#serene Christmas music | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helen-with-an-a · 7 days ago

Text

Christmas Eve (18+)

Did I technically write a Christmas fic back in august? Yes, yes I did. Oh well. Also, will I ever learn to write shorter smut fics? Probably not. Hope everyone has a veyr merry christmas and a happy holidays.

Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: Not much else to say beyond a smutty, indulgent Christmas Eve fic.

Word Count: 6.2k

TW: Smut, 18+, cunnilingus, fingering and strap usage (all R receiving: sub-ish reader; dom-ish Lena)

Munich at Christmas was like stepping into a fairytale, a magical transformation where the city seemed to be lifted straight from the pages of a storybook. The cobblestone streets and buildings, bathed in a soft glow from countless twinkling lights, created a scene of enchanting beauty. The crisp, cold air was rich with the enticing aromas of roasting chestnuts and spiced mulled wine, mingling seamlessly with the cheerful strains of festive music and the lively chatter of holiday shoppers. Every corner you turned revealed a new wonder, from the meticulously adorned Christmas markets brimming with handcrafted ornaments and delicious treats to the captivating window displays. The gentle dusting of snow on the historic city added a timeless charm, making it feel as though you had been transported to a world where reality and fantasy intertwined. It was an experience unlike anything you had ever known before, utterly enchanting and deeply immersive.

Experiencing Munich at Christmas with Lena was like stepping into an entirely different realm – one where magic seemed to breathe life into every moment. The city's festive lights, casting a warm, golden hue, mirrored the sparkle in Lena’s brown eyes, which glistened with an extraordinary brilliance that seemed to enhance the holiday magic around you. The crisp winter wind, playfully nipping at your cheeks, had a special way of turning Lena’s face a delightful shade of pink, which stood out beautifully against the snowy backdrop. Her laughter, clear and bright against the wintry air, harmonised perfectly with the joyful ambiance of the season. Wandering through the bustling Christmas markets and admiring the sparkling decorations, each shared glance and tender touch between you felt imbued with a deep, intimate charm, making the experience even more special.

It was Christmas Eve – the anticipation in the air palpable, like the calm before a beautiful storm of festivity. This was your second holiday season with Lena, and there was a special warmth to the occasion. This year, you were spending it together.

Last year had been different. You were in Munich, immersed in the whirlwind of establishing your new life and settling into your new routine, while Lena remained in Wolfsburg, tending to her own commitments and responsibilities. You had managed to visit your family for a while, taking a break from the hustle and bustle of Munich whilst Lena ad returned to her family, spending the holidays with her parents.

Now, however, everything was different. You were wrapped in each other’s arms, lying snuggled up on your bed. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the gentle, soothing presence of Lena beside you. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, golden light across the room, creating an intimate haven away from the wintry chill.

As you lay together, t the quiet hum of the city outside and the faint, distant sounds of holiday celebrations were nothing more than gentle background whispers. The peacefulness of the moment felt almost sacred, as if the world had paused just for you two.

“Can you believe it’s Christmas?” you whispered softly, careful not to disrupt the serene bubble you were both nestled in.

“It’s gone by scarily fast,” Lena murmured in reply, her voice equally gentle. Her fingers, delicate and soothing, traced through your hair with a tender rhythm that deepened your relaxation as you pressed your face further into her chest.

“But it’s been a good year, I think,” you continued, reflecting on the time that had passed.

“A very good year,” Lena agreed, her words carrying a warmth that matched the cozy atmosphere around you.

You let the question linger in the quiet space, pondering the highlights of the year that had flown by. “What was your favourite part?” you mused, intrigued by her reflections.

“Hmmm,” Lena considered, her fingers continuing their soothing journey through your hair. “Well, football-wise, I’ve got to say the Olympics. I know I wasn��t there for the actual thing but qualifying and seeing all the girls was absolutely insane. Or maybe qualifying for the Euros?”

“And outside of football?” you prompted, eager to hear what else had stuck out to her.

“You,” Lena replied simply, her voice filled with an earnest affection that made your heart swell.

“So cheesy, baby,” you laughed, though your embrace tightened around her, savouring the genuine sentiment behind her words.

“What can I say?” Lena continued, her tone playful yet heartfelt. “I moved in with my favourite girl. I get to wake up with the love of my life in my arms every day. I got to celebrate my birthday with you in person – not just over the phone. You were there for me when I did my knee, in ways I didn’t even realise I needed. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.” You whispered, your voice a tender caress in the stillness of the room. As you spoke, you looked up at her, allowing yourself to fully take in the serene beauty of her face illuminated by the soft, warm light. Your gaze lingered on the subtle blush that coloured her cheeks, a delicate hint of pink that seemed to glow even more against the backdrop of the room’s gentle ambiance.

You leaned down, allowing yourself to savour the moment as you pressed a languid kiss to her lips. As your lips met hers, you could feel the subtle texture of her skin – soft and velvety, with just a hint of the natural warmth that had made her blush. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a lingering caress that spoke of the bond you shared and the comfort of being together. Each movement was a delicate dance, a melding of sensations that heightened the sense of closeness and connection.

You could taste the faint hint of the mint she’d had earlier, mingling with the natural sweetness of her lips, creating a sensation that was both refreshing and deeply satisfying. The kiss deepened as you pressed closer, savouring the intimate warmth and the gentle way her lips responded to yours, creating a moment of pure, unspoken communication.

You gently shifted your position, moving with a deliberate grace until you were straddling her. Her hands, guided by a touch that was both tender and appreciative, trailed down your body with a soft, almost exploratory movement. They found their way to your arse squeezing gently, the touch warm and affirming as if she were appreciating the closeness between you.

You allowed your fingers to slip beneath the hem of her hoodie, seeking the bare skin of her abdomen. The sensation of her warm, smooth skin against your fingertips was electrifying. You traced light, playful scratches along her abs, feeling the subtle shift of her muscles under your touch. She shuddered below you, letting out a quiet whimper at the feeling.

“Oh, I like that sound,” you teased softly, a playful glint in your eyes as you registered the reaction. Lena wasn’t usually the most vocal of lovers, her expressions of pleasure often subtle but profoundly meaningful. The gentle moans and sharp, breathy gasps she made were a personal symphony to you, each sound a cherished note in the intimate music.

With a deliberate and affectionate touch, you pushed your hand up further, exploring the smooth, warm curve of her breast. The sensation of her skin against your palm was intoxicating. Your thumb lightly brushed over her nipple, feeling the delicate response under your touch. The soft, responsive sigh that escaped her lips was like a gift, a sound that made your heart swell with pleasure and affection.

“I like that one even more,” you murmured with a loving smile, leaning down to capture her lips with yours again. The kiss was tender and lingering, your tongue licking into her mouth with practised ease.

You felt Lena’s hands begin to gently paw at the hem of your top, a silent and tentative request for permission to remove it. The touch was light and almost hesitant, filled with a soft, unspoken yearning. You pulled back slightly, giving her a reassuring nod that allowed her to proceed. With a delicate, practiced motion, Lena began to gather the fabric, her fingers deftly working to bunch it up as she prepared to remove it.

As you pulled the material over your head, the cool air met your skin, heightening the sensation of Lena’s lips as they began to explore. Her kisses were gentle and deliberate, a tender exploration that traced a path across your exposed skin. Each touch of her lips was a sweet caress or a teasing bite as she marked her path.

When Lena’s lips finally found their way to your nipple, the sensation was electrifying. The softness of her lips, coupled with the occasional light scrape of her teeth, sent shivers of pleasure through you.

You couldn’t help but moan, your sounds spilling out almost embarrassingly loud in the quiet of the room. Your hands flying to her head, your fingers locking themselves in her hair trying to keep her against you.

Soon, you found yourself lying comfortably on your back, your hair spread out around you like a halo of soft, dishevelled strands. The cool bedding beneath you contrasted with the warmth of your skin.

As you settled into this new position, your gaze followed Lena with a mix of admiration and anticipation. You watched as she stepped into her harness with practiced ease, her movements fluid and confident. Each motion was deliberate, showcasing her well-toned physique. The harness itself was sleek and black but it was the way it accentuated her body that caught your eye. Her muscles, sculpted and defined from both athletic training and natural grace, were highlighted as she adjusted the straps. Your eyes lingered appreciatively on her form, tracing the contours of her strong shoulders, the curve of her waist, and the firm lines of her abdomen. The play of light and shadow over her skin only served to enhance the visual allure. You found yourself captivated not just by her physical appearance but by the confidence and poise with which she wore her body, making every movement seem both effortless and graceful.

When she turned back to face you, you could already feel the blush rising on your cheeks, a warm flush that betrayed your appreciation. Her eyes caught the telltale signs of your reaction, and a playful smirk tugged at her lips. “Were you staring at me?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt that matched the glint in her eyes.

“Just appreciating the view,” you replied with a cheeky grin, trying to downplay your obvious admiration.

“So you were staring?” she pressed, her tone light but with an edge of mock seriousness.

“I was looking at my sexy-ass girlfriend who is getting ready to fuck me into the middle of next week. If that’s a crime, then lock me up, officer,” you said, your voice dripping with playful confidence and affection.

Her eyes widened slightly at your bold statement, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in her gaze. “I didn’t know you were into role play,” she teased, her tone lightening even further as she walked closer, clearly enjoying herself.

Before you could muster a witty retort or respond to her teasing, she took decisive action. With a sudden, swift movement, she grabbed your hips roughly, her hands firm and assertive. She pulled you along the bed with an effortless strength, guiding you until your legs dangled off the edge, a deliciously vulnerable position that had your mind reeling at the possibilities of what was about to happen.

“Fuck me,” you breathed out, the words coming as a whisper, still shocked from such a causal display of strength.

“Not yet,” she smirked, her voice a sultry promise as she leaned closer, the playful edge in her tone contrasting with the palpable desire in the room. Her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away.

You watched with a mix of anticipation and admiration as Lena, her movements deliberate and teasing, slowly sank down onto her knees. Your body was propped up on your elbows, giving you a perfect vantage point to observe the graceful way she moved. The slow descent was both captivating and arousing, making you grow wetter by the second.

“Wait,” you called out, a note of concern slipping into your voice. “Your knee, Lena. Be careful.” Panic fluttered in your chest, a sudden rush of worry that overshadowed your earlier excitement. You could see the faint tension in her posture as she adjusted her position, a reminder of her recent injury that had been a concern for both of you.

Lena looked up at you with a reassuring smile, her expression warm and calming. “I’m okay, Schatz,” she murmured, her voice gentle and soothing as she pressed a soft, affectionate kiss to your thigh. The tender gesture was reassuring, helping to calm your mind a little.

“No wait,” you floundered, your concern not yet fully eased. “Uh, here,” you stammered as you twisted your hands around in search of a solution. Your fingers fumbled as you reached for a pillow, your mind racing to find a way to ensure her comfort and safety. You managed to grab the pillow and quickly brought it down, handing it to her to gently rest on.

The sight of her settling onto the pillow, her movements now cushioned and more comfortable, brought a wave of relief. You watched her with a mix of gratitude and affection, feeling a deep sense of care and protectiveness. The moment, while filled with tension, also highlighted the tenderness and attentiveness that characterised your relationship.

As Lena adjusted her position, her eyes met yours with a grateful smile, a silent acknowledgment of your concern and effort. The warmth and appreciation in her gaze were palpable.

“You can continue,” you said with a rueful smile, nodding at her to restart where you had just left off.

“Oh, can I?” Lena replied, her voice laced with a teasing edge that hinted at her eagerness to resume. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and affection.

“Yes, yes you can,” you confirmed, sticking your tongue out cheekily. Your legs shifted slightly, opening up a little more as a subtle invitation for Lena to come closer.

Lena responded to your playful invitation with a smile that was both appreciative and teasing, a soft curve of her lips that spoke volumes. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and mischief, clearly enjoying the moment. Her movements were fluid and confident as she approached, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your heart quickened with each shuffle she made toward you, the tension in the room quickly growing. Her hands reached out with deliberate intention, fingers brushing lightly against the waistband of your knickers. The gentle touch sent a shiver through you. Lena paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. The gesture was playful yet questioning, a subtle way of seeking your confirmation. You met her gaze with a nod, lifting your hips slightly in response to her unspoken query.

With a playful wink, Lena pulled your underwear down, her movements both confident and tender. The fabric slipped away effortlessly, and she tossed it over her shoulder with a flourish.

As the underwear disappeared from view, you couldn't help but laugh at her playful action. However, the laughter quickly transformed into a deeper, more sensual moan as Lena's lips began to explore the inside of your thighs. Her kisses were soft and deliberate, each one sending a gentle wave of sensation through you.

Her lips traced a path along your skin with a loving, exploratory touch. The contrast between her playful behaviour and the intense pleasure she was delivering created a heady mix of emotions. The laughter that had escaped your lips was quickly overtaken by the growing waves of pleasure, your body responding eagerly to her tender ministrations.

You moaned loudly as Lena’s lips finally found your clit, the sensation instantly electrifying your senses. Her touch was both deliberate and exquisite, a combination of short, teasing kitten licks and long, languid strokes that created a rhythm of pleasure that was both intense and thrilling.

At first, you were a bit confused, as Lena’s movements didn’t fall into her usual, familiar rhythm. The shifts in her touch were subtle but noticeable, leaving you momentarily disoriented as you tried to decipher the change. The sensation of her tongue against you was different, more varied and less predictable than the steady, comforting patterns you were accustomed to.

