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loveshotzz · 1 year

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All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap ten/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs -

Baby, I’m Yours

summary: A sleepless night brings you back to where it all began.

wc: 8k

warnings: 18+ for the softest of smut.

author’s note: I know we still have the epilogue but I can’t believe we’re actually here at the end of their story. Thank you to all of you that spent your summer reading about Steve and his Tough Girl, this has been such a journey for me as a writer with a lot of challenges but I’m so thankful I did it. Truly writing about these two and talking about it with you guys was the highlight of my summer. From the bottom of my heart, thank you 🧡

🌇 <- chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Beginning of August

Steve had been gone for a week and a half and it felt more like a lifetime to you, but it wasn’t for the lack of communication. If Steve wasn’t calling you he was texting you, sending you pictures of his lunch no matter how lame you told him it was. By day three you were sending him a picture of your own with a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes. His enthusiastic response of ‘That looks good baby!!’ had made you squirm in your seat with hot cheeks huffing the word “pathetic” to yourself, but that didn’t stop you from doing it again the next day.

It was FaceTime calls of Peach telling Steve to turn the camera around, always too busy looking at you and telling you how pretty you are to notice his was pointed towards a wall. Or the one time it was pointed at Eddie who sat in front of him making a suggestive ‘cumming’ face to tease him, the camera flipped immediately when he heard you giggle. Steve scolded his cackling friend with an ‘honestly, I hate you’ before taking you to another room, apologizing profusely with blush visible on his cheeks.

It was the small bits of time in between text messages and phone calls that made it drag. The quiet evenings without Bandit’s excited bark from the front yard, the low simmer that’s always in your gut from the possibility of running into him any time you come and go, is gone with the man and his dog. It’s just enough time for seeds of doubt to creep in. The newness, the anxiety of it all.

The bright red numbers on the clock above your stove read 2:13am - three days until Steve gets home and tonight you can’t sleep. Quietly thanking whatever gods there are for your day off tomorrow, well - today.

Your apartment smells like Clorox, lavender, and lemon. The wood floors sparkling just like your kitchen countertops. Cleaning everything you could touch has kept you busy, but it doesn’t make you any more tired than when you’d started. Your intrusive thoughts and daydreams are going a mile a minute:you didn’t get your usual good night call from him. The rational side of you knows that one missed phone call doesn’t mean anything, but the irrational side decided you don’t need to rest.

The full trash bag next to your front door taunts you, just like the promise you made Steve about taking it out late at night months ago. The fact that it’s the last thing left to do makes it that much harder to walk away from. Gnawing at the side of your cheek you decide not to, he’s not even home to catch you.

The moon’s blue glow illuminates your path while the skyline of the city sparkles below it. The tall buildings shimmer in a way that takes attention from the stars in the cloudless night sky. You can feel how the humidity hangs less thick in the air the more August rolls in. The thin material of your tank top does nothing against the light breeze that makes the bottom of your sleep shorts tickle the tops of your thighs. There’s a chill that didn’t exist before and it makes goosebumps dot across your skin.

Your slides scrape along the gravel from your refusal to fully pick your feet up, and it fights with the sounds of the late Friday night in the distance. You hum a made up tune as the streetlight buzzes above, lifting the lid you jump when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“I thought I told you not to take your trash out in the middle of the night, especially alone, tough girl.” Steve’s voice erupts everything that’s laid dormant inside of you for the past week. Butterflies start to flutter until they’re fighting against your rib cage to get out and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling before you’ve even turned around.

“Well,” You sigh, dropping your bag in the trash can, “the guy I was supposed to call if I needed anything ditched me for his out of state boyfriend.” Shrugging when you finally let yourself look at him, the view rivals the one that shines bright behind him.

His hair is messy in a way that isn’t purposeful this time, but he looks just as handsome as any other day. The stubble on his jaw is thicker, but not quite like the night he waited at your doorstep, and god, do you want to feel it against your skin. His big arms sit crossed over a broad chest that’s only covered in a gray tank top. The thick patch of hair always half way on display threatens to touch the base of his neck, the bottom of his silver chain disappearing inside of it.

His freckles are darker now, easier to find from all the sun he got while he was gone and you’re jealous of the hands that got to rub sunscreen on them, even if they were his own. The black basketball shorts on his legs stop in the middle of his thighs, it makes you bite at your lip.The greens and golds in his eyes light a match under your skin with the way he stares at you — like he couldn’t possibly look away even if he tried.

“My out of state boyfriend huh?” He grins, tightening his hold on his own bag before his Nike slide covered feet crunch against the gravel towards you. His eyes catch the dainty silver still hanging around your neck, the stone shining in the moonlight, and it makes his heart swell. Tossing his trash in after yours, he meets your gaze down the slope of his nose, arching a brow. “What does that make you then?”

He smells like bergamot and cedar, a lingering hint of the cigar he probably smoked in New York still clinging to his hair. The heat coming off his body makes your fingertips buzz, twitching with the need to reach out and just touch him.

“I dunno, what does that make me, Steve?” It comes out shy, a little above a whisper, a question just for him.

He hums, a low sound that vibrates from deep in his chest while his fingers come up to toy with the stone that dangles just above the dip of your breasts. The tips of them tickling rough against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” His confident demeanor falters when he asks just as quiet, all the miles and days without seeing each other are affecting him too. He doesn’t tell you that’s part of the reason he booked an early flight home on your day off.

“I want you.” You don’t hesitate when you say it, no pauses for even a second to think of what you want to say. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, the muscles under your palm dance from your simple touch. He wonders if you can feel his pulse.

“You already have me.” He almost wants to laugh until he still sees the same shared doubt in your eyes. “Haven’t I made that obvious?”

He tugs at your necklace as a reminder, a smile breaking across your face because of it and all he wants to do is kiss you now. Especially when he drops the stone to grab your hand, and after taking just a few steps, you reach up to touch it again — a silent, constant reminder of his confession as you walk towards the wooden gates.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” You pout a little, looking up at him when he stops you both at your backyard.

“I landed a few hours ago,” He chuckles, his hands finding your hips to pull you to his chest, in love with the way you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck like it’s natural, like it’s second nature to want him close. “I was actually going to surprise you in the morning with breakfast after I picked up Bandit from Nance’s.”

“Oh yeah?” You grin at the thought of Steve showing up at your front door, that messy head of hair shoved into a baseball cap.

He nudges his nose against yours, the spearmint of his toothpaste fanning cool across your cheeks while your fingers curl into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Tilting your chin so your lips just barely touch, you silently beg him to close the gap.

“Yeah,” He breathes, hazel eyes clocking the way your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks. He almost feels bad for teasing, especially when you give his hair a gentle, coaxing tug. “But someone wanted to risk their lives for the sake of taking out the trash. So, surprise, pretty girl, I’m home.”

His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.

“Well, good thing you were here to save me.” You giggle against his mouth, and it makes his hands squeeze at your sides a little tighter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The tip of your nose pushes against the rough stubble on his cheek, “Besides, I missed you, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait ‘til the morning.”

“God, honey. You have no idea how much I missed you.” His face crumples a little at the thought, almost like he forgot for a second you were right in front of him, but when you somehow pull yourself closer, he doesn’t waste anymore time.

The wood is rough when your back hits the gate at the same time his lips finally crash into yours. A week of longing comes out with a sigh. The metal hinges and lock clank loudly together while he steals the breath from your lungs. He coaxes your mouth open with a swipe from his impatient tongue, groaning when you grant him access. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, and he promises himself he’ll never go a day without it again — not if he can help it.

Your hands get greedy in his hair, bigger handfuls, harsher tugs while your body stays flush against his as he keeps you pinned to the door. It’s all tongue and teeth for a minute, both of you losing yourselves in it for longer than you should. It’s not until a car honks, signaling to any bikers around that it’s popping out of the alley, breaking you two apart.

Chest heaving and lips swollen, all you want is more.

He laughs to himself pressing his forehead against yours with the kind of smile that makes your knees weak. The tip of his nose touches yours; he’s all wild hair and love sick eyes. You don’t want to be without him tonight. Or ever.

“Come sleepover?”

The question comes out before you can stop it, before you can really register what that invitation might mean for both of you. His eyes widen before they search your face for any kind of regret, his tongue wetting his lips when he doesn’t find it. You twist strands of his honey hair between your fingers, nervously waiting for his response.

“We - we don’t have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” You finally whisper, your nerves getting the best of you. He can’t believe you think he’d actually say no.

“Let me shower and get the airport off of me, and then I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you baby.” He steals another kiss from your smiling lips, letting you take another one for yourself, groaning at the nip of your teeth on his bottom lip before he finally lets you go.

Opening the gate for you, he grabs your wrist pulling you back for one more, relishing in the giggle it earns him before he whispers that he’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

It feels like your heart is trying to escape through your chest as you try not to check the time on your phone. Strategically placed candles are the only light in your living room and kitchen, while a dimmed bedside lamp in your room gleams a dark orange with your wax melter. It feels like your apartment is glowing, but it does nothing to relax the nerves that course through your veins as you pace the small space of your room trying to shake them before his inevitable arrival.

Knock, knock, knock

They are quieter than his normal ones, but they make you jump just the same. You shake your hands out, taking a deep breath before you pad barefoot to your front door. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that always grows the first time you lay your eyes on him and his lopsided grin.

“Hey baby.” He greets you in the kind of voice that makes the dough of your thighs press.

His damp hair is pushed back, from what looks like a few quick hands in the mirror. A simple white shirt replaces the tank top from before, fitting loosely across his shoulders, and a soft looking pair of gray cotton shorts cover the tops of his thighs this time. He’s wearing a tan pair of moccasin slippers on his feet that you’ve never seen, and for some reason his exposed ankles make the heat rise to your cheeks while the fresh scent of his pine body wash threatens to take over your senses.

“Hi handsome.” It’s dripping in sugar the way you say it, sweet off your tongue just for him as you open the door wider.

He thinks your apartment smells like peaches and the ocean when you close it behind him. It smells just like you and he feels surrounded by it, intoxicated with it, the way he always wants to be. You watch him take in your apartment like he missed it too, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he notices you just cleaned it. He bites back his remark when his eyes meet yours, he can’t bring himself to say it when you’re staring at him from under your lashes with your back pressed to the door all shy like that.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” he extends a big hand out for you to take with soft eyes, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” copying your line from outside, he wiggles his fingers a little with a smile warmer than the glow of the candles that dance shadows across his sharp jaw and cheek bones, “I just wanna lay with you.”

You don’t hesitate to slip your palm into his, your heart racing when you watch his fingers wrap around you with ease. He pulls you into him, colliding in a mix of forest and the beach. He keeps a hold of your hand, cupping your cheek with his other one. The pad of his thumb traces over the heated skin, paying extra attention to the soft bag under your eye. You needed sleep.

“Just me and you, that’s all I want, okay?” He reassures you in a voice lower than a whisper. His heart swells when you nod with big glassy eyes, your hand coming to rest on the top of his so you can lean deeper into his touch.Steve’s hazel eyes look to yours, he tilts his head a little bit closer in a silent ask for permission, you push up on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He kisses you differently than how he did in the alley, differently than the Fourth of July and the baseball game. He’s gentle, like he’s taking his time with you because he actually has it now, like he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to deepen it even when they move together like this is what they were always meant to be doing, not even when your top lip catches a little dirty with his bottom. He wants to remember this moment, commit it to memory so that he never forgets what this feels like with you. He kisses you like this until the need for oxygen becomes too much and your feet start to hurt from standing in place for too long.

“Let’s go lay down.” You whisper between bated breaths that mingle with his, your chests heave as he gives you the kind of toothy grin that makes the butterflies wake up again, nodding with a squeeze of your hand.

The hum of A/C and the sounds of your breathing are the only things that can be heard in the low light of your room. Steve’s body lays pressed on top of yours, making himself comfortable between your legs. His head rests on your sternum with a cheek against the soft curve of your tummy. His big hands hold tight to your sides, caging you in – it feels like he’s everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The weight of him relaxes you into the feathers of your pillows.

Your fingers keep themselves busy buried deep in the thickness of his hair. Still a little damp at the roots, you massage the part of his scalp you know was resting on the hard cushion of the airplane seat, earning you a deep groan that vibrates between your legs. He feels the way they try to close because of it, the sharp intake of breath that you try to hide.

He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle.

Steve doesn’t know how he lasted as long as he did this past week without you.

He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.

“Steve!” You sound annoyed but the smile on your face gives you away when you go to cover your eyes with the back of your hand.

“What baby?” He smirks against your skin and feels the way it makes you squirm with a subtle roll of your hips, he’s not even sure you noticed that you did it.

“No…”Your voice trails off when he pushes your shirt up a little higher, his lips getting bolder, addicted to the way you heat up for him with every soft kiss, “No raspberries.” You finally manage, making him chuckle. But that doesn’t stop him continuing on his path.

“I promise I’ll be nice, m’sorry” He mumbles an apology against your skin, basking in the goosebumps it earns him.

He sits back on his knees, thumbs hooking into the bottom of your tank. His eyes meet yours from underneath his lashes and he wishes he could take a picture of the way you look right now.

“Is this okay?” He asks just to make sure, and the nod of your head with heavy lids is enough for him to press a wet kiss on your sternum before pulling the rest of the offending fabric off, throwing it somewhere on your floor.

Steve forgets how to breathe the moment his eyes land on you, soft curves just begging for his touch. He can’t help himself when he runs his palms up your sides making your nipples pebble when the pads of his thumbs meet the bottom swell of your breasts. You wonder if he can feel the wings under your rib cage.

“God - honey,” Steve’s words get lost on his tongue when you stare up at him with eyes blown out like his, it makes him run a hand down his face like he can’t believe you’re real. “I’m lucky to just be lookin’ at you.”

His praise makes a shy smile push up your cheeks, his own teeth shining in a grin because of it.

“I wanna look at you too.” You whine a little, reaching down between your legs to tug at the cotton of his shirt with a pout.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, bending back down to hover over you. His nose nudges against your cheek before his lips brush yours, smirking when you nod a little desperate against his mouth.

The kiss he gives you lingers, lighting a fire inside of you, the kind that burns at your fingertips, consuming you like it’s wild and it makes you realize it’s never going to be enough. You’re never going to get enough of the man who looks at you like you hung the stars in his sky, like you were the sun that broke through the rain clouds that followed him around.

His fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, and it feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he pulls it over his head, adding it to the already growing pile on the floor. His muscles twitch under your gaze, his own nerves finally catching up to him when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been with someone like this. Pink dusts his cheeks but he doesn’t look away, not when he sees the way your eyes glaze over at the sight. The dark thatch of hair in the middle of his chest looks soft to the touch from his late night shower and it makes your fingers twitch to touch him.

The silver of his chain gleams like yours in the moonlight that leaks through your curtains and it makes his skin look like it glows. You give in, running your fingertips through the thick happy trail that’s surrounded by another collection of freckles and moles that you feel the need to kiss and you catch the shudder that runs through him because of it.

“You’re so handsome, Steve.” It comes out a little breathless, and it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Thank you, angel.” He tries to hide his bashfulness in a grin and a hand through his hair, bending back down to press a kiss to your collarbone so you don’t see his smile.

He starts a path up your neck, nipping at sensitive skin along the way to your lips, his own butterflies being spurred on by the whimper it earns him. He hovers over you searching your face for any indication to stop but he’s only met with the kind of look in your eyes that almost has him say it.

‘I love you’.

He tries to show you by slotting his lips against yours in a hot breath, like a key to its lock. The bed dips on either side of your head when he goes from his palms to his forearms, chest to chest he wonders if you can feel his heart beating just for you tonight.

The feeling of his skin against yours makes every inch of you feel like a livewire, both of you moaning into the kiss like you’ve waited too long for this. Tongues collide messily when he rolls his hips with a purpose. The pointed pressure on your bundle of nerves, has you keening into him. Your hands slide up his chest through the patch of hair you’d been dreaming about for months, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Addicted to the way his hard muscles flex against your soft skin.

Box springs squeak when he lets go of all of his weight, it feels like he’s everywhere and it makes your head spin. Your fingers find their way back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you fight for dominance with his lips, trying to convey everything you’re feeling right now because words just won’t work.

Pushing your hips up to meet his in a slow grind, the thin material of his shorts does nothing to hide just how big he really is and it makes everything turn sloppy, teeth scraping together with silk between your fingers tugging at his roots a little mean. He smiles when he pulls away to catch his breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are as black as the night outside that threatens to give away to the sun in just a few hours, they look at you like he can’t believe you’re real, memorizing every detail of your face like you might disappear if he blinks.

“So pretty.” He murmurs before littering kisses down your body, some sweet and some with a nip of his teeth.

His eyes meet yours in a silent question of ‘is this okay?’, long fingers curling around the elastic band. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your shy smile. You nod with a little too much excitement making him smirk before pressing a sweet kiss on the top of your hip, running his nose along the soft your tummy doing it again to the other side.

You hold your breath when he pulls them down your thighs, the tips of his fingers gliding down the sides of your legs as he goes, lips tugging up when you squirm a little because of it. A low groan vibrates from his chest when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear, glistening with your arousal in the dim light. You’re so wet and all he’s done is kiss you.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He mutters awestruck by the sight.

A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.

“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”

His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your leg up enough for his lips to kiss the soft skin right above the round bone, his nose skims up your calf to press another one, relishing in the giggle he gets as he keeps on his path to what he really wants. You squeal when he nips at the inside of your knee and you can feel his smirk against your goosebumps.

Once his kisses get to your thigh, he settles between your legs with his chest to the mattress. It’s hard to remember your own name when he looks up at you through his lashes like that. He hooks your knee over his broad shoulder, his lips dragging a little dirty across your heated skin. He can taste the watermelon that still lingers from his favorite lotion. You were going to be the death of him.

He meets your eyes when he gets high enough for your thigh and hip to connect. Close enough to smell how sweet you are worked up just for him.

“Can I taste you?” He skims his nose up the plush inside of your thigh when he asks, his eyelids growing heavy just basking in being close to you like this. You could say no, and this would be enough for him but the way you’re already dripping on your sheets makes him insatiable. “You want that?”

You want that?

He watches how your eyes glaze over at his question, the intensity of his gaze makes you want to hide, he was so handsome looking up at you like this. Too bashful to actually say yes, you nod again.

“Can you say it for me?” He squeezes your hip, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles to soothe your nerves like his own weren’t boiling under the surface of his confident demeanor like a volcano ready to explode.

What if he wasn’t good at this anymore?

“Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.

“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s started to always miss you when you aren’t around.

He accepts your nod this time, your teeth threatening to make your bottom lip bleed when he settles your other leg over his shoulder too, nothing holding him back from you anymore. He takes all of you in with a greedy eyes, his pink tongue darling out to lick his lips when he sees just how much you want this too.

Nothing can prepare you for the first swipe of his flattened tongue between your slick folds, the tip of it catching your clit with just enough pressure for the grip on your sheets to tighten. The butterflies in your rib cage feel like they make their escape in the gasp you let out, his low hum of approval making your toes curl when he does it again.

“So fucking sweet baby, god of course you are.”

He doesn’t waste anymore time testing the waters, his self doubt gone with his self control when your hips roll up asking for more. Steve knows now he’ll never say no to you and he’s not shy with the way he buries his face in your pussy. His tongue laps up everything you give him, like he’s hungry with his nose pressed to your bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make your back arch.

“Ohmygod - Steve.” The moan you let out makes his cock twitch, your fingers reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer. You were better than his dreams.

Your thighs snap closed around his ears after he stops the greedy strokes of his tongue in the tightness of your entrance for his lips to wrap your clit. He sucks with the kind of force that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. His eyebrows marry together when he closes his eyes like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. One of hands leaves the dough of your thighs for his thick index finger to take his tongue's place, collecting the slick from between your folds before pushing one knuckle in.

It makes you gasp a little breathy as your hips push up for more, and he gives it to you, pushing two more knuckles in and you already feel so full. Your walls constrict, fluttering around his single digit like it’s a stretch and he wonders how you’re going to be able to take him. His own hips rut into the mattress in search of some kind of relief while he sets a steady pace between his mouth and his wrist that has you clenching like you’re about to unravel.

“You close baby? Wanna show me how good it feels?” His question comes out sloppy against your mound, all the color in his eyes is gone meeting yours from between your legs blown wide. When he adds a second finger, it slides in with ease making your eyes hit the back of your head, a low moan bubbling past your lips. Your toes curl with his fingers, jaw going slack with his name in your mouth like a prayer and he’s scared you’re going to make him cum in his pants again.

“Just like that, fuck - right there - Steve, Steve, Steeeeeve!” The fingers that are tangled in his hair tug rough, your thighs clamping down hard around his head while your body tries to squirm away to run from the intensity of it all, the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw when he moves his head from side to side drinking in everything you give him.

His hand on your hip locks you in place while you come undone on his tongue and he swears you taste just like sugar when he buries his face in deeper till you whine, pushing on his forehead to stop, overstimulation winning. Heat floods your cheeks when you see the shine from your slick covering the bottom of his lopsided grin when he finally looks up at you.

“So pretty like this,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your shaking thigh.

You cover your face with your hands, the intensity of your first orgasm and the intimacy of it all overwhelms you, the tightness in your chest threatens to become unbearable. The three words sitting at the tip of your tongue beg to come out from between your lips.

Not yet.

He trails sticky kisses up your stomach, making sure to pay special attention to the swell of your breasts, pulling them both together in his big hands to give them equal treatment. Shining lips wrap around your sensitive nipples and it's enough for a new wave of arousal to blossom deep inside your belly, a subtle rock of your hips meeting his when he rolls one between his teeth. Insatiable, just like him.

“Steve,” His name comes out around a sigh, your fingers running up his freckled back before tangling themselves in his hair again, addicted to the softness of it.

“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.

“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.

“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”

He moves back up your body, leaving wet kisses across sweat slicked skin making sure to suck at the sensitive spot he found just above your collarbone, smiling when you gasp. He’s not expecting to feel your lips against his jaw, bold and sure of themselves by the time they get to the corner of his mouth, dainty fingers pulling his chin down to collect your kiss.

Your lips move like you can finally relax, like you’re home now and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. This didn’t feel like just sex.

Your hands run down his sides, grinning into his mouth when he chuckles as the tips of your fingers brush against his ribs, you keep that information locked away another time as you hook them in the elastic band of his shorts. His tongue licks a little dirty into your mouth when you start to pull them down his hips, helping you get them to his knees before kicking them off entirely. The length of him feels heavy against your stomach, and it makes you break away from the kiss but his lips stay attached to you.

Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach.

The view makes your breath hitch and get stuck in the back of your throat, walls fluttering around nothing when you see just how big he really is. He’s too busy trying to find new places to make you gasp and all you wanna do is look at him.

“Steve” his name comes out around the gasp he was trying so hard to get by sucking a little bruise behind your ear.

He hums against your skin with his eyes closed, drowning in you. Love drunk off of it. The slow sleepiness from the day creeping in as his body molds to the warmth of you.

“I wanna look at you, too.” Your request is quiet against the rough stubble that fades into his neck, and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips.

“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, nose nudging against your jaw when he brings his gaze back to yours, a smile pulls up the apples of his cheeks, crinkling small lines under his eyes.

“Yeah.” You don’t nod this time.

He holds your eyes in his, needing you to know there’s a double meaning in his words when he brings his palm to your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

The mattress bounces when Steve flops next to you on his back, the two of you barely fitting on your queen size with his broad shoulders and long legs. He catches the way your eyes grow big when you sit up on your knees and finally get to see all of him. He reaches out for you, sensing your hesitation at his size

“C’mere, baby, we’ll go slow.”

Heat blooms between your legs when you take his hand, your knees finding a home on either side of his hips. He’s thicker than you’d imagined all those nights with your fingers between your thighs. The big vein running up the length of him protrudes like it’s working overtime, while beads of pearly white smear against the rough patch of hair just below his belly button from his light pink tip. Wrapping his hand around the base, he gives himself a pump to relieve some of the ache from seeing you sitting on top of him like this. Soft curves on display in the moonlight, he can’t wait to see them when it breaks daylight.

“Fuck,” He sighs when you settle above him, “you look gorgeous.”

His words make your confidence peak, your hands finding themselves flat against his chest, the blunt ends of your nails drag through the hair there and you spot another cluster of freckles you hadn’t seen before, you wonder if he’ll let you find them all.

“Look who’s talkin’” You tease, making him laugh as you lean up to steal a kiss. The motion has the length of him slide easily between your slick folds, his tip catching your clit before popping out.

“Jesus Christ.” He sighs against your mouth that’s formed in a silent ‘o’, rolling his back up in search for more.

“Steve - you’re so - “ The last of your sentence is stolen by a gasp when you grind down to meet his thrust, the tip of him prodding your entrance before gliding up with just the right amount of pressure to make you both moan.

“I’m so what?” He asks a little smug, arms circling the curve of your waist to pull you closer, dragging you over the length of him again, it makes you shudder in his grasp.

He catches against where you beg for more of him, fluttering around the tip, your walls try to suck him in. A low growl rumbles from his chest when he tries to fit a little more. It’s your hips that roll, and it's just enough for him to push all the way in with a little resistance.

“Goddd,” You whine, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been, your walls stinging, desperately trying to accommodate his size. A low huff exhales through your nose when you sit up straight, letting your nails drag over the beauty marks that litter his stomach before finishing your sentence, “so big.”

“Yeah, but look at you takin’ it.” He groans with pinched brows, eyes transfixed on where he disappears inside of you. Arousal coating the thick thatch of hair that frames him, wetting his lips as he watches the way you grind your clit against it letting him fill you to the hilt. “So good for me baby, so beautiful, - fuck! - so gorgeous.”

His praise has you clenching around him, your mouth falling open when you feel him twitch because of it. His big hands find the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers leaving fires in their wake while making their way to your hips. He squeezes softly when he gets there, guiding your lazy thrusts before searching for your hands.

You watch him intertwine your fingers with curious eyes, his gaze transfixed on yours as he holds them at your sides, rolling his hips up to push even deeper.

“Oh god,” He does it again only this time if feels like there’s nowhere else for him to fit and it makes your eyes screw shut, “ohmyfuckinggod - Steeeve!”

“Right there? Yeah? Is that it?” He grunts trying to repeat it and your hands squeeze his in an iron grip. “Come on baby, I need to see you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is almost overwhelming. Connected to him in a way that is going to change you forever. The pad of his thumb rubs soft on the top of your hand, bringing you back to him.

