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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

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innocence - 25

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+)

A/N: me to me “you shall not write smut. BEHAVE” also me “mILE HIGH CLUB”. 2021 barely started and i already need jesus. also rip me attempting to post this before christmas but hey i refuse to let christmas end bc christmas is my only hope and love and it’s over.

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky was the first one up as the clock struck 5AM. He was anxious for the flight, for everything really. Y/N had assured him she had bought first class tickets so he’d be comfortable with the long trip but he was still reticent about flying. As an Avenger he used to do national missions, preferring not to fly as it brought him some memories he didn’t like to relieve. Sam had suggested he took some sleeping pills while the flight was going but Bucky refused not to be there to support Y/N who’d been getting called by her team 24/7 about her “mishap” as her manager like to refer to. As if a 20-something dating was something weird. Bucky knew Steve did way worse things than that but of course, she had stepped off the line, off the good girl, virgin ‘til marriage, girl next door yet just gorgeously unattainable and if Y/N hadn’t told him to stay out of it, he would’ve threatened everyone.

Anyway, other than flying he kept wondering about her family. Y/N had a big family, at least more family than he had and he wasn’t entirely sure how they would react to him. Bucky knew he wasn’t the type of man you’d like your daughter to bring in. Who’d want to say that their daughter was dating an assassin? No one. He had wanted to say no, he wanted her to have a nice holiday but looking at her there was no denying her.

Y/N woke up half an hour later, extending her arm towards Bucky’s side only to feel the cold of the sheets on her side. She rose her torso, rubbing the sleep off her eyes before the blurry room became clear. He was sat on the big armchair, staring at the flight tickets.

- Someone’s an early bird. - she leaned on the bed, hands under her chin as he gave her his charming smile. - Excited?

- Nervous. - he rose from his chair to kiss her forehead. - Do you need anything, princess?

- Just need to get dressed. - she lazily got up from her bed. - You’re gonna love it, Buck. There’s snow on the ground, we can get spiced mulled tea and go see the decorations at the West End.

- I’m sure I will. Now get dressed unless you plan on going to the airport in your underwear.

- I don’t see you complaining. - she flirted, hips moving side to side as she opened his wardrobe to grab her burgundy long sleeve dress and pair of black flats. Bucky tried his best not to ogle at her and her figure in a matching black set of star motif bra and panties with garters to see through black stockings. Sometimes he had to slap himself to convince himself the woman standing in front of him actually liked him. - You’re okay with going, right?

- Of course, princess. Whatever makes you happy.

- Okay but what makes you happy? We don’t need to go if you don’t feel comfortable.

- Just regular meeting the parents nerves. - he pulled her hair away from her face to kiss her forehead.

- Based on the photos Rebecca has, I would say you’ve met enough parents not to be nervous anymore.

- Come here, you little minx. - he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her in close to him. - I will have you know that I never met any of the girls’ parents. It was not a good thing for a lady to be seen alone with a man in my time, so we had to keep it a secret.

- Mhm, were you destroying ladies’ reputations in your day, Mr. Barnes? Is that it?

- Not my fault they couldn’t resist me. - he leaned down to kiss her but she turned her face away, naughty smile on her lips. - Don’t do that to me, princess. It’ll break my tiny heart.

- Stop playing Romeo and grab your bags before we’re late. - she swung her hips side to side to grab her own cary on, a small matte black suitcase with her initials on the bottom left in a small size.

Bucky followed her into the airport. He couldn’t seriously remember the last time he had been in an airport, maybe during his youth but right now everything seemed so different yet he didn’t feel scared. He looked to his right and there she was, holding his hand as the other pulled her trolley, dark sunglasses on to hide who she was but still sporting that smile that was truly hers, something he could pick out of a crowd. He never really liked the word or feeling of possession, neither did she, but they didn’t really mind the feeling that a ship’s rope held both their hands together in a nautical strong knot. It was that sort of feeling that disconnected them both from what surrounded them, the sound of echoed and at the same time murmured silence. Y/N didn’t mind, Bucky didn’t mind. The flashlights went by dim and the announcements went mute for both of them.

Y/N however did not like airports. For her, airports signified goodbyes, harmful and painful goodbyes those were you wave goodbye to your loved ones and walk into security checks with tears lodged in her throat, telling herself to put herself together as she approached the beginning of that line. It represented waving goodbye to her comforts to travel somewhere she was not happy, not that her life in the US after she left the UK didn’t made her happy, it did but it was a faux happiness. It was locked inside a bought apartment with people who didn’t or refused to understand her, with friends she loved and cared for but didn’t really check on her them too lost on their own lives, it was yearning for a love that took years to come and everyone told her it would come but never did. It was an odd feeling being at the airport but being with Bucky twisted that. It was no longer leaving loved ones, it was departing with them, it was leaving all the mess that haunted her behind yet she couldn’t help feeling like something lingered in the wind, some cut throating emotions and actions which would return to her.