When her tongue moved sideways across you for a second time, a spark of realisation ignited in your mind. The way she was using her tongue wasn’t random or arbitrary; she was creating a deliberate, rhythmic pattern. Each stroke and flick seemed to follow a unique sequence, and it became clear that she was spelling out something personal and intimate. As the realisation settled in, you understood that Lena was spelling her name with her tongue. The cheeky fucker.

“Lena," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as the pleasure intensified. "Baby, please." The words came out as a desperate plea, a combination of need and yearning that conveyed how much you were feeling. Your body was reacting uncontrollably to her touch, and you instinctively reached down, fingers finding their way to her hair.

You tugged at her hair gently, a physical request for her to continue. Lena responded with a soft, amused chuckle against you, the sound vibrating through her lips and into your sensitive skin. The hum of her laughter sent a new wave of pleasure cascading through you.

Finally, Lena settled into her usual rhythm, her movements becoming smooth and instinctive, like a dance you both knew by heart. Her touch became more assured, each action precisely timed to maximise your pleasure. She knew exactly when to suck, applying a perfect amount of pressure that created waves of sensation, and when to flick her tongue with a practiced flick, hitting just the right spots to drive you wild.

You groaned deeply when Lena’s finger slipped inside, the sensation immediately sending a jolt of intense pleasure through your body. Her touch was deliberate and skilled, the way her finger glided in and out with a smooth, practiced motion.

She quickly added a second finger, the sensation shifting as your body adjusted to the new pressure. The initial sting was sharp, a brief and intense feeling of stretching that quickly evolved into a deeper, more satisfying pressure. The feeling of her fingers working inside you, her tongue working the nerves in your clit had you gasping for breath.

It didn’t take long for the familiar bubble of pleasure to start growing in your belly. The sensation began to build with an intensity that was both thrilling and overwhelming, as if a rising tide of pleasure was gathering strength deep within you. Your breathing quickened, becoming shallow and rapid as Lena’s relentless pace continued unabated. The rhythm she maintained was both steady and relentless, each motion pushing you closer to the edge with an almost hypnotic precision.

As the pleasure intensified, you could feel your body responding with a heightened urgency, each breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. The buildup was unmistakable, a powerful, pulsing pressure that seemed to grow with each stroke and touch. Your senses were fully engaged, every nerve ending alive and acutely aware of the sensations Lena was creating.

“I'm... Baby, please. I’m going to. Can I, please?” you groaned, the words slipping from your lips in a series of desperate pleas.

She hummed her answer, a soft, approving sound that resonated with a gentle, reassuring vibration, not wanted to break her steady, relentless pace. You could feel the pleasure intensifying with every deliberate movement. Your toes curled instinctively, The tension in your body was palpable, each muscle taut with the building excitement.

“Oh, my god,” you moaned loudly, the sound escaping your lips without permission. Your eyes squeezed shut even tighter, the intense pressure building to an almost unbearable peak as the bubble of pleasure finally burst. The sensation was explosive and all-encompassing, a sudden release that washed over you with a powerful surge.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, you were left in a state of blissful exhaustion, the echoes of your moans and cries slowly fading into a contented sigh. Your body twitched uncontrollably, small spasms coursing through you as the aftershocks of your climax rippled through your system. Each involuntary jerk was a reaction to the lingering stimulation, a sign of just how deeply she had worked you through the intensity of your orgasm. The sensation was almost too much, your body hypersensitive as she continued to guide you through the final waves of pleasure.

With deliberate care, Lena began to pull her fingers out, her movements slow and gentle, mindful of your heightened sensitivity. The withdrawal was tender, her touch soft and soothing as she eased you back down from the peak you had just reached. Before fully drawing away, she leaned in to place a final kiss on your clit, the gesture both affectionate and comforting. The kiss was light but lingering, a sweet, gentle goodbye to the pleasure she had just brought you, leaving you with a final shiver of satisfaction.

As she drew back, you couldn’t take your eyes off her, captivated by the sight of her in the aftermath of such an intimate moment. You watched as she brought her fingers to her lips, her gaze still locked on yours. Slowly, she licked her fingers, appreciating the taste of you with a hum of approval. The sound was soft, almost purring, as she smiled, clearly pleased with the taste and the experience you had just shared. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and affection.

Lena reached out for you, her hands gentle yet insistent as she guided you to sit up. The warmth of her touch was comforting, her fingers brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. As you adjusted to the new position, she moved with fluid grace, lowering herself into a crouch before you. Her eyes held yours, filled with a mix of affection and lingering desire, and you could feel the magnetic pull between you, drawing you closer.

Without hesitation, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a messy, passionate kiss. The intensity of the moment surged back to life as your mouths collided. It was raw and unrestrained, a collision of emotions and sensations that left you breathless. The taste of yourself on her lips was unmistakable. The salty-sweet tang blended with the warmth of her mouth, creating a unique flavour that was as intoxicating as it was intimate.

“Turn around,” Lena whispered, her voice soft yet commanding, the words sending a shiver down your spine. Her fingers, still warm from the heat of your body, traced soothing patterns up your thighs, the touch both calming and electrifying. Each gentle stroke of her fingers was a promise, a tender reassurance.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, the breathlessness from your kiss still lingering in your chest. As you turned, the world seemed to narrow down to the feel of her fingers on your skin, the warmth of her breath ghosting over your back, and the quiet, heady rush of expectation that made your heart race.

When you finally settled into position, your back to her, you could feel the intensity of her gaze, the way her eyes lingered on every curve and line of your body. Her fingers continued their gentle exploration, trailing up and down your body with a tender, almost reverent touch. She guided you to bend over, her hands gently pushing and pulling your body exactly where she wanted it. “So beautiful”

Lena’s hand remained firmly on your waist, a grounding point that kept you connected as she prepared to take you to new heights of pleasure. Her grip on you was steady and reassuring, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to remind you of her presence and control. The warmth of her hand contrasted with the cool air around you.

With her other hand, she gripped the strap, her movements slow and deliberate as she guided the smooth plastic against your slick, sensitive skin. The sensation of the strap running up and down your soaking pussy sent a shiver through you, each pass sending sparks of pleasure rippling through your body. The coolness of the plastic was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from you, intensifying every touch.

She took her time, teasing you with each slow, deliberate stroke. The plastic slid effortlessly through your folds, collecting the wetness that had pooled there, heightening the anticipation with each pass. Slowly, she sank into you. The deliberate pace she set was maddeningly slow, every movement designed to drive you wild with desire. You could feel every ridge, every contour of the strap as it brushed against you.

Lena’s hand on your waist tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of her control, of how well she knew your body and exactly how to push you to the edge. The pressure she applied was just enough to keep you on the brink, teasing you with the promise of more while drawing out every ounce of pleasure she could.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, instinctively chasing the friction, but she held you steady, keeping the pace agonizingly slow. The rhythm she set was torturous in the best possible way. Each time the base of your strap bumped your clit, you felt a surge of electricity shoot through you, your body responding with a keening need that only she could satisfy.

“Faster.” you huffed, your voice tinged with desperation as the need for more intensified within you. The words came out ragged, each syllable laced with the urgency that had taken hold of your body. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the burn of need coiling tighter in your core. You didn't need to see her face to know she was grinning, revelling in the power she held over you, and how utterly desperate you sounded.

Without missing a beat, Lena shifted her position, moving over you with the grace of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. You felt her gather your hair up into a loose ponytail, her fingers tugging gently at the strands before giving a sharp, commanding pull. The sensation sent a jolt of excitement through you, your scalp tingling as the mix of pain and pleasure heightened your arousal. The action was assertive, a reminder of who was in control, and it left you even more breathless than before.

“Is that how you ask for things, Schatz?” she taunted, her voice dripping with playful dominance. The teasing lilt in her words sent another wave of frustration crashing through you, and instead of speeding up like you had begged for, she slowed down even further. Each deliberate stroke of the strap against you was achingly slow, a calculated move designed to prolong the torture and push you to the edge of sanity. The maddening pace made you whimper, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

"Please, baby. Please go faster," you pleaded, your voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the kind of raw, unfiltered need that left you feeling vulnerable.

"Much better," she hummed, her tone rich with satisfaction. You could hear the approval in her voice, the way she relished in your submission. The sound of her humming was like a soothing balm, a sign that you had said exactly what she wanted to hear.

With that acknowledgment, she finally began to increase her pace, the sensation becoming more intense with each movement. The sharp contrast between the agonizing slowness and the sudden increase in speed made your body hum with relief and pleasure. The rhythm she set was exactly what you needed, each thrust of the strap hitting that perfect spot, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

You could tell she was close too. The subtle shift in her breathing and soft sounds gave it away. The quiet grunts that slipped past her lips, normally so controlled, now carried a raw edge of desperation. Each sound was a clear indication of how close she was to losing herself in the pleasure, just as you were.

Her movements became more insistent, more urgent. The steady rhythm she had maintained now quickened, her hips moving with a newfound determination that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You could feel the heat radiating from her.

You gasped as you felt her hands leave your hair, the gentle tug that had grounded you moments before now replaced by a different kind of touch. Her fingers trailed down your spine, each inch she covered sending a shiver through you, the sensation both tender and electrifying.

When her hand reached around your waist, you could feel the anticipation build as she moved with the precision of someone who knew exactly what you needed. The moment her fingers made contact with your clit, a spark of pleasure shot through you, so intense it nearly made you buckle. Her touch was deliberate, a perfect balance of pressure and movement that had you writhing beneath her.

She began to rub in fast, tight circles, her fingers working in perfect harmony with the thrust of her hips. The dual sensation was almost overwhelming, the combination of her hand on your most sensitive spot and the insistent rhythm of her movements driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Every stroke of her fingers, every push of her hips, brought you closer to the edge, your body responding to her touch with a raw, undeniable need.

Her fingers moved with practiced skill, knowing exactly when to apply more pressure, when to slow down, and when to speed up, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you. The insistent rhythm she had set became a crescendo, building you up higher and higher, until you were teetering on the brink of release. The sensation was overwhelming, your body alight with the intensity of her touch, the pleasure mounting to a fever pitch as she expertly guided you toward your climax.

“Cum with me, Schatz,” she grunted, her voice rough with the strain of holding back her own release. The command in her words sent a jolt of anticipation through you, your entire body responding to the urgency in her tone. You could hear the need in her voice, a raw, unfiltered desire that mirrored your own.

The way she said it – low, breathless, yet full of authority – left no room for hesitation. It was more than just a request; it was a promise, a vow that you would reach that peak together, bound by the shared intensity of the moment. Her breath hitched as she spoke, a clear sign that she was on the edge, teetering between control and surrender.

The sound of her voice, thick with desire, spurred you on, pushing you closer to the brink. Your muscles tensed in response, every nerve in your body tuned to the sensations she was creating. The connection between you was electric, a palpable current that ran through you both, linking your pleasure to hers.

Each thrust, each stroke of her fingers on your clit, was designed to push you both over the edge, the final push you needed to let go completely. The urgency in her voice was matched by the urgency in her movements, her body driving into yours with a force that spoke of her own desperation. The moment was intense, overwhelming, as you felt the pleasure build to an almost unbearable level.

And then, with her words still echoing in your mind, you felt the dam break. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body giving in to the release that had been building, spurred on by her command. You could feel her shudder against you, the shared climax bringing you both to a place of pure, unadulterated bliss, a moment where nothing else existed but the two of you, together in the throes of ecstasy.

She stilled inside you, her body pressing against yours as the aftershocks. slowly faded into a warm, lingering glow. Her hands, which had been so urgent and commanding just moments before, now rested gently on your lower back, the touch tender and reassuring

The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and laboured at first, but gradually evening out as you both began to catch your breath. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, a quiet, shared understanding passing between you as you remained connected, neither of you in a rush to move or break the silence.

Her fingertips traced small, soothing patterns across your skin, a soft caress that sent gentle waves of warmth through you. The weight of her body was comforting, grounding you in the present as you both basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. The air between you was thick with the scent of sex, mingling with the subtle aroma of her skin, creating an intoxicating blend that made you want to stay in this moment forever.

She slowly slid out of you, her movements careful and deliberate, not wanting to cause any more discomfort than necessary. The sensation of her leaving your body left you feeling both empty and vulnerable, a sharp contrast to the fullness and intensity you’d just shared. A soft whimper escaped your lips, the involuntary sound a mix of sensitivity and the lingering remnants of pleasure.

"I'm sorry, Schatz," she murmured, her voice tender and filled with concern. Each word was a gentle caress, meant to soothe you as she eased herself out of you. Her apologies were soft and sincere, spoken in a tone that carried both regret for the momentary discomfort and a deep affection that made your heart swell.

She kept her hands on your body, one stroking your side in slow, comforting circles, the other brushing lightly over your hip. The warmth of her touch, combined with the gentle rhythm of her words, helped to ease the ache that came with her absence. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“C’mon,” she said tenderly, her voice warm and soothing as she helped move your spent body toward a standing position. Her hands were gentle but firm, offering a steady support that you gratefully leaned into. The effort of moving felt almost herculean in your exhausted state, but her reassuring touch made it easier.

“Shower time,” she added with a soft smile, her eyes glinting with a mix of affection and determination. The promise of a refreshing shower was just what you needed to feel a bit more human again, even if the idea of moving felt like a monumental effort at the moment.

“Tired,” you murmured, your voice heavy with fatigue as you allowed yourself to be guided. The weariness in your body was palpable, a deep, lingering sensation that made each step feel like it was dragging through molasses. You leaned into her, finding comfort in her presence and strength.