“You’re eyes are too pretty to be keepin’ them from me.” He smiles when you finally meet his gaze and it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs.

“I love you.” The three words slip past your kiss bitten lips before you can even think long enough to stop them and it makes everything come to a standstill.

“What’d you just say?” Steve’s voice is quiet, something unrecognizable in his tone that makes all your nerves come back like they never left.

“I - I -“ the harsh sting of rejection is written all over your face and the feeling of you trying to untangle your hands snaps him back to reality. To you.

“Hey, hey, hey, no honey.” He doesn’t let you go, squeezing till his knuckles turn white “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, because I’ve been wanting to say that to you since the fourth of July.”

You light up for him in a way he’s never seen before and he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.

“Really?” You whisper a little shy, your own smile becoming uncontainable.

He lets your hands go to wrap his arms back around your waist, sitting up as he pulls you with him on his lap. Chest to chest with his back against your headboard, you’re even closer to him like this. The new position has him impossibly deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix making you keen pretty.

“Yeah, really.” He sighs, wishing he had gotten to say it first.

One arm keeps you close while the other wraps around your back, the warmth of his palm spreading wide across it. The stray hair that you missed more than you realized falls over his forehead and there’s nothing stopping you from pushing it back. Fingernails dragging through his soft hair, making his eyes close until he feels the slow drag of your hips spurring him on.

He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace, especially when your arms wrap around his neck and he feels your hardened nipples against chest. The new angle has his thrusts hitting the spot inside of you no one else has ever been able to find, the one you almost didn’t think existed. The tip of him catches it again and again.

The sound of your slick fills the quiet of your room, growing louder with every roll of your hips that connect with his. The light sheen of sweat that coats both of you has you sliding against his thighs, the cool air from the A/C doing nothing as the two of you get lost like this.

Your second orgasm builds at the same time your body starts to slump against his, your muscles screaming at you for a break.

“Getting close, huh?” He asks, with a forehead pressed to yours, lips teasing but never touching with each thrust.

All you can do is nod, your eyes not daring to leave his again. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried, a hazel forest turned night, you never wanted to leave the depths of them.

“So good for me, let go pretty baby, I got you. Let me do all the work.” He picks up his pace, pushing deeper in with every roll of his hips, feeling the way you squeeze around him while your body starts to shake, the high you’d been chasing threatening to take you.

Holding your gaze, the hand on your back slides up the dip of your spine, curling around the back of your neck. He closes the last bit of space, pulling you to his lips. It’s sloppy and sweet, neither one of you trying to deepen it, just enjoying the way you move together like it was supposed to be like this forever.

“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away, his confession is the last straw that sends you over the edge. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes when you cum hard around him for the second time.

Your fingers tangle his hair, crashing your lips into his with tear stained cheeks and he can feel everything you put inside of it just for him. It’s enough to finally let himself unravel for the first time in years with a loud moan and his face buried in your neck.

It warms deep in your gut when he spills inside of you, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your thighs shake clinging to him, both of you too scared to let go in the irrational fear that you’ll just wake up from a really good dream. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, your nails finding their way to his scalp. He hums against you when you kiss his temple, nuzzling deeper until you feel his lips against the underside of your jaw.

The two of you sit there like this in a mess of tangled limbs. Sweet kisses and even sweeter words all spoken just barely above a whisper until he’s soft enough to slide out on his own. He takes his time cleaning you up after with giant hands that treat you like glass.

It’s like muscle memory the way he pulls you to his chest under the covers, like this isn’t your first sleepover. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours with shining eyes and an even brighter smile, kissing you softly with another whispered “you’re so beautiful”.

Streams of sunshine break through your blinds when the two of you finally settle in, buried deep in his arms surrounded by the lingering scent of pine and him, the sounds of his even breathing are enough for you to give into your heavy lids.

It’s only when you’re on the verge of dreams you’re sure will be filled with him that you hear it:

“I love you, tough girl.”

🌇 -> epilogue

beta’d by @chechelia & dividers by @chechelia

(thank you for everything cece ♥️ and a special thank you to @superblysubpar for betaing the first half of this series, i love you both dearly. & also @carolmunson for always talking to me about our boys, and helping me make this world a little bigger ♥️ ily)

#my writing #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harringont series

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deandoesthingstome · 6 months

Text

Exactly What His Heart Meant

Pairing: Pornstar!August Walker x Pornstar!Reader

Summary: August Walker has wanted you forever. You want him, too. It's perfect.

Word Count: 7.4K

Warnings: This is Pornstar!AU, okay? 18+ ONLY Drug and alcohol use, mentions of a three-way, generic anal, bad business practices, oral sex (F & M receiving), vaginal fingering, anal fingering, P in V missionary and doggy style, sex toys, pegging (gasp - yes I'm going there), aftercare. Love.

A/N: I am nervous, okay? This is not your average everyday August Walker, but I love him and I hope you do too. I have been wanting to do this since forever. I've posted a few blurbs in WIP tag games here and here. I gushed about the song that kicked the whole thing into high gear and the fic title is taken from "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" - Rod Stewart. Both songs can be found on the playlist.

Bonus points if you can find the nods to other HC characters. There is definitely one, maybe two or three if you squint hard. (These points don't get you anything, sorry.)

Playlist: Listen to the music of the night on Spotify here.

Header and dividers by me.

August owned his entrance like no other. The studio made sure to send a PA ahead to prep the DJ and once he heard the first strains of “Night Fever” spill out of the club, he stepped out of the shadows and headed to the entrance, ready to start his decent down into the lights and glitter and debauchery as soon as Here I am sounded through the speakers and a spotlight made its way to him.

The already celebratory crowd went wild as he struck the iconic pose and thrust his hips in time to the rhythm. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried, no matter how he had protested his employer’s choice for him. He would have sworn on any stack of bibles he didn’t like disco and abhorred polyester, yet here he was gyrating away. First time for everything. Starting with enjoying this awards night and after-party.

Each one prior had a story already attached to it from the beginning of the night, starting with his inaugural ceremony and guaranteed newcomer award, and trailing through the end of every relationship he thought would be the one. He finally stopped assuming because they said yes to the event after a few months or more of dating, that meant they were saying yes to him forever. The next few years were brutal and lonely, not that he couldn’t find some starfucker to take home at the end of the night, but that wasn’t what he craved.

Tonight was Club Retro themed. Award ceremony glamor as usual, but a costume change was required somewhere on the way from the venue to the after-party if you wanted to really up your game. Arrive in club gear of whichever era you wanted, but arrive dressed to impress nonetheless. He wasn’t the only actor a studio had convinced to go for the Travolta look, but he was probably the most surprised to find himself exhilarated by it and the attention it received. He kept all three pieces of the white suit, but he ditched the dark blue shirt altogether. Maybe he didn’t have a full head of hair, but the ‘stache and chest hair on display held 70’s swagger and he was running with it.

He grabbed a glass of champagne from one tray and a pill from another and set off into the crowd in search of the rest of his crew. He caught glimpses of the fresh-faced sweetheart who’d just inked a new deal grinding on the studio’s number two out on the dance floor and knew his plan to link them up had worked. The fans would eat them up, he knew it.

Knew it better than the owner, who wanted August to break her in. Ethan had begun making some really bad casting and scripting decisions and August was glad his contract was coming to an end. He was starting to feel like he wanted to just blow the whole studio up, let loose with all the bullshit he knew about his boss and how he ran his business. The industry could be awful, plenty of horror stories, but August had initially thought he’d found a place to call home.

What he’d begun to uncover about Ethan Hunt could fill a manifesto that would take the place down. And as crazy as it sounded, though he was tired of breaking in new talent, he wasn’t ready to be the reason all his friends lost their jobs. Not everyone was in a position to land on their feet. Regardless, at least now, with the sweetheart and the roughneck on a solid trajectory he wouldn’t be in the middle of something if tonight panned out the way he hoped.

Though, to be honest, it wasn’t looking good. He’d found his crew and then scanned the room for her with no luck.

“She hasn’t shown up yet,” his agent purred in his ear. Kelis was always down to party whenever he had an itch no one else would scratch, and he appreciated how decidedly non-attached she always was. No clingy phone calls or pouting over non-existing anniversaries. It aggravated him, though, that she was looking to seduce him here, tonight of all nights. Especially because she knew where his mind would likely be, but it didn’t stop her from begging for his cock every now and then. He could tell she’d gotten the hint his look gave by the way she toned it way down to answer his next question.

“A few from her studio have shown up but she wasn’t with them and they wouldn’t tell me where she was. It was all very secretive. So at least let me have my way with you on the dance floor if you won’t take me home tonight. Please?”

He relented and found himself having the time of his life. Song after song flew by as he grabbed water then whisky, a line, then water, another line, then whisky, water, whiskey, whisky, water. Dancing with Kelis gave him a chance to forget about his frustration with his studio and everyone, here or not, for the moment. He let himself be free and felt a weightlessness he hadn’t in a long time. No call sheets waiting at home. No scenes to prep. No “scripts” to read. Tonight and the next two weeks were his and his alone. Time for some decisions.

He noticed the crowd had begun to thin, and realized he wanted some fresh air, so he peeled himself away from Kelis with a promise-to-return kiss and tap on the ass. He took the elevator to the rooftop bar and found himself a little amazed at the streaks of light just beginning to emerge in the distance. Time had really flown while he was having fun.

He was about to head towards the drinks when he spotted her leaning against the railing in the opposite direction. The white-golden hair flowing behind her was an obvious wig. He’d seen her step to the stage to accept multiple awards tonight (or is it last night now?) and she had looked just as gorgeous with her natural color as she did all done up in her Farrah waves now. An unexpected jolt of excitement coursed through his veins as he realized she’d also opted for a 70’s look, complete with a scandalously (though by whose standards?) short metallic silver skirt with slits on either side and what he assumed was a matching top, though with her back to him as she peered out over the awakening city, all he really saw where the two thin silver chains that criss-crossed across her back. They looked like they would hold nothing up.

But she was alone and he knew it was now or never, so he strolled around the roof-top pool to step up beside her.

"I’m glad I finally found you. I wanted to congratulate you. It's not often a producer gets awards for both behind and front of camera work," he opened.

She turned her head and beamed a dazzling smile in return before thanking him and offering her own congratulations along with her hand and then a surprisingly friendly hello hug.

“I saw you nailed Best Male Performer and Best Anal again. Your Missionary: Impossible series was a true stroke of genius. I wish I had thought of it first.”

“So she’s not immune,” August thought as he peeled himself away from her warm body. “She remembers my name.” At least she recognized his star status. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten him. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and trained his eyes on her through his lashes.

“You know I’d love to have you join the cast,” he spoke as he finished the hello hand kiss and lifted his head to gaze directly at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that scream ‘spy’ quite as much as yours do.”

“And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a producer acting for another studio. You’ve got balls to ask, that’s for sure,” she laughed, tossing back the rest of her whisky before grabbing another off the tray passing by.

“Where’ve you been all night? I tried to find you right after the ceremony, but you disappeared and I had to run for a wardrobe change.” August tossed a casual grin and motioned at the cheesiness of his costume, though inside he was kicking himself.

The point of engaging wasn’t to offer her a part. How ridiculous! He’d been doing that for months now and she wasn’t biting. No. Tonight he was going to get answers. Why had she consistently denied him another shot with her? It had to be more than just the technicalities of trying to untangle ownership and percentages filming another studio’s producer would bring. She broke into his train of thought with an explanation of her quick and sudden departure from the award banquet and why she hadn’t arrived at the after party locale for what had to be at least a few hours.

“Already prepping material for next year. We had a newcomer attend with the studio tonight. He’s an absolute stud. Looking to get his name out there so we filmed his first scene backstage.”

August’s hopeful heart sank a little. He couldn’t expect her not to keep putting out material just because his advances might finally be successful, but it would take all his cool charm and guile to woo her if she was already cock-drunk tonight. He put out another feeler.

“You look well put back together already,” he commented, eyes tracing her figure with obvious intent.

“Oh not me. No, I was directing. Looking to nab that ‘behind the scene newcomer’ award next year,” she beamed, her smile still welcoming. “No, Mikey did a little gonzo three-way for his first official movie with Darkk Angel. We’re releasing it next week after a quick trip to post and then have him lined up for three more scenes next month. I’m wondering if we can talk AVN into a “most prolific” award.” Her laughter was infectious and he found himself with a wide grin, verging on goofy in spite of his aim.

“You’ve never directed? How have I missed that?” August sought to focus attention away from whoever this Mikey kid was and back on her completely, then mentally kicked himself again for admitting something that could only make him look desperate and maybe a little creepy. From his statement, and along with all the official asks from his agent, she had to think he was a stalker, completely obsessed with her.

Not that he wasn’t. Not since that very first time. Her “first’ anal scene. He understood she had to be a little overwhelmed at that shoot with so many people on set. She had clearly already fucked the director (for a scene) and was now just taking on a few actors who were already on a rise. It was his last commitment to the old studio and then he was off to a new contract with Hunt. God, he wished he could have taken her with him. As it was, the only thing he kept was her scent that lingered not long enough.

"You know, I've asked my agent about another scene with you more times than any other actor. He never has a good enough reason to tell me no. What gives?" August inquired.

She debated telling him the truth. That she was completely enamored of him despite, only having met once, and afraid to ruin her own fantasy. Yes, she thought about him often. She’d be lying if she said otherwise.

But what if he refused her counter-offers? What if he didn't play the way she had come to discover she wanted sometimes, needed even?

She could accept if his big dick in her pussy or ass was all he'd agree to again for one scene. But she wanted more. More than a scene. More than a spectacle.

"Industry's hottest stars finally fucking again!" she imagined the trade headlines would scream, not bothering to temper her own ego about her status.

And which studio got the rights? His or hers? Of course she would never give up the rights to those shots, those stills, that video. It had been years since any studio other than the one she owned had any rights to any images of her. Why August Walker didn't make the same professional move she had was beyond her, but at least she could play the upper hand if it came down to it. It was power to own the rights to your own material and that power trumped his studio contracts. Or at least she'd make that case. Plus Ethan Hunt was a little bitch and she’d be damned if she contributed to his profits in any way.

Still, she couldn’t get past the concern that having his big dick in her ass again would ruin her for anyone else ever again. It wasn't the size. Hell, she'd had two almost equal to him in there just the other day.

No. It was the fantasy. Not only what she already knew of his prowess, though if she’d improved over time, and she knew she had, he had to have gotten better too. But also what she imagined she knew based on the stories she'd heard. Stories about his true personality as well as the image she made up in her head based on tidbits of their past and innuendos of his present.

On set, she'd heard he’d become a bit of a prick. Even worse when the storyline called for Daddy. Not that it didn't make her wet to watch. And daydream about. Calling him Daddy, mmmm.

Except that wasn't her. Not her kink. Not her need. Not really.

And off set? Well, lips are usually loose in the industry, but somehow very few factual stories about dating August Walker were out there. Most of what she'd heard was easily dispelled rumor.

No, he wasn't into animal play. Either kind. Good.

No, he didn't force his partners to sleep in separate rooms after finishing. Why would someone even start that rumor? To what end?

Her private private detective had tracked down the source and verified quickly. It was a little bit of column a, a little bit of column b. The studio was looking to cash in on the mystery and intrigue of their dashing playboy, and a jilted date wanted more. Who wouldn't want more of him? But that choice was self-sabotaging to say the least.

She was well aware that some women, and men for that matter, liked to imagine their favorite actor to be the world's largest asshole. No, not that way.

That was the way she liked to imagine him. And the basis for her declination. He'd never say yes. She was sure of it.

And yet here he was. Blushing at the mere mention. Maybe she should have countered with that when he first started seeking her out. But she hadn't been ready to give up the rush she felt every time a message from Hunt Club studios appeared in her inbox.

August felt the heat rise in his cheeks and knew someone out there would say he was blushing, but August Walker does not blush.

As she leaned in, he swiped another surreptitious peek at her gorgeous and barely covered tits, though he was so smooth no one could have seen this time. Not that it mattered. He was right about the thin silver chains holding onto barely anything up front. Where she found tissue paper thin metallic material, he had no idea but her nipples showed through what little fabric there was making up the plunging neckline of the deep-vee tank, as if they weren’t also practically peeking out of the top as it was. She had them on display for a reason. But he was trying to make a move here. Trying to differentiate himself from the rest of the industry players and hangers-on hoping for a hook-up after the awards.

Champagne and liquor had flowed all night, powder cut, pills popped. He was tipsy but it was really the sunrise inching its way into the sky behind her, here on this rooftop bar next to the pool full of drunken, naked bodies, and the angelic halo circling the crown of her head that had him staring back into her eyes in no time, enraptured. Well, that and her reply.

“I have certain … desires that I’m not convinced you’d be amenable to and I didn’t want to alienate you.”

He went on to ask, no - insist, she explained her terms, right here right now. And she obliged, clarifying that she didn’t intend to be filmed at all. That her interest in climbing into bed with him was related only to the burning desire she’d felt to track him down, beg him for more, practically every day since that shoot. And the thing that convinced her not to bother was the never ending stream of talent she’d seen draped around him months, years later.

But she wouldn’t, couldn’t deny that she wanted him. Wanted to relive that moment and then build on it. Take the scene farther than was written. Fuck him right off the page and into her life forever. It was indescribable the way he felt listening to her narrate her desire to own him. She was only mentioning the bedroom, but he got the feeling she meant the heart as well.

Still, she was being mysterious with the details, so August began to mention specifics. What he wouldn’t do.

"I won't lick your boots," he'd said with a grin after a shorter than expected list, still wavering on if he actually meant to convey the opposite.

"Maybe not," she replied before leaning in and whispering in his ear as he tilted down to meet her. It was clear from her next sentence that she’d finally figured out he’d say yes. He was practically begging for it right here in front of these few end-of-the evening stragglers. "But you will take every inch of me."

Negotiations had already begun and this was just ink on the dotted line. Along with a string of consent questions with compatible answers and now she knew his safeword and he knew hers. It wasn’t what it used to be. Because things can change. But not his desire for her.

He brushed past her non-binding handshake and drew her in for a confirmation kiss, hands gently pulling her waist towards him. “You still smell the same. It drives me crazy,” he admitted before pressing his lips to hers with a smile. Then he broke the kiss, which had begun to turn lascivious even for the nature of the event, afraid they’d never make it off the roof-top if he didn’t.

He gave a deceptively shy smile and knowing nod to Kelis as he passed her on his way out with the true object of his desire draped along his arm.

She sent her limo off with whatever crew was left at the party before climbing into the back of his. They had no sooner pulled away from the curb and begun to make their way to his hi-rise apartment building than the driver’s shield went up and she went down, unzipping his trousers and slipping her hand in to coax him out.

She had gotten incredibly better at sucking dick in these interim years. But it was like she was finally home. Like her mouth opened magically around him to hold him close and taste his skin. It took everything in his power not to blow his load down her throat in the car. He wanted to be in her pussy when he came and there wasn’t much he wanted more at this moment.

He managed to pull her off and get her back on the seat, legs spread and ready to take his shoulders as he slipped his tongue deep inside her core. Moving the floss she’d bothered to pull on out of his way wasn’t hard in the least. He had her screaming by the time the limo pulled up outside his building.

August draped his suit jacket over her shoulders before he helped her out of the car and into the lobby. When the elevator doors closed around them, she turned and pressed him back into the wall, staring up at him with hunger and power equally.

“That’s the last time you call the shots tonight. I’m taking my shoes off as soon as we walk in your door, so you can’t accuse me of asking you to lick my boots. But you will be on your knees and you will put your mouth back on my pussy and do that one more time before anything else happens tonight. Understood?”

He stared down at her with amusement that morphed into understanding that ended in solemnity before the ding at his floor broke the silence.

“Yes ma’am,” he finally replied, resigned to her whim. He opened the lock with practiced ease, nothing shaking out of fear but only vibrating with anticipation. How had he missed her meaning all those years ago?

“I wish I could show you how this feels,” she’d whispered in his ear as he held her chest tight against his. “But it’s nothing compared to how it feels from behind.”

At the time he thought she had meant for him to turn her around, still on top of him but back to chest. So he did. And she liked it. She came like a banshee and that squeeze is something they can’t fake. That’s what wins the awards anyway. The audience knows it’s acting, but when they can tell it’s something the actor actually wants, when the chemistry is kinetic, the high is so much higher.

Clearly she’d had so much more in mind. When she came back down, he made sure to check the front door lock before he turned back to scoop her quivering body into his arms and carry her down the hall to his bedroom.

“Don’t think I’m anywhere near done with you just because I’m a wreck right now,” she called to him as he set her onto his bed. “Where are you going?”

“I would never think you’d consider that enough for an evening. I want to freshen up, if you don’t mind. May I?” August quirked an eyebrow awaiting her response and it was clear he’d come right back to the bed if she forbade it. No questions asked. But she allowed it and that only made him ache for her more. He’d be quick.

“Damn right you will!” she called out after him before ridding herself of her own garments.

Her hand must have found its way to the soaking mess between her legs and this is how August found her when he stepped out of the bathroom a very short while later, rubbing a towel over his head after peeling it off his body. He watched her luxuriate in the slippery slide feel of her fingers dipping in and out, rubbing, pinching, pumping, pumping, pumping.

He dipped carefully onto the bed. He had no desire to startle her out of her joy, he only wanted to witness it up close. He crawled alongside her and watched as her chest heaves softened and listened as her sighs became longer. When she finally opened her eyes on a deep inhale, he smiled at her.

“May I join you?” So respectful.

“Kiss me,” she commanded, and while he heeded she lifted his arm and guided his hand between her legs. “And touch me,” she whispered into his mouth.

He obeyed. His fingers drifted through her folds and made use of the slick that remained to press up into her. One, two, one, two. And now three. And now she’s grinding up against his hand and breaking the kiss to demand more and he’s giving it to her but it’s not enough, is it?

“More,” she cried out. “Fuck me, August.”

He was grateful at that moment for two revelations from the rooftop. He already knew his own status, testing often despite Hunt’s lackadaisical studio regulations. But she had shared that her studio adopted the standard of routine and regular testing early on and therefore she knew exactly what her status was, too. And, coupled with the fact that she had the implant, she had no qualms going bare. All these things led to the next thing he was grateful for and that was the feel of her pussy wrapped all the way around him as he slipped his prodigious cock deep inside her.

He mused he could do this all night. Or rather all day and into the night, when the moon began to rise again. Because it wasn’t night at all. It was broad daylight now and it was streaming in through the mirrored windows. Nobody could see it, even if they did find themselves on level with the height of his apartment. But no curtains meant he could see the way the sunlight brightened her face and it made him want to see all of her.

“Will you take it off, too?” he asked, staring down at her while he pistoned his hips into hers and felt her open and warm around him. “Please?”

He wasn’t used to begging. As much as he wasn’t a blusher, he definitely wasn’t a beggar but he found himself wanting to do anything for her and she wanted him to beg. Or at least ask nicely. And he wanted to obey. For the first time, maybe ever, August Walker wasn’t in charge.

She obliged and pulled the wig off easily. It wasn’t even pinned on, there was so much bang to cover the cap. All that meant was she was able to free her natural hair with ease and he was thankful. Now she lay bare before him and he got to take a good long, up close and personal look before she took it all away.

Faster than he would have preferred she slipped back and eased him out, but turned just as quickly to take him in her mouth. August let his eyes fall closed while he relished the feeling of her mouth around his cock again, but just when it started feeling really good, it also started feeling too good. If she continued he was going to come and he really meant it when he decided he wanted to be inside her for that. And not her mouth.

“Please,” it was practically a whisper. She almost hadn’t heard. But she let go with a pop and asked.

“What was that?”

“Please,” he begged again, raspy but with sound this time, voice hitching as she took him back in her mouth for just the briefest of sucks.

“What are you asking for?”

When he pleaded again with a cracked voice, she smiled as she let go.

“What is it, August? Huh? What do you want? Or not want?”

“Please…please don’t.” he stuttered as she continued to toy with him. Dick in and then out of his mouth with no concern for his predicament.

“Say it, August. Ask nicely.”

“Don’t make me come,” he begged, even as she sank to wrap her lips around him once more. “Please.”

“If that’s what you want. You only have to ask. Nicely.” She was so proud of him and he could feel that. Could tell she’d do anything for him. And let him do anything for her.

“Let me fuck you,” he asked. “Please. Just ….”

“Don’t bother saying it, you and I both know 5 minutes turns into 20 in no time,’ she laughed with him as she lay back with her legs spread wide for him. He stayed kneeling between her legs and watched her face explode with pleasure as he rocked deep and strong inside of her. He wasn’t trying to overcome her, wasn’t looking to establish any kind of dominance. Not on purpose at least. Because the fact of the matter was, that no matter how much he wanted to let her be in charge, it just came so naturally to him. It was hard to drop that mantle. Especially while fucking into her and watching her fall apart around him.

Then she shook her head and through sheer will, dragged herself back from the precipice to snake an arm up his chest, fingers drifting to his neck and drawing him down against her.

“Kiss me again, August,” she commanded and he obliged with no hesitation. It wasn’t that he couldn’t resist and instead put her right back in the trance his cock had caused, but he didn’t want to. They’d agreed on this night. Agreed what it would mean. He was finally getting what he’d craved all these years. And so was she.

Their tongues tangled while his fingertips traveled over velvety skin, her legs wrapped around hips, his thick member pistoned in and out of her wet and slippery cunt that she controlled so well. She hadn’t been wrong. August imagined he could stay like this forever if she’d let him, drowning in her glory, ego stroked with every gasp and whimper and cry of hers. It was music to his ears. He’d heard enough fake moans and pants over the years to know what the real thing sounded like and he never wanted to give it up.

When he felt her squeeze tight around him for the second time, he began to slow, sure that more than twenty minutes had passed but completely uninterested in confirming his suspicion. No, he wanted her on her knees again.

“Can I have you from behind?” he murmured in her ear after kissing his way along her cheek and neck. “Just for 5 minutes.”

She could feel his grin, but before she could compose an appropriate response, he’d shifted, changed tempo and hit a different spot that had her howling and fighting the urge to beg him for more. Even then brief respite she’d have while they switched positions should allow her to gather her wits and tamp down her desire to just let him rail her into the next day. Because tonight was for something more. So she pushed him back away from her, flipped and pulled herself to all fours while crawling towards the center of the bed.

