphne’s paying, since it’s her city now too,” Jesse replies, turning her attention back to her friend. “What do you say? Down for a few drinks?”

“As tempting as draining my bank account sounds, I can’t tonight,” Daphne says, a light apology in her voice. “I’m planning on going to the racetrack early tomorrow morning, getting a few laps in before it gets too crowded.”

“So, you didn’t quit.”

The statement falls from JT’s mouth, forcing Daphne’s attention to turn to him. He is staring at her and once again, she can see some emotion flicker in his gaze. But her focus is interrupted before she gets a chance to understand it – this time by Jesse’s shrill voice.

“Quit?”

Daphne can understand her confusion. The two of them bonded over fighting through boundaries in a male-dominated industry after meeting at a Women in Sports conference in Toronto. Their shared sense of grit and determination is what really brought them together as friends. It was probably was unthinkable to Jesse that Daphne even considered quitting.

“I had a moment of weakness,” Daphne shrugs, giving the very abridged version of events. “I can tell you all about it over coffee if you’re still in town in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, the team isn’t heading back to Toronto until Tuesday. Text me the location and I’ll be there.”  

“Will do.”

Daphne hugs Jesse, murmuring a congratulations to her before turning to Morgan. Morgan wastes no time scooping her into a similar hug, telling Daphne that it was great to meet her and she replies similarly. They separate, leaving her and JT.

There is a moment of awkwardness, the two of them just standing there appraising each other. Daphne doesn’t let it linger to the point of uncomfortable, choosing to finally utter a soft ‘see you later’ to him. She gives the Compher siblings a wave before turning and walking towards the parking garage.

She is almost out of sight when some instinct tells her to look back. She does. And finds JT’s eyes fixed on her retreating form, clearly not listening to a word his sisters say around him. Daphne finally has enough time to process the emotion on his face.

It was regret. It was longing.

And it gave her hope.

The bell over the café door rings out, entirely too cheerful for a Monday afternoon, as Daphne walks into the shop. She doesn’t need to scour the store for Jesse, the redhead’s hand sticking up and waving her over before Daphne even takes off her leather jacket.

A grin appears on her face as she makes her way over to Jesse, her body relaxing even further when she sees an extra cup of coffee sitting in front of the empty chair at the round table.

“White chocolate mocha, just how you like it,” Jesse says, pushing the cup further towards Daphne as she sits down.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

“The coffee or my sparkling presence?”

“Both,” comes Daphne’s quick reply, a giggle falling from each of them.

The conversation starts with the typical catch-up topics of two people who used to live in the same city now living 372 kilometers away. Family, friends, adventures, work. Jesse regales Daphne with the PWHL season thus far and how exciting the Takeover Tour has been for the league – seeing the demand for women’s sports firsthand. It makes Daphne happy as well because this was the goal when they first met at that conference; giving women’s sports an equal spotlight. The conversation of their perspective careers eventually leads to the question Daphne was waiting to hear from Jesse. She is thankful that her friend at least waited a little while before confronting her.

“So, what was this moment of weakness that almost made you quit motorsports?” Jesse asks, her own brown eyes pinning Daphne down – so like her brothers. Daphne sighs, shaking her head as she often did whenever she replayed that night.

“It was stupid really,” she begins, looking back to see Jesse patiently waiting for her to elaborate. “I crashed during first race of the season and… I don’t know. Just let those doubts creep in and thought it might be best if I just stopped racing.”

“You usually never let those men get to you,” Jesse teases.

“To be fair, I was a little intoxicated when I said it.”

“How did JT know about it?”

The mention of JT’s name in the context of the situation catches Daphne off-guard, even though she should’ve figured it would be asked. The only reason Jesse knew about Daphne’s wavering self-confidence was because of her brother’s words. But it takes a moment for Daphne to think of a plausible excuse.

“I went to a bar that night. JT happened to be there with his teammates and found me.”

If Jesse notices Daphne’s hesitation before answering or even suspected her of lying, she doesn’t show it. Just leans back in her chair, her arms crossing as she takes in her friend.

“I still find it hard to believe that you even thought about quitting,” Jesse says with a shake of her head. “I mean, you hurdle down a racetrack at over 180mph while controlling a 350-pound machine, taking turns with your body nearly pressed against the pavement, risking serious injury every time you race. You’re fucking fearless, man.”