“I know,” she said sympathetically, her voice a gentle balm to your tired nerves. “We just need a quick shower, and then we can get into bed.” The thought of slipping into the cool sheets, finally able to rest, was enough to make the effort seem worth it. Her words were a promise of relief, a gentle encouragement that made the prospect of moving seem more manageable.

With her guiding you, you began to shuffle toward the bathroom, each step a bit easier with her support. Her touch was reassuring, her presence a comforting anchor as you made your way through the dimly lit hallway. She guided you with a practiced ease, her hand warm against your back, making sure you didn’t wobble or lose your balance.

As you reached the bathroom, she turned on the shower, the sound of the water cascading down creating a soothing backdrop to the moment. The warm steam began to fill the room, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You could feel her gentle hands massage your hips and back gently, her movements both efficient and tender, always mindful of your tired state.

You leaned into her as she helped you into the shower, the warmth of the water beginning to ease the last remnants of tension from your muscles. Her touch was gentle as she lathered soap over your skin, her fingers moving in slow, deliberate motions that felt like a soft massage. The water and her soothing presence worked together to wash away the exhaustion, leaving you feeling cared for and cherished.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” you muttered sleepily, your voice barely more than a soft murmur as you burrowed deeper into her.

Her smile was immediate and bright, a tender expression that lit up her face with genuine warmth. She chuckled softly, the sound a sweet, melodious note that blended with the calm that washed over you.

“Merry Christmas, Schatz.”

213 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 7 days ago

Note

I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA

AVENTURINE X READER THEY MARRIED THEY HAVE A CHILD (or children idk) AND LIKE YEAH ITS CHRISTMAS AS A FAMILY AND AVENTURINE GETS EMOTIONAL

A Family of Our Own

Summary: You and Aventurine, now married, are celebrating Christmas as a family. Your life together has evolved beyond the high-stakes gambles and manipulative games that once defined Aventurine’s world. As you enjoy the holiday with your child, Aventurine becomes unexpectedly emotional. He reflects on his past, his trauma, and the family he never thought he'd have. In the warmth of the holiday and the love of his family, he grapples with feelings of gratitude, guilt, and the realization that happiness may finally be within his reach.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Winter Special, Family Fluff, Christmas Celebration, Emotional Vulnerability, Hurt/Comfort, Character Development, Domestic Life, Love and Healing.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Emotional moments, Brief references to violence in Aventurine’s past, Light angst (in Aventurine’s emotional struggles).

The flicker of golden lights from the Christmas tree cast a warm glow across the room, reflecting off the delicate glass ornaments. The soft hum of holiday music played in the background as your child giggled, unwrapping presents under the tree. Aventurine, dressed in a velvet green robe that matched the festive decor, sat on the couch, his usual confident smirk softened into a serene smile.

The air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and pine, a reminder that you had finally managed to convince Aventurine to let the holidays be about more than just the game of life he so often played. This year, it was different.

He leaned back, watching the scene unfold before him: your child holding up a glittering card-shaped ornament, exclaiming about how it was "just like Papa's lucky charm," and you, laughing softly as you adjusted the tree's golden star.

"Careful with that," he teased, his tone light but carrying a flicker of concern. "That ornament's as fragile as the odds in my favor when I first gambled on you."

You turned, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you mean the safest bet you ever made?"

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, far removed from the sharp laugh he often wielded to mask his emotions. "Safe? Hardly. I was convinced I'd lose you the moment you realized what a mess I am."

Your child, curious and full of energy, interrupted with a wide-eyed question. "Papa, what's a gamble?"

Aventurine's eyes sparkled with amusement. "It's a game of chance, little one. Like when you open a present—you never know if it'll be something you love or something silly."

"Like socks?" they asked innocently.

"Exactly," he replied, his grin widening. "Except I don’t gamble on socks. I gamble on life. And your parent," he added, glancing at you, "was the highest-stakes game I've ever played."

You rolled your eyes playfully, settling beside him on the couch as your child became engrossed in their new toy. "And yet, you always seem to win."

His smile faltered for just a moment, his gaze growing distant as he reached for your hand. The weight of his past—the lies, the betrayals, the scars—lingered in the unspoken spaces between his words. "Not always," he murmured, his voice quieter now. "But this… this is a victory I never thought I'd have."

You squeezed his hand, grounding him. "You're here, Aventurine. With us. That's all that matters."

He exhaled slowly, his usual mask slipping away completely. "Do you know how terrifying it is? To love something so much, to have something to lose?"

Your child’s laughter filled the room again, and his eyes flickered toward them, shimmering with unshed tears. "I never thought I’d have this—a family, a home. It scares me, because it feels… fragile. Like if I blink, it’ll all disappear."

You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice steady and sure. "It’s real, Kakavasha. You’ve built this. We’ve built this. Together."

His name—his true name—spoken in your voice always unraveled him. He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You’re too good to me," he whispered.

"And yet, here we are," you replied, smiling. "Aventurine, the great gambler, finally learning that not every win comes with a price."

The night unfolded with warmth and laughter, the three of you sharing stories, unwrapping gifts, and basking in the glow of the season. When your child finally fell asleep under the twinkling lights, Aventurine carried them to their room, his steps careful, his expression softer than you’d ever seen.

Later, as you sat together by the fireplace, his arm draped around your shoulders, he spoke again, his voice thick with emotion.

"Thank you," he said simply, his eyes meeting yours.

"For what?" you asked, leaning into him.

"For showing me that some gambles aren’t about winning or losing," he replied, his smile small but genuine. "They’re about what you’re willing to risk. And for this—for you, for them—I’d risk everything a thousand times over."

You smiled, brushing a hand through his hair. "Merry Christmas, Aventurine."

He kissed your hand, his voice soft but steady. "Merry Christmas, my love."

For once, Aventurine didn’t feel the need to chase the thrill of the unknown. This was enough. This was everything.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #winter special #family fluff #christmas celebration #emotional vulnerability #hurt/comfort #character development #domestic life #love and healing

138 notes · View notes

millyh23 · 14 days ago

Text

Lonely Nights Part 1

word count: 1k

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

The Arsenal training facility, transformed into a haven of festive cheer for the annual Christmas party, hummed with the soft strains of holiday music. Strings of fairy lights draped over every surface twinkled against the warm, fragrant air, suffused with the scent of pine and mulled wine. Laughter and cheerful exchanges punctuated the room, where teammates and staff mingled, sharing intimate moments with their partners in a tableau of connection and joy.

Y/N stood apart near the drinks table, a glass of sparkling water in hand. Her choice, long removed from alcohol, symbolized the discipline that had carried her to this point—an illustrious career punctuated by Champions League triumphs, Ballon d’Or nominations, and records with Arsenal and her national team. On paper, she was the epitome of success.

Yet, as her gaze drifted across the room, a subtle disquiet settled over her. Katie leaned casually, her arm draped around Caitlin’s shoulders as they laughed at Kyra's story. Leah twirled her girlfriend on an impromptu dance floor, their faces alight with shared delight. Even Lina lingered in a private corner with her wife and kids, their quiet intimacy a stark counterpoint to the festive clamor.

Y/N sipped her water and turned her attention elsewhere, managing a polite smile as Beth waved her over. “Enjoying yourself?” Beth asked as she settled beside her.

“Always,” Y/N replied lightly. “You?”

Beth’s face softened as her gaze drifted to Viv, animated in conversation with Lia. “It’s nice to unwind, especially with Viv leaving. This year’s been… challenging but I'm just glad she's home for a while”

“I’m glad you have her,” Y/N said, her sincerity unblemished by the peculiar ache the sentiment left behind.

Beth’s smile lingered, though her scrutiny deepened. “And you? Anyone special waiting under the mistletoe?” she teased, nudging Y/N with playful insistence.

Y/N’s laugh came easily, but her response betrayed nothing. “Just me, myself, and I.”

Beth’s humor dimmed into faint concern, but before she could probe further, Viv called her over. Y/N waved her away, maintaining her outward cheer as Beth departed. The hollowed quiet that followed left Y/N pondering her solitude.

Relationships, once peripheral, now loomed in sharper relief. She had known fleeting affections, impermanent and inconsequential. Football’s supremacy in her life had obviated deeper bonds, and she had convinced herself that her singular focus sufficed. Yet, surrounded by the tactile, tangible affections of her teammates, the absence of such intimacy struck a discordant note.

Seeking solace, she wandered to the expansive window overlooking the frost-tinged training grounds. Reflected in the glass was the image she had cultivated over years: poised, resolute, and self-sufficient. Yet, in the faint shimmer of unshed tears, she glimpsed a vulnerability that had eluded her reckoning.

The frost-dappled grass outside seemed to mirror her inner state, serene yet cold, beautiful yet devoid of warmth. Memories of her youth surfaced—days spent running drills with unrelenting fervor, nights studying game footage while her peers pursued youthful indiscretions. Every sacrifice had carved her path to greatness, but at what cost? The accolades lining her shelves were mute witnesses to a life devoted to singular ambition, but now, they felt hollow without someone to share in their glory.

“You alright?” Leah’s voice, uncharacteristically subdued, interrupted her reverie.

Y/N turned, her practiced composure quickly restored. “Just needed a moment,” she said, her tone carefully modulated.

Leah joined her at the window, her posture relaxed but her concern evident. “It’s a lot sometimes, isn’t it? All the… togetherness.”

Y/N’s laugh was faintly sardonic. “Not exactly my area of expertise.”

Leah’s expression softened. “You’ve got us, though. Don’t forget that.”

“I know,” Y/N replied quietly. “And I’m grateful. But sometimes it feels like I’ve spent so much time chasing dreams that I’ve forgotten to leave space for anything else.”

Leah remained silent, then offered a gentle nudge with her shoulder. “You’ve got time. And we’ve got faith in you. Maybe this is just the beginning of something new.”

For the first time that evening, Y/N smiled with unguarded warmth. “Maybe.”

The night unfolded with renewed vigor. Y/N allowed herself to be drawn into the festivities, her laughter genuine as she engaged with her teammates. She joined a spirited debate over Christmas trivia, shared a dance with a giggling Beth, and even let Katie convince her to wear a ridiculous Santa hat for a group photo. Yet, as she returned to her quiet flat that evening, the stillness carried an unfamiliar weight. Facing her reflection once more, she resolved to confront the void she had long ignored.

The days that followed saw subtle shifts in Y/N’s demeanor. At training, her focus remained sharp, but there was a new openness in her interactions. She lingered in conversations, laughed more freely, and even joined a team lunch unprompted. Still, the nagging sense of incompleteness lingered.

Two days later, in the locker room after training, the team launched their ambush. Katie, her grin equal parts mischief and determination, crossed her arms as she delivered the proclamation. “Y/N, we’ve decided to set you up on a date.”

“What?” Y/N asked, her incredulity evident.

“You don’t get a say,” Leah interjected, her stance casual but her tone resolute. “We’ve seen you moping, and we’re not having it.”

“I don’t mope,” Y/N protested, her reddening cheeks undermining her argument.

Beth raised an eyebrow, her skepticism plain. “Right. Look, you’ve mastered football, but even the best need someone to share it with. Trust us on this.”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze flickering across the eager, teasing faces of her teammates. Their camaraderie was infectious, their concern genuine. For years, she had prided herself on her independence, but in that moment, she realized that accepting help didn’t diminish her strength—it complemented it.

“You’re relentless.”

Katie smirked triumphantly. “So, that’s a yes?”

After a long pause, Y/N exhaled a resigned sigh. “Fine. One date. But if it’s a disaster, I’m never listening to any of you again.”

The room erupted in cheers, and Katie clapped her hands. “Oh, it won’t be. We’ve got someone perfect in mind.”

As the team dissolved into excited scheming, Y/N couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh. Perhaps relinquishing control, for once, might yield something worthwhile. The prospect of exploring a new chapter, however uncertain, brought an unexpected lightness to her step as she left the locker room, her teammates’ laughter echoing behind her.

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

The End of Part 1

#offside story #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso soccer #leah williamson #katie mccabe #alessia russo #beth mead

139 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

Note

More someone older smut drabble pls

When he wakes up, he feels somewhat.. anxious?

He slowly sits up in his bed to look around, checking the digital clock next to his bed on the small table twice just to make sure that he's truly not asleep anymore. Because this- just doesn't feel quite real.

There's faint music playing in his home, outside the bedroom. The smell of something cooking fills the room as well, dishes clattering a bit in the sink in the kitchen. He knows it must be you- he's aware that you're staying with him after all. But still.

This feels too much like his mind making things up.

The bedroom door opens slowly, your head poking in, before you realize he's awake. "Oh, you're up." You say, entering more openly now. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Why did you get up without me?" He wonders, feet meeting the floor as he's moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making you giggle as you sit down on the bed on your knees.

"Cause.. I wasn't tired anymore." You shrug, reaching out to somewhat tame his slightly wild bedhead. "And I thought you might appreciate breakfast?"

"I do appreciate that." He smiles, before he catches you off guard by tugging on your arm and making you lay down, before he positions himself over you. "But you could've also woken me up." He chuckles before pecking your lips once.

"But you were sleeping so tight." You say. "Looked like you were dreaming."

"Hm.. I was." He agrees, kisses moving to your neck. "Of you."

"Oh?" You wonder, stretching your arms above your head for a second. "What were you dreaming of?" You ask.