With a seductive glance over her shoulder, she called to him, “Come and get it, stud.”

Five minutes in heaven. That’s all she was going to allow him. She pressed her chest down into the bed and let him drag her hips into the air, flesh captured under his strong fingers. She screamed into the sheets as August directed her pleasure with practiced skill and just when she felt she couldn’t hold on any longer, he slipped a saliva-coated thumb into her ass and sent her reeling. He’d timed it perfectly.

“You’re done,” she fought through her haze to flip to her back and clarify. “We still have a deal, right?”

She watched him stroking himself lazy and slow to stay hard while his eyes blinked shut with relief almost involuntarily.

“Yes,” he replied, his exhale full of yearning. “Will you show me?”

“Show you what, August? Hmm?” she asked with a tilt of her head, pleased he was finally ready to give in to what he’d already agreed to back on that rooftop.

“Show me how it feels.” It wasn’t a question, yet still not a command. He’d never dare to command her. Not until she was ready for him to. And that wasn’t tonight.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since we met.”

All those years. All that time. August closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and told himself it’s fine. It’ll be fine. He pulled back a bit from the ledge that he wanted to step over for missing her meaning all along. As if she could read his mind, she spoke from somewhere that felt like a dream.

“I’m glad you waited though. I wasn’t ready either. I was trying to get over my nerves and thought a little brazen tease directed at the top talent on set would help. But I’ve discovered I really do like sharing that experience, knowing I can make a man feel the way he makes me feel. Make him understand how much better it is when it's from someone who cares."

When he opened his eyes, she was pulling herself up to her knees to meet him. He felt her hands trace along his chest as she pressed her lips to his. It was almost sweet, but definitely a relief. She really did want this as much as he did.

For a mini-eternity, they let their tongues tangle and hands roam. August shivered as her nails traced down his back with the perfect dig and smiled into her lips as he thought about the red lines he’d be left with the next day. He cradled the nape of her neck as even on knees he towered over her and let a hand drift down the soft skin of her side and around her waist to cup her ass.

When her hands finally landed in the same spot on him, he felt another layer of tension release as she caressed and squeezed each cheek with passion. She broke the kiss and nuzzled down his chest, landing on her elbows before him. With eagerness, she took hold of his still invigorated member, gave a few soft strokes, and then put him back in her warm, wet, inviting mouth.

But this blowjob had an ulterior motive that August felt as soon as it turned sloppy and her saliva began to drip and pool around him. With a now slick hand, she slipped her fingers off the base of his cock and in between his legs, tracing past the waxed-bare skin off his balls and teasing his entrance.

She circled and smoothed and kneaded until he finally felt a finger ease past the first ring of muscle and he had to put a hand on her head to slow the bob that was already threatening to pull his orgasm too soon. Surely she didn’t want that, did she?

August dropped his head back with a groan of pleasure as she let her spit drop onto her fingers again before pressing a second digit inside, just beginning to open him up to all her possibilities. It already felt so, so good. If this was all she did for him, it was worth it, but not really what he wanted. He’d had a few other lovers tease him like this, but he always stopped them short, still too nervous to let them go all the way to where he needed.

He’d kept this part of himself secret, shared it with no one, tested it only when alone. He knew it was stupid to hide this craving, especially given how exposed he allowed himself to be on film. But this was something different. Something personal. Private. That’s what he told himself. And he let his stature in the industry dictate the type of man he was in a bedroom, with a woman but without the cameras, for far too long.

His head was spinning as her tongue licked his length and her fingers teased and touched. She was pressing and pushing deeper and when she finally found his spot it took every ounce of willpower to maintain composure. He still wanted more of her, still didn’t want to come yet.

It dawned on him then that she hadn’t brought an overnight bag with change of clothes for the morning or toys for the evening. Just her ridiculously sexy wisp of an outfit and a tiny clutch that couldn’t have hidden even a bottle of lube, let alone the tool she needed to fulfill their bargain. She’d promised him he’d take every inch of her. Could she really have meant only this? Was she expecting him to come as she beckoned inside him?

“I can hear your thoughts, August” she purred up at him with a smile, mouth off his dick, but fingers still toying with him. “I don’t want to stop here either. I’m sure you can help me out, can’t you?”

She felt him tense and knew he was weighing the pros and cons of admitting what she had guessed when he agreed to take her home immediately without offering to make a stop along the way. August had his own equipment. No doubt about it.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, removing her fingers completely and returning to her knees to kiss him hard and deep before speaking to him on his level. “You don’t have to hide anymore. Show me what you need.”

She watched the seas of his eyes storm with fear before settling into calm as she held his gaze with no judgment, no mockery. She kissed him again, licked into the space between his lips and felt the passion as he held her tight, almost holding on for his life while he kissed her back.

When he finally broke free, he stepped back off the bed and opened the nightstand to remove a bottle of lube before he moved across the room to a mirrored armoire. He opened the doors and removed a sleek, black box which he brought back to place slowly on the nightstand, clearly deep in thought. And then he hesitated, hands resting on the lid of the box, head down.

“I don’t…” he started, and she felt a small ache in her heart. She had never seen him so vulnerable. Not that she spent much time alone with him at all, but this was truly a side she hadn’t quite expected after everything she knew about him.

“We can take our time, August,” she spoke with a careful tone and no desire to spook him. He remained still and she felt reassured he wasn’t running, not in his mind or his body. When he spoke, she had to stifle a small laugh for fear she would send him running from misplaced shame.

“I only mean, I don’t have a harness for you.” He turned, fingertips of only one hand still on the closed box, eyes scanning hers for understanding. And she understood completely.

She moved closer to the edge of the bed and grinned at him. “Oh, August. Oh baby, this is what has you worried? You think I can’t make it good for you if I’m not wearing it?” She watched this new layer of tension begin to melt away as he registered her words. “August Walker, I meant what I said and I can’t wait to fuck you however I can. And believe me, I know how to make it good.”

She waited for him to relax, to speak, to return to his usual manner and let her back in. Then she took a calculated breath, dropped the timbre of her voice, and called to him.

“And you’re going to let me, aren’t you August?”

Her eyes dropped just in time to see the twitch in his still hard-cock and she knew he was back and ready to let her have him. He flipped the lid to the lacquer box with one finger and revealed a small treasure trove of devices, any of which she’d be thrilled to treat him with. With no idea how prepared he really was, she let him choose.

“Will you start with this?” August handed her not the smallest, but not the largest either and she accepted willingly. “It’s been a minute.”

With complete understanding she led him back into bed on his knees before grabbing the lube from the nightstand and setting about her business. Kisses first. Deep and hungry. She wanted his tongue down her throat and he obliged while she held the dildo and lube in one hand and stroked his rock hard cock with the other.

Before too long, she’d dropped the toy to the bed and flipped the lid to the tube, using proprioception to drop several dollops onto her open hand before reaching between his spread legs while still commanding his kiss. Her fingers smoothed the viscous fluid over his entrance and dipped a little in with a finger before she reached for the prosthetic and smeared the rest around the tip and down the base.

Her lips left his reluctantly as she ordered him to hands and knees while she maneuvered behind him. With practiced skill, she massaged and manipulated her fingers inside him once more, listening for the moans and groans that told her he was ready for her to place the tip alongside a finger and ease the toy inside. She watched him carefully, moving slowly and waiting for him to relax fully before she slipped the whole thing in and he took it with the sweetest grunt.

“You’re doing so good for me, August. Just like I knew you would. Does it feel good?” she questioned, while gently pulling and pushing, twisting and pressing, smiling when he answered in the affirmative. With each motion she listened for the sounds that would tell her where and how it felt best and she was quick to learn his needs.

“Fuck…just like that,” he begged and hitched back into her, already wanting more.

“Impatient,” she teased lightly as she shifted to the side so she could both lean over to capture his lips again and still work the toy in and out of his slowly writhing body. She kept him wanting, shifting the speed and direction, for as long as he could last before he finally begged for the real thing.

She left him face down and ass up while she switched gear, careful to add more lube to both him and the larger phallus. But when she was ready to finally give him what he wanted, she paused for just a moment to consider orientation. She was certain positioning him to face the mirror would be too much for this first time together, but there would be others, she was sure now.

Other times to see the exquisite pain she knew would soon drip down his face as she wielded the apparatus and gave him every inch he asked for. She ran a hand up his back and grabbed onto his shoulder for more leverage as she worked him into a frenzy. He was bucking back into her and the moans that drifted from his lips were music to her ears. All the practice and care she’d taken, learning how to please a lover this way were paying off.

She knew how it felt, knew how he was riding each high and low. Watched him relax into his pleasure, at times letting her control him completely before he shifted his hips and dug into the bed with hands and knees to find purchase that would allow him to grind hard onto the sizable dildo she brandished with expertise. She’d go all night like this if he wanted.

As his circuits finally broke, she could see the waves of pleasure begin to ripple along his spine. He was coming furiously hard, perhaps harder than he had in a long time, no matter how many uses this toy of his had gotten on his own. She was that good at sensing and feeling and pushing and pulling exactly how and when and where he needed.

And August definitely needed. That much was abundantly clear as he collapsed fully to the bed, panting and gasping for air as he rode the waves of his lingering orgasm. She could see him twitching and knew the feeling because it was exactly how she felt after everyone of the orgasms he’d given her tonight. Like an explosion of sensation she never wanted to come down from and she’d given that to him finally.

She left him to catch his breath and stepped to the bathroom to run warm water over a soft washcloth and grab a fresh towel on the way back. When he was cleaned and dry, she tucked into the covers with him and pulled him to her, guiding his head to her chest.

“You feel okay? Need anything else right now?” she asked him quietly as her hand drifted up and down his back.

“I wanted to come inside you,” August admitted with an exhausted sigh.

“We’re gonna have a lifetime of that.”

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#august walker fanfiction #august walker #august walker x reader #pornstar!august walker #pornstar!AU #august walker fanfic #august walker!AU #exactly what his heart meant #deandoesthingstome #mine

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taintandviolent · 1 year

Text

deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader

{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny

It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.

You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.

It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.

But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.

There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.

He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.

A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.

As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”

“Mm.”

You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.

He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.

“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.

He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.

“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.

“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”

“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”

You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would’ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.

“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.

The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.

Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.

His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.

There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….

As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.

“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.

James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.

You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.

“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.

“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.

“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”

“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.

“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.

You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”

Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.

As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”

He extended his hand to you, palm up.

Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”

When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.

The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.

Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.

The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.

“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”

Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.

“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”

You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.

His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.

“Oooh, easy tiger…”

His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.

“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.

“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.

“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.

He waited.

You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.

“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”

Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.

Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.

Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.

With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.

As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”

After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.

“Come to daddy.”

You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.

“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”

With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —

You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.

You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.

“Lower.” He commanded, amused.

You obeyed, bending your knees.

“Lower.” He repeated.

He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.

James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.

“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”

James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.

“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”

You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.

As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.

When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?

“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”

The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”

“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”

“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.

“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.

James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.

You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.

In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”

His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.

The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”

“Yes….. yes, you do.”

Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”

He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.

“Don’t bite me… too hard.”

With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.

He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.

Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.

You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.

You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.

“Harder,” he demanded.

You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”

He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.

“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.

“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.

Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.

“What did I say about words?”

Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Tease me…”

“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”

“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—

Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.

He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.

“What do I need to say?”

“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.

For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.

“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”

You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.

James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.

You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.

James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.

You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.

You heard his breath hitch.

You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.

James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.

“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.

His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.

His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.

Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”

You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.

The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.

Except for the box at the floor.

Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.

Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:

Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.

xoxo James P. March

You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.

Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”

You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.

You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.

As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.

“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.

“The dress!”

“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”

“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.

The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”

“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”

James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.

#James Patrick March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #AHS Hotel #james march x reader #myfics

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runningfrom2am · 8 months

Text

cold nights // part sixteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i am so excited for you guys to see everything I've got coming up for this series- ah!! also, should i post the masterlist for requiem soon?? i can't post the first part just yet, but i'm excited ab it so let me know if you guys want to see that to be able to get the vibes and stuff!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Hello there, Miss." Coryo grins at you, extending his arm to you to hold as you step out of your house and close the door behind you.

You pretend not to see, reaching down to retie your shoe which was already laced up perfectly. "Hi." You reply quietly, and his smile fades. You already seem in weaker spirits than you were this afternoon.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" He asks as you stand up straight again, making your way down the front path of your house to the street and he follows like a stray dog.

You turn when you reach the road, looking at him only briefly. "I did. Thank you." You mumble, unable to make extended eye contact without your heart beating out of your chest. It was hard to tell if you were awake or asleep when he was around.

"That's good." He nods, joining your side. He's there to walk you to The Hob, but he honestly was relying more on you to guide the way.

You don't say anything, walking with your arms crossed carefully, protectively across your midsection.

Coryo is worried, but he does know that you don't want to walk alone at night, so he tries to convince himself it's just that. Not him.

"You, uhm, you look nice." He tells you, taking notice of your change of clothes. It was refreshing to see you in something other than that short dress with the sewn-in shorts, though with the longer skirts you had worn today, it covered much more of your skin. Part of him missed the short dress that was now most definitely unwearable. It was your favourite, he remembered.

"Thank you." You say back, the hair on your arms pricking up from the chill that was starting to settle in. It wasn't a cold night, you didn't think, but colder than Twelve often saw in mid-August. Maybe it was just you. "You do, as well."

He laughs, and you look at him for the first time tonight. His blue eyes shine with the reflection of the sunset, and you're no longer cursing yourself for trusting him to walk you this afternoon. He wouldn't hurt you, and you knew that. Stupid dreams. Stupid nightmares. He saved you- he's the only reason you're alive today, you're certain.

"We're trying to blend in, Sejanus thought we were scaring people." He explains, laughter subsiding.

You smile at him. "I was going to say, that style doesn't feel like your own." You giggle. "But I like it."

"Why, thank you." He grins, tugging on the front of his white t-shirt as if he was adjusting a suit jacket.

Your dreams were just dreams. If he had that evil in him, could you live with it? That was what you had to figure out. Right now, though, with you, that darkness was nowhere to be seen. You were awake. You must be.

"How has Twelve been treating you so far?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious of his impression of your home as your feet crunch over the gravel path beneath you.

"Okay." Coryo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It was hard to find someone to talk to us long enough to get a lead on where to find you."

"People tend to keep to themselves." You explain. "Also looking for me is an odd request."

"Why?"

Now it was your turn to shrug. "No one really wants to talk to me now, either." The stares you got were seemingly endless. People would stare, point, whisper, and it didn't particularly bother you, but you hated that maybe people were afraid. You feared that everyone thought the games turned you into something fragile, and they were scared of upsetting you with the wrong words or the alternative; you were a weapon ready to explode at any moment.

"That's because people are careless and cruel." Coryo replies, no hesitation behind his tone. "And they have no way of understanding... you."

"They're good people, honestly, I just-"

"I know that." He assures you, sensing your panic. "But it's not your place to prove to them who you are. Changed or not."

"Do you think I have changed?" You ask, genuinely curious despite the softness of your voice.

Coryo is quiet for a moment. "I would say no," He looks at you as you walk alongside him. "but you have, I think. There's more to you, now."

You chew on your lip, watching your steps as you pass under the streetlights.

He watches your reaction, nervous when you don't respond. "I don't mean that in a bad way." He clarifies. "To me, you're still you." He wants to tell you you're less naive, more experienced, that it will keep you safe, but he feels as though that wouldn't be the right thing to say. "But it's impossible to walk out of that arena the same person. We have that in common."

The flickering street lamps illuminate the blush on your cheeks for just a moment. "Thank you, Coryo. That means a great deal."

"Of course." He hums, walking close enough now to just brush your arm with his own.

Your heart leaps in your chest, from fear or excitement you aren't sure- but you're grateful to be able to finally hear the music coming from The Hob as you approach the rundown building.

There's nowhere else you would want to be any less than The Hob during one of Lucy Gray's shows. You loved her, The Covey, the beautiful and fun music they made together, but since you'd been home, it had been impossible to enjoy yourself there.

You didn't even try until tonight.

Your fears came true. Almost as soon as you and Coriolanus walked in, scattered eyes were on you. You could feel it like pricks in your skin. It didn't help that you were with a stranger. People were dancing, drinking, laughing, but you couldn't help but feel like the laughs were directed at you. Certainly, some staring was.

Coryo looks down at you, seeing your hands still gripped onto your own arms, holding yourself together. He wasn't great with crowds, and seemingly neither were you. His urge was to retreat to the nearest wall, and so was yours. "Let's see if we can track down Sejanus." He offers, holding his arm out behind you while he looks around.

He doesn't want to touch you for fear of making things weird, but god, would it just be so easy to slip his arm around your waist and guide you more effectively.

"There." He almost doesn't hear you over the music and the shouting surrounding you both, but he follows your finger as you point over to the bar, leaning down closer in case you speak again.

Sure enough, Sejanus is there chatting with some local guy. Coryo sighs. "I leave him for twenty minutes..." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I'll get him, are you okay to wait here?" He asks and you nod, giving him that smile of yours that he hasn't seen all night.

"Good. I'll be right back." He promises, stepping away and through the crowd to go get your friend.

You watch him go, but your attention is drawn when someone pushes past you rather abruptly which makes you jump. The girl looks at you like you're crazy, as you expected she would, so pulling yourself together again, you find an empty table by the side wall and go to sit down. This was too much for you already; you knew that before you even walked in the door, but you were just here to see your friends. Coryo would come back, Sejanus would be with him, and Lucy Gray would sing her songs while you laughed and talked like normal people do. As soon as they returned, it would be okay.

You keep your head down until you hear them bickering over the normal sounds of the bar.

"We're not here to make friends, Sejanus, we're here to-"

"No, no, I get that, but what's the harm?"

You smile at them, taking a shaky breath. "Welcome back."

"Y/N!" Sejanus grins, looking at Coryo briefly before taking the seat across from you. "Glad you could make it."

"Me too." You nod, avoiding looking at Coryo as he takes the spot standing next to you, considering there wasn't another seat.

"Here," He says, voice low in your ear as he holds a glass out to you. "Got you a drink."

"Oh, thank you." You mumble, blushing as you take it from his hand. You can't think of anything worse than being intoxicated and vulnerable in this environment, but the gesture was nice. You wouldn't deny him that.

He rests his arm on the back of your chair, leaning on it and you rest your arms on the table so you can place the glass down as you look at Sejanus. "Tell me more, what have you been up to?" You ask, desperate for some conversation to distract yourself.

"Well, we graduated." Sejanus answers, nodding toward the boy standing beside you.

"Oh, gosh, congratulations!" You smile, looking between the two of them. Coryo is stone-faced.

"I sent you an invitation." He says into the rim of his glass, looking down at you.

"Oh?" You ask, and Sejanus nods in confirmation.

"We were hoping you'd be able to make it. We were going to come get you." He explains, and Coryo lets the glass scrape against his teeth. It was his invitation that he sent, and he was the one who offered to come get you. Sejanus had nothing to do with it besides encouraging him to actually send the letter.

"I didn't- I didn't get it." You tell them honestly, brow furrowed. "I don't know if I could have... gone back, you know, but I would have at least sent a gift, or something. I am so sorry."

Coryo raises an eyebrow. "You didn't get it?" He asks, almost relieved by the idea.

"No, nothing."

"Oh. Well, nothing could be done then, I suppose." He shrugs it off. Maybe if you truly hadn't received the invite, you haven't received any of the letters he sent. Someone along the route to the address he used decided you weren't worth looking for, and that wasn't your fault. Lucy Gray had told him as much, but he trusted it more falling from your lips.

"Truly, though, I am so sorry I couldn't be there." You say, looking between the two of them with a newfound urgency. You didn't want them to resent you, especially if they thought they had been ignored. "I didn't know, honest."

"Don't worry about it." Sejanus assures you. "We didn't want to be there either."

"But I did, I would have loved to but it's just hard to get out of Twelve and I wouldn't have anywhere to stay and like I said I'm just not ready to go back but I really would have loved to be able to be there for you."

"Y/N, hey..." Coryo chuckles, leaning down again to be face-to-face with you. "We get it. We're not upset with you, I promise."

Promise. The two of you were always making promises to each other, apparently. It made you feel better and he knew that.

"O-okay..." You nod slowly, deciding now is as good a time as any to try your drink. You turn your face from him, having been just inches apart to take a sip. Beer was far from your favourite, but you were never much of a drinker anyway. You place the glass back down and smooth out your skirt over your lap, regaining your normal grin. "Well, Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything."

"Very good point." Coriolanus agrees quickly, tapping his hand on the back of your chair. The smile that crosses your face when you look up at him, thinking he understood and cared to respond makes him want to collapse in on himself and sink into the floor. You deserved so much more than being elated when someone understood you, and he could give you everything if you would just trust him.

"Y/L/N, how dare you show your face here!" A voice calls you by your last name and you snap your head in their direction.

Coryo furrows his brow, watching warily as a boy about his age walks up to your table. He's ready to step in, maybe this is why you hadn't been coming- because people, boys had been harassing you. He should have seen that coming. You were beautiful, every time he looked at you it was hard to look away again- obviously, this kind of attention would be a common occurrence. He lifts his shoulders and puts down his drink, but he looks at you and you're smiling.

"Hi." You giggle, actually giggle- and it makes Coryo almost just as angry as if this random guy had just threatened you.

He leans his elbows against the table. "Been a long time since I seen you. How you been?" He asks, sipping his beer as he makes dead eye contact with you.

"Only a couple of days, River." You grin.

"Oh yeah, that's right..." He hums. "Been real interested in that book you let me borrow, you know."

"Have you?" You smile, leaning in with excitement, ready to discuss it.

Who was this guy? A friend? Something more? The way you were looking at him, the fact that you let him borrow one of your books made envy swirl in Coryo's stomach. He hated it. He clears his throat to remind you they were there before you got sucked into talking about whatever book you gave the boy.

"Oh." You look up at him. "River, this is-"

"Yeah, who are these clowns? Botherin' you?" He interrupts you, and Coryo is more peeved about that than the fact that he was just referred to as a clown.

"Not in the slightest." You hum. "These are my friends, Sejanus and Coryo. They came all the way from the Capitol just to visit me, isn't that sweet?"

"Ah..." The boy hums, standing back up and holding a hand out for Sejanus to shake before turning to Coryo as he keeps his grip on the back of your chair. "Nice to meet you both, then."

"It's Coriolanus." He corrects you as he shakes the boy's hand, squeezing it probably more than what is polite.

"Oh wow." River's eyes widen and he chuckles, looking down at you again. "You're not really the friendly type I guess. Y/N here can make friends with just about anyone, I suppose."

"River..." You frown, shaking your head at him. Coryo clenches his jaw.

"I'm sorry! Sorry, I'm not great with new people either. That's my bad." He laughs it off, patting Coryo's shoulder as he drops his hand. "Anyway, Y/N, I didn't expect to see you out and about. Holdin' up okay?"

"I'm well. Thank you." You nod, taking another sip of your drink. River was a good friend, maybe even a great one. He works with your father in the mines, he started as soon as he turned eighteen a few months before you. You've become closer since then.

"Glad to hear it." He nods at you, looking around the crowded room. He bottoms his drink, shaking it in your face. "Time for a refill so I'm gonna leave ya be, but shout if you need anything, alright sweetheart?"

"Thank you!" You call after him as he turns to walk off, winking at you.

"Sweetheart." Coryo mumbles into his glass with a slight shake of his head as he watches the boy walk away. You didn't hear him, and he wasn't sure he wanted you to.

"Who's that?" Sejanus asks. "He seems nice."

"We went to school together, now he works with my father," You explain. "but I've known him most of my life. He's very kind, just a little... outspoken. He'll always tell you what he's thinking." You chuckle, and Coryo bites his tongue.

You catch his expression of disapproval. "He didn't mean any harm, just trying to be welcoming. He was nervous, I could tell." Returning your gaze to Lucy Gray up on the stage, you smile and give her a quick wave. She smiles back, nodding at you.

"You never mentioned him." Coryo comments.

"Well, I..." You stop yourself, staring down at your lap. "I had a lot on my mind..."

"Do you know anyone else? Give us the tour." Sejanus suggests quickly, pointing around the room.

You smile, forcing yourself to ignore your worries about how Coryo is feeling. "Almost everyone, yes." You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

"Is that why you didn't want to come?" Coryo asks you and you look up at him again, smile faltering.

"I- It's not that I didn't want to." You answer, fidgeting now with the fabric in your lap. "I just... I don't know. It's hard to... I don't know. Everything feels so difficult these days..." You laugh nervously.

There's that word he was so afraid of. Hard. In reference to something as simple as going out and spending time with your peers- people you had clearly considered friends before the games. It seemed like another lifetime to you, he could see it in the way you so intensely watched yourself pick at your own fingernails. He wished while laying in his bed at night that you were happy here, that your life was normal, even if he couldn't be a part of it; but that was unrealistic and part of him knew that.

"It's okay." Coryo reminds you quickly. "You don't have to explain yourself to us." He smiles, trying to be reassuring. "If you want to leave we can go. Just say the word, Y/N/N."

You shake your head, looking back up at him with that same glowing smile that subtly begs him not to worry about you- but he has to. "It's completely okay." You assure him with a quick wave of your hand. "Okay, so..." You drum your fingers on the tabletop, looking around and attaching names to faces.

"That's Sienna, I went to school with her sister." You point over to a girl in a group of a few others. "And she's with Fern and Hazel, Hazel's the one with the light hair." The boy's eyes follow where you're pointing as you look over at another group. "Oh, and over with River, the taller boy next to him is Rowan." You explain. "His little brother is friends with mine. Then over there, by the stage is Billy Taupe- that's Lucy Gray's boyfriend. Kind of, they're on and off these days."

Coryo nods, trying to commit these names to memory. He didn't plan on speaking to any of them, but if you wanted to, which he doubted, he would try.

"And that's-" Your voice cuts out so quick it's as if someone had slapped a hand over your mouth when another boy walked up to join the two standing by the bar. Quickly Coryo is looking down at you again as the blood drains steadily from your face. You cough, shaking your head. "Uh, I don't really know anyone else's names." You lie.

"You okay?" Sejanus asks you and you nod, quickly grabbing your glass and taking a few large gulps, the foul taste of beer forcing its way down your throat.

"Yeah, just, I haven't seen these people in a while."