“Fearless,” Daphne mutters out, a sharp humorless laugh painting the words. “I’m fucking terrified.”

The confession clearly catches Jesse off-guard, her body straightening even as her head cocks to the side in confusion.

“You know what makes me a good racer?”

Daphne waits for a response from Jesse – which comes as a shake of her head – before continuing.

“Always being ready for the worst-case scenario. Motorcycle racing seems wild and reckless but I guarantee, every racer steps onto that track with the utmost preparation and control. Because it’s so dangerous. You can’t go in there half-cocked. You’ve gotta be ready because anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

“That seems like a bleak outlook.”

“It’s Murphy’s Law,” Daphne says with a shrug, before elaborating. “An old adage from an aerospace engineer.”

“But I feel like you have to balance it,” Jesse says. “If you’re always expecting things to go wrong then it’s easy to stop believing things will go right.”

The truth in Jesse’s statement sinks into Daphne’s heart, those words echoing throughout the past month, the soundtrack to that night in her bedroom, another Compher staring at her with hurt reflecting those brown eyes. Daphne chuckles again, her head shaking before she playfully looks up at Jesse, her next words twinged with a gentle tease.

“Where were you a month ago?”

“What do you mean? You’re still racing so must’ve figured something out.”

“Yeah, but…” Daphne starts, her words halting as she debates telling Jesse about her personal failures. A deep breath rattles through her before she continues. “I think I might have quit on something else that I’m not sure I can get back.”

The story tumbles out of her mouth in a cascade, although with enough control to not mention the starring character was Jesse’s brother. In this moment, he was just Jay – a guy that Daphne met at a bar her first night in Detroit and had been regularly hooking up with since then. But Daphne tells her about the downfall: him coming over that night, the care that was so plainly painted on his face, and the fear that that look brought forth in Daphne’s mind.

“I could tell he wanted more. And I was just scared of that.”

“Scared because you didn’t want it or scared because you wanted the same thing?”

“The second, I suppose,” Daphne sighs. “Because the worst thing that could happen is that I could give my all to him and he would still leave me.”

“But you lost him anyway.”

There it was; the truth laid out plain for all to see.

Jesse just stares at Daphne, once again letting the words register before letting out a sigh of her own.

“Fear is a natural part of life, Daphne. You obviously know that – you’ve just told me that you are terrified before every race. That in your mind, you’ve played through all the worst-case scenarios. But you still get on the bike and ride. How?”

“I let myself only focus on what is right in front of me. The next turn, the next stretch of road, the next lap. Not what could happen, not what will happen. Only what is happening now.”

“Maybe you should try that in life as well,” Jesse says, the lightness and genuine care in her voice obvious, a small smile tugging at her lips. The sight of it causes a similar grin to appear on Daphne’s face as she leans back in her seat.

“God, what am I going to do without Jesse Compher knowledge when you’re back in Toronto?” she jokes, a light laugh falling from Jesse’s lips.

“I suppose you could try JT,” Jesse replies. “It probably won’t be good as mine but at least it’s Compher knowledge.”

The mention of JT’s name makes Daphne hesitate, her smile slightly faltering at the thought of being able to talk to him one-on-one again. Instantly, she takes a deep breath.

One thing at a time.

“He mentioned flying to D.C. last night,” Daphne says, a slight raise at the end of the statement indicating the question.

“Yeah, Red Wings have a like a ten-day road trip,” Jesse explains, her hand a dismissive wave before shooting another grin toward Daphne. “I guess you’ll have to wait until next Wednesday to see if he can compare to me.”

“No one can compare to you, Jess.”

“Damn straight.”

The conversation ends shortly afterwards, a text from one of Jesse’s teammates calling her back to the hotel. When Daphne hugs her outside the café in one last embrace, she almost didn’t want to let go. Having Jesse back in her life was a like a fresh breeze blowing in from the North and she didn’t want to lose it. But as Daphne rides away on her bike, her brain tossing over everything discussed in that small café, she knew one thing that she absolutely had to do: she had to see JT again.

There was no telling what would come from the conversation, every potential ending turning over in her head from best to worst. But at the same time, that didn’t matter right now.

Who knew what their future together looked like – if they even had one. That was miles down the road. All Daphne needed to do was find enough bravery to take the next step.

The wooden door in front of Daphne is familiar, as was the road that led her to it. She had been here before, had walked up these same front steps. The porch light gleams in the early evening, the dusk turning dark enough to trigger the sensor.