"Things I'd love to make a reality one day." He purrs against your skin, before he releases you again. 'I'll shower real quick, alright?" He tells you, before he pecks your lips once more and leaves into the bathroom to shower-

And you're honestly not sure what makes you feel so bold.

Maybe it's that feeling of safety you have with him, this odd sense of security here in his home, as if nothing can really harm you in here. So when you move to enter the bathroom as well, shower already running with him inside, you don't feel any sort of hesitation as you shed your clothes and join him beneath the warm water.

It's a sight that easily makes him stir alive, remnants of his dream revived as he watches the water pearl down your skin. The way you easily touch and kiss him is making his head spin, making him forget about your past hesitation in its entirety.

This is how it's supposed to be. Easy, simple. No worries about what might be the best thing to do.

Just existing.

Your hand on him makes him gasp into your mouth, a sound you eagerly swallow, his back hitting the tiled wall of the shower. He manages to turn the steady stream of water up ahead a bit lower as you fall to your knees, the anti slip mat on the shower floor cushioning them quite a bit as you work on him.

It's now what his dream was about- but he's sure he could never come up with a scene as serene as this anyways, imagination not advanced enough to even think of this potentially happening.

Just like back at your place before, this time once more he's a slave to your actions. It's causing his mind to go blank at the way your tongue runs over the head of his cock, beckoning him further and further towards his release. And then your hands join in to hold and touch what you can't fit, effortlessly making the muscles in his thighs spasm as he spills inside your mouth with his head thrown back against the tiles of the shower, a hand in your hair.

He can't let this stand.

And he doesnt- returning the favor shamelessly so with both his hands and mouth, eagerly devouring you as his first breakfast before he later on sits at the table in the kitchen to eat his actual one, conversation innocent enough to mask over the things that went down not even long enough ago to dry your hair fully.

If this is a dream, he doesn't want to wake up. If all the Christmas decor and your words about baking later are lies, he doesn't want to hear the truth.

He wants to stay like this-

And he'll do anything to make it work.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic

645 notes · View notes

babydollmarauders · 1 year ago

Text

TINSEL TIES — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Nico finds a fun way to wait for the fire to die down

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, edging, light bondage, dominant Nico, praise, degradation, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), nipple play, fingering, p in v (unprotected). (3.9k words)

notes: welcome to day 1 of the 12 days of kinkmas! where i wrote most of these smuts in...not at all at christmas time! i’m so excited to share these holiday themed smuts with you all and i hope you enjoy!

an orange glow flickers over the living room, the soft tune of christmas music floating throughout the open space of the apartment.

my boyfriend and i stand in front of the christmas tree, meticulously draping ornaments from the prickly branches.

although it’s much too laborious to get a real tree amongst Nico’s schedule, he did agree to buy a fake one for the holidays. a beautiful faux tree that’s been sitting bare and untouched in our living room for far too long. but amidst his chaotic schedule, Nico and i have finally made the time to decorate it together on his night off.

“Neeks,” i speak gently, afraid to break the peaceful ambiance we’ve created in our home. “do you think the guys would come to a holiday party?”

the question is just the result of a fleeting thought; asked as i hang a silver bauble upon the tree, but a serene smile spreads across my boyfriend’s full lips, a glance of adoration shot my way.

“if they didn’t, i’d have them bag skating until they physically can’t get off the ice.” his response causes a soft huff of laughter to fall from my lips, shaking my head in amusement. “why? are you thinking of having a party?”

“no,” i drag out, joking sarcasm dripping from my words, “i was just curious.”

Nico levels me with a single raised brow, an unamused expression painting his face.

“yes, Neeks, i’m thinking of hosting a christmas party.” i tell him, gently hanging the next ornament as i speak, “i just feel like i don’t do enough. i mean, i’m the captain’s girlfriend; isn’t it kinda my job to host and fundraise and stuff?

“like, should i be making the team snacks or something? i don’t know how this works. is it like a soccer mom situation? should i be making protein shakes and sending apple slices with you to practices?”

my anxious ramble fades off as Nico’s hands come to rest upon my hips, pulling me towards him with an entertained smile.

“you don’t have to do any of that, süsse.” his forehead dips down, forehead pressing against mine, “although i wouldn’t mind some apple slices for myself.

“but if you would like to throw a christmas party, then we can do that.”

my arms wrap around, locking over the back of his neck and pulling him down until his lips meet mine. the kiss is sweet; soft and loving, as well as tasting faintly of store bought lofthouse cookies. when i pull back, his lips chase mine, eagerly trying not to let the moment fizzle, but i turn my eyes towards the tree, letting him lips land upon my cheek instead.

“i think it’s done.” i whisper, ignoring his aggravated groan at my rejection.

“we still have two more bags of ‘necessary’ decorations.” he reminds me, pointing over towards the armchair where a couple reusable grocery bags sit filled with various items that i had assured him we needed.

“okay, so i may have overbought.” my shoulders shrug lazily, my eyes rolling.

“you?” Nico questions sarcastically, gazing back down at me with an appalled look. “i bought them all. you just threw them in the cart.”

“and i obviously took my job very seriously, now we have extras for next year, if we decide to switch it up.”

my boyfriend untangles from my grasp, ducking under my arms to walk over to the bags of decor. he sticks his hand in, fishing out an unopened string of tinsel garland.

“what would we even use this for?” he huffs, glaring down at the sparkly red material in his hands.

“to put on the tree, obviously!”

Nico looks at me with a blank expression, his shoulders slumping as his eyes flicker from me to the tree and back.

“obviously.” his accent is thick and monotonous, obviously not charmed by my response. “but we didn’t use it at all.”

“well no, but we could find other uses for it!” i cheer, stalking over to try and pluck the tinsel from his grasp, but his grip on the package tightens. “like, maybe we could tie it somewhere in the apartment.”

his head snaps up from looking at the sparkly garland, eyes lighting up as he stares at me. “i think i have an idea.”

“yeah? what is it?” he throws the package on the coffee table, assuring me that we’ll use it later, before his eyes flit to the fireplace.

our fire is no longer what it once was when we started it around two hours ago. not yet dwindling but no longer blazing high and providing copious amount of heat.

“how long until the fire dies out?” i ask him, a small yawn pushing out of me. “maybe starting it so late wasn’t a good idea, i’m getting a bit tired; but we can’t leave it unattended.”

“if you’re that tired, i could watch it while you go to sleep.”

while i appreciate his kind sentiment, i shake my head, rather taking a seat on the couch instead.

“i don’t wanna sleep without you. besides, i can stay up. i’m not too tired.”

Nico sits beside me, pulling my thighs over his lap in one swift movement. one of his arms wraps around my waist, the other resting over my legs, his hand grasping at half my ass.

i lean forward, my chest pressing against his, and my neck cranes up, eyes gazing into his.

“kiss me.” i whisper, his head dipping down and his lips brushing lightly across mine.

“did you just tell me to kiss you?” he chuckles, pulling me forward to sit entirely in his lap.

“i did.” i confirm.

Nico leans forward, an arm wrapped around my waist to hold me to him as he grabs the package of tinsel from the coffee table.

as he leans back, he spins me around on his lap, my back towards his chest. i can hear the crinkle of plastic, furrowing my brows in confusion.

“what are you doing?” i laugh, attempting to peek over my shoulder.

“i told you i had an idea.”

“mhm,” i hum, “and what is it?”

“safe word?” my brows pull together again at his dismissal of my question.

“stoppen.” i recite the safe word, a german translation of ‘stop’ that he had taught me early in our relationship.

“good girl.”

his words spark a heat within me, blood rushing to my cheeks at his praise.

my arms are pulled behind my back, wrists held together with one of his own, before i feel the scratchy sensation of the tinsel being wrapped around them.

“Neeks,” my breathing picks up, chest rising and falling in quick succession as i feel him tie a knot in the garland.

i wiggle my hands, making sure the restraint isn’t too tight, and when i don’t complain, Nico pushes me up to stand on my feet. his hands spin my hips, my feet shuffling as i turn to face him.

“so pretty, süsse.” i can feel my face redden under his gaze, his gentle compliment causing fire to spread under my skin.

“thank you, Neeks.” my words are murmured softly, spoken as his hands drag along my sides.

his touch slips below my tank top, calloused fingertips smoothing along my heated skin and drawing goosebumps to the top of my flesh. a shaky breath passes my lips, his fingers dragging down until he reaches the waistband of my corduroy skirt.

“we don’t need this.” he tsk’s, popping the plastic button through the hole and letting the skirt pool to the floor around my feet.

cold air hits my now bare skin, my panties dampening as Nico’s hands rub along the sides of my thighs. he pulls me forward until i’m straddling a single leg, my panty covered core sitting on his muscular, jean clad thigh.

my lips part, eyes falling hooded as his hands grip my hips, guiding them back and forth on top of him.

“Nico,” i shudder, letting out a yelp as he smacks a hand against my ass.

“is that what you call me?” he gruffs, dark, lust filled eyes boring into mine.

his hands move my hips faster, his thigh tensing underneath me.

“Captain.” i whimper, my head tipping back as he bounces his leg lightly. a wet patch grows on the fabric of his jeans making him chuckle as i get wetter, my clit grinding down against him.

“soaking my leg like a whore.” he shakes his head as though he disapproves, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “what am i gonna do with you?”

blood rushes through my ears, drowning out the christmas music as i stare at my lover. his eyes are dark, pupils blown and his gaze stern; his thick, prominent eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches me grind along his leg.

the well groomed stubble that accentuates his face scruffs against my cheek as he leans forward, capturing my lips in a bruising kiss.

i moan into his lips, his tongue slipping through and pushing against mine as his hands hasten the pace of my hips.

my strangled gasp breaks our kiss, the fabric of my panties rubbing against my clit making climax approach faster.

“Cap, i’m gonna-” a knot tangles in my stomach, pressure building as my legs begin to shake and my eyes roll back into my head.

my hips are forcibly stopped, my fast approaching orgasm quickly diminishing as Nico holds my hips still. a whine falls from my lips, my eyes flying open to gauge him as pleads are babbled off my tongue.

“please, no, why?” i cry, the corner of my boyfriend’s lips quirking up in a smirk.

“let’s test your memory,” he starts, eyes glaring into mine, “last week, do you remember what you did?”

i rack my brain, filing through everything i did last week before i finally settle on what he’s referencing. sunday, right before his game against the Oilers, i sent him a video i had taken that morning; my fingers buried deep in my pussy, my breath heavy and whimpering as i moaned his name.

we’ve yet to have the chance for an intimate moment since he got back on monday, between his practices, my work schedule, and his game last night, but i had hoped he had forgotten about his promise to punish me for my actions.

“no, Nico, please.” i whine, my hands pulling at the restraints. his hands slip up, sliding over my breasts and letting his thumbs circle my stiffened nipples.

“beg all you want, süsse, i stand by my promises.” his voice is stern and unwavering, his fingers hooking over the top of my tank top.

he yanks the fabric down, my breasts spilling over until the shirt is so far down that it’s held underneath completely underneath them.

“you don’t get to cum until that fire dies down.” my head snaps over to survey the fire, its flame slowly fizzling out. i’d estimate at least another forty-five minutes or so until it’s done for good.

my breath catches in my throat as he takes me by surprise, his lips attaching to my right nipple as his left hand rolls the other between his fingers.

a high pitched moan mingles with the sound of ‘White Christmas’, my arms struggling against the tinsel ties, yearning to bury my fingers into his hair. my spine arches, pushing my breasts further into his face.

i can feel his growing smirk against my skin, his fingers pinching and rolling the left bud as his tongue swirls around the right before sucking it into his mouth.

he hums, the vibrations traveling through my body, and i make a hollow attempt at grinding my hips against his leg, only succeeding in reminding him to wrap his free hand around me, holding my hips still.

“Captain, please.” i plead, my tone high and nasal as i beg, but he just hums again, this time in disagreement.

his lips release my nipple, kissing his way over to the left before repeating the process, now pinching and prodding at the right in a torturous game of teasing.

he slowly begins to rock my hips back and forth, dragging my pulsing clit along his strained thigh as an extra stimulation.

my body shakes, overwhelmed with pleasure as my head falls back, vision going fuzzy as broken sounds fall from my lips.

i can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences, but my brain is urging for me to beg to cum, hoping he’ll show mercy on me. my requests come out babbled and stuttered, not nearly what i had hoped, and Nico chuckles against my skin.

my toes curl as the familiar tightening pressure builds backs up within my stomach, my abdomen clenching as my legs begin to shake. and when Nico doesn’t pull away, i begin to believe that he’s giving me compassion, but as quick as the thought enters my mind, its expelled out.

just as i reach the precipice of my release, my walls tightening around nothing, his lips are pulled away, his hand dropping from my nipple and his arms wrapping tightly around to halt my grinding movements.

frustrated tears pool in my eyes, a silent sob wracking my chest and expelling past my lips in puffs of air. looking back into my boyfriends eyes, his expression is cocky and unforgiving, a smirk resting on his lips.

“awww,” he coos, swiftly turning and dropping me on the couch cushions beside him. “you’re being a good girl now, aren’t you? desperate to cum.”

i nod my head eagerly, shifting around underneath his gaze as i lay uncomfortably atop of my tied back arms.

“wanna cum so bad!” i whimper, my eyes fleeting over to asses the once great fire. it’s next to nothing now, and when i look back at Nico, i can tell he’s displeased by the sight.