Coryo watches, jaw clenched tight as River converses with the blonde boy who just walked up to him and your other friend whose name he's already forgotten. River takes a swig from his drink, laughs as he puts the glass down on the bar, and then points over to the three of you. He was telling whoever the hell that was that you were there- and clearly you weren't keen on him.

"Let's go, yeah?" Coryo suggests quickly, abandoning his drink on the table to step in front of you. He extends his hand to help you up which you gratefully take. He could feel your hand trembling in his.

He squeezes your hand gently, still shielding you from the group of boys. You didn't need to say a word. "Sejanus, I'm going to take Y/N home, are you okay here?"

"For sure." He nods, looking worried now at the very sudden shift in your energy and Coryo's clear protectiveness. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, no. It's okay." You smile, comforted by Coryo's presence behind you. "You stay and have fun."

"Alright, well, I'll see you soon?" He smiles and you nod, but Coryo is already guiding you away.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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elixirfromthestars · 2 months

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WELCOME TO MY CAFE! ˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡

I miss interacting with fellow writers and readers, so I decided to host my own little writing challenge ♡ Between juggling grad school prep and an internship, I wanted to do something to keep me connected to this lovely community, so welcome everyone to my cozy little cafe :)

The writing challenge starts today and closes on September 29th (National Coffee Day). I will be reading + reblogging every fic. The masterlist will be posted at the end. (if you see this anytime later or can’t make the deadline do not fret, if anything below inspires you, you are welcome to write and tag me and I will add your submission to the masterlist♡)

Below are the rules, prompts, and guidelines ♡

who you can write for: all marvel characters are welcome / any fictional sebastian stan or chris evans characters are welcome too (any characters they’ve portrayed based on real life people will not be accepted though!!) (please keep it to x reader fics only!!)

some general guidelines: Below I’ve provided a number of different prompts and songs for inspiration ♡ Anyone can use them and mix and match however you’d like!! If you use any please let me know somewhere in the post! If none of them below inspire you, to stay within theme please include either a cafe or coffee somewhere in the fic :) 18+ fics are welcome, just please add warnings! Any length of fics are welcome, but if it’s over 500 words please add the “keep reading” option. If you write something as part of a bigger series please write your submission as a standalone ♡

˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡ This is a sweet and cozy little cafe, but of course, there is always a possibility of rain. If anything below inspires an angsty fic, then by all means go ahead and write it! Your submission does not have to include fluff!

what is not accepted: no dark fics, anything involving minors, incest, rape, noncon/dubcon

how to enter: please tag me and use #elixirscafe when you post ♡ i’ll leave a like to let you know I saw it and reblog it once I read it :) if i haven’t responded to your post send me an inbox or dm please and thank you!

Happy writing! My inbox is always open for any questions or comments!! ♡

What table are you sitting at?

♡ Coffeeshop AU

♡ Soulmate AU

♡ Bakery AU

♡ Regency Era AU

♡ Western AU

♡ Neighbor AU

♡ Pen Pal AU

♡ Small Town AU

♡ Royal AU

♡ College AU

Would you like a sweet treat?

🍩 ༄ؘ “No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

🍰 ༄ؘ Saying I love you for the first time.

🍪 ༄ؘ “ Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

🍫 ༄ؘ “ You...you learned how to cook my favorite meal?”

🧁 ༄ؘ “ I’m not going to get sick, you baby. Just let me hold you.”

🥧 ༄ؘ “ What else do I need when I have my whole world in my arms?”

🍮 ༄ؘ “ I’m only doing it because you’re cute.”

🥯 ༄ؘ “ Could you hold my hand?”

🥞 ༄ؘ “ I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

🍞 ༄ؘ “ I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.”

🍯 ༄ؘ “ Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

🥐 ༄ؘ “ I’ve tried to forbid myself from falling in love, but now I can’t help it.”

Do you like the music in the cafe? Which song should I play next?

˖°.₊˚☕⊹♡ Feel free to use the lyrics below, the entire feel of the song, or any other lyrics in the song! The playlist is below in case you want to go through and listen to the songs while you write ♡

Apple Cider “ And I don’t even like you that much. Wait, I do, fuck. Call me at midnight. Let’s give this a try.” Beabadoobee

Apple Juice “ Don’t let goodbyes come too easy. Love me, just let me know that you need me.” Jessie Reyez

Apple Pie “I found you under an April sky, and you feel like city life, apple pie baked just right. Home is wherever you are tonight.” Lizzy McAlpine

August “ And I can see us twisted in bedsheets. August slipped away like a bottle of wine.’Cause you were never mine.” Taylor Swift

Bubble Gum “ Sorry I didn’t kiss you, but it’s obvious I wanted to.” Clairo

Caramel “ Love like a landslide, I kiss you goodnight. It used to be easy.” 5SOS

Cardigan “And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone's bed. You put me on and said I was your favorite.” Taylor Swift

Chai Tea “ I love sippin’ chai tea, with you across from me. I love hearing your voice, talkin ‘bout nothing.” Audrey

Champagne Problems “ You had a speech, you’re speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches, and I couldn’t give a reason.” Taylor Swift

Chocolate “ I need more time off with you to turn you on. And I want to wake up without the alarm. A thousand eyes on me constantly, but I just want you.” Ziggy Alberts

Cinnamon “ It’s a slow cinnamon summer. Your spell is pulling me under. Rowing in a wooded hollow. Showing me the moves to follow.” Jome

Coffee Breath “ Make me fantasize,'bout you baby. And you smell so sweet, like fresh-picked daisies.” Sofia Mills

Coffee Cup “ So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” Anthony Lazaro

Espresso “ Now he’s thinkin’ ‘bout me every night, oh. Is it that sweet? I guess so. Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s that me espresso.” Sabrina Carpenter

Grapejuice “ I was on my way to buy some flowers for you. Thought that we could hide away in a corner of the heath. There’s never been someone who’s so perfect for me.” Harry Styles

Honey + Tea “Girls like flowers, clever poetry. That old adage doesn't work on me, but conversation and a cup of tea. Boy, you had me at philosophy.” Mōzi

Milk & Honey “ So come meet me in the garden, where the angels sing. We’re mixing up milk and honey, soft lips divine. Slow cherry and lay me down, oh, she’s coming to set me free.” Jessarae

Pancakes for Dinner “ I’ll try to hide the way I feel, but I’ll just wanna shout. What do I have to lose right now?” Lizzy McAlpine

Thin Mints “ If you let me lova ya like I wanna, write you all the poems like Whitman. You can take my Thin Mints, if you let me love ya like I wanna.” Evan Crommett

Too Sweet “ I think I’ll take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three. You’re too sweet for me.” Hozier

playlist for the songs above can be found here: 🧸

to my lovely mutuals, please don’t feel pressured to participate or share, just thought I’d share this with you all ♡

@peteyprecious616 ♡ @malum-forev ♡ @rosepetalsinwinter ♡ @inkedreverie ♡ @nickfowlerrr ♡ @missraion ♡ @pocolottie ♡ @sweetiebarnes ♡

#marvel writing challenge #mcu writing challenge #elixirscafe #writing challenge #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #tony stark x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #matt murdock x reader #sam wilson x reader #thor odinson x reader

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

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a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel

word count: 7k

tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions

summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal

Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.

The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.

You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.

Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.

“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.

You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”

Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”

“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”

You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”

“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.

The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.

The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.

It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.

The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.

You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.

The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.

“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”

“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.

“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”

“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.

Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”

Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.

“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”

You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.

The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.

Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.

Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”

You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.

Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.

Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.

“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”

“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”

You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”

“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”

Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”

“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.

“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.

The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”

Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”

Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.

Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.

She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”

You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.

“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”

“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.

You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.

You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.

He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.

“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”

Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”

“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”

You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.

“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.

“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.

Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.

Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”

This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.

Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.

“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.

Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.

You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.

Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.

“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.

You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”

“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”

“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”

“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”

You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”

He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.

A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”

You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”

“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.

You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.

Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”

“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”

“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.

When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”

“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”

“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.

Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.

No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.

It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.

Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.

She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.

Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”

“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.

When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.

Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.

“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”

“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.

“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”

“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.

He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”

Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”

It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”

“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”

You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.

When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.

You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.

What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?

With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.

You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.

Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.

Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.

You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.

He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”

“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”

Oh.

Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.

He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”

“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”

Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.

“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”

You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.

After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.

Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.

You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.

He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.

Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.

“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.

“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.

Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.

He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.

#andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you

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hd-wireless · 3 months

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📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #1

🎶 Just a perfect week

Read fanfiction in the park And then later When it gets dark, look at art. Just a perfect week Reading at work in the loo, And then later a podfic, too And then home.

Oh it's such a perfect fest We're glad to share it with you Oh, such a perfect fest It just keeps us reading on, It just keeps us reading on. 🎶

🎤 Welcome to the 8th round of H/D Wireless Fest!

The time has finally come to start posting all the fantastic entries we’ve received this year!

We’ve revealed 9 top hits so far, with many more to come. The mods have been working non-stop since December to make this happen, so we’re beyond excited to finally be underway 🤩

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on a playlists:

Click here for the YouTube playlist.

And now without further ado, our Wrap-up for the first week of posting:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 Fly Away with Me Tonight? [Gen, Digital Art]

🎵 Song Prompt: Levitating by Dua Lipa 🎵Summary: A chance meeting, an invitation to dance

📻 ghost (might as well be gone) [Gen, Digital ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Might as Well Be Gone by Pixies 🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy retired from the Auror force and left England a decade ago, but he still receives the Daily Prophet. Today’s issue provides closure on the one case he was never able to officially solve.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic and Art 🎶

📻 Trade My Heart For Honey [M, 64.170, Digital Watercolour]

🎵 Prompt: Water Under The Bridge by Adele 🎵 Summary: A Witch who thinks she’s a Seer, a Seer who thinks she’s a Witch, a former nemesis-turned-something-turned-acquaintance who thinks they could be friends, and a Scottish village full of Muggles who think this is as much their business as the fair folk in the woods. Draco is going to prove them all wrong.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 You're on Your Own, Kid [E, 44.274]

🎵 Song Prompt: You're on Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift 🎵 Summary: In August of 1998, Draco leaves behind everything he’s ever known. With the help of two middle-aged lesbians, a Muggle bookshop, and a new best friend, Draco’s future is finally looking up. That is, until Harry Potter wanders back into his life a year later, undoing everything Draco has worked towards. Or, a tale about healing, forgiveness, and living for no one but yourself.

📻 Heartbeat [E, 22,791]

🎵 Prompt: Heartbeat by Childish Gambino 🎵 Summary: Harry hates Draco, and Draco hates him in return. Only it's not hate, not even a little bit. Featuring: a cooperative independent study, golden hour on wrecked sheets, strawberries in the summer at Grimmauld Place, water from fountains of (dubious) origin, purple Mardi Gras beads, and a bird with silly legs. Also featuring: heated arguments, infidelity, unquenchable desire, and heartbreak. Over and over again.

📻 Long for Bliss! [E, 9,400]

🎵 Song Prompt: This Must Be It by Röyksopp 🎵 Summary: Harry has a tough decision to make: take the blue pill or the red pill. He chooses a pink one instead and throws caution to the wind. What blows back comes in the form of a blond fallen angel that talks like he’s the Devil and moves like he’s fucking. Or: Harry tries MDMA for the first time and unexpectedly encounters a mysteriously captivating Draco at KOKO London.

📻 Going Down Swinging [E, 4,661 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Hello Mudduh, Hello Fadduh! by Allan Sherman 🎵 Summary: “Who are you?” he asked, feeling around for a truly abominable pair of glasses he fixed firmly above his nose. “I’m Draco,” he answered. “Draco—” He paused. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember; it was that the memory wasn’t there.

📻 The Most He’s Ever Said [E,16,431]

🎵 Song Prompt: One of Your Girls by Troye Sivan 🎵 Summary: It takes them twenty years.

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] A Different Kind of Meaning by p1013 [E, 01:42:57]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Outnumbered' by Dermot Kennedy 🎵 Summary: The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but there are cobwebs scattered across the corners with shadows tangled in their threads. The rug against his back is rough and scratchy, threadbare and devoid of colours other than various shades of brown. Harry takes it all in, absorbs the dingy and depressed state of his home. There's a pointed moment of decision, a note about to be played, a silence about to end, and then he rolls to his feet and sets to cleaning. It's the first constructive thing he's done in years.

#hd wireless #hd wireless 2024 #drarry #drarry fic #drarry art #drarry podfic #drarry fic and art #weekly wrap up no 1

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th3-bl00d-on-yr-hands-rom3o · 28 days

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it's my belief that it's vitally important to always return to your source material, in order to avoid Fandom Brainrot; The Inevitable Assassination Of The Female Character; Loss Of Aesthetic and He Would Not Fucking Say That. so it is with that spirit that tonight, on Wednesday the 28th of August, when it is far far too hot to be considered winter, I will be listening to danger days in it's entirety. From start to finish, without skipping goodnite dr death, and without adding Fast In My Car by Paramore or Battle For The Sun by Placebo. I will be wearing my Party Poison mask and I will turn off the air conditioning and allow myself to boil to death. Afterwards I will re-dye my hair. I will not touch my character playlists with their cunty pop songs. I will not think about any fanfiction I have read, and when s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w plays I will cry like a man. goodnight.

#soup speaks #mcr #danger days #my chemical romance

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streamafterlaughter · 2 months

Text

Fundamental Differing

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Chapter XXIII: I Just Might Give My Heart

a/n: thank u for ur patience as i overcome the dreaded plague to continue writing this godforsaken fic. The first leg is officially OVER. so much has happened, and so much time has passed between chapters i could barely recap what’s gone on. thank you for sticking it out with me, we’re almost at the end now. kinda. who knows what that means when it’s me talking, i clearly can’t keep my word on anything.

tags/cw: angst per us, fluff, eddie x gn!afab!reader, pining, tears, idiots in love, soulmates, blah blah blah we love a happy chapter! swearing, bff!steve, bff!robin, these two can’t do shit on their own apparently. use of y/n but you know that by now.

—-

August 1990

Eddie’s POV

He slams the third bottle down on the counter, over which Steve is leaning, a disappointed glare directed at Eddie. “It’s been a month. Go fix it. Or don’t, but you gotta quit doing whatever this is.” Eddie doesn’t answer, only rolls his eyes as he wordlessly beckons for another beer.

“There’s nothing to fix, Steve. It’s over. For real this time, I swear.”

“And that’s what you want?”

Of course it’s not. He’s never wanted this, to watch as if from outside his body as he breaks your heart, leaving you alone and sobbing as he drunkenly drives away from everything you’d built together. But that’s what he’d chosen to do. He chose the life of a washed up rockstar over being with the one person he could trust with his life. Now he’s stuck obeying his label, his rabid fans, letting them drain his energy from his skin while you’re out there, gluing yourself back together when he should be the one picking up the pieces. He fucked up, bad, and there’s no way he’ll ever earn that second chance with you now. All he can do is drink to numb that pain, to maybe forget that realization that you’re gone. That he’ll never get to call you his again.

___

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

”Casanova!” Eddie rolls his eyes at the sound of Robin’s voice, “Wait up, dweeb!” She jogs to catch up to where he loads the trailer with his amps, pretending fruitlessly that he is deaf, ignoring her calls completely. She refuses to play along, though, still yapping into his already ringing ears. “Listen. I know we haven’t been, like, on the best terms. I’m sure you can understand why. But we’re all gonna go to the beach tonight. Hit the arcades, grab some food. I hope you come- ah,” She bites her lip, trying not to snicker at her choice of words. “I hope you decide to hang. Both of you.”

Eddie nods curtly, lips pressed tightly together. He can barely look at her, your best friend, that he pretty much made an unwilling third party only hours ago.

“I’ll do my best.”

She rolls her eyes, making no effort to hide her annoyance. “C’mon! It’ll be fun! It’ll be like we’re back-“

”Back what, Robin? Back in Hawkins?” He doesn’t mean to spit so much venom with his response, but in his defense, she of all people should be able to understand his reluctance.

“No, stupid. Back to normal. Being friends, no worries about fame, that shit. No need to be a dick about it.” Her lighthearted tone carries a slight edge, slicing Eddie with her words. “I’m sure Y/n would appreciate a semblance of normal.”

He rolls his eyes again, irritated at her use of you to convince him, knowing it will work. He will bend at every whim for you. Every time he blinks, he gets a flash of this morning. The sweat on your skin, your whimpers in his ear.

“Dingus!” Robin snaps him back to the present. “Good god, could you be any more pathetic?”

Luckily, he is saved from answering that question. “Munson!” Jeff calls from the steps of the bus. “Cmon, man! Those waves aren’t gonna surf themselves!”

—

Your POV

“Were you, um-“ Steve hesitates, evading your eyes as he saunters forward, head hanging like a shy child.

“Steve,” You start, prepared to ramble a pathetic excuse for why you can’t talk about it.

“Never mind, never mind. Just, y’know,”

“Yeah,” you scoff, shoving yourself into the booth as the driver pulls away from another hotel parking lot. “You worry, I get it.” You pick at your nails, the skin around your cuticles fraying like an old sweater.

“Only because you keep giving me reasons to.” There’s a softness in his scolding, the ghost of a smirk on his sweet face. Poor, sweet Steve. Your best friend, after everything. And you’ve been sending him into cardiac arrest these last six weeks. “I’m sorry, I know you want your privacy from everything. You can trust me. I have no reason to share any of it with the label. I just wanna make sure you’re both alright.”

You nod, shaking your head frantically, trying to shake away the panic. “I told him I love him. I also might have told him about playing Lolla, but I don’t really remember.” You wince, awaiting his reaction, but it doesn’t come. He blinks, face blank, like you’ve only just told him about a book you’ve read. “I give you permission to freak out now.”

He does the last thing you expect from him. Steve bursts into laughter. It’s a bark, a sudden crack in the sound barrier that startles you before you mirror his sounds. Quickly, though, Steve takes a breath to compose himself, ridding the giggles from his belly more quietly, as not to draw attention from the other, crankier passengers. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just,” He looks for his words on the table before him. “It’s about fuckin’ time, y’know?” His laughter takes over again, and you wipe a tear from your own giggle fit away as you catch your breath. Your cheeks are flushed, heart erratic as you gossip with your friend. That’s all he is right now. Not your manager, not your babysitter. He’s just Steve, and you’re so excited to divulge everything with him.

“How’d it go down? If you wanna tell me, obviously you don’t have t-“

“Of course I want to tell you, dummy. You just have to promise you don’t tell Robin. I don’t care that she knows, but she can’t know I told you all about it before her.” Steve nods in agreement, and you’re off to the races. You tell him how you’d knocked on his door the night before, drunk off your ass. You’d only wanted to tell him about Lollapalooza, you swear. You recall the way he’d looked at you, like he was drinking in your presence, as if you’d been a blessing then, and you let out the one thing you’d wanted to hold onto, at least for a while. You feel yourself blush as you recount the morning after, the way you’d given yourself to Eddie entirely, the relief you’d felt during, and the deep seated worry you feel now. You tell Steve everything, after keeping him in the dark for so long. All the while, he listens as the bus jostles you around, his hand a comforting one in your own. When you finish, you’re breathless, like you’ve just relived the whole thing. Steve only blinks, seemingly digesting it all before he can form a thought.

Finally though, he speaks. “And you expect me not to let any of this slip to Robin?”

You send a half assed slap to his shoulder. “Just for the day, until I get the energy to tell her.” The both of you descend into laughter again.

—

The sun is at its highest point in the sky when you reach the beach. You have no idea what town, what state you’ve all landed in, but the sand is hot and soft under your toes, and the water is a crisp blue to match the cloudless sky. You slide your sunglasses down your nose, and make your way to the dunes.

Behind you, the guys lug the coolers and umbrellas while you and your friends take care of the towels and beach chairs. Eddie is somewhere in the back of your rather large crowd, a boombox on his shoulder. You’re able to find a spot to hold your party further down the beach, and the crew begins to set up the spot like they do the stages every night, in sync with each other without speaking a word. Once they’ve snapped out of laser focus, you spread out your towel near one of the umbrellas, straight across from where Eddie has plopped down his beach chair. You use your sunglasses to your advantage, shamelessly checking out the sight before you. Eddie’s gotten slightly tanner as the summer’s gone on, his shoulders dusted with freckles that remind you of stars, ones you’ve spent hours tracing imaginary constellations on. He shines with sweat in the heavy sun, his shorts riding up on his sticky lotion legs. He’s tied his hair back in a bun to keep it off his neck, and he’s wearing sunglasses that surely must be an homage to Ozzy. Ink litters his arms and torso, pretty pictures you want to ask him about, want to trace with your tongue and lips and teeth.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His voice shatters your inspection, your face blistering and not because of the weather. You compose quickly, though, remembering your camera stuffed inside your tote bag.

“Sure thing!” You chirp, holding the viewfinder to your face. “Say cheese!”

Eddie flips off the camera, a wry smile on his face and you can’t help laughing. “Aw, that wasn’t very nice!”

“I have an image to uphold, doll.” The nickname brings a silence to your group, a quick one, barely noticeable to anyone else. But you sense it. The beat of confusion no ones sure they can ask about.

Gareth comes to the rescue. “Uh, anyone down to surf? Waves look pretty good!”

—

Eddie’s POV

“So,” Jeff paddles his board up to Eddie’s, where he’s straddled as the current bobs him around. “How was your night?” The teasing is palpable.

Eddie speaks through gritted teeth, biting back the biggest smile. “Word travels fast around here, huh?”

“Only when the word is that you two finally got together again!” This time it’s Gareth who speaks, causing Eddie to throw his head back and groan. “Hey, man, we’re happy for ya! Can’t blame us for being excited when we’ve watched you mope about them for a month.” Jeff snorts at the drummer’s comment, and Eddie sends a frustrated splash towards him.

“I hate you both.” He mumbles, absolutely defeated.

“Cmon, man. Give us something!” Gareth is pleading now, pathetically. “At least tell us how it happened!”

Eddie has no choice but to relent. He recounts a summary of the past day and a half, leaving out some minor details to spare his own dignity. By the time he’s finished, his bandmates gawk at him, mouths agape and eyes wide.

“Wait,” Jeff finally says, “So you guys still aren’t together?!” Gareth groans, long and loud, before dramatically falling back on his board, into the water. “You’re a moron!” He exclaims when he comes to the surface, hurling water at Eddie.

“Thanks, man.” Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re happy for you, really, but-“ He stops himself, choosing his next words carefully. “I don't think we can watch this happen again, I know I can’t.” His tone is suddenly somber, gentle. “You either have to commit, or you have to let them go. I’m begging you not to put them— or you— through that again.”

Eddie is caught off guard by his buddy’s sensitivity. Gareth and Jeff aren’t touchy-feely, not the way Steve is, not the way you are. They’re usually rather stoic.

“I didn’t intend to go through it the first time.” He’s chosen defensiveness, ready to board up the door to his feelings for the sake of keeping the peace.

“No one intends to go through that, obviously. But, Ed, seriously. Think about it. You’re working the program, you’re doing really well too. Don’t let this be a reason you throw it all away. If you love them, if you really, really mean it this time, fine. But if I have to watch you break their heart again, I’m leaving the band.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Gareth shakes his head. “Don’t try to find out.”

They stare each other down, both convinced they have all the answers, until Jeff breaks the tension. “That’s the one! That’s the best one all day!” And he’s off, paddling towards the growing waves and leaving his friends to stir.

—

It’s almost sunset when they leave the ocean, retreating to the rest of the group still bathing in the golden hue of the sun. Everyone’s there, talking and drinking, laughing and singing along to Celine Dion’s If You Asked Me To. He snickers at the sight, his mismatched group of friends, people he’d never have expected to ever have a bond with, enjoying their well earned rest. Finally, his eyes land on you. Immersed in your book, a well loved copy of Play It As It Lays, you sit stretched out in your beach chair, skin shiny with sweat and sunscreen, a red bathing suit leaving nothing to the imagination. Your feet are buried beneath the soft sand, and Eddie can see that you’re wiggling your toes. Your sunglasses sit on the bridge of your nose, perched like reading glasses as your eyes scan the page.

He feels a presence next to him before he can see it. “You really shouldn’t stare at people like that. It’s creepy.” Robin has planted herself next to him, speaking low enough so you can’t hear her.

“I wasn’t-“ There’s no point. He’d be lying, anyway. “Ugh, whatever.”

She snorts, returning to her less stealthy self. “Uh huh, exactly. Anyway, what’s your plan, Romeo?”

“My plan?”

She nods. “For your month off. Where in the world will Eddie Munson go next?” He can’t answer, and Robin definitely feels him tense at her question. “Me and Lilith are going to Vermont, I think. They have uh, great syrup there I’ve heard.” She’s steamrolling herself, and it brings the beginning of a smile to Eddie’s face. “You ever been? To Vermont?”

Eddie shrugs. “Can’t say I have.”

“Me either. Me… either.” She looks down at her hands, letting the silence fester until it’s unbearable.

“I might go back home.” He says it quietly, not yet sure if the word fits in his mouth anymore. Home.

“Where’s home?”

At that, he glances up at you. You’ve put your book aside to lounge further, the chair further back, legs outstretched in front of you as your eyes flutter closed. Right there. “Well, not home I guess. To Wayne’s. Spend some time with the old man.”

Robin nods, lips slightly pursed as if she’s questioning his response. She can see right through him.

Luckily, though, he’s saved from explaining anything further. “Who’s up for some arcade games? Boardwalk’s only a ten minute walk from here!” Sylvie shakes their bag of quarters, an attempt at enticing the tired group into physical activity.

It seems to rouse you from your catnap. “I’m in. You, me,” you’re pointing at Eddie. “Air hockey. Loser buys the ice cream.”

“What are we, in high school?” Robin snorts, but her eyes widen when she realizes what she’s said. “I am so sorry.”

You giggle, and Eddie feels his cheeks burn. “No, Buckley, it’s cool, you can play Eddie when he LOSES.” You launch yourself from the beach chair and offer your hands out, one crossed over the other. “You on?”

Eddie and Robin each take one of your hands to shake. It’s a deal.

—

Your POV

The boardwalk was once filled with life, you can see that, but has since been discarded like a candy wrapper. Several bulbs on the overhead signs are out, making it spell out A C A D rather than ARCADE. Despite its exterior, the place is bustling with activity. Unsupervised children and bored teens on vacation bounce from machine to machine, yelling to be heard over the cartoonish sounds of claw machines. Further in, you spot the air hockey table in a corner, unoccupied.