If Daphne wanted to turn back, now was her last chance.

Sure, she was here, standing on JT’s doorstep but he had no idea that she had come. There was no text, no call, no warning. Daphne didn’t want him to stop her before she even started. And so far, it was working. She managed to make it all the way here, after ten days of waiting for him to come back to Detroit.

The only thing left to do was knock on his door.

A deep inhale lifts her chest, her eyes fluttering close, grounding herself to the present moment. The same exercise she did before a race, telling her mind not to focus on anything else; not a setback that happened before, not an obstacle that you could encounter later. Look only to the road in front of you.

Daphne’s eyes open and with one final press of courage, her hand lifts, knuckles rapping gently on the door.

The pause afterwards is almost long enough to send her running until the sound of the deadbolt clicking open pricks at her eardrums. Her eyes stay trained to the door, watching as it swings open and JT appears in her line of sight.

Daphne registers the look of shock that dances across his features when he sees it’s her on his doorstep. The two of them stand there, letting the only noise between them be the quiet evening birdsong. Finally, Daphne manages to find her words.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology is barely a whisper, the words not seeming like enough to accurately convey how much she messed up. Daphne hopes that JT can hear it in her tone but when he doesn’t say anything – doesn’t even move a muscle – she starts to panic.

Daphne’s mouth opens again, ready to let every fear, every confession tumble from the deepest parts of her soul: how scared she was to lose him, how sorry she was for snapping at him, how stupid she was for letting him leave, how much it ached not having him around for those weeks afterwards.

However, she is only able to inhale. Because before she can utter a single syllable, JT moves.

His arms reach out, hands landing on her hips before pulling her into his embrace. And then he is kissing her.

Kissing her with such fierce passion, with such deep devotion that Daphne is helpless to do anything but let her body melt, pressing herself impossibly closer to him.

She missed this. God, she missed this. The smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, way her body slotted so perfectly against his, the way he kissed her without pretense. There was nothing she wanted more than to spend her entire life wrapped up in his arms.

Her only regret was how long it took for her to realize that.

There is no more wasted time. JT doesn’t hesitate to pull Daphne entirely over the threshold, his lips still attached to hers. Daphne lets herself get lost in his kisses, lets him guide her around his space, lets him take the lead. Every kiss is a confirmation that he missed her too. Every kiss just sends more courage thrumming through her veins.

It’s impressive that the two of them even manage to get to JT’s bedroom, clothes discarded along the way, the desperate need for each other no longer hidden as hands touch newly exposed skin.

The way JT gently lowers Daphne onto his bed it almost reverent, his frame covering hers as their tongues dance together. Daphne can feel his touch trace each curve of her frame, travelling across the peaks and valleys of her body before dipping between her thighs.

A gasp falls from her lips as JT’s rough fingertips press against her, finding her wet and wanting.

“JT.”

His name falls from her lips like a plea, begging him for everything that he was willing to give. It is only emphasized by her own hand reaching down to wrap around his length, the weight and pulse of it in her palm only increasing her desire.

JT pulls away, his breathing heavy as he rests his forehead against hers. There is no hiding from those beautiful eyes, now staring into hers so deeply it felt like he was looking into her own soul.

Normally, the intensity would’ve frightened her; another reason to run from the things that made her scared. But she was done running. So, Daphne returns his stare and within those inky depths, she can see a glint of something – something she had seen before. The same something she saw a month ago.

Care. Devotion. Perhaps even… love.

“Tell me what you want, Daphne,” JT whispers above her, the pleading edge to his own voice cutting through the dusky evening. “Tell me what you need.”

Daphne isn’t sure if there is a combination of words in the English language that would encompass the depth of her desire for the man in front of her. What did she need? She needed his laughter. She needed his smile. She needed his encouragement. She needed JT’s fire to warm her, to fuel her, to set her life ablaze. That’s what she needed.

“You,” she whispers out, the words dripping with every ounce of sincerity she had. “I just need you.”

She watches as a glimmer of surprise flashes across JT’s face, he himself perhaps caught off-guard by her intensity. But – much like their previously shared moments – JT recovers quickly, taking everything in stride. A soft smile appears on his face before he leans down, his lips now mere millimeters from hers.

Perhaps it was another test. Perhaps JT was offering her another chance to turn away. But Daphne knew that she would never run from him again.