“alright, i’ll let you cum.” a weight is lifted off my chest, a sigh of relief huffing past my smiling lips.

i eye my boyfriend eagerly as his fingers tug at the waistband of my panties, pulling them down and dropping them to the floor. he sheds himself of his t-shirt, his tight upper body on full display for me to enjoy as he hooks one of my weakened legs over the back of the couch.

bowing down between my legs, i can feel his hot breath fan over my dripping core, squirming in need as he gets closer and closer to where i so desperately crave his touch. his eyes meet mine, holding contact as he blows cool air directly onto my puffy clit, and chuckling as my hips jerk up towards him.

his arms wrap around my upper thighs, hands sprawling across my lower hips to hold me down as he licks one long stripe through my core.

“captain!”

my head falls back into the cushions as i cry out his name, wishing i could thread my fingers in his hair and push him deeper to where i want him.

he dips down again, tongue circling my clit before sliding back down towards my pussy. his tongue prods into me, flicking once before he really dives in. my back arches from the cushions, breathy moans coaxed out as he begins eating me like a man starved.

his nose nudges against my clit, his fingers sliding up to hold my thighs in a bruising grip as he slurps at my wetness, spreading it around as lubrication.

“cap!” i scream as his lips enclose around my swollen clit, rolling it through his lips a few times before flicking his tongue against it. one leg hooks over his shoulder, pushing him forward as i’m finally able to grind my hips against his face.

relinquishing his duty of holding me still, he plunges two fingers inside of me, curling them up to hit the velvety spot that makes me scream out in pleasure. pumping them in and out, he scissors the appendages, stretching my entrance in a pleasurably painful sensation.

with his fingers keeping me full, his mouth focuses on my clit, repetitively sucking and licking. my eyes roll back in my head, my vision dancing with stars as i feel my orgasm build up for what i believe is the last time.

a third finger pushes its way inside of me, the burning sensation of fullness making my legs shake around him as my breath catches in my throat. my pussy tightens around his fingers, effectively making him aware that i’m close whilst i can no longer speak.

but just when i’m about to cum, my orgasm is cruelly ripped away once more, his fingers pulling out and leaving empty as his mouth is detached from my clit, nothing but cold air hitting against it now.

“no!” i yell, voice gravely and sore as tears flood from my eyes. i open them again to find Nico sitting up on his knees, staring down at me with a dangerous an mocking smirk.

“you didn’t really think i was gonna let you cum, did you, süsse?” he teases, his lips frowning in a faux pout. “oh, you did. the fire wasn’t done yet, sweets.”

my head snaps over towards the fire for the last time, and through the blurry vision of my tears, i can see the final dying embers of the fire, nothing but a faintly orange glow of the logs now.

my chest heaves as i look back at my boyfriend, my face dropped in a pout as salty tears trail down into my hair.

“that was mean, Nico!” i sob, looking anywhere but his eyes.

his cocky expression drops, a look of genuine concern etching across his face as he comes to hover above me.

“oh, baby,” he coos, littering short kisses on both of my cheeks before pressing a long one to my lips. “it’s okay, you can cum now.”

i sniffle, peering up at him through wet lashes, “really this time?”

“yeah, really. but, you know, if it ever becomes too much, you can use your safe word.” i nod along to his words.

“i know, but it wasn’t anything that was too much.” i confess, “it was just mean. you told me i could! and then you didn’t let me!”

“are your arms okay?” he wonders, and i crinkle my nose.

“they’re fine, but this position is uncomfortable.” he nods, backing away and helping me sit up before i whine, “can you just fuck me now?”

a hearty laugh leaves his lips at my switch up, leaning forward to pull me in for a kiss.

“you wanna cum on my cock like a good girl, süsse?” he mutters, pulling back to watch me hastily nod.

his hands grip my hips, flipping me over to lay on my stomach before pulling my hips up so my ass is up in the air.

i wait impatiently, eyes set on the last of the dying embers of the fire as i listen to him unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down and letting them drop to the floor with a thud.

the couch cushions dip down as he kneels on them behind me, one hand gripping my hip as he uses the other to give a few tugs to his cock.

my hips jerk as he slides his cock through my folds, lubricating himself in my wetness. tapping the tip of his cock against my clit, i let out a breathy whine, pushing my pussy back towards him.

“greedy little slut.” he tsk’s, prodding my entrance with his tip and watching as my walls attempt to suck him in whilst i moan.

he repeats the movement a few more times, teasing me one last time before he finally pushes into me in one swift movement. a squeak passing my parted lips as his cock bottoms out inside of me, filling me up so well.

“oh, Nico!” i breathe out, my body lighting up as his hand smooths over my spine, before gripping my waist.

Nico groans, pulling out and then thrusting back in at a slow speed before gradually picking up the pace. my hands form fists, my nails digging into my palms as he controls my hips, slamming into me and pushing my hips forward before pulling them back against him.

the sound of our skin slapping together and his hard cock sliding in and out of my wet cunt mixes with breathy moans and deep grunts, as well as the christmas music that still floats through the apartment.

the tip of his cock hits the soft, spongey spot inside of me with each stroke, my eyes fluttering shut as i curse, screaming his name without any care of our neighbors hearing.

“this pretty pussy was made for me.” he gruffs, hands tightening around my hips as my walls clench around him, my breathing picking up as i wiggle my hips.

one of his hands slides around my front, his fingertip pressing against my clit and making me whimper as he fucks into me, rubbing the bundle of nerves in figure eights.

“Nico, please!” i beg, the all too familiar feeling of my impending orgasm looming over me as my stomach ties itself in knots.

my legs begin to shake, weakening, and i’m sure if Nico wasn’t holding me up, they would’ve given out.

“let go for me, sweets.” my walls clench at his words, attempting to keep him in the same position as my body seizes up, tensing as i finally reach my long awaited orgasm.

he continues to fuck me through my release, thrusts turning sloppy and hastened as he chases his own, until he finally shudders, his hips stilling as he cums, filling me up with his release.

Nico lets out a shaky sigh, giving us both a moment to let oxygen return to our brains before reaching up and untying the knot of tinsel garland around my wrists. pulling out of me with a hiss, he drops himself to the couch, watching as i sit up and shake out my half-asleep arms.

i slump against his side, pulling my tank top back up to cover my chest as i snuggle closer into his sweaty body.

“i think we’re going to have to clean the couch if you still wanna host a party.” he finally speaks, coaxing a bubble of laughter up from my throat.

“yeah, but i think a shower sounds nice first.” i sigh, pushing myself off the couch to stand up, but my legs feel like jelly underneath me, wobbling until Nico stands, grasping my hand in his.

“you’re right, let’s go.” he hums, helping me towards our bedroom and to our en-suite bathroom.

“who said you were joining me?” i tease, raising an eyebrow; but when he turns to look at me, a lust-driven and domineering look on his face, i shrug, “on second thought, a shower together would be nice.”

“mhm.” he simpers, turning around to turn the shower water on, and i stick my tongue out behind his back; accidentally leaving it out for too long.

he looks at me with eyebrows raised as i hurriedly pull my tongue back into my mouth, my body not nearly ready for another ‘punishment’ before he laughs.

“let’s get you cleaned up, süsse, you must be tired.”

#faithlynn’s 12 days of kinkmas #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier smut #nico hischier blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl smut #faithlynn’s writings <3

783 notes · View notes

jzprncess · 6 days ago

Text

the missing melody ♪

part 2 previous

pairing : franco colapinto x singer!reader

faceclaim : various people!

summary: With the Grand Prix results in, Y/N returns home inspired, diving back into her music. Meanwhile, Franco, curious about the singer he met, follows her on social media. What begins as casual online exchanges soon hints at a deeper connection.

warnings : some singers do not exist in this au since i might take their songs!

note : MERRY CHRISTMAS!! here is your surprise, i know some have been waiting but ive been in a writing block. dont kill me bc its short! i suck at writing UGHHHHHH

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

williamsracing just posted

liked by yourusername, username2, and 535,290 others

williamsracing TEAM 💙 10 POINTS IN BAKU 🔥🔥🔥

An incredible drive by both drivers and we secure P7 and P8. GET IN THERE! 👏 This is only the beginning.

view all comments

username2 VAMOS VAMOS VAMOS 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

username4 this progress of williams is what’s giving me hopes for carlos next year 🥲

username6 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

username8 WOWWWW BRAVO 👏🏼👏🏼

username3 COLAPINTO2025

username5 STANDING OVATION!!! 🔥🔥

username5 y/n was the good luck charm! i’m telling you! 🫵🏼

username7 simply lovely

yourusername grateful to be here and watch the team score some points. it’s amazing to watch, might just have to join for another race soon. thanks again for letting me join in the paddock! 🇦🇷🔥💙

↳williamsracing we’re glad to have you y/n, can’t wait to see you trackside again! wishing you luck on your future endeavors! 💙

↳alex_albon appreciate it! we hope to see you soon!

↳francolapinto glad you could be here! i would love for you to come to another race, let’s make it happen. 💙

↳username5 now i need her to go to another race this season

third pov

As the Grand Prix weekend drew to a close, Y/N felt a bittersweet mix of relief and melancholy. The weekend had been a whirlwind, filled with the excitement of the race and the unexpected attention she had garnered from her appearance. The crowded paddock and constant buzz of conversations had left her mentally drained, but as she walked toward the car that would take her back home, there was a certain peace settling over her.

The world outside the track seemed quieter, more serene. She could hear the faint hum of the engines in the distance as the final laps were being completed, but for her, it was time to leave the chaos behind. The press, the cameras, the questions—all of it faded away as she slid into the front seat, the doors closing softly behind her, sealing her off from the world she had momentarily rejoined.

She pulled out of the paddock, and stared out the window, watching the lights of the city blur past as she made her way back home. The city was still alive, but she felt removed from it, as though she were floating in a different space. Her mind wandered back to the people she had met during the weekend—the 2 william's drivers, the fans, the connections she made. She longed for the solitude of her room, a place where she could decompress and regain the clarity she so desperately sought.

As the car rounded a corner, she caught a glimpse of the track once more, her heart stirring with a mix of admiration and uncertainty. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, she was content to retreat into her own world and reflect on the moments that had left an imprint on her soul.

franco’s pov

I stood on the podium, the aftertaste of victory still fresh as my team erupted in celebration. My first points of the season—it wasn’t much, but it felt like a significant step forward. The atmosphere was electric, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. But even with all the cheering and the congratulations, my thoughts kept drifting to something—or rather, someone—that had caught my attention this weekend. Y/N. I didn’t know much about her, but I couldn’t ignore the way she moved through the paddock with such quiet grace. It wasn’t just her fame, though that was undeniable; it was something about her presence. She wasn’t demanding attention, yet everyone seemed to be aware of her, drawn to her in a way that made me curious.

There was something magnetic about her. It wasn’t just the way she looked—it was the way she carried herself. She didn’t seem to be seeking validation from anyone. She wasn’t flashy, but there was an air of confidence, a mystery to her that intrigued me.

I’d seen her throughout the weekend, but it was when I finally met her that everything clicked. We had a brief conversation with Alex, nothing too elaborate, just a few exchanged words, but it felt different somehow. The way she spoke, the way she listened—it was all so natural, so unassuming. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and yet there was something about her that made me want to know more. Her smile, the subtle warmth in her eyes—it was like she was letting me see just a glimpse of who she was, without revealing too much. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just a casual interaction, but it left me wanting to understand what lay beneath that composed, almost guarded exterior. There was more to her, I was sure of it, and that curiosity lingered long after our conversation ended.

The more I thought about her, the more I found myself wondering what had brought her to this point in her life. Here she was, standing on the fringes of our world—famous, yes, but still somewhat distant, as if she didn’t quite belong to this chaotic universe we all lived in.

I read her Instagram post after the race, since I was already in the car on the grid, when she posted it. She had opened up about the struggles she had been facing, about stepping away from the spotlight and the personal battles she was fighting. It was raw and vulnerable, nothing like the polished image the world saw. It made me realize that the person I had met wasn’t the confident star I had expected, but someone much more complex. She wasn’t just another celebrity navigating the chaos of fame—there was a quiet strength to her, a kind of raw honesty that made me want to understand her even more.

Back in my hotel room later that evening, after everything had quieted down, I found myself scrolling through my phone. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about that brief moment when our eyes had met. I opened Instagram without really thinking about it, my fingers moving almost on autopilot as I searched for her name. Something inside me told me to take this small step. I followed her. There was no reason why I should expect anything from it, but I felt the impulse to reach out in some way, even if it was just this simple action.

I sat back on the bed as I hit “follow,” my heart beating a little faster as I did. I wasn’t expecting her to notice, but something about it felt right. I scrolled through her feed, each post revealing just a little more about who she was. There was an intimacy to her posts, the way she shared pieces of herself without fully letting anyone in. It wasn’t the usual curated perfection I saw from other influencers. Each photo seemed to tell a story, but only if you were paying close attention. I couldn’t help but be intrigued. Maybe it was the beginning of something, or maybe it was just a small, fleeting curiosity that would fade away. But as I followed her, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the start of something that could pull me into her world in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

y/n’s pov

As I stirred the sauce, my phone dinged from across the kitchen. I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over to check it. When I unlocked the screen, I saw Franco had followed me on Instagram. I paused, staring at the notification for a moment, a little caught off guard. My mind raced as I thought about our brief encounter, and I felt a sudden urge to message him. Taking a deep breath, I opened the app, ready to start typing.

messages

third pov

Y/N stood in her kitchen, wiping down the last of the plates from dinner, the sounds of the quiet house filling the space around her. She had eaten alone tonight, a habit she’d fallen into over the past few months. The familiar hum of the dishwasher was the only noise, but her mind was elsewhere. Franco’s face kept drifting into her thoughts—his easy smile, the way his eyes lit up when they spoke. They’d only met today, briefly, but something about him had stuck with her.