“You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?” You tease, nudging his side with your elbow before taking a spot at one end of the table.

”I think you mean kissed, L/n.” Eddie winks, slotting a quarter into the machine, triggering the bright lights to flash, the canned sound of the game announcer.

You scoff. “Whatever.” You hand the puck to Robin, who’s standing far too still between the two of you, as if she’s decided to referee. Robin drops the puck in the middle, and it starts slowly gliding off to the side while you and Eddie swing your discs wildly. You gain the upper hand, whacking the puck at Eddie’s goal, missing by inches. You groan when it hits the side, now fully in Eddie’s court. He chuckles, swinging hard to send the puck flying toward you, straight into the thin slot. GOAL! The fuzzy speakers blare with exclamation. You take the puck out, placing it in front of you, waiting for Eddie to stop taunting you.

”C’mon, you have to admit that was pretty sick!” Eddie whines, trying to get a rise out of you.

”Are you done?”

”Oh, not even close, sweetheart.”

You bite back a smile, the tips of your ears burning, and hit the puck on a zigzag, gleefully watching as Eddie’s eyes try to keep up. It goes back and forth for a while before you tie it up, hurling trash talk at each other with no malice. A small crowd has even gathered around the table to watch, and you’re not sure if it’s because they’re fans of yours and Eddie’s, or just really invested in the competition.

Finally, you send the puck flying into the opposite goal one more time, winning the game. You celebrate with a cheer, and jokingly chest bump Robin who rolls her eyes when you clench your tit in your hand, cackling.

—

Eddie’s POV

“I’d like a mint chocolate chip shake, extra thick.” You wink, making sure to swing your hips as you walk away from the table with Steve. You’re barely out of earshot when Robin starts flapping her gums. “What the fuck was that?!”

“What was what?”

She flails, gesturing wildly to Eddie, the direction you’ve walked in, the air hockey table. “All that- that flirting. You think I’m stupid?”

Eddie only scoffs, whacking the puck towards her. This game has far less enthusiasm to it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on! You attracted a crowd with how obnoxious you two were being! What happened this morning?”

Eddie stops the puck under his handle. “That’s none of your business!”

“Please, I can get those gory details from Y/n. I’m talking about the important part, the conversation.”

“There wasn’t a conversation! Just having some fun.”

It’s Robin’s turn to freeze, straightening her posture as if it would convince Eddie to take her seriously. “Don’t you dare start this shit again. You need to get your act together. Today. I swear to God if you break their heart again—“

“Robin, what the fuck are you—“

“Let me finish. Please, for the love of all that is holy, unholy, whatever, talk to them. For real. Before we leave. Or I’ll beat your ass myself. They love you so, so much it’s borderline unhealthy. I can’t watch them fall to pieces again because you can’t grow the balls to tell them what you want.”

“Shouldn’t they also be getting this lecture?”

“No! Because they’re letting you set the pace, asshole! You owe it to them, they shouldn’t have to guess what you want. I promise, if you’re honest, they’ll be more than willing to listen to you. Please, Eddie.” Her eyes are soft, and he melts at her pleas.

“Okay. I will.”

“You better.”

“I promise!”

—

Your POV

“So… what the fuck was that?” Steve inserts a quarter into the skeeball machine, the balls clacking together as they roll down.

“What?” You feign ignorance, rolling a ball down the lane. 20 points. You were never great at skeeball. “Do not play stupid with me, L/n! That man loves you.”

“That doesn’t mean he wants more than what we have.” The humor is gone from your tone, and you can feel your throat catch ever so slightly.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Steve, that love isn’t the only factor in a relationship. There are so many things we’re still missing. The trust, the balance. All that stupid bullshit we can’t seem to figure out.” Steve doesn’t respond, he only watches as you half heartedly toss another ball down the lane. “I don’t know if we’d work together anymore. After everything,” You pause, looking for the right words. Of course you want to try, you’d give it all up to try again. He claims he would, too. But there’s a huge, unspecified roadblock preventing both of you from taking that leap. Like a blocked artery, a wedge that won’t budge no matter how hard you both push.

“You’re a chicken shit.” Steve finally deadpans, causing you to whip around to look at him. There’s no hint of joking in his tone, not the tiniest glimmer of it in his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a goddamn coward! You both are! Constantly making excuses for not even attempting the real thing. You’ll kiss, hold hands, even sleep together before admitting a goddamn thing to yourselves. I can’t believe neither of you have collapsed from exhaustion.” He rolls a ball, sinking it into the top left hole of the lane. Show off

“Maybe it’s not enough. But what’s stopping you from doing what is? From having that uncomfortable discussion?”

You bite your lip, knowing exactly the thing stopping both of you from having that conversation. Steve’s right, you’re fucking cowards. You’re afraid of fucking it up again, of watching him leave, of losing him the same way you did the first time. You have to wonder if it’s worth it, having bits and pieces of him to avoid losing the whole thing.

Steve checks his watch and huffs. “Well, you better figure it out soon, we leave for the airport in an hour.”

—

Eddie’s POV

“Mint chocolate chip, extra thick.” Eddie hands you the styrofoam cup as he sits next to you on the bench, green ice cream already stuck in the straw.

“Did you have some?” You hold the cup out, straw pointed at him.

“I had to make sure they did it right!”

You snort, taking a sip before resting your head on his shoulder. He rests his own on top of your head, closing his eyes when he hears you sigh through your giggles. As much as he knows how right Robin is, he’d still be okay staying like this forever.

“We should probably talk. Y’know, about this morning.” His voice is low, even though there’s no one around to eavesdrop. You lift your head to look at him, and Eddie swears his heart stops at the sight.

“Probably, yeah.” He nods slowly, praying to whoever will listen that he doesn’t fuck this up.

“I meant it. I wanna make that clear. I love you. I never stopped, I don’t think I ever will.” His voice is even, stern.

“So did I.”

He nods. “I know. But-“

“It’s not enough.” You nod, and he feels his heart stutter and crack before you can let him finish. He knew this was coming.

You shake your head, your short hair swinging as you do. “No. It’s not. That doesn’t mean it can’t be the beginning of something, though?” Your voice raises at the end, like you’re asking him the question. He has to stop himself from jumping from his seat. There’s hope in what you’ve said, even if it’s barely a spark. “If you want to try, I guess. If you want to see where it goes.”

Eddie can’t stop himself, he sets his own milkshake aside to cup your warm face in his cold hands, steadying your head. “I will do whatever it takes to try this again, sweetheart. You are still the best thing that’s ever happened to me, the only person I could ever ask for. If you’re willing, if you’re able to try again, to trust that I won’t let you down again, then who am I to refuse that second chance? Who would I be to give that up a second time? I know I should’ve said something sooner, I know I’ve been awful during this whole thing…” He trails off as your smile widens under his palms, and your eyes grow wet with what he hopes are happy tears. “I couldn’t ask for anything more, Y/n. I know I don’t deserve it-“

You shake your head again, despite his grip. “Stop it. Stop saying you don’t deserve another chance, Eddie. I wouldn’t be willing to try again if you hadn’t shown me you’ve changed. I never stopped loving you, I was waiting for the day we could try this again. More than anything, you are all I’ve wanted. Please, be kinder to yourself.” You say it all through squished cheeks, and he feels them warm under his hands. “I didn’t want to ask, because I couldn’t tell if that’s what you wanted. You’re a huge rockstar now, with plenty of bullshit to deal with. This is gonna be hard, I need to know it’ll be a priority.”

“You are my only priority. You are the only thing that matters to me this much. It took me years being a fucking moron to figure that out, but I got there.” His heart is practically breaking his ribcage with how hard it’s pounding. He can barely believe you’re willing to try again, willing to give such a broken man a second chance at true love. It all feels way too good to be true, but he can’t be bothered enough to shut it down. There will be no other shoe this time.

“In that case, Munson, would you do me the honor of being my love again? Strings attached?”

He doesn’t hesitate, even though he’s fucking terrified. “I never stopped.” He moves his hands back to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he moves closer to you. Your hands mirror his, holding his face in them as his eyes begin to water. Your smile grows as his tears fall, both of you laughing through them like deranged children.

“Then kiss me like you mean it.” And he does, tugging you forward until his lips meet yours, tears commingling as you wrap your arms around his neck, and his move to wrap around your waist. “I love you”s are mumbled between kisses, never fully letting go of each other regardless of how uncomfortable the bench has become.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.”

—

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allmoshnobrain · 6 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 06 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 9,8k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, pregnancy, breastfeeding, mxf sex, threesome mentioned/implied, poly relationship mentioned/discussed, oral sex, pregnancy sex, small pov change at the end, an actual happy ending ♡

✧ Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine / Cashmere, cologne, and white sunshine / Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine / The kids were young and pretty

Where have you been? / Where did you go? / Those summer nights seem long ago / So is the girl you used to call / The queen of New York City ✧

August 17th, 1992

I blinked open my eyes, letting out a sleepy yawn as sunlight crept through the curtains, brightening up the room. A small grin tugged at my lips when I realized Dave was still fast asleep beside me, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around me, his bare skin pressed against mine. With a groan, I stretched out, feeling how sore my muscles were.

Honestly, even though I’d caught some shut-eye, I was totally wiped out from last night. James and Dave hadn’t given me a break for a second, making it their mission to push me to one mind-blowing climax after another in a wild competition for my attention and pleasure that had lasted all night long. But I wasn’t complaining; in fact, it probably had been one of the best nights I've ever had up to that point.

I glanced over to the other side of the bed, sighing when I saw James wasn't there; reaching out, I noticed the mattress was still warm, so he probably had left not too long before. I carefully slipped out of Dave's arms, got up, and headed to the bathroom. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I absentmindedly ran my fingers through my hair as I checked out my skin in the mirror. It was covered in bites and little bruises that were starting to show. I sighed; I'd definitely need to slap on some makeup to cover those up before we hopped on our flight back home.

I threw on one of Dave's t-shirts, my shorts, and my shoes before snagging my pack of cigarettes and lighter. I slipped out of the room quietly and made my way up to the hotel's terrace. The place was nice, offering a panoramic view of the city with a few tables and chairs scattered around. Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t that early, it was still empty, which was a relief. Leaning against the railing, I lit up a cigarette, taking slow drags with a sigh.

"Figured I'd find you here," a familiar voice chimed in. I glanced up, meeting James' eyes as he strolled over. Turning to him, I rested a hand on his chest as he wrapped his arm around my waist. Letting out a sigh, I melted into his kiss, his tongue gently exploring my mouth while his hand cradled my face.

"You bailed on me," I murmured against his lips, and he grunted, kissing me once more. I chuckled softly. "Jamie..."

"I couldn't sleep," he confessed, pulling back slightly, his thumb stroking my lower lip gently.

"Come back to the room with me," I whispered, and he raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. "We don't have to split just yet. We've got until tonight. I'm sure Dave won't mind picking up where we left off yesterday."

"Now that he's sober? Doubt it," he murmured, then brushed his fingers gently across my face. I closed my eyes with a sigh, resting my hand over his. "Babe... You realize this thing between the three of us won't last beyond these walls, right?"

I blinked open my eyes, my reaction to his words written all over my face — a messy mix of feeling betrayed and totally lost. I shook my head no, and he responded with a smile, though it was a sad and resigned one that tugged at my heartstrings. He sighed as I reached out, cupping his cheek, drawing nearer.

"We can give it a shot," I murmured, my voice pleading. He clasped my hand in his, pressing a light kiss to my palm before letting go.

"And how exactly would that work?" he inquired, his tone gentle. "We're both public figures, Nore. You're making waves in your career now. What happens if the industry catches wind of you being with two guys at once? If just by you dating Dave, your face ends up plastered across magazine covers?"

"I don't give a shit about that," I shot back, and he scoffed.

"Well, I do. Not sure if you remember, but I made a promise. Promised Cliff I'd look out for you," he said, gently lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "Even if that means letting Mustaine win this round."

"So you’re walking away from me?" I questioned, my voice cracking, a scary emptiness gripping my heart. As messy as things were between James and me, he'd never thrown in the towel before. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, especially coming right after the high of last night — after finally admitting to myself that I didn't want to choose, that I loved both Dave and James, that I wanted them both, not one or the other.

He nuzzled into my neck, his hand sliding down to my hip beneath the t-shirt. Such a simple move, yet so familiar. A familiar vulnerability that reminded me of the boy he used to be.

If Cliff were still around, would things have gotten so strained between us? Would James' anger and my own self-destructive tendencies have wormed their way into our relationship like poison, tearing us apart until we barely resembled the young lovers we once were? I'd pondered that question countless times. Guess I’d never know the answer.

"I couldn't leave you. You know that," he murmured. "But I can't handle this, Nore. I can't share you. Especially when I know it could mess things up for you. Especially when I know it could fuck up your thing with Mustaine. I know you couldn't handle losing him again. You think I don't see how much you love him? How much he loves you?"

"But I love you too," I pleaded. "And you love me."

"I do. And that's why I'm doing this," he said, holding my face in his hands and brushing away the tears I hadn't even realized were streaming down my cheeks. "You're gonna be happy, Nore. As time goes by and the hurt fades, you'll find happiness with him. I know you will, 'cause you already did."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You're not losing me. I'll still be around," he whispered, pulling me into a tight hug. "I'll always be by your side. Always. I just can't stand to see you hurting anymore because of me. You've been through too much."

"It's not fair," I sobbed. "I want you to be happy too."

"I will. But I gotta get my act together first, so I can stop screwing things up for the people I care about," he said with a sad smile. I gripped onto his arm with one hand, wiping my tears away with the other. I didn't want this. It wasn't fair. But James' eyes held a determination I'd never seen before, and I knew I couldn't talk him out of it. James reached up to touch my face, running his thumb along my lower lip. "I gotta do this. You get it, right?" he asked, his voice shaky. I hesitated, but nodded before trying to force a smile — one last smile for the man I loved.

"Want to give me one last kiss?" I asked, and he laughed quietly. "You know, for good luck."

He leaned in, pulling me close, his lips brushing against mine slowly, savoring every moment. I tangled my fingers in his hair, closing my eyes and pressing myself against him, trying in every way to convey everything I felt; how much I loved him, how long I'd loved him, and how a part of my heart would always belong to him. How I wouldn't be who I was without him. He ended the kiss with two gentle pecks, then planted two small kisses on my cheek and forehead before hugging me tightly.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

When I got back to the room, Dave was there, fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hey, babe," he greeted me with a smile, but it faded when he saw the look on my face. "What's up? Something happened?"

I nodded, heading over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. Dave hugged me back right away, holding me close as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Hey," he murmured, lifting my chin so I'd meet his gaze. "What's going on? Did I fuck anything up?"

"No, no," I reassured him, pulling him into another hug and nuzzling into his neck. He let out a soft, worried sigh, holding me close.

"Tell me what's going on, honey. I'm freaking out here," he urged, his voice filled with concern.

"I'm being selfish," I murmured, my voice shaking. "I'm being selfish because after yesterday... I thought... I thought that you, me, and James could figure it out. I've been torn up for so long about having to pick one of you, and… And yesterday it hit me, I don't really want to choose. But James... He's not on board. He said it wouldn't be good for my career if people found out. That I'd be better off without him." I pulled back, meeting his eyes, pleading. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you with this, Dave..."

"You're not hurting me," he said, cupping my face in his hands. "Do you really think I don't know you love him, Nore? After all these years together? I was the one who walked away, and he's the one who’s been there for you this whole time. As much as I hate it, I get it. I'm not mad at you. It's okay."

He helped me sit on the bed, pulling me close against his chest. I let out a sigh, giving him a light kiss, and he let out a low, contented sound as he held me tight. He smelled nice, all warm and woodsy; just being near him helped me relax.

"I love you," he whispered, leaning in to kiss me gently on the lips, his fingers brushing against my tear-stained cheeks. "But you know it's different for people like us," he said softly, studying my face as he traced it with his fingertips. "Behind the scenes at a gig, a private party... We can get carried away in those moments, do things we wouldn't do anywhere else. But then we go back to the real world. We put on our masks. We're their idols, babe. And those private moments become vulnerabilities that these media vultures would kill to get their hands on, to twist who we are into whatever they want. A wild drunk. A messed-up junkie. I get why James wants to shield you from that, I'd do the same. But if you wanna go back to him..." he furrowed his brow, his brown eyes filled with a restless sadness that tugged at my heart. "There's still time. And I won't hold it against you."

"No way. I'm not ditching you. Don't even go there, Dave," I said, my tone firm and cutting. James had a point about one thing: I couldn't handle losing Dave again, and I wasn't about to take that chance. I looked at him, pleading. "You know I love you. Don't even think about telling me to bail."

Sure, part of me was hurting and torn up, but I wasn't about to do anything that might push him away.

If it came down to choosing, my decision had been made long, long ago.

"Then stay with me," Dave said softly. "Stay with me, and I swear, even if you're still hung up on him, I'll love you just as much."

"I love you. I'm not going anywhere," I replied, locking eyes with him and holding his face in my hands. His breath hitched, relief and longing shining in his eyes as he pulled me effortlessly into his lap, his lips edging closer to mine. "Don’t ever dare to push me away again. You're stuck with me, Mustaine," I whispered, our mouths almost touching, and he grinned.

"You know you're the only one I love... Losing you is the last thing I'd ever want," he said, his hand tangling in my hair and pulling me closer as his lips met mine.

✧ But if you send for me, you know I'll come / And if you call for me, you know I'll run / I'll run to you, I'll run to you / I'll run, run, run / I'll come to you, I'll come to you / I'll come, come, come ✧

October 9, 1992

Ever since I was a kid, the ocean had been a great presence in my life. Growing up in Long Beach and then moving around to San Francisco and Los Angeles meant I was always near the beach. Whether I was feeling great or down, the sea was like a silent companion, there for me through thick and thin. So when Dave suggested we hit up a beachside cottage in San Francisco for the weekend, I was totally stoked.

The past couple of months hadn't exactly been easy. After Leanne's wedding, James and I went back to being cool with each other, but his choice to step back still stung. Trying to keep up a friendship after being together for years was bittersweet, and way tougher than I thought it'd be. But having Dave around made it all a bit smoother. Even when I still felt down sometimes, I knew I'd rather deal with that sadness over and over than go through the heartbreak of losing him again.

Things were looking up for our careers. On my end, I was hashing out the details for a role in my first movie, which was gonna be a whole new ball game compared to everything I'd done before. The series I was headlining was wrapping up filming, and it seemed like smooth sailing all around.

Dave had been riding high with all the concerts he'd been doing since Megadeth had dropped their latest album, Countdown to Extinction. The album had been a hit, which was awesome news for both of us. The following year, the band would hit the road for an international tour, and although we knew it was gonna be tough being apart for that long, we figured we'd make the most of the rest of '92 by squeezing in as much time together as we could, starting with our little weekend getaway.

At Dave's urging, I’d let him take the reins on planning everything. I grinned as he pulled up to the small beach cottage, instantly recognizing it. Even after all these years, some things in San Francisco still remained the same.

"That's the cottage you took me to that time, right before you went on that trip to New Jersey with the guys," I said, grinning at Dave as he pulled the car to a stop. He flashed me a smile in return.

"Yep, that's the spot. Good memory," he leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. "Wanted to whisk you away to a place that's got some history for us both."

And he’d totally hit the mark; the little cottage was quaint yet comfy, a throwback to the best days of my life, a time when we were just two young lovers, exploring what it meant to be together. Back when I was learning what it meant to have a family beyond blood, with all my friends by my side, back when Cliff was still around, all witty remarks and calm smiles. Back before Dave and the guys had their falling out and things had changed forever, for all of us.

Dave tossed me the key, asking me to pop open the doors and windows for some fresh air while he hauled our bags inside. I happily obliged, instantly recognizing the layout of the small house: cozy living room leading to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. The bedroom had an old double bed and a wardrobe, plus a TV that definitely wasn't there last time. And then there was the balcony, right out to the beach, where I could see the sea glimmering in the morning light.

I grinned as Dave strolled in, dumping our bags on the bed before coming over to wrap me in a hug and plant a soft kiss on my lips.

"You like it?" he asked softly. I nodded. "Yeah, it's a bit smaller than I remembered, but I hope it’s still cozy enough."

"It's perfect, Dave," I said, cupping his face in my hands and giving him another kiss. He grinned, looking like he was about to say something, but then hesitated, which caught my attention. "What's up?"

"I was just curious... if you had any cool stuff planned for this weekend," he said, trying to keep a straight face, but I could tell he was about to crack a smile. I grinned back, a bit puzzled.

"I didn't plan anything fancy, babe. You were supposed to take care of all that, remember? But we can chill at the beach and then figure out something fun to do together, sound good?"

"Well, actually..." he started, his grin spreading. "I had something else in mind."

"Oh, really? You know I'm down for whatever," I answered, and he smiled playfully before taking my hands in his, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Even marrying me tomorrow?" he asked, his tone low.

I blinked, totally caught off guard, wondering if I'd heard him right. I leaned back a bit, a shocked grin breaking across my face as my heart started racing. Was he serious? Dave grinned back at my reaction, giving my hands a gentle squeeze, his soft touch grounding me back to reality.

"What do you mean, tomorrow?" I asked, dumbfounded, and he laughed.

"I mean tomorrow," he replied, genuine happiness and excitement in his voice. "Nore, I... I've spent too much of my life away from you already. And it sucked," he chuckled, and I couldn’t help but laugh too, feeling my heart completely out of sync as butterflies fluttered in my stomach. "Next year, when I go on tour... I want to know I’m coming back home to you. Every single day of my life, I want to be sure I'll come back to you."

I gasped in surprise as he knelt down on one knee, still holding my hands before letting them go and pulling out a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a beautiful ring, gold with a large dark blue stone and small diamonds around it.

"This might just go down as the quickest engagement in history," he whispered with a smile. "But seriously, I've never been more certain about anything in my life than wanting to spend it with you. Eleanore Marie Burton... Will you mar-"

"Yes," I blurted out, barely letting him finish, a grin spreading across my face as I brought my fingertips to my lips, giggling like a little girl with tears brimming in my eyes. Dave beamed, his own eyes misting up as he got to his feet. "Yes, I’ll marry you," I confirmed, and he took my hand in his, slowly slipping the ring onto my finger before pulling me in close by the waist, drawing me into a slow, passionate kiss.

"Thank goodness you said yes," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips. "I mean, I've already forked out for the whole thing. Would've been a bit awkward if you'd turned me down."

I couldn't help but laugh, joyous tears streaking down my cheeks as I cupped his face in my hands, his arms enveloping me tightly, our lips finding each other's again, and again, and again.

✧ The power of youth is on my mind / Sunsets, small town, I'm out of time / Will you still love me when I shine / From words but not from beauty?

My father's love was always strong / My mother's glamor lives on and on / Yet still inside, I felt alone / For reasons unknown to me ✧

October 10, 1992

We got married the next day, on a sunny autumn afternoon. The morning was a whirlwind of activity as we scrambled to get everything just right: first, a crew showed up bright and early to set up the beachside ceremony, arranging tables and chairs, decking out the altar with decorations, and pitching tents for the guests to hang out in during the reception. Then came the chefs Dave had enlisted to whip up the feast; our little cottage just couldn't contain the festivities, so it was all hands on deck to get everything outdoors-ready.

Soon after, the guests began trickling in. My family was the first to arrive: Uncle Ray, Aunt Jan, and my parents. Then, to my utter delight, Leanne and Joe made an appearance. I hadn't expected Leanne to come, with her pregnancy moving along, but clearly, I’d underestimated her determination. When I mentioned my surprise, she just chuckled.

"Are you kidding? Wouldn't miss it for the world. Plus, you're gonna need a maid of honor, right?" she teased, and I couldn't help but beam with genuine happiness.

Leanne and my mom pitched in to get me ready; Mom tackled my hair while Leanne took charge of my makeup. The master bedroom turned into a makeshift beauty parlor, and before I knew it, the clock was ticking away as I was treated like royalty: my hair was coiffed and styled before a quick snack break, then Leanne got to work on my makeup before I slipped into the dress Dave had taken me to pick out the day prior.

All of this happened amidst all the hustle and bustle of getting the party ready and Dave getting himself sorted in the tiny bathroom. The cottage turned into a bit of a madhouse, mostly because Leanne and Mom were on strict guard duty, keeping everyone out of the bedroom until I was good to go. But, despite the chaos, the vibe was just pure joy, and nobody seemed to be sweating the small stuff.

Finally, when I was all dolled up, Leanne swooped in and covered my eyes with her hands, while Mom propped up a full-length mirror against the wall. Turns out, she'd had the foresight to pick one up just for the occasion. When I asked her about it, she just gave me an exasperated look.

"Imagine not being able to see yourself in the mirror on your big day. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal, and I wasn't taking any chances on there not being one around. So, I came prepared," she explained.

Well, this time Mom had definitely hit the mark. The cottage was pretty basic, and a full-length mirror wasn't exactly on the inventory list. When I finally laid eyes on myself, I couldn't help but gasp in amazement. My hair was swept up into a loose bun, with bits of it cascading around my face, adorned with these adorable little yellow flowers nestled into the brown locks.

Leanne's makeup skills were on point, giving my eyes, lips, and cheeks just the right pop. And the dress was like it was made for me, light as a feather, sleeveless and elegant, hugging my curves in all the right places, even making me feel a bit taller. Grinning ear to ear, I took the bouquet from Leanne — a gorgeous mix of white roses and sunflowers, just like the ones Dave had handed me that first time we caught up after reuniting.

I was stunning. But it wasn't just about the looks: this overwhelming sense of pure joy seemed to radiate from every inch of me, lighting up my eyes and my smile. And for the first time in forever, there wasn't a shred of worry weighing me down.

"You know, when your fiancé called, I'll admit, I thought you two might've been rushing into things. But now... seeing you like this... You really love him, don’t you?" Mom asked, giving one last gentle tug on the dress zipper. All I could manage was a silent nod.

In that moment, one thing was crystal clear, and it was my love for Dave.

"Okay, it's showtime," my dad barged in out of nowhere, freezing in his tracks as he caught sight of me. His eyes welled up with a mix of shock and pride, his jaw practically hitting the floor. I couldn't help but grin, the excitement sending shivers down my spine, my heart pounding, and tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "Ellie, you... You look stunning," he said, grasping my arms and beaming at me before turning to my mom. "Clémence, sweetheart, you and Leanne better get a move on... The ceremony's about to kick off."