She lifts her head, closing the distance between them as her lips gently press against his, a hand coming to rest on the nape of his neck. A gentle tug pulls him closer to her as she pours every emotion into that kiss.

JT lets her guide him, lets her take the lead for a moment until his own desire surges forward, kissing her back with the intensity of a thousand suns. Daphne breathes a soft sigh into his open mouth, her chest arching into his, wanting him as close as possible. She can feel one of his hands tracing upwards along her body until it comes to rest on her jawline, pulling her deeper. 

It seems like it takes all of JT’s strength to break the kiss. He doesn’t move far, his retreat prevented by her hand still resting on the base of his skull, fingers gently playing with his hair. His own thumb caresses over the skin of her cheekbone and the action is so reverent it almost makes Daphne think that JT can’t believe she is real. That she is here beneath him, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

Her hand falls from his neck, down the sharp cut of his collarbone before dancing over the strong muscles of his chest. The soft ginger hair that litters his abdomen tickles her fingertips, guiding her path downwards until her hand wraps around his cock. Daphne gently pumps her hand over his silken skin, spreading the beads of precum along his length.

A muttered curse falls from JT’s lips as he buries his face into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his lips coming to suck a mark into the thin skin there. Soft moans escape Daphne at both the sensation of his lips against her skin and the weight of his cock in her hand. JT finally lifts his body entirely upright, now towering over her, gently knocking away her hand away from him as he grips his length, his free hand now gripping her waist.

Daphne happily spreads her legs, opening her thighs as an invitation; one that JT accepts almost immediately, aligning himself with her center before slowly pushing in.

Daphne’s lips part in an almost silent moan at the comfortingly familiar stretch of him sinking into her heat. A similar expression crosses over JT’s face at the sensation of her walls wrapping around him, both hands now finding a hold against her hips as he continues to push forward.

“Still feel like heaven around me,” JT mutters as he bottoms out, pelvis flush against hers. Daphne can’t find any words, the only sounds falling from her lips come as soft mewls and desperate whines, her hands burrowing in the sheets.

The loss of one of JT’s hands against her hips pulls more whimpers from her chest, but it is the sensation of that hand now sneaking beneath hers that causes her eyes to open. She feels JT’s fingers wiggling against her own, silently coaxing her to release the fabric of his sheets. Daphne slowly relaxes her grasp, allowing enough space for JT to slot his fingers between hers, his grip around her hand tightening.

His body leans down again, their intertwined hands pressing into the mattress next to Daphne’s head before kissing her again, breaths mingling together as they both memorize the feeling of being so completely entangled in one another.

“Move,” Daphne whispers.

The single syllable is all the encouragement that JT needs as his hips roll, grinding against her body as he kisses her, swallowing every noise that falls from her lips. His pace is slow and sensual, as if he was making up for lost time, for all those nights he didn’t have her in his bed. Both of their breathing is staccato, the need for each other no longer hidden beneath sharp quips and homemade inner walls. The hand that had been holding Daphne’s hip travels down, gripping the back of her thigh, lifting her leg higher. The new angle makes every stroke of him brush against that damnable spot that had her seeing stars. There is no stopping the cries that fall from her lips, her head thrown back against the pillows, JT’s lips kissing her jaw.

“Always look so beautiful,” JT mutters against her skin, keeping his steady pace even as her body writhes against him. “So pretty against my sheets. Almost like you belong here.”

“I do,” Daphne gasps, the word wrapped in a strangled moan. “I’m yours, JT. I’ve been yours.”

“How long? How long have you been mine?”

“Since that first night. Knew it since then. I just wanted you.”

“I wanted you the same,” JT murmurs, nuzzling deeper into her skin, the heat of his breath fluttering against the shell of her ear. “Let me hear you. Prove to me that you’re mine.”

A whine falls from Daphne’s lips, her hips bucking up to meet his with every thrust, begging him for more. Her hand reaches up, wrapping around his torso and feeling the muscles rippling along his back, clinging to him like he was the sun and she had been abandoned in the darkness. JT’s hand on her thigh drops to her hip again before dipping in between their bodies, pressing against her clit.

The moans that fall from Daphne’s mouth increase in pitch as JT’s fingers rub against the sensitive bundle of nerves, a perfect contrast to the slow, languid tempo of his hips.