It had been a long day at the Grand Prix, full of excitement and noise, but when their conversation had veered into something personal, something quiet, it had been like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. She had felt a spark, undeniable and electric, even though she knew he’d be leaving soon. He was on his way to Mexico for the next race, already on the plane when she had sat down to dinner by herself, yet the connection lingered in the back of her mind.

Y/N sighed, reaching for her notebook that rested on the counter. As she flipped through the pages, her fingers brushed over old lyrics, half-finished songs, and abandoned ideas. She hadn’t written anything in weeks—no inspiration, no motivation. But tonight felt different. She had this restless energy swirling inside her, something she couldn’t ignore. She sat down and began to write.

The pen moved quickly, almost without thought. The words felt raw, like they were pouring out of her all at once. She wasn’t sure if it was the memories of the day or the faint pull of something more, but she couldn’t stop herself. The chorus took shape, the melody forming like a whispered secret.

“It’s all in my head / I’ll keep it to myself / I know that you’ll never see it / I’m just looking for a reason..” (the bottom by gracie abrams)

Her mind wandered back to Franco, and she found herself replaying their brief encounter over and over. There was something about him—something real and different from anyone she’d met in a long time. But he was leaving for Mexico, and soon enough, he’d be consumed by the fast-moving world of Formula 1. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever see him again, and the uncertainty gnawed at her.

But still, there was this quiet tug inside her, a feeling she couldn’t shake. Maybe—just maybe—this moment held more than she’d first realized. It was all in her head, she thought, but she couldn’t help but hope for something more.

As she continued to write, her hand moved almost instinctively, the words flowing faster than she could process. It was like the music was the only place that made sense, the only thing that could capture what she couldn’t quite say out loud. She smiled softly as the song began to take shape, feeling that spark of something inside her. It wasn’t finished yet, but there was a sense that this was just the beginning.

The quiet of the house was only interrupted by the soft scratch of Y/N's pen as she wrote, her thoughts wandering to the conversation she’d had earlier with Franco. Her phone suddenly buzzed, and she jumped slightly. Seeing Franco's name on the screen made her hesitate, but she quickly answered, trying to sound calm.

*start of phone call*

“Hello?” she said, her shyness making the greeting almost tentative.

“Hey, it’s Franco,” came his familiar voice, sounding warm and easy. “I just landed in Mexico. How’s your night going?”

Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips, a slight relief washing over her. “Hi, Franco. It’s going okay... just writing. How about you? How was the flight?”

“It was fine, a bit long, but nothing I can’t handle,” Franco replied, his tone light. “It feels good to be here, though. Getting ready for the weekend.”

Y/N shifted in her seat, her fingers tapping nervously on her notebook. “Yeah, I’m sure it must be a bit overwhelming. But, uh, you’ve done this kind of travel before, right?”

Franco laughed softly, clearly amused. “You could say that. But every new race feels a little different. There’s always something new to learn. What about you? I know you’ve only been to one race, right?”

“Yeah, just today.” Y/N said, a little shy about admitting she was still new to the whole experience. “It was... a lot. But really exciting too. I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did.”

“That’s awesome. What did you think of the atmosphere?” Franco asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N smiled, remembering the energy from the day. “It was wild, in a good way. I didn’t really know what to expect, but the crowd was so into it. It’s different from anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“I can imagine. There’s just something about a race day, huh?” Franco said. “It gets under your skin.”

“Yeah, I think I get that now,” Y/N replied, feeling a little more relaxed as the conversation moved away from the work side of things. “It’s... thrilling. I can see why people love it.”

“So, what did you do after the race? Did you go back hotel?” Franco asked, genuinely interested in how she was spending her time.

Y/N shifted slightly, a little self-conscious. “No, I just came home. I haven't been, um... great with big crowds recently, so I thought I’d unwind for the night. I guess it’s a good thing I like being alone sometimes.”

“I totally get that,” Franco said, his voice softer now, almost like he understood exactly what she meant. “I’m kind of the same way. Traveling and being around people can be... draining.”

Y/N smiled faintly, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah, exactly. It’s nice to just have a quiet night to yourself.”

There was a pause, and then Franco continued, “What do you usually do when you’re alone? Like, when you’re not writing?”

Y/N hesitated before answering, her fingers gently brushing over the edges of her notebook. “I, uh, watch movies sometimes. Old ones. And I read a lot too. Mostly books that... help me forget everything for a little while.”

Franco’s voice was warm, and she could tell he was trying to keep the conversation light. “I think I’d like some movie recommendations. I’ve been wanting to watch something different, but I don’t know where to start.”

Y/N smiled softly, appreciating how easy the conversation was flowing now. “I could definitely do that. If you like old films, I’d recommend some classic noirs. They’re... atmospheric, but in a cool way.”

“Sounds perfect,” Franco said, clearly interested. “I’ll have to try that when I’m not in race mode.”

“I’ll make a list for you, then,” Y/N replied, her voice lightening a little. “Maybe next time we talk, I can recommend a few more.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Franco said with a gentle laugh. “It’s nice just to talk about something that’s not... the race or the schedule.”

“Yeah, it is,” Y/N said quietly, feeling a strange sense of connection. “I didn’t expect it to be so easy to talk.”

“Me neither,” Franco agreed. “But I’m glad we’re talking.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little more comfortable with the whole situation. “Me too. It’s... nice. I’m glad you called.”

“Glad I did too. Well, I’ll let you get back to your writing,” Franco said, though his voice didn’t sound ready to hang up. “But we’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly. “Take care, Franco.”

“You too, Y/N. Talk soon,” he said before hanging up.

Y/N set the phone down, a quiet smile on her face. She didn’t know why she felt so calm after talking to him, but somehow, it felt like the beginning of something she hadn’t expected. A spark had been lit inside her, something she hadn’t felt in a while. Her mind was buzzing, and for the first time in days, she felt truly alive.

She glanced at the clock—still early, though not for long—and something inside her stirred. Without thinking, she grabbed her notebook and walked out of the room, heading down the hall toward her studio. The house was quiet, still, but her mind was racing. As she flipped the lights on in the small room filled with instruments, sound equipment, and all the tools of her trade, it was as if everything clicked into place

The walls, once silent and stifling, now seemed to hum with possibility. She set her notebook down, reached for her laptop, and immediately pulled up her music software. Her fingers hovered over the keys, and within minutes, she was in the zone, the melody flowing almost effortlessly. Ideas she hadn’t known were waiting to be discovered spilled out of her, notes and lyrics coming together like pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t known needed solving.

For hours, she lost herself in the music. The hours seemed to melt away, her focus unwavering as she crafted something new, something personal, something that felt like it was coming from the depths of her soul. She tweaked, arranged, and layered tracks, her mind guided only by the spark Franco had unknowingly ignited. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this inspired.

By the time the sun began to rise, Y/N was still in her studio, headphones on, eyes tired but exhilarated. She hadn’t noticed the time slipping by until she glanced at the clock again. The song wasn’t finished, but it was close. She smiled to herself, realizing that the night had passed without her even thinking about the exhaustion she usually felt. It was as though the music had become the one thing that could make her forget everything else.

She leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she was grateful for this new, unexpected source of inspiration. And in the back of her mind, she knew this song was only the beginning.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

taglist: @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 smau #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto smau #franco colapinto imagine #fc43 x reader #f1 imagine #jzprncess

75 notes · View notes

lundenloves · 2 days ago

Text

late christmas headcannons 🎄🕺🏽⭐️🎅🏼🍻

⤷ dude i am so back. i’m sorry i took like a year off, don’t question it - you wouldn’t even believe. i was blown away by a hurricane and swept to a big green castle. never again.

∷ no warnings | 12 headcannons | masterlist

i’ll start a tag list up again hopefully soon!

⦿ hot take that simon is shit hot at wrapping presents 💀 you’ve walked in and he’s been there in silence with the big light on like a monster, screech of cello tape n big hands working magic on a spherical gift what are we talking about

⦿ refuses to buy a tree. will find one and cut it down, chuck it in the back of a jeep or smth bc if not you’re “throwing money away.”

⦿ took about three years of you being together before he’d embraced christmas. and in saying embraced, that’s because you accidentally had a child together and you’d threatened his death if he hadn’t turned up for christmas w ur baby. “she doesn’t even know what’s going on.” neither will you when you’re knocked OUT 💜

⦿ classic doesn’t know what the kids have until they’ve opened the presents, “what’s that— oh mmryeah. yeah.” quick glance to you to make sure you’re not ticked off at his oblivion.

⦿ honestly hates christmas but lets it slide as knows you’d sort him straight if he gave hint of annoyance about it all around the kids. although you’d started playing christmas music in october and that caused a lovely spat - one you ignored after it hit november. maybe you’re the wrong-un

⦿ forgets santa is supposed to be a thing so writes from Dad on pretty much all gifts you had appointed for him to be santa for SMHGHHHJFHDH

⦿ is partial to christmas cooking ngl… chefs up whenever your house is to host though don’t disturb him - the kitchen is serenity. quietness and STILL - however soap exists, fucking around and moving things until ultimately causing simon to pour himself his first drink of the night. my shayla he was doing so well 😔

⦿ however many drinks later he’s accepting rounds of “can you lift this” in competition with soap. two grown men lifting random shit and your children simultaneously. all three of your girls hanging off him while he lifts a fuck off weight from your room. one you’d INSISTED price hadn’t bought him a couple of years back.

⦿ drunk simon is best simon imo. it’s so incredibly rare that it happens but omds late late late in the night he finally loosens up and starts talking more and eating more and caring less and fun dad appears and WHATEVER ugh

⦿ no fail he gets socks, thermal undershirts and a new patch for his deployment bag every year.

⦿ his eyes are 90% on you the whole time. for few reasons, one being a silent plead of retirement to bed and another of pure anxiety 💀 bro was used to madness around christmas when he grew up, think the bear’s fishes episode.

⦿ all and all the only reason he tolerates christmas is because he has kids and it’s your favourite celebration. otherwise it would be curtains.

festivities 😛

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwiii #cod mw3

58 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 6 days ago

Text

What’s up, buttercups! 🎄✨

Merry (steamy) Christmas, my loves! I’m so excited to share this next festive chapter for Sexy Christmas featuring none other than Captain Auston Matthews himself on this Christmas morning ❤️ This one is all about cosy holiday mornings, unwrapped surprises, and a whole lot of passion.

This chapter was such a joy to write— I had my g @lcandothisallday in mind ❤️ I hope it warms your holiday spirit (and maybe heats things up a little too).

Wishing you all the happiest of holidays filled with love, laughter, and a little extra spice.

Happy reading, my darlings! xo 🎁✨

➼｡ﾟ

Christmas Morning, Barely Wrapped - Auston Matthews

OC and the hockey player wake up together on Christmas morning, but instead of opening presents, they decide to unwrap each other first, making the holiday morning unforgettable.

Tropes & Warnings: 18+ smut, Auston Matthews x reader, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside

Word count: 2.6K

The soft glow of morning light seeped through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden hue. Outside, the world was hushed under a blanket of freshly fallen snow, a serene Christmas morning tableau. Inside, however, the warmth was anything but serene.

You stirred first, the faint hum of forgotten holiday music drifting from the speaker left on the night before. Your eyes opened to find Auston Matthews beside you, his dark lashes resting against his cheeks, his tousled hair a tempting mess. His broad chest rose and fell steadily, the intricate tattoos on his arm stretched lazily across the pillow.

The sight stirred memories of the night before, heat blooming in your cheeks as the events replayed in your mind.

“Mmm, morning,” Auston’s voice, low and still laced with sleep, broke through your thoughts. His dark eyes blinked open, meeting yours with a slow, lazy grin that was both boyish and utterly captivating. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you murmured, your voice husky from sleep as your fingers reached out to trace the stubble along his jaw.

He caught your hand, his lips brushing over your palm in a kiss that sent a shiver racing down your spine. His gaze, heavy with mischief and intent, held yours as he rolled onto his side, the covers slipping to reveal the expanse of his bare chest.

“Thought I’d wake up to presents,” he teased, his grin widening. “Instead, I get this view. Guess I’ve been really good this year.”

You laughed softly, but the sound faltered as his hand found your waist, tugging you closer beneath the covers. “You’re impossible,” you replied, though your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Impossible to resist,” he murmured, his words melting into the kiss he pressed against your lips. It started slow, tender, but quickly deepened, his hand sliding under the hem of the oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt—that you’d worn to bed, knowing full well you weren’t wearing panties beneath it, just as Auston had requested.

The warmth of his palm against your bare skin sent sparks coursing through you. “Didn’t realise you were unwrapping your first gift already,” you teased, your voice breathless as his lips found the sensitive spot below your ear.

“Best gift in this house,” he rasped, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin. “And I’m not sharing.”

Your laughter dissolved into a soft moan as his hands grew bolder, sliding the t-shirt up and over your head. His eyes raked over you; appreciation written in every line of his expression as he took in the sight of you in the soft morning light.

“Mmm yes, the perfect gift for me,” he said, his voice low and rough, his hands settling on your waist as though grounding himself. His lips found yours again, the kiss deep and consuming, his touch reverent yet insistent.