"Okay," Mom gave my hair one final tweak before she and Leanne settled my veil in place. Lea squeezed my hand tight.

"We'll be right there, Nore. See you in a bit," she said reassuringly.

I nodded, but inside, my stomach was doing somersaults. All morning, I'd been riding the excitement train, but now, with the ceremony about to kick off, a tidal wave of nerves hit me like a ton of bricks. Dad noticed, gripping my arm a little tighter, offering silent support as he sensed my jitters.

"You got this, Ellie. Dave's just waiting on you," Dad whispered, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

I nodded, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins, a nervous smile breaking out on my face. And with that, the music started up, and Dad guided me down the aisle to where Dave was waiting at the altar.

As I emerged into the back of the cottage, I couldn't help but be taken aback by the sea of familiar faces gathered for the ceremony. Charlotte and her boyfriend were holding court, joined by a bunch of my college and work buddies, along with Dave's band mates. Lars, Kirk, and Jason flashed me a grin. But my heart dropped a bit when I realized James wasn't among them. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd opted out, if my wedding would just add another layer to the hurt between us.

But all of that was shoved to the backburner the second I locked eyes with Dave. He had this intense, serious expression on his face, which might've been a bit intimidating if I didn't know it just showed how emotional he was. His gaze was glued to mine as I made my way over, and when Dad handed me off to him, Dave let out this deep breath, a huge grin spreading across his face that I couldn't help but mirror.

Our vows were straight from the heart, short and sweet, but bursting with love. I gotta admit, I tried my hardest to keep the waterworks at bay, but a few rogue tears still managed to slip out. And when the officiant asked if I took Dave as my husband, I found my voice all choked up. But I managed to squeak out my acceptance, which just melted Dave's eyes into a puddle of warmth and affection.

When he slid that ring onto my finger, it was like everything clicked into place. Like I'd finally found my spot in the universe. Through all the rough patches, all the time we’d spent apart, I guess deep down, I always knew we'd find our way back to each other. I always knew that I loved him, had loved him all along, right from the start, and that love wasn't going anywhere till my very last breath.

I let out a soft chuckle as Dave leaned in for a kiss, pulling me close, his hand gentle on my cheek, brushing away the tears of joy that had welled up. I sighed contentedly, wrapping my arms around his neck, never wanting to let go.

It was done. And in that moment, it hit me — I'd never have to go through losing him again. Our love had seen us through, brought us back together, helped us learn to forgive, and most importantly, to fall for each other all over again.

I was his, and he was mine.

The party after the ceremony was nothing fancy, but it was a blast. Our wedding wasn't a huge affair, just our nearest and dearest, but honestly, it couldn't have been any better in my book. I was practically beaming with joy as everyone came up to chat with me.

"Nore!" Lars burst out, champagne in hand, with Kirk right by his side, sporting a grin. I couldn't help but smile back, chuckling when they both practically tackled me with hugs. "Congrats, Mrs. Mustaine," Lars said with a twinkle in his eye, and I let out a laugh.

"Mustaine-Burton," I smiled. "I'm going with a double-barrelled name... Didn't want to ditch the Burton part, you know? It's got history with Cliff," I explained, which earned approving smiles from both of them.

"You know, I never really got what's up with you and Mustaine until I saw you two in the same place at the same time," Kirk mused. "It's like you two are in your own little world when you're together. And seeing him all smitten like this is a funny sight. Congrats, babe," he continued, pulling me in for another hug. I let out a soft chuckle in response.

"Can I crash the congrats party?" a familiar voice piped up, and I lit up as I spun around to find James, a hint of a smile on his face.

"James!" I blurted out, pulling him in for a hug, which he met with a soft laugh. "I thought... I thought you were gonna bail on me."

"A dude can't even be fashionably late these days?" he teased, and I laughed. "Of course I was gonna show up. You think you can shake me off that easily, Burton?"

"Mustaine-Burton, actually," I corrected him, and he just rolled his eyes.

"As if I'm gonna go with that," he quipped, caressing my hair softly, which made me giggle. "So, where's your... husband?"

"Last I saw, he was chatting with my folks. Ah, there he is," I grinned as I caught sight of Dave, shooting the breeze with his sister while clutching a flute of champagne. He spotted me, then James by my side, and immediately made a beeline over.

"Hey, honey. Hungry yet? I had 'em whip up that salad you're into," he said, slinging an arm around my waist, pulling me in snug. It was a sweet move, not without a hint of claiming me as his own.

"Oh yeah, I'm starving. I was just chatting a bit," I answered, planting a light kiss on Dave's cheek. He grinned and then turned his gaze to James, who met it without saying a word. I watched their silent exchange, feeling a bit on edge, but my eyebrows shot up in surprise when James reached out his hand to Dave, who shook it.

"Congrats, dude," James said, and Dave shot him a tight yet polite smile.

"Thanks."

"I'm thinking of snagging a brew... Catch you later, Nore," James said, giving me a nod. I returned it as he made his way towards the makeshift bar set up for the guests.

"Hey, James!" Dave called out, stopping him in his tracks. James turned back, eyebrow raised in question. Dave hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "I'll take care of her, man. You have my word."

"I know you will," James replied, offering a faint smile. I watched with interest as the two of them seemed to reach some unspoken understanding. Then James turned and headed off.

The party dragged on till way past bedtime. By the time the guests cleared out and the crew tore down the setup, I was beat. My eyes were practically glued shut with exhaustion as I wiped off my makeup and let down my hair. I couldn't help but laugh when I felt Dave sneak up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and planting a slow kiss on my neck, my body warming up at his touch.

"You happy?" he whispered, and I grinned, turning to meet his gaze, our hands intertwining. I couldn't help but smile at the cool touch of his ring against my skin.

"Over the moon," I murmured, letting out a soft chuckle as he fumbled for my dress’ zipper, planting a kiss on my shoulder and pulling me close. His lips trailed up my skin, and I couldn't help but smile when they met mine. "And you?"

"Absolutely," he murmured back, gently nipping at my lower lip.

I let out a sigh as he lifted my dress' hem, settling me on the vanity while taking off my panties. A quiet laugh escaped my lips as he started undoing his pants. He pressed his forehead against mine, parting my thighs with one hand. I moaned softly as he pushed into me, my fingers tangling in his ginger hair as he moved slowly. I tilted my head back as his lips traced the curve of my neck and collarbone.

"Couldn't even wait to get me in bed?" I managed to gasp out, and he smirked, easing himself inside me with slow, deliberate movements.

"What makes you think I won't fuck you in bed too?" he countered with a low growl, and I couldn't help but laugh, the sound melting into a moan as his lips crashed against mine, his thrusts growing more urgent by the second.

I melted into him, fingers tangling in his hair as my lips trailed down to his neck. He let out a deep groan, his hold on my hips tightening as his breathing grew heavier, his movements getting more frenzied by the second. I couldn't help but moan as he slipped a hand down to my clit, working it with such skill that sent shivers down my spine.

"My beautiful wife," he growled, burying his face in my neck as I clung to him. He grunted as he felt me tighten around him, my climax building rapidly. His movements grew more urgent, and I shuddered as the pleasure became almost overwhelming, my body convulsing with each wave as I moaned his name. He pulled me close, his rhythm faltering as he released inside me, his forehead resting against my shoulder, his breath coming in heavy pants. I giggled as he peppered kisses along my shoulder, then my neck, nibbling lightly on my ear before whispering again, "My beautiful, beautiful wife."

I had never been happier.

And if you call I'll run, run, run / If you change your mind, I'll come, come, come ✧

December 31st, 1992

Two months later, we headed back to San Francisco for Lars' annual New Year's Eve bash. Dave wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the thought of ringing in the new year with his old band mates, but I promised him he didn't have to mingle with them if he didn't feel like it. I mean, Lars' parties were notorious for being massive. Dave was trying his best to wrap his head around the fact that having me in his life also meant having some sort of contact with Lars, Kirk, and James. Surprisingly, he was handling it better than I thought he would.

I let out a sigh, a little smile playing on my lips as we pulled up to Lars' vacation home. Last time I’d set foot there, getting back with Dave wasn't even on my radar. If someone had told me then that a year later we'd be married, I'd have probably burst out laughing. It was like in the past year, all my wildest dreams had decided to come true.

I grinned as we stepped into our guest room and spotted Lars' handiwork of choosing the perfect outfits for his guests; this time, a stunning blood-red gown for me, paired with a slick black suit and shirt in the same shade for Dave. Dave let out a low whistle at the sight of our getups, slinging an arm around my waist.

"You’ll look absolutely gorgeous in that dress, babe," he said with a smile, leaning in to brush his lips against my ear. "Can't wait to take it off you later."

I laughed, giving him a playful shove, and he planted a kiss on my lips before stepping back.

The party was off the hook, as usual. Even Dave seemed blown away by the spread of food, drinks, and all the big shots milling around, though he tried to play it cool, which just made me smile. We worked the room together, hand in hand, stopping here and there to shoot the breeze with some familiar faces.

At one point, we split up when Dave went to grab us some drinks. That's when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and when I turned around, a smile spread across my face at the sight of James. He was rocking an all-black outfit, his blond hair flowing and his face looking healthier than I had seen in years.

"Thought you were gonna bail this year. You know, since your husband's not our biggest fan," James said, a slight grin playing on his lips. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous, James. I wouldn't miss hanging out with you guys for anything," I retorted before pulling him into a hug. He let out a satisfied sigh, keeping me close for maybe a bit longer than strictly necessary, his hand resting at the small of my back as he buried his face in my hair.

"You look stunning," he whispered in my ear, and I swear I could feel my cheeks flushing. "Missed you, Nore," he grinned, those blue eyes twinkling with a certain mischief that sent my heart into a flutter.

Guess I wasn't entirely immune to James' charms after all.

Later, after the party wrapped up, Dave and I ended up back in our room, his hands all over me, his body pressing me against the wall, his tongue tangling with mine as I let out soft moans, my fingers entwined in his soft ginger hair. He suddenly pulled away when we heard a knock on the door. I blinked, curious. Dave groaned, irritated, rolling his eyes, and I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath.

"I'll get it," I offered, and he grunted, stepping aside to let me reach the door. Swinging it open, I was taken aback to find James standing there. His eyes swept over me, a faint smile playing on his lips as he noticed my flushed cheeks and mussed-up hair.

"Bad timing?" he quipped, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks once more.

"James, what's up? Need something?" I inquired, and he let out a low laugh, that same hint of mischief as before flashing in his eyes.

"You know why I'm here, sweetheart. Mind if I come in?" he murmured, his voice dropping. My skin warmed when Dave's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close as he planted a kiss on my neck.

"What do you think, babe?" Dave murmured, his proximity sending my pulse into overdrive. James observed, desire flickering in his blue eyes as he let out a soft sigh. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I realized what was about to happen. "Should we let him in?"

I glanced at James, who flashed a playful grin before closing the gap between us, lifting my chin with his fingers before pressing his lips to mine.

Believe it or not, that was the kick-off to some of the happiest times of my life. James, Dave, and I kept our meetings going for a few months, and I gotta say, it was pretty amazing to experience loving both of them at the same time.

But James had a point in the end; keeping our thing under wraps, away from the public, got tougher and more draining by the day. And even though he didn't outright say it, I could tell Dave wasn't thrilled about sharing me. Plus, James and Dave still had a lot of resentment between them; not even the possibility of both of them having me eased the wounds they still needed to heal. So, as time went on, our three-way nights became rarer until they just fizzled out completely.

Surprisingly, that didn't wreck my bond with James, thanks to something totally unexpected: him falling for someone else. Strangely enough, it didn't bug me as much as I thought it would. I had a long history of feeling jealous of James' girlfriends back in the day. But now, it was like our connection had matured into something peaceful. I was genuinely glad to see him finding happiness, just like he was glad to see how happy my marriage made me.

So, believe it or not, I found myself happy. I had a husband who adored me, a successful career, and friends who were like family. Sure, Cliff's loss was like a shadow that never quite left, but I wasn't going through my mourning alone. Some days hit harder than others, but ain't that just life? We all coped in our own ways, not always the healthiest, but bit by bit, I learned to live again.

Bit by bit, I allowed myself to be happy again.

✧ Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine / Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine / Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine / And we were young and pretty ✧

November 14, 1993

It happened not long after my first wedding anniversary.

The past year had been smooth sailing for both me and Dave. Hardly anything threw a wrench in the works; I kept climbing up the ladder in acting, and Dave was killing it in his music gig. His band was hitting new highs, even if that meant he was on the road more and we were apart a bunch. But, in the end, it just made every second we had together even sweeter.

Somewhere in the last few months, I’d ditched the birth control pills. Not 'cause Dave and I were mapping out parenthood or anything, but just because we figured we'd want kids somewhere down the line. Seemed like a good time to let nature take its course — if it happened, cool. If it didn’t, that was okay too.

I just wasn’t ready for it to happen that fast — but the two lines that appeared on the pregnancy test didn't lie.

I was pregnant.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest move to take that test while Dave was still laying down tracks at the studio. Because now, a full-on panic started to set in as I stared at that little plastic stick. I only grabbed it because I'd been feeling like garbage — tired as hell and sick to my stomach round the clock. Plus, I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had a period. But even with all those hints, the result still caught me off guard.

I rested a hand on my belly, staring at my own nervous reflection in the mirror. I had no clue how I was gonna break the news to Dave. And with the band gearing up for another album, I couldn't predict how he'd take it either. Albums meant tours, and I was freaking out, thinking I might mess up Dave's whole career and plans.

Chill out, I told myself. He's been wanting this as much as you have.

And it was true. Actually, it was Dave who'd thrown out the idea of me ditching the birth control pills. I tried to keep that in mind, shutting my eyes and taking a deep breath. It kinda eased some of my nerves. I absentmindedly noticed my face was all flushed.

"Nore?" I jumped when I heard Dave's voice. I hadn't even noticed he'd gotten back home, but then again, I was holed up in the bathroom upstairs. I heard a couple of taps on the door. "You in there?"

"Yeah, I'm here!" I called out, shoving the test back into its box and tucking it away in the cabinet under the sink before swinging the door open. Dave grinned at me, his ginger hair pulled back into a ponytail, and reached out for a hug. I chuckled softly, some of the tension melting away as I wrapped my arms around him, nuzzling into his chest. "Hey there, baby. Welcome home."

"You feeling any better?" He ran a gentle hand through my hair.

Now it was clear why I'd felt so sick — another day where I just couldn't drag myself to work because of the nausea. Dave would've stayed put if I hadn't practically pushed him out the door to the studio. Didn't want to throw a wrench in the works of the band's new album. The idea of being a hassle to him brought tears to my eyes, which kinda ticked me off. Guess my hormones were already all over the place.

Which meant one thing: I had to tell him.

"Dave..." I started, my voice shaky, meeting his gaze. He brushed his fingers over my face gently, a flicker of worry in his eyes.

"What is it?" he whispered. I tried to speak, to put into words what I needed to say, but I found myself speechless. Instead, I reached for his hand and pressed it against my stomach under my shirt. He looked at me, puzzled for a second, before realization slowly dawned in his eyes.

"Wait, seriously? Is this... Is this what I think it is?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. I nodded, a grin spreading across my face.

"Yeah, it is. We're... We're gonna have a baby," I confirmed, finally managing to say it. "I'm pregnant... You're gonna be a dad."

"Holy shit, are you serious?" he beamed, cupping my face in his hands and planting a bunch of little kisses on my lips, making me giggle. "I can't believe this!"

"It's true, Dave. Just took the test."

"Oh man, we gotta tell everyone!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "And we gotta start prepping the baby's room... You think it's gonna be a boy or a girl?"

I smiled, feeling my heart light up at Dave's enthusiasm. I'd been worrying for nothing, I realized. He'd never see this pregnancy as a setback. That guy had shown me his love time and time again, way more than I could ever measure, way more than I ever thought I deserved.

I knew he was gonna be an amazing dad.

July 27, 1994

Elise Rose Mustaine-Burton came into the world in the early hours of a summer morning.

When I finally got to hold her, sweat and tears mixed as my whole body ached, it was as if my world had shifted for a moment; holding her, I just knew – life would never be the same again.

I fell for her right away, a fierce, raw, and unconditional love that just flooded through me. It wasn't like I had to make room for her in my heart; it was more like her arrival had stretched it wide open, carving out a piece of my soul that was hers and hers alone, forever.

I could tell Dave felt it too. When he held her, a grin lit up his face, tears welling in his eyes as he cradled her against his chest. She was so small, and so unmistakably ours — her little tufts of hair already matching Dave's, her eyes a deep blue that could only have come from me.

First time breastfeeding hit me harder than I thought. I sat there, cradling her close as she suckled vigorously, trying to push through the pain. But the hormonal roller coaster I’d just gone through suddenly overwhelmed me. I blinked, tears welling up, and Dave slid in beside me on the bed, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

"Yeah, just stings a bit," I answered, my voice shaking. He gave me a gentle squeeze, careful not to jostle me too much.

"Want me to buzz the nurse?"

"Nah, I'll tough it out," I said, sniffling, and he wiped away the tears from my cheek. I let out a sigh of relief when Elise finally finished feeding, and Dave scooped her up while I got myself together, handing her back to me soon after.

"You're crying," he noted, and I looked up to meet his worried hazel eyes. "You sure you don't want me to call the nurse, babe?"

"I'm good," I said, wiping my face with one hand while holding Elise close with the other. "Just blame it on the hormones. Can you believe she's finally here?" I asked softly, my voice still shaky, and Dave grinned. "She looks just like you."

"She's got my hair, but that cute face is all yours," he remarked, gently holding her hand. Elise latched onto one of Dave's fingers right away, and I couldn't help but marvel at how tiny she was — five small fingers so delicate they almost looked like they belonged to a doll.

"How can you tell? Babies all look so similar at this age," I wondered, and Dave chuckled. I glanced up at him, tears welling in my eyes again as I smiled. "She's just perfect, Dave."

"She sure is. Just like her mom," he replied, and I let out a quiet laugh before resting my head on his shoulder. Feeling Elise's warmth against me was something entirely new, yet utterly wonderful, calming me down completely. Dave traced a finger lightly over her cheek, and she stirred in her sleep.

"My sweet Lizzie," he murmured, and the nickname sounded so perfect on his lips that I knew he'd hardly call her anything else from then on. He grinned, his eyes brimming with pure love as they met mine, and he planted a gentle kiss on my temple. "Can you believe we made her?" he whispered against my skin. "I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I already did, but you keep proving me wrong. How do you do it?"

“It’s easy,” I smiled. “You do the same for me.”

Dave smiled softly, giving me a light kiss before drawing me in closer. I let myself sink into his embrace, with our baby snug against me, and let out a contented sigh.

"I think I'm about to fall asleep," I mumbled, feeling my eyelids drooping.

"Course you are. You need some shut-eye," Dave chuckled, his smile practically audible, before gently transferring Lizzie to her crib. I grumbled softly, already missing the feel of her in my arms, but knowing it was best to wait until I was more awake to hold her. Dave settled back beside me on the bed, wrapping me in his arms, resting my head on his shoulder, and I let out a contented sigh, soaking in the warmth of his skin against mine. “I love you, Nore.”

"I love you too," I mumbled back, already drifting off, smiling as his lips brushed my forehead, and letting out a quiet laugh.

"What's on your mind?" Dave asked, grinning, and I shook my head.

"Just feeling damn lucky," I murmured, blinking open my eyes with a yawn. Dave cupped my face in his hand, stroking my cheek gently, a gesture so familiar, so him . I grinned, giving his jaw a light kiss, and he sighed. “I'm so lucky to be loved by you.”

It was actually kinda funny, you know, how lucky I was. The world might see Dave as this guy with a short fuse, sharp tongue, and a chip on his shoulder from all the crap life threw at him, but I didn’t. My Dave was not like that.

My Dave was sweet, affectionate, and thoughtful. He loved me, and he made damn sure I felt it, every single day of our lives.

And me? The longer I spent with him, the more I was sure that some things between us were simply meant to be.

We were always meant to fall in love. We were always meant to find one another. We were always meant to be together, for me to save him, for him to save me, every day, again, and again, and again.

We were always meant to love each other.

And I loved him.

God, how I loved him.

September 29, 1999

It was early morning when I finally rolled back home, tour fatigue dragging me down like a ton of bricks. No matter how many times I'd done this, coming back after weeks on the road always hit me like a truck. It was like all the exhaustion caught up to me at once, weighing me down.

The only thing stronger was the longing to see her.

Stepping inside, her voice coming from the kitchen welcomed me right away. I grinned, feeling like a kid again, head over heels in love with her. It was like my heart couldn’t quite wrap its head around how lucky I was to have her as my wife. Every time I laid eyes on her, it was like seeing her for the first time all over again — pure excitement and enchantment that I'd never felt with anyone else.

"What’s next?" she chirped as I strolled into the kitchen, her voice all sing-songy, setting off giggles from Lizzie, our little girl. I grinned at the sight; Nore was at the table, ingredients scattered about, while Lizzie sat on a stool, peeking over the table, her ginger hair tied up in pigtails, her blue eyes sparkling as she beamed at Nore.

"An egg!" Lizzie answered, so hyped up it cracked me up, catching both of their gazes. They both lit up with identical smiles when they spotted me, one a bit smaller and with a few less teeth than the other. "Daddy!" Lizzie squealed, beaming as I walked over, and I chuckled when she slapped her tiny hands on my chest, bouncing in her chair until I scooped her up, settling her on my lap. "We're making pancakes! Mommy said you get super hungry when you come home from work."

"No kidding?" I grinned, pulling her in close to my chest. She seemed taller and heavier since the last time I’d held her, but still the same gorgeous girl, a perfect mix of me and the woman I loved more than anything. "Well, she got that right. I am super, super hungry!" I nuzzled my face into her tummy, and she erupted into giggles, grabbing onto my hair as she cracked up, tossing her head back. Nore joined in, her laughter contagious, plastering an immediate smile on my face.

I plopped Lizzie back on her stool and turned to my wife, who flashed me a sweet grin as I cradled her face in my hands. I was itching to kiss her, to wrap her up tight in my arms and feel her melt against me, to trace every inch of her skin with my lips and my touch because no matter how close we got — it never felt close enough.

But Lizzie was watching us, so I settled for a quick peck on her lips. The more intense kisses would have to wait until night, when I’d take her clothes off and shower her with love, turning her into the most delightful mess of moans under my touch. She grinned into our kiss, her smile sweeter than ever (though honestly, every smile of hers just kept getting sweeter to me), and I couldn't resist kissing her one more time.

"Good to have you home," she said, and my heart swelled with warmth.

Later, after Lizzie had crashed out and we'd retreated to our bedroom, I finally got to pull Nore close, my lips trailing along her neck while she giggled softly, her arms snug around my shoulders as she perched on my lap.

"So, it's just you and me now?" she asked, all sweet-like, and I grunted, my hand drifting down to the little bump already poking out from her belly with our second kid on the way.

"Just you and me," I confirmed. With the tour wrapped up, I'd be sticking around until the new baby was born and the tough early months were behind us. Balancing the rockstar life with being a present dad and husband wasn't always easy, but I gave it my all. And man, was I lucky to have an understanding wife, who was also a wonderful mom, and one hell of a strong woman. No idea what I’d done to score such luck.

That night, every kiss I planted on her skin was filled with nothing but worship. I soaked up every second I got to touch her, her hushed moans echoing in the room as my tongue delved into the wetness between her legs, then her heavy breathing brushing against my cheek as she rode me slowly. Her chest pressed against mine, her arms locked around my neck, my hands guiding her hips in a steady rhythm as we moved together. Slow, tender kisses mixed with the sweetest moans I could ever wish to hear.

And then, after we finished, she cuddled up next to me, her bare skin cozy against mine as she lazily traced patterns on my chest with her fingertips. That had always been my favorite part — having her right there with me, knowing she was mine, that she wasn’t going anywhere, that her love was like a safe haven I could always come home to.

"I love you," she whispered, and I grinned, locking eyes with her. Eyes so blue I drowned, being pulled right into her soul.

"And I love you," I replied, my voice low and raspy. She laughed softly as I planted a gentle kiss on her lips. How damn lucky was I to always have her to come back to, no matter what, no matter where. To know that I'd always find her, over and over again, no matter the distance or the obstacles.

To know that if I had a hundred lifetimes, I'd choose to love her in every single one of them.

And by some miracle of fate, she was mine.

Mother of my children.

Light of my days.

Love of my life.

✧ the story's over, but if you'd like to be tagged on any eventual extra chapters, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet @decemberm0on

✦ a/n: And that's a wrap ❤

If you've been following along with this story, I just want to thank you with all my heart! It's been quite a journey for me, taking over a year to finish this fic. I've grown a ton as a writer, and I've had a blast interacting with all of you along the way. Honestly, when I first started posting, I never expected anyone to read it, so getting feedback from you all has been an awesome surprise. Your presence here has really kept me going, so thanks a million for that! 💖

So, we've reached the end of Nore's adventure, and it's been a happy one (just like I promised)! I might come back with a few extra chapters set in this universe down the road, but for now, I'm shifting gears to some other projects. If you want to stay in the loop, I'm always sharing updates about my fics right here on my blog!

If you've got any comments, feedback or reviews about the story, I'd love to read them. Thanks again for diving into Heartbreaker and enjoying the ride with me.

Catch you later! ❤

49 notes · View notes

bbymunsonx · 4 months

Text

The Last Time (Ted's Version)

Playlist

You Belong With Me (Taylor’s Version)

Love Story (Taylor’s Version)

White Horse (Taylor’s Version)

Today Was A Fairytale (Taylor’s Version)

Fearless (Taylor’s Version)

Enchanted (Taylor’s Version)

Last Kiss (Taylor’s Version)

Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)

Haunted (Taylor’s Version)

Long Live (Taylor’s Version)

The Very First Night (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)

Babe (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)

Everything Has Changed (feat. Ed Sheeran) (Taylor’s Version)

Come Back… Be Here (Taylor’s Version)

All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)

Out Of The Woods (Taylor’s Version)

“Slut!” (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)

Style (Taylor’s Version)

Wildest Dreams (Taylor’s Version)

Is It Over Now? (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)

…Ready For it?