Daphne can feel her orgasm gradually building with each thrust. The sounds falling from her have become almost incomprehensible – a jumble of curses, moans, and JT’s name. She can feel JT’s body heat depart from her, his body lifting upright. His dark brown eyes take in her body beneath him, her eyes screwed shut, their hands still intertwined.

“Open your eyes,” he says, the quiet demand floating through the bedroom. There was something about his voice, his plea that has Daphne’s eyelids fluttering open without hesitation. And when her own brown irises land on JT, she can feel her breath catch in her throat.

It could easily be blamed on how good JT is making her feel, his ministrations never ceasing. It could be caused by the mere sight of him, strong and stunning over her, that ginger hair falling over his forehead.

But the real reason her breathing stalled was the look of pure adoration painted so plainly across every feature. And for the first time, the sight didn’t scare her – didn’t cause butterflies to erupt in her stomach, didn’t cause her heart to do somersaults in her chest. Instead, she felt… calm.

It was the same feeling she felt when driving on the open road, the whole world laid out in front her. It felt like freedom. It felt like peace.

“Please.” The beg falls from her lips, keening and needy. “Please, JT.”

JT doesn’t speed up his movements, slowly but steadily driving her to that delectable peak, her cunt fluttering desperately around him. It was a pleasure that she would welcome time and time again. It is a feeling that she never wanted to live without. She watches as JT leans himself down, his body heat washing over her like the summer sun before kissing her again. Daphne’s body arches to meet him, kissing him back fiercely.

His lips depart from her but don’t move far, his forehead pressing against hers as their eyes connect again.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath fanning across her cheekbones. “Come for me.”

Daphne is helpless but to comply, her entire body tensing as her orgasm rushes through her. A quiet muttered curse rumbles from JT as he continues his movements within her, fucking her through her release, prolonging the pleasurable sensations, the muscles in her legs trembling around his waist.

The high fades, her breathing turning from staccato to deep sighs. The hand that wasn’t tangled in his lifts to cup JT’s face, pulling his lips to hers again. She can feel JT’s pace increase, chasing his own orgasm and Daphne gladly swallows the groans that fall from him, matching them with her own whimpers.

It doesn’t take long for JT’s body to still and there is a mutual moan that sounds from both of them at the sensation of his cock pulsing inside of her.

They stay there for a moment, still entirely tangled in each other as their breathing slows, sweat drenched foreheads pressed together. JT’s hand is still locked in hers as Daphne lets her gaze rove over his face, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips which JT blissfully returns before kissing her once again.

A soft whine falls from her as he slowly pulls out, his body collapsing against the sheets next to her. He pulls her close, hand gripping her waist until they are face to face. JT’s thumb strokes the taut skin of her hipbone as the two just rest there. Daphne’s own hand lifts to trace the outline of his jaw, memorizing the feeling of his beard against her fingers.

The silence remains but as the time passes, Daphne can feel the tension tug at the corners, the unanswered questions pushing to the forefront. Although JT doesn’t push. Instead, he just continues to stare at her, the lines of his face soft and patient.

“You were wrong,” Daphne says, finally breaking the silence.

She can see JT’s eyebrows furrow in a question, the first words spoken surely not what he was expected. But despite his apparent confusion, JT stays quiet, letting Daphne continue.

“I never really wanted to quit. On racing or on us. But I was scared. Scared of putting all that work in and losing you anyway. Scared of committing to this and then something happening that forces us to separate. Because you’re my friend’s brother, because you got traded, any reason. I had feared that ever since this started. It felt like you were fire and I was gasoline. And every time I was with you, I was always aware that one mistake could make everything incinerate. I thought it would be better – safer, really – to just let you go before that happened. But as soon as you walked out of my apartment, I knew I was wrong.”

Daphne’s words stop, the silence returning once again as JT takes in her confession. She waits, offering him the same level of patience that he gave to her, the only movements she makes is her thumb brushing against his hand, still intertwined with hers. JT’s eyes lift, a sparkle of humor glinting in those familiar dark irises.

“You do know that gasoline needs fire to work?”

There is no stopping the laugh that falls from Daphne’s lips at the gentle tease, the lightness of his voice banishing any form of heaviness that had settled over them previously.

“Are you really mansplaining motors to me?”