And instinctively, your hands found their way to the waistband of his sweatpants, your grin turning playful as you tugged at the fabric. “Maybe I should unwrap you too.”

His laughter rumbled low in his chest as he shifted, helping you slide the fabric down his hips, leaving him gloriously bare beneath the golden light. The sight of him stole your breath, the intimacy of the moment heightened as he drew you closer, his hands steady on your hips.

“You’re all I want for Christmas, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he effortlessly guided you to straddle him, the heat of his body against yours driving every coherent thought from your mind.

You grinned down at him, your hands roaming over the expanse of his toned chest, feeling the defined muscles shift under your touch. The air between you was thick with tension, nearly tangible, the kind that made your pulse race.

“And you are…” you began, your voice dripping with seduction as you let your fingers trail lower, never breaking contact with his heated skin. Slowly moving yourself down his body, you stopped just above his growing length, your lips hovering tantalisingly close as your hand wrapped around him, stroking his length with deliberate care. “…all I want, Aus.”

Your voice was low and filled with unrestrained desire, each word laced with intent. As he hardened fully in your hand, you leaned forward, your breath warm against him. With slow, deliberate movements, you took him into your mouth, your touch gentle but purposeful as you savoured every reaction your actions drew from him.

Auston groaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows as your lips wrapped around him, the warmth of your mouth sending a shudder through his body. His hand instinctively found its way to your hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands as he murmured, “Fuck… you’re incredible.”

You maintained a slow, teasing rhythm, your tongue tracing along his cock as you glanced up at him through your lashes. The sight of him—his chest rising and falling heavily, his dark eyes hazy with desire—sent a surge of confidence through you, spurring you on as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly, not to guide you but as if to ground himself, his breath hitching with every deliberate movement of your lips. “You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, his voice rough and low, his words laced with both awe and urgency.

You pulled back just enough to respond, your lips brushing over him as you whispered, “I’m just getting started.” Your hand replaced your mouth momentarily, stroking him with a firm but gentle grip as your other hand slid up his chest, your nails grazing his skin.

The way his hips bucked slightly into your touch, the way his head tilted back as he groaned your name, made you feel powerful, completely in control as you explored every reaction you could draw from him. You leaned back down, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before taking him into your mouth again, deeper this time, the sensation earning a sharp gasp from him.

“Baby…” he rasped; his voice strained as his fingers flexed in your hair. “You’re so fucking good, but… I’m not going to last if you keep going like that.”

You pulled back, a smirk playing on your lips as you kissed your way back up his body, your movements slow and deliberate, making him feel every inch of your touch. When you reached his lips, you captured them in a kiss that was deep and consuming, your bodies pressing flush against each other as his hands found your waist.

“Then maybe we should move on to the next present,” you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with teasing intent as you rolled your hips against his, the friction sending a spark of pleasure through you both.

Auston growled softly, flipping you onto your back with a controlled urgency, his hands bracketing your head as he hovered over you. “You’re naughty,” he said, his lips curving into a grin that was both playful and full of promise. “But I think I like it when you’re naughty”

Auston’s grin widened, his dark eyes heavy with desire as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all-consuming. His body pressed against yours, the warmth of his bare skin leaving no space between you. His lips moved with deliberate precision, each kiss growing deeper, more urgent, as his hands roamed your body, memorising every curve.

“You make it impossible to think about anything else,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need. His hands slipped down to your thighs, his fingers expertly finding your core to explore.

You gasped as he found your sensitive clit, his thumb circling while his index pressed passed your entrance.

Auston’s grin turned wicked as he felt the way your body reacted to his touch, his fingers moving with deliberate intent. “Mmm, so wet for me already,” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with satisfaction. His thumb continued its relentless circles over your sensitive clit, while his fingers pressed deeper inside you, curling slightly to hit just the right spot.

Your back arched off the bed, a soft moan escaping your lips as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. The intensity of his touch sent waves of pleasure rippling through your body, each movement coaxing more from you.

“Aus…” you breathed, your voice trembling as your hips moved instinctively against his hand, seeking more.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, the fire of desire unmistakable as he leaned down, brushing his lips over your jawline and down your neck. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Every flick of his thumb, every press and curl of his fingers sent you higher, your breaths turning into soft, broken gasps. The way he watched you, his gaze fixed on your every reaction, only added to the heat pooling in your core.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive spot below your ear. “So beautiful like this.”

The tension built quickly, your body coiling tighter with every calculated stroke of his hand. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your moans growing louder as the pleasure became almost too much to bear.

“Auston, I…” you managed to gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the wave of release loomed closer.

He grinned against your skin, his free hand gripping your hip to hold you steady. “Mmm yes, baby,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with encouragement. “Come for me.”

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers, sent you tumbling over the edge. Your body arched against his, a cry of ecstasy spilling from your lips as the pleasure consumed you. Auston didn’t stop, his movements slowing but never ceasing, drawing out every aftershock until you were trembling beneath him.

As you came down from your high, Auston’s lips pressed soft kisses along your collarbone and up to your jawline. His hand slid out from between your thighs, only to rest gently on your hip, grounding you as you caught your breath.

“I love it when I make you cum like that,” he murmured, his forehead pressing gently against yours. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and adoration as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

With a fluid motion, Auston turned you onto your stomach, his strong hands guiding you as you settled against the mattress. He straddled you, his knees framing your hips as his hands slid down your sides, spreading your cheeks gently to align himself with your entrance.

Leaning down, his lips brushed softly against the nape of your neck, his breath warm and tantalising against your skin. One hand gripped your waist firmly, steadying you as he positioned himself, while the other grabbed the sheets next to your head. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his voice a husky rasp laced with anticipation, sending shivers racing down your spine.

The moment he pressed into you, your body tensed, the stretch sending a mix of pleasure and intensity coursing through you. Your fingers clenched the pillow on either side of your head. For a moment he stilled, giving you time to adjust as he pressed soft kisses along your shoulder blade, his hand massaging your hips to keep you grounded.

“Relax, baby,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he began to move slowly, his hips rolling in deliberate, measured thrusts that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. His chest stayed pressed against your back, his warmth and weight a comforting contrast to the intensity of his movements.

Each thrust grew deeper, more deliberate, as Auston adjusted his angle, seeking out and finding that spot inside you that made you cry out in pure bliss. The room filled with the symphony of your moans, harmonising with his laboured breaths and the faint creak of the bed beneath you. The pace quickened, each movement driving you both closer to the edge, the connection between you electric.

His hand explored your body with unrestrained devotion, one gripping your hips firmly to hold you in place, the other tightening in the sheets. His touch was both possessive and tender, as though he wanted to claim every inch of you while cherishing it all at once.

The position felt like the perfect juxtaposition—intimately close yet tantalisingly daring. His chest pressed to your back, his lips leaving soft, lingering kisses along your shoulder and neck, adding a layer of romantic heat to the raw intensity of the moment. You felt entirely consumed by him, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, every movement sending you both spiralling further into pleasure.

Auston’s rhythm grew steadier, each deliberate thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer into him with every movement, as if he couldn’t bear to let even a breath of space exist between you. The sheer intensity of the connection left you trembling, your moans spilling freely, blending with the low groans escaping from deep in his throat.

His hand then slid down the curve of your back, his fingertips tracing your spine with a reverence that sent shivers through you. The position of his featherlight caress along your back heightened every sensation, making you ache for him even more.

“Aus…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with raw need. The sound of his name on your lips seemed to ignite something in him, his movements growing deeper, more purposeful as he adjusted his angle. The shift had you gasping, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo as he found the perfect spot inside you. “Just like that.”

“Oh shi-,”” he murmured, his voice rough, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fuck I’m getting close, baby.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as your body arched into him. His chest pressed flush against your back, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear before trailing down to your shoulder. Each kiss was a mix of tenderness and unrestrained hunger, as if he was determined to leave no part of you untouched, unclaimed.

His hand slipped from your hip, sliding around to your front, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. The dual sensations of his touch and the way he moved within you had you spiralling closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every moment.

“Auston, I’m gonna—” you gasped, your words catching as the pleasure overtook you, the waves crashing over you in a crescendo that left you trembling in his arms. And the way your body clenched around him pushed him to his own release, a deep groan vibrating against your skin as he buried himself fully, his movements faltering as he followed you over the edge.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your laboured breaths and the soft hum of the world outside. Auston’s weight pressed comfortingly against you as he leaned down to kiss the back of your neck, his lips lingering there before he pulled out and shifted to lie beside you.

Turning you gently, he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you close as his hands glided through your hair. His voice was a tender murmur against your ear, warm and content. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, the satisfaction in his tone matching the soft glow still radiating between you. “Best morning I could ever wish for.”

You smiled, your lips brushing against his chest as you rested your head there, the steady thrum of his heartbeat grounding you in the moment. “Merry Christmas, Aus,” you replied softly, your voice laced with warmth and contentment.

Entwined in each other’s embrace, with the morning light filtering in and the world outside covered in snow, everything felt perfect. It was the kind of Christmas morning you’d remember forever—the kind where love, warmth, and joy made everything else fade into the background.

#sexy christmas #18+ smut #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fanfic #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl hockey fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey romance

82 notes · View notes

kathlare · 11 days ago

Text

The One Where They Get Back Together

Welcome to the masterlist for this phase of Amelie and Lando’s story, set in 2024—a year where they’ve finally found their way back to each other. After years of missed chances, misunderstandings, and unresolved feelings, they are now in a serious and committed relationship. This timeline explores their growth, both individually and together, as they navigate the challenges and joys of being in each other’s lives again.

previous year / next year

Their journey hasn’t been easy—far from it—but it’s exactly what makes this year so meaningful. It’s a story of second chances, healing, and the realization that sometimes, the right person comes back at just the right time.

Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this journey! Your support and love for these two means everything to me, and I hope you enjoy watching them figure it all out (with plenty of laughs, love, and maybe a bit of drama along the way). 💕

full masterlist // request over here!

electric nights

behind the scenes

northern scapes

caught in the silence

fractures in the glass

across the world, for us

between us

taking the leap

fanboy - Eras Tour Melbourne

just us

the sushi test - Bahrain Grand Prix

sneaking glances - Saudi Arabian Grand Prix

caught in th glow - Oscars

tease and temptation

behind the grin - Austalian Grand Prix

reckless realizations

through the storm - Japanese Grand Prix

when the lights fade - Coachella

shifting tides

burning midnight - Chinese Grand Prix

orange chaos

into the spotlight - Miami Grand Prix

golden hour - Met Gala

bed chem

out off the bag - Emilia Romagna Grand Prix

stages of success - Saturday Night Live

virtual connection

drunk words, sober hearts - Monaco Grand Prix

please please please

inked in love - Canadian Grand Prix

surprise in the spotlight - Governor's Ball

between the quite moments

sweet distraction - Spanish Grand Prix

shattered moments - Austrian Grand Prix

balancing act

it's so romantic in paris - British Grand Prix

stage lights & stolen glances - Summertime Ball

echoes of sacrifice - Hungarian Grand Prix

drunk calls

shifting focus - Belgian Grand Prix

homecoming haven

sunsets & sparks

sun, fun and a whole lotta you

mullet madness - Outside Lands Festival

short n' sweet - Short n' Sweet Release Day

even miles apart - Dutch Grand Prix

surprise, baby

fuck papaya rules - Italian Grand Prix

unspoken tension

shattered sparks - Video Music Awards (VMAs)

unspoken words - Azerbaijan Grand Prix

electric feel - Singapore Grand Prix

showtime - Short n' Sweet Opening Night

call it what you want - Amelie's Birthday especial

shit show - United States Grand Prix

a night to remeber - Mexico City Grand Prix

you are enough - Sao Paulo Grand Prix

tears of triumph - Grammy nominations

juno - Lando's Birthday especial

everything as it should be - Short n' Sweet Closing Night

under the neon lights - Las Vegas Grand Prix

thankful for you - Thanksgiving Special

quiet respite - Qatar Grand Prix

tangled in love

papaya on top - Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

shining bright

feeling snowflakes

a symphony of lights

goodbye for now

just six more days

distant glow

through the screen

homecoming serenity

interrupted magic - Wicked World Premiere

under the festive lights - Christmas Special

wake-up call

86 notes · View notes

deafeningladyruins · 30 days ago

Text

A Sweet Christmas Baking Day

Art the Clown and his beloved had settled into a comfortable rhythm of life together, finding solace and joy in each other’s presence despite the darkness that surrounded them. As Christmas approached, she decided they should do something special and festive: baking Christmas cookies. She wanted to share this simple yet meaningful tradition with Art, hoping it would bring them even closer. One chilly afternoon, she gathered all the ingredients and set them out on the kitchen counter. She put on her favorite apron and handed Art a matching one, giggling at the sight of him wearing it over his clown costume. Art's eyes twinkled with amusement, his ever-present smile showing a hint of curiosity and excitement.

"Let's make some delicious cookies, Art," she said, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It'll be fun, I promise."

Art nodded, eager to join in the holiday fun. She walked him through each step, showing him how to measure the flour, sugar, and butter. Art watched intently, his focus unwavering as he carefully followed her instructions. Despite his usually clumsy and chaotic nature, he was surprisingly meticulous in the kitchen, and she found herself smiling at his unexpected skill. They mixed the dough together, Art's gloved hands moving with surprising grace as he kneaded it. She couldn't help but laugh when he playfully dusted her nose with a bit of flour. They rolled out the dough and used cookie cutters in various festive shapes—stars, trees, and gingerbread men. Art's precision made each cookie look perfect, and she marveled at his hidden talents.