Don’t Blame Me

Getaway Car

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

New Year’s Day

Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

Cruel Summer

Afterglow

Daylight

The Archer

Cardigan

Mirrorball

August

This is Me Trying

Illicit Affairs

Champagne Problems

Willow

Happiness

Right Where you Left Me

Lavender Haze

Labyrinth

You’re Losing Me (From The Vault)

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Bejeweled

Guilty as Sin?

The Alchemy

So High School

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

How Did It End?

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

I miss you, I’m sorry

Ceilings

I Know The End

Traitor

Favorite crime

Happier

Deja vu

All-american bitch

Vampire

Lacy

Logical

The grudge

Teenage dream

Because I liked a boy

Black friday

Strangers

Two Is Better Than One (feat. Taylor Swift)

The Last Time (feat. Gary Lightbody)

authors note: this is going to be such a fun journey and I am so excited to cry my eyes out hehe posting the preface tonight xo

#ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #roykent #coachbeard #jamietartt #roy kent x reader #jamie tartt x reader #fanfic #ted lasso fic #rebecca welton #afc richmond #jason sudeikis

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deandoesthingstome · 1 year

Text

Walk with Me - Ch 1

Pairing: FBI Agent!Syverson x OFC, Drug Czar!August Walker x OFC

Chapter Summary: The stakeout, some revelations, a takedown of sorts. We're just meeting everyone here, folks.

Chapter Warnings: Drug use, mention of drug trafficking, mention of blow jobs, light dom/sub behavior, past relationship pining, cheating (-ish?)

Word Count: 3.1K

Masterlist: For full series Summary and Warnings

Spotify Playlist: Usually a song per POV section

Syverson

"He's on the move."

Agent Syverson watched all nine monitors with an intensity felt throughout the surveillance trailer. He had two agents inside the posh Miami nightclub wearing cameras and his tech had hacked into the security feed for views of the bar, near the DJ, and over the entrance to VIP. Through an earpiece, he advised Agent Ramos to shift right while he motioned for Agent Baylen to swap camera views on the top three monitors. Something had caught Syverson's attention and he wanted confirmation before deciding the next moves for his team.

When Ramos had panned far enough onto the dance floor, Syverson called for her to stop and had Baylen zoom in on the screen. Coupled with the cameras from the DJ booth, Syverson had what he needed.

He watched her body move with what seemed like reckless abandon, but if this was who he thought it was, those moves were anything but careless. There was a point and purpose to every swing and wave, every roll of her hips, every toss of her head.

"Sugar?" Syverson wasn't sure how the word slipped out because he was positive he only whispered it to himself in his head. But suddenly, eyes were on him and he felt his ire growing. He did not need this attention or the distraction.

"What was that, sir?" Agent Moore asked.

Did he ignore it? Wave it off? Pretend it never happened? If only one other person had heard it, maybe he could get away with it. But as it stood, all three agents in the trailer were looking at him expectantly.

"Could I get some damn sugar for my damn coffee?" he barked, a little harsher than even he meant it to come out.

"I thought you took your coffee black, sir," Moore spoke.

"Well not tonight, I guess." His stare shut them the rest of the way up and everyone put their focus back on the task at hand, which was all he wanted in the first place.

Now he could watch her in peace.

Her moves told him she was hunting and the poor sap desperate enough to stand next to her was going down. He knew exactly how it would feel, too, because he remembered those nights with her like it was yesterday.

Even so young he had fallen fast and hard. Maybe he was mistaken, but she acted like she couldn’t be without him, too. So he spent any free time he could find between farm chores, football practice, and family responsibilities to hold her close and kiss her as deep as he knew how at the time.

She seduced him right away, but prom was something special and he thought for sure she was the one forever. He never got the chance to tell her how he felt, however, because it had taken him the rest of senior year to figure it out and by then, she was gone, moved away with her family to take care of an ailing relative far enough away that long distance felt like never again.

He called, she wrote, they managed one clandestine meet up on borrowed funds, and then it was his turn to disappear when he enlisted, not knowing what else he wanted to do with his life when sports didn't pan out and farm life lost its appeal.

But he never stopped thinking about her and the way she moved. On the dance floor and later that night in the cool sheets of the bed at the hotel room he sprang for. And now here she was, all these years later, like a cold splash of water to his face.

"Sir?" he heard like a faraway dream in his ear. "Do you want us to take him?"

Suddenly, she wasn't alone. Sure the dance floor was crowded, but until that moment she hadn't been dancing with anyone in particular. When his real mark for the night stepped into view, Agent Syverson almost broke the back of the chair he was leaning on.

August Walker, one of Miami's most notorious drug kingpins, was standing in front of his high school sweetheart and watching her with as much intensity as Syverson was. Only, August Walker could reach out and touch her if he wanted to.

Syverson watched as she danced around Walker, who simply stood stock still on the floor, not giving one single fuck if he was interrupting anyone's flow. And when Walker grasped her arm the next time she moved in front of him, Syverson almost broke.

"Anyone know who this is?"

"It's in the file, sir. This is Francesca Beaumont. We think she's his newest mule."

His throat went dry as Agent Moore finished her statement and he couldn't scramble for the file folder on the table in front of him fast enough. Sure enough, there in the report were the name and the details in black and white. Her photo was stuck behind those of a few other known mules and he cursed himself for missing it. That's not the way he liked to start off when taking the lead on a long running case.

And no wonder the name didn't stick out for him. In school, she went by Frankie. And her last name was Malloy. Had she married somewhere over the years, he wondered to himself.

Fuck.

"Stand down. I know we want this guy, but have any of you actually seen him do anything illegal tonight? Some rule out there about not dancing on a dance floor?"

He watched as cameras panned to follow August Walker who was now leading his Frankie away from the flashing lights of the DJ booth and up the stairs to his secured VIP lounge.

"Someone get me everything we have on her."

August

Francesca wasn’t supposed to be in the club tonight, August knew that for sure. He’d been very clear with her.

In the weeks since he’d activated her, she’d usually taken his direction so well. If she stepped out of line unknowingly, she was always willing to take a note and do whatever he asked of her to change her behavior. She was so pliant. Just like he liked them.

Her first test trip was to Amsterdam. She didn’t question it when he told her had to fly out early, but he’d meet her there. The morning of her flight, he had called to let her know his assistant was dropping off an extra suitcase he needed her to bring. And when she arrived, she didn’t even bat an eye when she discovered he had already left.

At least he assumed she didn’t mind because he didn’t get a scathing voicemail or fuck-off text message and she had apparently followed the directions on the letter left in her suite to a tee. The bag was delivered without a hitch exactly where he’d asked her to drop it and as far as he knew, she’d enjoyed the rest of her weekend, albeit alone. She’d just been so excited to experience a new city, she told him when she got back and he visited her apartment in the very late evening hours, slinking in by the alley entrance and slipping his key in the lock.

That had actually been his first request of her. A key to her apartment, so he could come and go as he pleased. After the few dates he’d taken her on, treating her to lavish meals and luxury car rides, she hadn’t resisted at all. What would he possibly care to take from her place, not the lowliest of studio apartments, but certainly nothing he would normally let himself be caught dead in.

She was something else, though. She had a presence that did not fit her surroundings. She didn’t have the kind of money he did, hell she didn’t even have the kind of money some of his lower employees did, hence her meager living situation. But she glowed with the grace of a celebrity. Someone who deserved so much more than the hand he thought she’d been dealt. If she kept up the good work, he’d reward her. Bring her along in a more official capacity. Give her a larger stipend, move her into a place he wouldn’t mind being seen in. Maybe even replace one of his current regulars with her.

Yeah, he really wanted to replace one of his current regulars with her. If he let himself think too long about it, maybe all of them.

As it stood now, she was on probation with him, whether she knew it or not. The Tokyo trip had also been a success, but she almost blew it for him when she started asking Hideo too many questions over cocktails. Later in the hotel room, he made sure to remind her who was in charge and when she was allowed to speak. She had liked that, too, he could tell.

So her showing up like this just before their trip to Spain in a few days was a surprise. When he caught sight of her, he had Mateo drive Candace home. Candace wouldn’t have known Francesca from a hole in the wall, but since he was going to put his newest carrier in her place once again, he couldn’t have Candace watching.

Once he was sure they were gone, he rose from the plush velvet couch of the roped off VIP lounge area, taking note that the new guy, Will, had stepped into Mateo’s spot without hesitation. It pleased August to know that his employees knew exactly what he wanted and needed, and when.

Usually.

August headed down the steps leading to the dance floor. The music was loud, bordering on obnoxious for him but this is what the club scene called for and here is where he did most of his original business which had led fortuitously to his new business. So he ignored the cacophony and stalked across the floor, not so much pushing the revelers out of his way as willing them to step aside.

When he reached Francesca, he stood still in front of her and let her keep moving in that way that left him no choice but to stiffen. She smirked like she’d won some unspoken competition and twirled again, bouncing to the beat and stepping around him. He didn’t look back, just waited for her to return, because he knew she wasn’t dancing away from him. Not after breaking rank and showing up uninvited like this.

When she finally did appear in front of him again, he grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly into his chest so he could speak directly into her ear. There was no way he was going to shout over the music at her.

“What exactly are you doing here, pet? Get a little lonely?” He pulled back to stare down into her face, pleased to find a small hint of terror. If he couldn’t will his women into submission, what good were they?

He bent again, “Do you want to walk with me somewhere private where you can tell me what this is all about?”

She nodded and he turned to leave the throng, still gripping her arm tightly.

Francesca

I wanted to make sure he hadn't forgotten about me. I knew it was risky, showing up when I'd been specifically warned to stay away until our upcoming trip. But on top of my worry about that trip, I missed him. As much as I hated to admit it.

He awoke such a fire in me. Feelings that had been missing for so long. Lovers had come and gone. But no one ever measured up to my first young lustful love. Not until August.

He made me crazy. Made me second guess everything I knew about myself.

The first night we were together, I was on my hands and knees in front of him faster than I ever thought possible. Most men were careful with me. Handled me with kid gloves, like I would break if the wind blew wrong.

But not August. He'd approached me at this very club, in much the same way he did tonight. Walked straight up to me and waited for an opportunity to speak to me when he was ready, whether I was or not.

I probably would have come right there on the dance floor if he had touched me that night, but he didn't. Not immediately. He just watched me. I could feel his lustful gaze as I circled him on the floor, and I made sure to turn back to him over and over again. Every time I turned away, I'd remember the look I saw in his eyes, and I'd spin right back to him.

He knew, too. Knew the way the hunger in his eyes was affecting me, no matter how hard I tried to resist. I didn't want him thinking he had the kind of control over me I imagined giving him, even from that very first night.

When I finally let myself dance for him and him alone, I saw the self-assured smirk of a man who knew who his conquest was for the night and I closed my eyes like that would keep him from knowing every thought that crept in.

I wanted him, and he was going to have me.

He didn't even touch me as he led me off the dance floor that first night. I followed him gladly, excitement buzzing through me, electrifying my core. He only turned back once to make sure I was following him to his personal lounge on the upper level of the club.

I didn't care if every person in that club knew I was about to get fucked by August Walker.

I was proud of it. There were plenty of girls vying for his attention that night, and I needed to make sure I was who he wanted. But no matter how much I wanted him to take me then and there, he kept me on a hook.

Oh, I tasted him that night for sure. Felt his lips against mine and his tongue as it slipped inside my mouth after he showed me the tip. He was gentleman enough to get permission before he put the ecstasy tab in, so I can't even claim coercion of any sort. I can't claim disappointment either, though I thought he'd let me feel his cock in my pussy that night.

Instead, he kissed me until my head spun, and then he watched me drop to my knees before him. I could see from the bulge in his pants, he was hard, and because I still had yet to figure out the game he was playing that night, I thought pulling his zipper down and releasing his engorged cock was just a preamble to the main event.

But for that night, August only wanted to fuck my mouth and I let him.

The filthy words he called down to me while I slathered my saliva all over his dick only made me wetter, and my mouth watered for him, too. He knew the effect he was having on me, coupled with the drug that coursed through my veins, and I loved every second of it. How could I not?

I worshiped his cock for what felt like hours. Licking up and down his shaft, circling my mouth around his head, stroking his base with my hand and jerking him off into my mouth.

Every time he wove his fingers into my hair, I willed him to pull, begged him through the tears in my eyes to hold me fast and move my head however he wanted to. I almost cried when he let go, but as soon as he was done spooning the coke into each of his nostrils from the tiny vial on the chain around his neck, he put both of his hands right back on my head and pumped his cock deep down my throat, coming with a roar that told me I'd satisfied something he'd been missing for a while. I smiled internally with that knowledge.

The next few weeks had been a whirlwind of seduction, and I was having a hard time differentiating just who was doing the seducing. When he invited me to Amsterdam, I was so excited. I imagined what fucking him in a foreign country would feel like.

But it was like he knew just how to keep me hanging on, giving me just enough of a taste of him before the trip to keep me wanting more. He completely avoided me for the entire trip. Sent word the day before our scheduled departure that he had to leave early and then put me in charge of that extra suitcase. When I arrived, our hotel suite was empty, with not one piece of his belongings left behind for me to hold on to. I never even saw him there. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement.

I kept my wits about me, though. Kept my disappointment to myself. I wasn't about to let him know how much I had ached for him for those days I was alone. And I'd been away from him often enough here in the States. But there was something about missing the opportunity to have his cock deep inside me while watching the light of a sunset in a different sky that had me questioning just how deep I was with this man.

I made sure to keep him close in Tokyo. And there was no way I was giving up an opportunity to fuck August in Japan. I may have offended his business partner, but I really didn't care. I wanted that dinner meeting over and done so I could pour myself over him and take his mind off the women who were serving us.

I knew Hideo had chosen those girls for particular reasons, and I wasn't about to sit idly by and let them whisper and giggle and tease and taunt his attention away from me. They weren't the kind of woman August truly desired anyway; they were mousy and timid, even with their advances.

I knew he was angry with the way I comported myself in front of his associates, but it didn't stop him from letting us both work out our frustrations on one another for the rest of the trip.

So when he told me to stay away for a few days this time, I knew something was up and I was right. I knew her name was Candace, but I still didn't know much about her other than I was worried he was about to hand my seat to Spain over to her, and I couldn't let that happen.

Taglists

And so here I was, being led by a firm grip on a walk to his private office. Exactly where I wanted to be.

Chapter 2

Everything Henry: @sillyrabbit81 @kittenofdoomage @mayloma @kebabgirl67 @fvckinghenrycavill @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @feelmyroarrrr @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @dedicated-to-a-brit-and-a-scot @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @lizzystuffsthings

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Missing Tags: If you asked and you aren't here, believe me when I say I tried. I still don't know how to fix it when Dumblr won't let me tag someone. You can always turn on notifications or follow #walk with me.

#henry cavill #fbi agent!syverson x ofc #drug czar!august walker x ofc #syverson #syverson au #august walker #august walker au #syverson fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #captain syverson #walk with me #mine #deandoesthingstome

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thethreeeyed-raven · 11 months

Text

the invitation

make me feel masterlist

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : not much morpheus x y/n in this chapter guys sorry, but there will be in the next one! enjoy! | dream of the endless playlist | tags : @fangsp1der-2099 , @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @knight-of-flowerss , @tiana76 , @navs-bhat , @starkleila

Morpheus entered Clyvedon Castle; he had been invited there by Simon to talk business.

He entered the drawing room to discover his wife Daphne Bridgerton cradling their baby boy, August.

“Are you looking for Simon?” She asked, meaning to keep quiet for the sleeping infant in her arms.

“Yes, you wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

Daphne pointed to the direction of Simon’s office, Morpheus followed to where she directed.

After about a couple of hours, Simon showed Morpheus to the door, but not before they were stopped by Daphne.

“Lord Morpheus!”

They both turned around at the sound of her voice.

“You and your sister, Lady Death, have been invited to the Bridgerton manor for a dinner, we would love it if you joined.”

“Of course, I shall inform Death.”

In truth, Morpheus didn’t want to go, he didn’t like family dinners. Probably because the last time he had one was with his own.

“Death!” Morpheus called through this sister’s estate.

“In here!” She shouted from another room, so Dream followed the sound of her voice.

He found her draped across the sofa with a book in her hand.

“You know I should be informed beforehand of your visits.” Death grinned.

“I ought to tell you the same.” Morpheus took a seat across from her.

He crossed his hands together. “We’ve been invited to dine with the Bridgertons.”

“Oh?” Death raised a brow.

“Unfortunately for me it would be rude to decline such a kind offer, but fortunately you’ve been invited too, and you can’t say no to your dear brother.” Morpheus gave her a sly smile, he knew Death couldn’t say no then.

Not like she wouldn’t anyway.

“Mama! I have invited some guests for tonight.” Daphne entered the drawing room where everyone was situated.

“Oh, that’s lovely! May I ask whom?” Violet looked up from her knitting to her daughter who stood in the doorway.

“Lord Morpheus and his sister Lady Death. Me and Lady Death are very good friends, I thought it would be nice.”

Everyone swiftly looked over at you who sat reading piano notes.

You weren’t paying attention to the symbols written on the paper, instead you were listening to Daphne once you heard the Lord’s name.

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comphy-and-cozy · 1 year

Text

can't let this moment go - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f)

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, praise. Brief but resolved angst.

series masterlist | nhl masterlist | part 2

August 2023

Dreams are a funny thing. Living a dream come true is even funnier. You typically don’t realize you’re living it until it’s over, and even if you do, there’s no way to make yourself live fully in the moment. There’s always the flickering thought that you’re never going to be able to remember the breeze in your hair, the low timbre of someone’s voice, the specific sound of their chuckle in their throat. And then before you know it, the dream is over, and you’re eternally left looking back and trying to remember the scent of a cologne or the warmth of a hand in yours.

So when JT Compher steps into your apartment, you take a moment as he’s looking around to take a mental photograph: of him, here, now, like this, to live in a corner of your mind forever. And somehow you just know that you’ll never forget it.

A smile forms on his face, like maybe he’s pleased with himself that he made it here. You are, too, still in disbelief that he’s really standing there, toeing off his shoes at your entry rug and making his way to your couch at your invitation.

He declines your offer for a drink, and you contemplate standing in your kitchen if you want another layer of insulation. Ultimately, you decide against it, joining him on the couch. Feeling a little sheepish, you turn on a mood playlist to give yourself something to do. JT smirks a little, asking in a teasing voice, “You nervous?”

“I’ve got a really hot professional hockey player sitting on my couch. Of course I’m nervous.”

He accepts the compliment wordlessly, humming. “That why you left that night?”

You know what he’s referring to, sure he’s remembering the way you disappeared without a word. There’s not much else to say, so you nod. “I was intimidated.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he says, and the sincerity in his eyes makes your chest tighten. “I won’t lie; I really, really want you, but you can say ‘stop’ at any time. Send me home if you want to. Probably fuck my hand raw tonight if you did, though.”

You’re unable to prevent your laugh at the way he simultaneously makes you feel un-judged and comfortable while also turning you on like you’ve never been before, a low and steady pulse ever-present in your belly. Still, his words send warm butterflies fluttering through your chest, hot at his shameless admission of his attraction to you. Part of you is still waiting for a camera crew to hop out, exposing you, because this can’t possibly be real; JT Compher can’t really be in your living room, expressing his burgeoning desire to take you to bed, looking at you with eyes of rich, melted chocolate.

But then his thigh is pressed against yours, his arm slipped over your shoulder as it rests on the back of your couch. He’s warm, and he tilts your head up to look him in the eyes. His soft, gorgeous eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, without an ounce of expectation. “I thought so from the first second I saw you at that event. It’s why I came up to you after, at the bar.”

Your cheeks grow warm, and you mumble a shy ‘thank you’ as you cast your eyes down. He tilts his head, amused, maybe, at how you grow shy under his compliments. “It’s also why I was so glad to see you across the bar tonight. I had to try again, to see if you’d have me.”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves your throat, almost self-deprecating. “If I’ll have you? You’re the one who’s way out of my league.”

“Not as much as you think.”

You’re afraid to ask, afraid to hear his answer; you’re already in way too fucking deep with a guy that you’ll never see again after tonight. You can’t afford to hear whatever saccharine praise that comes out of his mouth, to let yourself fall deeper into the hole that will surely crush you come tomorrow. But you ask anyway.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m just a normal guy, a human who messes up just like everyone else, and I got chirped to hell when the guys found out I couldn’t… secure the bag,” he chooses his words carefully with an embarrassed chuckle. “That I fumbled a rocket like you.”

You’re processing the idea of JT Compher calling you a rocket—that his teammates called you a rocket, too—sure that your brain has exploded like an alien invasion movie. The sound of your pulse is loud in your ears, barely comprehending all of it when you see his eyes sliding down to your lips, and then your mind really short circuits.

“A rocket, huh?”

“NASA certified.”

It’s almost unfair—no, it’s definitely unfair—at how smooth he is, how gentle he is, how effortless it all seems to be for him. Like he’s done this a thousand times. Maybe he has.

“You know that song, ‘You’re So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings’? That’s pretty much how I feel about you.”

He hums, then nuzzles your jaw with his nose, and all remaining coherent thought evaporates in an instant. The roughness of his beard scratches at your skin, and you yearn for more, for burns all over your body from the auburn hair. His cologne invades your senses and enhances the touch of his hands on your waist.

“If that’s the case, then you’re breaking my heart, baby.”

His lips are even more plush than you imagined, warm and soft when they press against yours. He tastes faintly of pineapple seltzer, the rest something that’s uniquely his own, and suddenly it’s your favorite. Your first kiss is just that—a kiss, maybe two or three, before he’s pulling away to look at you.

Another mental photo. Click.

Cheeks flushed and eyes aglow, he looks like something you could only ever have dreamed of, even more unreal when he smiles at you, his eyes darting back down to your lips. This time, when he leans in, his hands thread into your hair, loose, before he’s leaning back in to kiss you again.

His beard tickles your chin, but you welcome it, accepting the flirt of his tongue against your lips. As much as you want him, biblically, you’d be perfectly content just making out with him on your couch, too. He’s warm, steady, patient in the way he kisses you, like he’s got all the time in the world. When his thumb begins to run along your jaw, you shiver, and you can feel the way he smiles into your kiss. A top tier moment of your life, for certain, feeling JT Compher’s smile on your lips.

It feels like an eternity before you feel his hand grazing its way down your side, resting on your waist. You yearn for him to touch you, more, and you lean your body into his under the guise of deepening your kiss. His lips devour yours, breath hot against your mouth as you feel a slight nudge of his hand, urging you to scoot closer. You do, eventually sliding a leg over his, then shifting again until you’re straddling his lap. The sigh that escapes your throat is involuntary, content at feeling him between your legs and transferring warmth through your body.

And then he starts to travel, blazing a trail of fire with his pillowy lips over the curve of your jaw, down your neck. He mouths at the sensitive flesh, every so often nipping and caressing with his tongue. He is intoxicating.

Your hands itch to explore, the way he’s taken the liberty to explore, and you allow them to card through his hair at the base of his skull, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. The action earns a low groan from him, vibrating against your throat, and you repeat it, relishing the softness of his hair in your hands. You make a mental note to ask him what products he uses because his hair is definitely in better condition than yours, but then his mouth is trailing down toward your chest and suddenly you can barely remember your own name.

His lips pause at your collarbone, pressing heated kisses into your already heated skin. His hands are resting respectfully on your waist, but you’re silently begging them to roam, freely.

As if on cue, they do, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist in a sort-of-hug that pulls you closer to his body, his lips still lingering along your sternum. His hands ghost up and down your back, along your spine, touching as much of you as he can before they finally land on your ass. His movements are slow, timid almost, as if gauging your reaction, pausing to make sure he can continue; you let out a sigh in response to let him know to please, keep going.

And he does, gentle at first, squeezing lightly. It’s only a few moments later that he seems to realize the moans that are falling from your mouth are in direct response to his hands and he begins to knead a little harder. It’s the catalyst to turn a pleasant makeout session from steamy to scorching, and soon your hips are rolling in his lap, his hands guiding your movements.

JT’s grunts are muffled by your skin, trailing back up your neck until he reaches your mouth. This time, your kiss is more desperate, swallowing the sighs you offer when your clit bumps just the right spot.

“D’you…” you begin, distracted temporarily by the way his tongue flirts with yours. You can’t even bother to get the words out, loving the feeling of kissing him too much to tear yourself away. But then you feel a distinct and heavy throb between your legs, and you know you’ll be better off if you can just sacrifice a few moments to speak. The effort is lazy, your lips barely leaving his, enough to ask, “D’you want to go to my room?”

It’s comforting to know he, too, can barely get the words out, nodding eagerly with a muffled, “Fuck yeah, yes, please.”

Before you can speak, his strong arms are wrapping around you and out of instinct your legs hug his waist. The feeling of his hands on your ass are nearly enough to send your eyes rolling in the back of your head. He presses another kiss to your lips before he murmurs, “Which way?”

“Kinda want to see if you can find it on your own,” you muse, and he laughs.

“Normally, I’d be all for exploring, but I’m dying to get you horizontal,” he says, taking the opportunity to seize your lips one more time.

You can’t argue with that, and you jerk your head down the hallway. “Last door on the right.”

His nod is short, allowing you to kiss him once more as he makes his way down to your room, walking almost blindly in favor of keeping his lips on you. Nudging the door open with his foot, he parts with you only for a moment to locate your bed before he’s laying you down in the center, not wasting any time before crawling on top of you.

“Much better,” he murmurs, reattaching his lips to your neck while his hands explore new territory: your chest. His fingers glide along the silk fabric of your shirt, raising goosebumps beneath it when he drags his hand up your ribs before massaging your breast.

Out of instinct, your back arches into him and he smiles against your neck. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“Me too.”

“Sorry I can’t recreate it exactly for you. I don’t have a suit. Or a locker room.”

The reference makes you shiver, flattered that he remembers the details, is bringing them up now, in the heat of the moment, like he’s acknowledging what a dream this is for you. Like he wants to make your dream come true. A wave of courage passes through you, finally overcoming the imposter syndrome that he really is here, now, in your bedroom, ready to ravage you. Plus, there’s his erection that’s pressed against your pelvis, something you desperately want to see, and it’s way too hard to be fake. So you let your hand trail between you, palming him through his chinos, and relish the low groan he releases.

“This will do just fine.”

