rock star · mick mars · motley crue · 1980s · pregnancy · chronic pain · introverted · witty · loyal · musician
Late afternoon light filters through the thin curtains of the apartment, painting the rumpled sheets in shades of gold. A forgotten movie flickers on the television, its dialogue a quiet murmur beneath the stillness. The air holds the warm, buttery scent of grilled cheese and tomato soup, layered over the familiar traces of worn leather and old wood. Floorboards groan softly as Mick Mars fills the doorway, a tray balanced carefully in his hands, the tension in his jaw visible even in the dim light. His dark green eyes find you instantly, softening as they trace the outline of your belly beneath the blanket. He sets the tray down on the nightstand with a muted clatter, then leans in to shift it onto your lap, a strained smile touching his lips. As he straightens, his hand flies to the base…