"You're a natural, Art," she said, grinning at him. "These cookies are going to be amazing."

Art's silent laugh was infectious, and they continued to work side by side, decorating the cookies with colorful icing and sprinkles. She showed him how to make intricate designs, and he caught on quickly, his creativity shining through in the beautiful patterns he created. As they placed the decorated cookies in the oven, the sweet aroma began to fill the kitchen. They sat together at the table, enjoying the warm, cozy atmosphere they had created. The anticipation of tasting their creations made her heart swell with happiness.

When the cookies were finally done, she took them out of the oven, carefully placing them on a cooling rack. They admired their handiwork, the bright colors and festive shapes bringing a sense of joy and accomplishment. She picked up a star-shaped cookie and offered it to Art.

"Here, try it," she said, her eyes sparkling. "I bet it tastes as good as it looks."

Art took a bite, his eyes lighting up with delight. She watched him, her heart full of affection for the silent clown who had become such an important part of her life. She took a bite of her own cookie, savoring the sweet taste and the warmth of the moment. After enjoying their treats, they decided to relax in the living room. She lit a few candles and turned on some soft Christmas music, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere. They cuddled up on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over them as they watched the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

Art rested his head on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. The gentle rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his presence made her feel at peace. As they sat there, basking in the quiet joy of the holiday season, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the love they shared.

Art looked up at her, his eyes soft and filled with affection. He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. In that moment, she knew that their love, though unconventional and shrouded in darkness, was real and strong.

As the night wore on, they found themselves drifting off to sleep, still entwined in each other's embrace. The warmth of the fire, the soft glow of the lights, and the sweet taste of their homemade cookies made this Christmas a memory they would cherish forever.

---

Good evening everyone, I had the idea of this writing after I saw the beginning of Terrifier 3 when Art was eating the cookies, hope you guys like it.

86 notes · View notes

the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 1 year ago

Text

Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days.

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing.

A327. That was the room John apparently was in.

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one.

324. 325. 326.

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form.

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this.

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him.

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to.

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions.

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards.

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless.

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips.

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse.

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong.

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless.

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside".

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head.

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen.

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room.

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting.

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you.

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season.

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh.

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest.

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well.

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same.

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side.

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly.

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night".

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot.

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes.

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you.

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base.

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed.

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need.

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”.

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?”

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?”

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door.

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat.

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress.

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”.

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed.

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you".

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink.

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs.

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor.

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp.

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile.

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you.

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands.

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo.

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard.

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands.

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back.

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard.

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously.

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his.

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead.

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.

292 notes · View notes

pxnsneverland · 1 month ago

Text

Heartbreak Hotel | austin!elvis x oc (part 4)

(gif source: austinbutlermischief)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a costume designer at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 2198

warnings/notes: N/A

Chapter 4: Behind the Music

After a few days, it seemed strange not going to see Elvis on set every morning. Angel found myself with an unusually large amount of free time. This newfound freedom, however, gave Angel the opportunity to dive back into her own passions which had been somewhat sidelined during the intense filming schedule. She spent hours in her small studio, her fingers dancing over textiles and sketches as she conjured up new designs. Between meetings and recordings for a Christmas album he didn’t even want to continue doing, Elvis sought refuge in Angel's studio. The space was serene and flooded with natural light, the walls draped with fabrics of all textures and colors. It was worlds away from the glittering harshness of the showbiz industry that continually tried to mold Elvis into something he was not. As Angel worked, Elvis would often sit quietly in a corner, strumming his guitar lightly, sometimes humming along to whatever tune floated into his mind.

One afternoon, as Elvis watched her sketching a new pattern, he broke the silence with an unexpected suggestion. “Angel, baby,” he started tentatively, “Once all the contracts are up and everything is resolved here, the Colonel is talkin’ about goin’ back to performin’. Movin’ to Las Vegas.”

Angel paused her sketching, her pencil hovering mid-air as she processed his words. The thought of Las Vegas—a city of bright lights and endless nights—seemed so far removed from the quiet intimacy of their current moments. She looked up at him, trying to read his expression. "Las Vegas, huh?" she said softly, laying down her pencil.

“Yeah, Las Vegas. It’s a good place to start up my music again, getting away from LA and leave ‘movie star Elvis’ behind.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself it was a good move as well as her. “I want you to come with me.”

Angel felt her heart skip a beat at the invitation, the gravity of his words sinking in. She had only been in LA a short while herself, chasing something more than her old country town. She had thought getting a job at the production studio had been that ‘something more’. Until Elvis came into her life. Now, with Elvis’s proposal hanging in the air between them, a new chapter seemed to be beckoning. She hesitated for a moment, the threads of her previous life tugging at her heartstrings. “That’s a…big step, Elvis.”

Elvis watched her carefully, his eyes searching hers for any hint of what she might be thinking. “I know it’s big, darlin’. But I ain’t just talkin’ about Vegas. I’m talkin’ about us. You and me, takin’ on the world together. I can’t imagine bein’ anywhere without you.”

His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Angel took a deep breath. She set her pencil down fully and moved towards him, her hands reaching out to grasp his. “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he affirmed earnestly, capturing her hands in his own and holding them tight.

Angel looked around the studio, at the creations that represented her dreams and aspirations. Could she really leave all this behind? Yet, looking back at Elvis, she realized that he *was* her dream now, inextricably woven into the fabric of her future. She smiled, the decision suddenly clear in her mind. "Alright, Elvis.”

Elvis exhaled a sigh of relief, his face breaking into a wide grin. “You won’t regret it, Angel. I promise you that.” He pulled her into his arms.

*************************************

Half of Angel’s apartment was already packed in preparation for her upcoming move to Las Vegas even if some of Elvis' description of it seemed much too excessive for her. The boxes piled high in the small living room, each labeled with meticulous care: 'Kitchen stuff', 'Sketchbooks', 'Fabric'. Angel moved among them, her heart a mixture of excitement and apprehension. As she folded another of her delicate designs into a box marked 'Studio', she paused, holding the fabric against her cheek. The texture was familiar, comforting. In that moment, the doorbell rang, pulling her from her reverie. She set the fabric down gently and walked over to open the door. Standing there, with a lopsided grin was Elvis. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint as he saw the chaos of her half-packed apartment.

“What are you doing here?” Angel asked returning his grin.

“I was hopin’ to pull you away from all this packing.” He kissed her briefly on the lips. “I want you to come somewhere with me today.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” He motioned behind him and there was a car waiting with a driver.

Angel hesitated, glancing back at the mountain of boxes that still needed her attention. But the allure of an unexpected adventure with Elvis was too tempting to resist. With a playful sigh, she grabbed her purse and followed him out the door.

For the whole of the hour-long car trip, Angel pleaded with Elvis to reveal their destination. With a devilish grin on his face, he continued encouraging her to be patient. As the car continued driving up the mountain, past trees, plants, and the odd cactus, she eventually gave up asking. The road curved and twisted through the landscape, each turn revealing breathtaking vistas that Angel had only ever seen in photographs. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow over everything. The car finally slowed to a stop behind the Hollywood sign. Elvis got out first then opened the door for Angel extending his hand to assist her out the vehicle. She strolled to the 'O' and stared out the center onto the metropolis. It was stunning in appearance, enormous in size, and all encompassing.

Elvis stood beside her, his presence a comforting constant. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they both took in the expansive view. “I wanted to show you this,” he said softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

Angel turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. “It’s beautiful, Elvis. But why here?”

He smiled. “I used to come here a lot when I first moved to Los Angeles. Things seem so simple and quiet up here.” He sat down in the crook of the 'O' and leaned back. He took her hand. “I’ve arranged a meetin’. Jerry told me about these guys he had met goin’ out one night. They’re called Binder and Bones. He kept sayin’ ‘You gotta meet these guys, E.P.! They’re the ones who put James Brown and the Rolling Stones on stage. You gotta meet ‘em’. When we were talkin’ in the trailer about me gettin’ back to myself and all…I thought it wouldn’t hurt to give ‘em a call.”

Angel sat beside him, her heart beating with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The idea of Elvis reconnecting with his musical roots and stepping back onto the stage was thrilling, yet the uncertainty of it all weighed heavily on her. "Binder and Bones, huh?" she mused aloud, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Elvis squeezed her hand gently, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city below. "Yeah, they're supposed to be real innovators in the music scene.”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “The Colonel doesn’t know about this, does he?”

A pack of cigarettes appeared from Elvis's pocket. With his lips, he drew one out and lit it. He exhaled the cigarette smoke. “No, he doesn’t. And I’d like to keep it that way for now. He’s got his own ideas about what my comeback should look like, but I need to do this my way.”

Angel nodded. “Well, I don’t have any objections. You know how I feel about that man.”

Elvis chuckled softly, the smoke curling up into the air between them. "I know, darlin'. That's why I'm doing this with you by my side. You understand me more than anybody else."

“Who knows what’s better for Elvis Presley than Elvis Presley, right?”

Elvis grinned, that familiar twinkle lighting up his eyes. “My angel…with you, I think I can finally get things right.” He drew her in and brushed their lips together.

They separated when they heard footsteps approaching. Jerry approached then along with two guys: Binder and Bones. It was clear that all three of them meant business. Angel withdrew her hand from Elvis's. His chest rose and fell as he looked out at the cityscape again.

The guys came to a complete halt. “Mr. Binder, Mr. Howe, this is Mr. Elvis Presley and Ms. Angel Casteel.”

Angel gave a friendly nod to each of them. Elvis pretended for a second that he didn't notice their presence. He looked immersed in what he was seeing. Then he spoke, “When I first came to Hollywood, I would come up here and sit for hours. Right over there…” From where he was seated, the Griffith Observatory was readily visible across the distance. “...that’s where they shot Rebel Without A Cause. Man, I used to dream of bein’ a great actor like Jimmy Dean. The sign was beautiful then.” He stopped to examine the rusty metal that was only visible from this vantage point. “And now…Feels as though lots of things are like that these days. Broke down, beat up. Rotten.”

Elvis removed his sunglasses and proceeded. “I really like what you guys did, putting James Brown and the Stones together.”

Binder responded right away. “We’re, uh…big fans of yours, too. It’s just that, Mr. Presley, we don’t usually��”

“Oh, Elvis.”

“Elvis, uh…” Binder continued, “Christmas specials aren’t really our thing.”

That made Elvis grin knowingly. “I know.” His grin, however, was short-lived and rapidly faded. “Tell me honestly, where do you boys think my career’s at right now?”

Both Binder and Bones gazed at one other, their silence revealing their reluctance to speak. Bones answered, “Well, it’s…”

“It’s in the toilet, Elvis,” Binder said. He gave Angel a sidelong look. “Sorry for the terminology, ma’am.”

Angel gave a small smile, showing that she took no offense. She appreciated the honesty; it was something Elvis desperately needed if he was going to make a real comeback.

“My girl may look like a lady, but she’s tough.” Elvis laughed and gave Angel a knowing grin before returning to the conversation. “Oh Lord. I knew you were the right guys for this job. You know, back when I was starting out, some people wanted to put me in jail or even kill me, ‘cause of the way I was movin’.” He dismounted from his perch and began to stroll. He stopped when he reached a beam holding up one of the letters and rested against it. “So they cut my hair, put me in a uniform and they sent me away.” Once again, Elvis's mind was wandering off into the past. “That killed my mother. And ever since then…I’ve been lost.”

Angel approached Elvis and placed a protective arm over his forearm. “Elvis…”

He lowered his head and smiled at her. “I’m alright, darlin’.” Elvis turned to see Binder and Bones, who were still listening intently. “When you’re lost, people take advantage. It wasn’t until an angel came into my life...that I realized how truly lost I was. I need you fellas to help me get back to who I really am.” His tone was pleading rather than assertive.

“And who are you, Elvis?” Binder inquired, peering upward through his oversized sunglasses.

“Well, he sure as hell ain’t someone who sings Christmas songs by a fireplace in a wool sweater,” Angel commented with her hands on her hips. Both Binder and Bones laughed nervously to themselves, then quickly resumed their serious businesslike demeanor.

“And what does the Colonel think?” Bones asked.

“I don’t give a damn what the Colonel thinks,” Elvis answered back.

That appeared to arouse both producers's attention as they exchanged happy glances. They agreed to film Elvis's special and confirmed it with a handshake.

“We’ll start drawing up plans,” Binder said, “Set designs and everything and we’ll run them by you. I promise you’re not going to regret this.”

“No matter if it works out or not, I don’t regret anythin’,' ' Elvis declared.

Jerry waved farewell as he led Binder and Bones back to their vehicle at the top of the hill. When everyone else was gone, Angel grabbed Elvis and threw her arms around his neck. He buried his face in her shoulder stroking calming circles all over her back. They held each other for what seemed like an eternity. Elvis took a step back to look her directly in the eye, but his hands remained planted firmly on her waist. “This is gonna be big, baby doll. I can feel it. Bigger than anythin’ anyone has ever done before.” He pulled strands of hair out of her face. “But no matter what happens, I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you, understand?”

Angel chuckled a little. “What’s gonna happen to me?”

Elvis drew her in for a close kiss on the forehead and then lingered there. He took a long breath in. “Nothin’.”

Stay tuned for part 5!! Click HERE to view!

57 notes · View notes