If this was a video game, your words would’ve been the key to unlocking the next level. All at once, his hands are at the waist of your jeans, tugging the hem of your shirt out before shimmying it over your head. After he tosses the fabric behind him, he pauses to look at you, his eyes roving over your body, growing darker when you reach behind your back to unhook your bra.

At the sight of your bare breasts, it’s like he’s lost all coherent thought—which is just as well, because those left your mind a long time ago. He swoops down, hands returning to massage them, freely this time, while his mouth descends on one of your nipples. His tongue is warm and his lips are soft against the sensitive skin, and you can feel every single nerve ending on fire with his hands on you.

He worships you, kissing every inch of exposed skin, though he allows you to tug his collared shirt off so you can feel his skin pressed against yours. It’s everything you wanted and more, feeling the defined muscle and the strength of his body underneath your fingertips that coast along his ivory skin.

Eventually, JT’s lips make their way to the waist of your jeans, kissing the button gently before he’s glancing up at you through feathery lashes. Without a single ounce of will to resist him, you’re murmuring a soft please, and who is he to deny you?

The air on your thighs makes you shiver as he wrestles the denim down your legs, eyeing the expanse of skin hungrily. You watch the way his deep brown irises zone in on the scrap of fabric between your thighs, a deep warmth radiating at the exact spot. His tempting tongue licks his lips, and for a moment you’re jealous that it’s not your tongue tracing the outline of them.

“These are…” he trails off, then curses. “I’m kind of glad I didn’t know you had this tiny little thing on or else I’m not sure I would’ve made it out of the bar alive.”

You’re keening under his praise, his compliments silky and stoking the blue flame in your belly. Though you want him desperately, the feeling of being desirable, irresistible even, is what sends a surge of arousal coursing through your body.

“Close your eyes,” he purrs, hands grazing the skin of your calf gently. “I’m going to correct your story.”

You wonder if you misheard him, and all at once your brain short circuits when you understand his implication. I would use my fingers and then my mouth to make my girl come.

There’s no time to react before his lips are pressing softly to the skin of your leg. The whiskers of his beard tickle as he works his way upward, inching closer and closer to his true target. He spends a few moments mouthing at the inside of your thighs, satisfied at the sound of your whimpers and the way your legs perch on either side of his shoulders.

“If I recall correctly, you weren’t wearing any panties,” he says in between kisses pressed directly against your core, lips warm on the damp fabric. “But I think I like being the one to take them off myself.”

To prove it, JT hooks his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, covering each inch of skin that he reveals with kisses, along your hips and over your pelvis, slipping the material down your legs and off of your feet. You’re completely naked, and you’ve never felt more comfortable being bare around a man for the first time. You can’t help it, not with the way his eyes rove over you like he’s watching a magnificent Santorini sunset or maybe even the Stanley Cup being lifted in his Captain’s hands for the first time.

“So fuckin’… gorgeous.”

And then his fingertip is dragging along your slit, through your slick, and you gasp when he dips inside you. His lips attach themselves to your inner thigh, kissing the tender skin while he works his finger into you. There’s no barrier, not with how fucking wet you are, and he groans at the feeling of your tight heat squeezing just his pointer finger. You’re thinking it, and surely he is, too—the way it will feel when he’s pressing his length into you. You wait desperately in anticipation for that feeling.

JT is patient, eventually adding two fingers to your dripping heat. A cry leaves your throat when he curls upward, pressing against that delicious spot that has your hand clutching the comforter beneath you. Feeling his smile against your leg, you whisper his name, a plea to keep going, don’t stop. This has been an orgasm nearly two years in the making—longer, if you consider the length of your crush—and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stave it off, even if it comes embarrassingly fast. Pun intended.

He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, if the low hum and eager eyes are any indicator. Greedily, he watches your face as the wave of pleasure washes over you, like he’s memorizing the sight of it. Once you’ve come down, breath coming out of your mouth in heavy puffs, he pulls his fingers out to inspect, then presses them into his mouth to taste. A moan escapes his lips that sends a fresh flood of moisture to your core.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

Your legs are jelly, your mind complete mush, but something in you itches to touch him, and your hand reaches for him. He stops you, and for a brief moment you’re afraid you did something wrong, that your dream is finally going to come crashing to an end, but he’s smiling as he shakes his head at you.

“What did I say? Fingers first, and then…”

Your voice is hoarse, swallowing thickly before you manage to choke out, “M-mouth?”

“Good memory,” he says with a wink that nearly sends you tumbling off the bed.

Large hands gently take your legs and spread them wider, granting him the space to settle onto his belly. JT presses kisses along your inner thighs, tracing the same place he’d run his lips along before, murmuring, “You good?”

Great. Excellent. Incredible. The words can’t come out, so instead you’re nodding. Finally, you manage to get out, “Yes. More than good.”

He’s pleased, smiling when he takes the opportunity to finally delve into your folds. If you thought he was a good kisser—he is—his mouth is just as talented elsewhere, his tongue tracing along your entrance in teasing circles. It flicks, laves, licks, drinking in everything your sopping cunt has to offer, eager to taste more of your sweetness.

The feeling of his groan against you makes you clench around his tongue, and he uses his hands to pin your hips down and repeat the action, humming against you to send vibrations coursing through your body. His beard scratches your thighs, and you hope that the burn lingers for days so you can remember the feeling long after his scent has faded from your sheets.

When his tongue finds your clit, you let out a loud mewl, hands flying into the now-mussed fringes of his hair. It’s nothing short of an assault, lips and tongue working in tandem to flick the bud, shooting waves of pleasure all the way to the tips of your fingers and your toes. He’s good, seeking out the nuances that make you croon, yearning to feel your fingertips scratching against his scalp.

Your eyes flutter shut, unable to focus on anything other than the sinful way his tongue glides along your center, drinking your nectar like a man quenching his desperate thirst, hardly believing that JT Compher’s tongue is in your pussy. He sighs out, the sound far more lewd than it should be, catching his breath before diving back in. You’re close, you can feel it approaching, revved up by the fact that he’s literally recreating a long-time fantasy you’ve had in your head about him for years.

The sound he exhales is nothing short of magical, indulgent in itself as he groans at the taste of you. No man has ever been this good at it, let alone thoroughly enjoyed it. With just the deliciously wicked practiced motion of his tongue, he’s transporting you to the eighth wonder of the world, transcending the highest levels of pleasure; your heart already aches at the thought that he’ll have to stop, eventually. As if he can hear your thoughts in your head, his hands grip at your hips tightly, unwilling to part from you now that his face is buried in your cunt.

“JT,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “Please, don’t stop.”

He hums, your plea igniting a fiery determination in him. You can hear how sodden your folds are, the sound of his tongue lapping you up audible even despite the moans that tumble out of your mouth along with soft sighs of his name. JT doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, you think he’s enjoying it almost as much as you are, if his wanton groans are any indication.

“Sound so pretty when you say my name,” he murmurs against you. “Sound even prettier when you come.”

This time, your orgasm hits you like a freight train, an explosion of euphoria before you even have a change to realize it’s happening. Your hips buck wildly against his face, uncontrollable as the pleasure shoots through your system; his strong arms fight to hold you in place, keeping his mouth attached to you to soak up every last drop of your essence.

You feel the way your pussy throbs on his tongue, hear the way he moans at the sensation. He stays still, ensuring he drags out your high for as long as he can, only pulling away once your legs fall open and your body relaxes, spent. When he does, he grins at you, and you feel a pull when you notice that the whiskers of his beard are damp with your arousal.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he blurts out.

“I was thinking the same about you,” you reply with a weak smile, coated in a layer of bliss. You mean it; the thought has been repeating in your mind ever since you saw the flash of red hair across the bar.

His hand finds yours, tugging your body close to his as both of you pause to catch your breath. It’s intimate, almost more than when he had his tongue buried in your cunt, basking in the afterglow together. If he wants to keep going, he makes no indication, content to lay with you for the rest of the night with no expectation of moving further.

You want to, though, when the haze finally clears a bit and you remember the way his cock felt between your legs, rigid and tempting and wicked in its promise.

JT’s eyes glitter when he sees the way you’re looking at him, crawling over him to connect your lips with his again, far too long since they touched you last. Your hands are quick with his belt, and you feel the heat of his gaze on you, watching you, waiting for your reaction while he helps you shuck his shorts down his legs. His arousal, thick and firm, is tucked into the navy boxer briefs that do little to hide his decency, and your mouth waters at seeing its outline straining against the fabric. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, hardly believing that you’re here and this is real; that he’s hard just for you. The NASA certified rocket.

As much as you want to remove the cotton barrier between you and his dick, you can’t resist the urge to press your lips against him through the material. He groans, savoring the feeling of your mouth on him, twitching when you lick a wet stripe down his length.

When your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers and free him from the confines, you let out an audible whimper when his erection springs against his belly. It’s divine, flawless in every sense of the word, a bead of sticky, delicious precum pooling at the tip.

“Is it like what you expected?” he asks, mostly joking but, admittedly, a little curious.

You resist the urge to laugh, though a smile plays at your lips. If only you could put into words how beautiful, how surreal, how exquisite he is. But nothing comes. Instead, you run your palm along his length, familiarizing your touch with the velvety skin, memorizing the weight of him in your hand.

Then, with a light squeeze that chokes a groan out of him, you purr, “It’s perfect.”

JT’s chest puffs up at your admission, perhaps with confidence and a little bit of an ego. Not that he shouldn’t have one; he’s a Stanley Cup champion bedding a woman who has desired to have him for years. It’s what every athlete dreams of, deep down, buried beneath layers of modesty and humility.

He pushes his hips forward and you pull away, smiling at him as if to say, Not yet. With weak limbs, you slink off the edge of the bed, kneeling on the soft, plush rug and looking up at him expectantly. It takes a millisecond for it to click, but then he’s scrambling off the bed, too, rising to his full height as he kicks his shorts the remainder of the way off his legs. Finally, he’s fully naked, and you take a moment to admire the expanse of pale skin, tinged with sprinkles of dark hair, smattered across his chest, along his toned arms, down the muscular surface of his thighs.

“My God, you’re gorgeous,” you mutter, barely even realizing the words slipped out.

The smirk on his face returns, preening, and he reaches down to stroke his length with a large hand—the same one that brought you to your first climax of the night; his fingers still have the slight sheen from your arousal, catching just so in the light that shines through the bedroom window. Your eyes are glued to him, watching the way he pulls, slowly, leisurely; it’s insanely erotic, and you feel a pool of wetness between your legs, wondering if you’re going to ruin your rug. Not that you care, not with the way the world’s most beautiful cock is staring you straight in the face.

“Is this what you did when you read my story?”

His smirk grows, and you see a flash in his eyes. “You want to know what I thought about?”

“Fucking me in your locker room?” you ask cheekily.

JT laughs, nodding, “Yes, that was certainly a hot detail. And not opposed to making that a reality, too.”

For a moment, your heart flutters at the idea; not just at the thought of fucking him in the Detroit Red Wings locker room, but at the idea that he would do this again. This, when you haven’t even done it yet.

“What else?”

Eyes blazing, his free hand reaches forward to caress your cheek. His thumb catches on your lip, and you take it between your teeth, running your tongue along the digit.

“I thought about this,” he murmurs, and the velvety hum of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “About getting these gorgeous lips on my cock. Fucking this smart mouth of yours, before I fuck your delicious, heavenly pussy.”

You whimper at his filthy words, and if you weren’t already on your knees, they would’ve given in. His thumb presses against your tongue, briefly, and you keep your eyes on his as you feel the pad of it gliding against you. Time has completely stopped, orbiting around you while JT Compher strokes his erection in your bedroom.

“Well,” you purr, “you made my fantasy come true; what do you say I return the favor?”

JT groans, nodding, not even bothering to come up with a clever quip back. You smile, pleased that for once you’ve rendered him speechless. And when he guides the head of his dick toward you, your mouth opens earnestly to welcome him.

He tastes like heaven, because of course he does. No dick tastes good—tolerable, sure, but never good— and yet, you find yourself craving more. Kitten licking his tip, you lap up the precum that’s blooming before dragging your tongue down his length. You press your lips in open-mouthed kisses along his base, flicking your tongue at the vein that throbs on the underside of his shaft, before you end up back at his head.

When you take him into your mouth, he lets out a sound that’s halfway between a moan and a whimper, and it fuels you to continue. You experiment, testing the swirl of your tongue paired with the bob of your head, seeing what will elicit the most delicious noises from his pretty throat. By no means are you a blowjob expert, but you’re determined to make sure this is the best one you’ll ever give; it has to be, since this is your once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to blow his mind and make sure he never forgets you.

With a glance up at him, the sight is beautiful: his lips parted, cheeks flushed, a strand of hair falling over his face as he gazes down at you, drinking in the sight of you taking his cock between your lips.

“Fuck,” he curses, threading a hand through your hair. Your eyes lock with his, molten and dark, hinging your jaw to take more of him. Slowly, you do, pressing forward until you feel him bump the back of your throat.

With a hum, you repeat the action, gradually picking up the pace until the sounds that fill the room are nothing short of filthy; wet, sloppy, downright pornographic. Above it all, his delicious grunts of pleasure puncture through the noise, each one of them encouraging you to don’t stop, even despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“So pretty like this,” he rasps. Your heart soars, both at his praise and at the fact that he’s even more perfect than you dreamed, sprinkling in the perfect amount of chatter, filthy promises that have your pussy melting with lust. “You gonna let me fuck you now?”

His words have you imagining the feeling of his thick length pressing into you, spreading you open with steady, solid thrusts. There’s something insanely erotic about feeling the weight of him on your tongue, knowing that he’ll soon be stretching you out like you’ve been dreaming of for years.

“You want to ride me, baby? Like in the story?”

If your cunt wasn’t throbbing with need, you’d probably be melting at how erotically sweet it is that he’s paid such attention to detail in an attempt to make your dream come true. But your desire is more powerful, and the thought of bouncing yourself in his lap is too tempting to pass up, so you’re nodding eagerly, accepting his hand to pull you up to your feet.

JT tugs back the comforter on your bed, fluffing the pillows up to give him a soft back rest so he can sit up and watch you more closely.

“D’you—” he starts, then stutters when you perch yourself in his lap, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. His erection, still slick from your saliva, bobs between your bodies, pressed against your core and the mere friction has both of you groaning. Your hips roll against him, dragging your sopping wet folds over his length, and the feeling is enough to distract you both from whatever he was going to say.

Then, as if he’s fighting for his life, he chokes out, “D’you want me—want me to wear a—fuck—condom? I’m—m’clean.”

You hum, and you honestly, truly believe that you wouldn’t be able to part from him even if you did, not now that you know how his cock feels pressed against your clit. It’s electric, enough to send shockwaves through your entire system.

“No,” you say. “Want to know what it feels like when you come inside me.” You may never get the chance again.

JT moans, and the sound is so delicious, you pause for a brief second to commit it to memory. His hands fly to grip your hips, sucking in a breath when you grip his length and tease him against your slit. The feeling of his warm flesh against your most sensitive area is enough to drive you insane, eyes fluttering shut when just the tip brushes your waiting, eager entrance.

If you liked the sound of his moan, the sound he makes when you finally sink down on him is nothing short of divine. He fits inside you perfectly, and you think Michaelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted his cock any better. The stretch of him is euphoric, fucking sublime, even more so when you start to move experimentally, feeling each ridge and vein sliding against your snug, warm walls.

Your hands fit into the dip of his shoulders, clutching onto him for dear life as your hips begin to move. A string of mumbled curses fall from his beautiful mouth, his eyes glued to where your bodies connect.

“JT,” you whisper, searching for the strength to finish your sentence, already weak for the pleasure shooting through each nerve ending in your body. “You’re so… feel so—fuck.”

He hums, pushing his hips up as if he knows exactly what you’re trying to say, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment. “You feel like fuckin’ heaven, baby.”

It’s all you can manage to say, not that you could find the words even if you wanted to, so you opt to keep creating that divine, blooming feeling from his cock splitting open your cunt. Each pass is better than the last, and a fleeting thought in your head says that this is what porn actors act like they’re feeling, except it’s infinitely better because this time, the feeling is real. A symphony of moans, sighs of his name, low, grunted curses into the darkness fill the four walls of your room, the rest of the world oblivious to the transcendental experience happening. And what a shame.

Your thighs burn, a delicious heat that almost rivals the one that’s between your thighs. Almost. Yet again, you have the feeling that he’s read your mind when his hands grip the globes of your ass to aid your movements. His skin is hot, scorching against yours, and you wish that he’d leave burn marks, angry red handprints on your ass so you can see them in the morning to prove this isn’t all a delicious dream.

Another cry leaves your mouth when you feel his lips press against your breast, unable to resist the temptation of them heaving and swaying in front of his face. He groans, too, savoring the feeling of it in his mouth, the weight of it on his tongue.

With his strong arms helping the way you bounce in his lap, your hand is free to trail down your stomach, fingers itching to touch your aching, singing clit. JT feels the press of your knuckles against his pelvis, tearing himself away from your breast for just a moment to glance down at the way you press the pad of your finger against yourself; the sight makes him groan and thrust his hips upward to drive even deeper into your pussy.

“Oh my God,” you cry, unsure if the coil inside you can wind any tighter. Of course, it does, with every push into your insatiable, greedy walls.

At hearing your moans lilt higher, he mouths around your nipple, “Fuck yeah, baby, that’s it.”

His encouragement is enough to give you the strength to ride him to high heaven, chasing that feeling of euphoria. The sounds that slip out of his throat are delicious, low murmurs of praise ticking you closer and closer to the cliff that you’re hurtling towards with no helmet, no seatbelt, no nothing, prepared to fly across the edge and free fall into oblivion.

“J—” your warning cry is cut off by the force of your climax, an explosion of color dancing inside of your eyes that are squeezed shut. Everything nearly fades to black, all sound, sight, touch going dim save for the ecstasy that fills each and every one of your cells, heightening the bliss that floods your mind.

Five seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours later, your senses return and you realize you’re panting, fingers clutching the meat of his shoulders while your hips stutter atop him. As your high subsides, you feel the way your walls clench around him, and you slowly relax your grip on him, feeling the harsh indentations from your fingernails in his skin.

“Holy shit, that was fuckin’... insane,” JT says breathlessly, looking up at you hotly. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, swear to God.”

You laugh—or try to, anyways, but the sound doesn’t quite make it out—and you realize your body is still tingling as he rubs gentle circles into your hip with his thumbs. Wordlessly, JT soothes you, bringing you back to earth slowly with gentle kisses dotted across your chest like an intricate constellation.

“You good?”

You nod blissfully and he pauses, pulling back to lock eyes with you. “Can you say it, please?”

“M’good, JT,” you say, sounding less confident than you feel. “Promise. Want you… t’come. Please.”

Heat flares back up in his eyes and you feel him twitch deep inside of you. Your muscles instinctively contract around him and he groans before he’s wrapping his arms around you to tenderly turn you around and lay you on your back. The softness of the mattress is welcome beneath your muscles, your body aching with the most delicious exhaustion.

His body looms over you, large and indulgently intimidating. Quick to slip back into you, JT’s hips roll with a new intensity now that he’s made you come, now that he’s completely transported you to another galaxy—another universe entirely. Dark eyes gaze into yours, like he can’t get enough of you; the feeling is mutual, you think, and you attempt to tell him so by wrapping your legs around his waist, sliding your hands up the muscles in his back. In another life, you hope you get to spend more time exploring each dip and ridge and curve of the body he’s spent so much time working on, a slight tinge of sadness that you won’t get to appreciate him in all his glory for much longer.

“Fuck,” his voice is barely intelligible with his mouth now buried in the curve of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, every nerve already alight from your orgasm. “Y’r gonna fuckin’ milk me dry, baby. God damn. Squeezin’ me so tight.”

He’s close, you can tell, by the choked curses and short groans that spill from his throat, lips openly mouthing along your jaw. And just as his hips begin to stutter, he kisses you deeply, moaning his release into your mouth just as you feel hot spurts spilling inside of you. It’s far more intimate than you expect, so connected to him everywhere as he touches his own euphoria; you can’t help but moan again at the communion.

With a last twitch of his hips, JT slumps over, hot and heavy breath panting as he rests his head on your collarbone. He’s still completely sheathed within you, and you can feel the way he twitches as he comes down from his high, the way liquid seeps out of your cavern. Your walls hug him snugly, content to stay wrapped around him forever.

It’s your turn to return the favor, running a soft hand along his back as he catches his breath, and after awhile he slips out of you with a regretful whimper; you instantly miss him, even though he slumps beside you on the bed, hand blindly finding yours in the darkness.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life,” he confesses with a wry chuckle. The admission makes you preen with pride, an achievement you’re sure you’ll never top.

“I thought the same,” you reply slowly. “But then you did it again. And again.”

JT, too, is ruffled with a smug pride. “Once I get the feeling back in my legs, I’ll do it again.”

Your brain short circuits at the promise, barely able to comprehend getting to feel that euphoria again. “JT, you don’t have to—”

“You think I don’t wanna do that again?”

His question makes you shy, as if he wasn’t just buried inside you, like his cum isn’t seeping out of your cunt at this exact moment. You tug the sheet over your chest, toying with the edge of it. “I just… I meant that you don’t have to keep up the act. And you don’t—you don’t have to stay, either, if you don’t want to.”

JT’s warm hand lays over yours, stopping you from picking at the material between your fingers. He waits until you glance over at him, even more beautiful under his post-coital glow. “I like morning sex too much to leave.”

He rolls off your bed with a grunt, and you sneak a long look at his perfect, perky ass as he strides freely through your room to your closet door that he confidently opens thinking it’s your bathroom. You giggle, then point him toward the other door, and he sends you a sheepish grin before he disappears into your bathroom. The ghost of his touch lingers over your skin, feeling the delicious ache between your thighs as you listen to the sound of the sink running, of him opening and closing your cabinet drawers, undoubtedly searching for something.

A few moments later he’s back, and this time you have a full frontal view of his nudity, appreciating the god-like figure walking back toward you. The moonlight illuminates his pale skin, his hair looking so dark it almost looks brown as he gently tugs back the sheet covering your modesty. With the warm, damp washcloth in his hand, he is careful as he wipes down your thighs, biting his lip when he sees his essence dripping out of you.

After tossing the cloth in your sink, he slips back into bed beside you and you have to resist the urge to stare at him. He pulls you into his arms, and you deeply inhale his scent, memorizing the way it feels to ensure you’ll never forget it.

“By the way, there is no act. This is the real deal.”

The light peeking through the blinds is what wakes you, a few moments spent blinking away the sleep before the memory of last night floods back into your psyche. Warmth spreads through your body as the scene unfolds in your mind, remembering the whispers of your name, the way plush lips felt on your skin, the delicious stretch between your legs.

Stretching your sore muscles, it’s only then that you realize the space beside you on the mattress is empty. Your hand presses against the sheets to find them cold. With a frown, your heart sinks.

That’s it, you think, the dream is over.

You allow the disappointment and defeat to wash over you, tightness welling in your throat—of course it was too good to be true; a guy like that would never stay to the morning, not with someone like you. Still, you can’t deny that it stings; he’d seemed so genuine. There is no act. This is the real deal. But, you remind yourself, he was trying to get in your pants.

And he had. And it had been… marvelous. Ethereal. Celestial, even. But he’d gotten what he wanted and bolted out as soon as you fell asleep, which is deep down what you had expected.

You wallow in self-pity for a few moments, letting the smarting tears sting your eyes before you heave yourself out of bed with a glance in the mirror to make sure you hadn’t entirely dreamt it. But the fevered marks on your neck and swollen lips confirm that you hadn’t, which ultimately makes your heart sink a little further.

Digging into your dresser drawer with a heavy sigh, you pull out your favorite vintage Red Wings sweatshirt, something you’ve had since childhood. It’s oversized, which is why it’s become a staple in your wardrobe all these years later; you don’t bother slipping on underwear.

When you open the door from your bedroom, you yelp involuntarily at seeing the figure standing in your kitchen. Your eyes are drawn to the messy, russet hair and the pale skin, and all at once the identity of the stranger in your home registers.

“JT?”

Whipping around, you’re met with his sleepy eyes and a warm smile. “Hey, good morning. I hope you don’t mind I dug around your kitchen to make some breakfast.”

You gape at him, staring at him even as he slides a mug of coffee across the counter toward you. Then, seeing your shock, he laughs, shifting the frying pan off the burner before he steps toward you. It’s not until his warm hands wrap around your waist that you register he is, in fact, really still here, and now he’s leaning in to kiss you. His lips are plush, familiar now, and you barely have the chance to savor the feeling before he’s pulling away.

“You thought I left?”

“Well… yeah.” The question makes you shy, like you’re airing out your insecurities with a guy you just met. A guy you’ve never spoken to when the sun is up. A guy you’ve barely spoken to while sober.

A slow smile curls onto his face, eyes crinkling in that sweet way that makes your heart melt. “I told you, I’m not the hot shot player you seem to think I am. And I think you’re really, really…”

Your eyebrows raise when he lets out a sigh, gazing off like he’s searching for the right word.

“Well, let’s just say I really want to see you again. If you want to.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a prank?”

JT smiles, amused at your refusal to believe his interest in you is real. Instead of speaking, though, he opts to cup your jaw between his hands, pulling you toward him to press his lips against yours in a slow, sensual kiss. It brings back a flood of memories and feelings and sensations from the night before, almost like he’s reminding you of the spark that’s undeniable between you.

When he pulls away, you’re thankful that his hands return to your waist, for your knees are a little wobbly and your vision is a little cloudy. But then, he pushes his hips forward against your front so you can feel the unmistakable sign of his interest pressed against your abdomen. “Does this feel like a prank?”

Your reply is a strangled sound, unintelligible, and he smiles. “I was very serious when I said I want to do that over and over again. But I’m also serious about wanting to see you again. Maybe you’ll come to dinner with me, sometime? I believe you still owe me the rest of my tour of Detroit.”

It takes a moment for you to speak again, but something in the sincerity of his voice finally has you shifting to reality, and after a third mental photograph, you quip, “Depending on your omelet skills, I may need to show you Detroit’s best breakfast first.”

“To be honest with you, after seeing you in this t-shirt, I’m way more interested in having you for breakfast.”

With a cheeky smile, you say, “I never said it wasn’t me.”

Tag list: @somuchf4rstardust @tpwkstiles @smileysvech @senditcolton @robindrake13 @laurenairay

#jt compher fic #jt compher imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #jt compher smut #a dream come true

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