“Never,” JT chuckles with her before his face turns more serious. “I guess, that was my way of saying that I always thought we would work out. I knew you were scared – I think I figured that out from the look on your face when I showed up on your doorstep that first morning. When you learned that I was Jesse’s brother, not just some random stranger at a bar. But I never thought that would be a problem. I thought it might actually work to our advantage. She knows you and she already really likes you. You do know that, right?”

“I do,” Daphne says, the smile returning to her face.

“I could see the fear but… I mean, you can’t live your life in fear. Or else you’ll miss all the best parts.”

JT’s words enter Daphne’s brain, tugging another memory forward. The appearance of it in her mind makes another giggle fall from her lips. She can see JT’s head tilt and she shakes her head.

“I had another Compher recently tell me something similar,” she explains with a grin.

“Maybe you should listen,” JT teases in response.

Daphne doesn’t verbally respond at first, choosing instead to lean her body closer to JT, connecting their lips in a kiss, her hand pressed against his cheek. His own arm wraps fully around her, her body slotting perfectly against his until she breaks away.

“I’m listening now.”

Daphne always loved April. It was the month of renewal and it felt like hope was dancing on every gentle breeze. The weather had slowly been turning warmer, the promise of summer right around the corner. Unfortunately, on this April day, she was nervous.

The Red Wings regular season had ended a few days ago which signaled a few things. First, the start of the playoffs which Detroit had claimed a spot in. But second, and more importantly to Daphne in this current moment – it signaled the Red Wings annual gala.

Which JT had invited her to. As his plus one. As his girlfriend.

The two of them had been dating quietly for the past month and even though some of the guys on the team had met her already, this would be their first large public outing as a couple. This would also be the event where JT’s family would learn about them… the entire family. His mom Valerie, his dad Bob, his sister Morgan, and his sister (and Daphne’s best friend) Jesse.

That detail was what had Daphne standing in her living room with multiple pairs of shoes strewn around her, trying to find the ‘perfect’ pair.

JT was sitting on the couch, simply watching as she works through her nerves – mostly because nothing he had done previously had helped. Not the joint he rolled that they had shared. Not the orgasm that he coaxed out of her with her body splayed against the couch cushions, head between her thighs.

The vibrating of a phone against the coffee table sounds out, Daphne looking over to see if it was her screen or JT’s that had lit up. It had been a toss-up all afternoon: JT’s family and teammates asking where he was, Jesse asking Daphne if she’s seen JT. Right now, it’s JT’s phone, which he picks up to look at the message.

“Babe, we really need to go. We’re late,” JT says, his gentle eyes looking up at her, voice not pushing but still firm.

“I know,” Daphne replies, zipping up a pair of tall black boots. “How’s this?”

“You look beautiful.”

“You always say that,” she teases.

“Because it’s always true,” JT quickly shoots back, before holding out his hand to her. She takes it, following him downstairs to his car.

They drive through the Detroit roads, the sunlight glinting off the skyscraper windows as Daphne tries to breathe, grounding herself to the moment. Just like she did before a race. The weight of JT’s hand on her thigh is an additional comfort, letting her relax as he pulls up in front of the hotel. He helps her out of the car, his arm looping around hers.

“Nervous?” JT asks, his voice light and teasing.

“Tell me why I can hurdle down a racetrack at 300kph and yet this is more terrifying,” Daphne replies, her eyes staring at the glass front doors, knowing that a whole host of people were waiting inside.

“Need some fire to fuel you?”

JT’s odd turn of phrase snaps Daphne out of her nerves, a smile appearing on her face as she turns to look at her boyfriend.

“If that’s an innuendo, you should’ve made it in the comfort of the apartment,” she jokes, a laugh falling from JT’s lips.

He doesn’t say anything else, only leans in to kiss her and she’d be damned if the taste of him doesn’t make her feel braver. When they pull away from each other, she gives him a small nod and they walk forward.

They find the ballroom where the gala was being held, walking in to a room decked out in red and white. Teammates and their families mingle around the room, a few of them nodding in Daphne and JT’s direction. The nerves slowly start to dissipate as they continue to move through the crowd. Everything would be fine – it was just a normal day.

At least, it was. Until an all too familiar voice to both JT and Daphne rises over the din.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

a/n: could I have just had Homecoming: Crush be the exchange fic? yeah, probably. was it way more fun to do this instead? absolutely! is this fic entirely different than what I originally planned? 100% but do I love it anyway? duh! am I now a JT Compher girl? still debatable but I will always turn into one for my bestie 🖤

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[izzyy-stuff]

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