She decided not to dwell on it, smiling at Bucky as he picked some snacks to bring inside the plane besides her telling him they probably would have the peanut M&Ms rather than his beloved chocolate only ones. She watched him as someone watched something that reminded them of a childhood memory or something that touched them, with a tinge of sadness, almost knowing it would never happen again. She felt tied to him but she felt at any time this knot could worn out and she feared he would leave. Things fade, nothing lasts forever and she wondered when he would realise that he was dating a ticking time bomb controlled by others. She had control over her own heart but her face, her reputation, that would never be hers to control.

- Y/N? - he laid his hand on top of her shoulder. - Are you okay, princess?

- Yeah, just thinking. - she handed the lady the tickets, holding Bucky’s hand as he led her inside the airplane.

Y/N was lucky to be used to first class, she spent in life in it but for Bucky it was a jarring new experience. His parents used to be well off, better than most however they were never well enough to afford flying anywhere. The closest he’d been to flying was in military helicopters but all his experience to commercial flying had been watching on magazines but even this looked so different. It looked like a perfect first class bedroom in a five star hotel with individual little places for each passenger and some for couples which he guessed was one for the two of them. As they approached their cabin, a polished dressed lady signalled them inside their own seats. She looked at Bucky who had star filled eyes as he noticed all the comfort of his seat.

- Is this how you travel? - he sat down by the window, looking at the small bottles of water, juices and fun sized treats. - Now I know why you travel so much. It’s like a damn hotel room here.

- Peanut M&M’s. - she grabbed one of the snacks from his side. - I believe you’ll be donating those to me.

- That’s a travesty, princess. I cannot believe you prefer those with peanuts

- Peanuts are great.

- Unless you’re allergic to them.

- You’re not allergic to peanuts. Steve would’ve told me if you were and I saw you eat a peanut energy bar yesterday. - she crossed her arms.

- First, I hate peanuts so it’s almost as if I were allergic to them. Second, KIND bars don’t count, you know how good they are, they add that little caramel drizzle.

- I guess we’re gonna have more than my nephews and nieces for a picky eater this Christmas. - she laughed, picking the remote to shuffle through whatever the company offered. Bucky leaned on her shoulder, leaving a kiss on it right before he did. - Thank you for coming with me.

- That’s not a problem, princess. Besides, who would guard you if I were not to come?

- Is this overtime then, Mr. Barnes? - she looked down at him, his childish yet charming smile whenever he meant to tease her which he so easily could do both meanings of the word. - We should prepare for take off.

It couldn’t be too different from take off in the quinjet. Bucky had done it once after the train incident but it always brought him back to it. He wasn’t like this and it pained him that the slightest of turbulences in any travels now made him feel like a kid. He didn’t use to be like this, he was fearless, going on the Cyclone time and time again and now ... now he was a shell of a man afraid of take off. He shouldn’t be afraid, it was not his role, right? He knew things were different then and were different now but he always wanted to be strong, strong for her as if any insecurity would throw her away. He knew it didn’t, Bucky knew Y/N was there to stick around and didn’t care about what the war and HYDRA had done to him but he cared. Bucky wanted to be her hero, her safe harbour and with this ...

His mind shattered into snowflakes as she held his hand, the captain’s voice muffled as the plane gathered speech. Y/N never hand cold hands or a cold touch, she was just warm, a little ray of sunshine burning his icy exterior and forcing him to see the beauty of winter. Bucky clearly mostly got distracted by her own beauty but her holding his hand, the rings on her fingers which she had gathered from little shops along the street against his hand, made him want to remove the dagger he had stuck on himself so he could feel pain forevermore.

The plane move upwards, both of them being pulled against their seats by the laws of physics on an endless climb and he still had his eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

- Buck. - her finger caressed his jaw. - Look out the window.

Bucky peaked open one of his eyes, looking out the window near him to see a full blue sky, completely different from the dark skies of the winter filled New York they had just left.

- We fly above the clouds. Isn’t it beautiful? - she leaned against his shoulder.

- You see this everytime?

- Unless I’m flying at night, yeah. Sunsets and risings are particularly stunning.

- Now what?

- Now we wait for round 6 to 7 hours. We can put a movie on, maybe. Whatever you’d like.

Bucky took to shuffling through the movie catalogue himself. Some of the movies he’d never heard about and some he’d heard from Sam or from Steve’s list of movies he had to watch yet he never did. Capitan America himself stuck to the old classics, the movies they used to sneak through the backdoor of the theatre. He himself liked the classics too and Y/N, as a film/acting major herself, also had a soft spot for them. Bucky’s favourite was the Wizard of Oz, despite later knowing how controversial filming had been, yet he couldn’t help but always remember the wonder on his sister’s face and his own wonder as he watched the vivid colours. He could still feel it now, however the movie ended and soon the food came in and he found himself bored. There wasn’t much he could do on a plane and he found himself jealous of the 5 year old running up and down the cabin, despite most of Y/N’s laughter.

He covered himself in the company’s blanket and snuggled against the pillow and still he couldn’t sleep. Y/N on the other hand had fallen asleep the moment she pulled the leg rest, wrapped around in her blanket, face facing his which gave Bucky the excuse to look at her while she slept. Bucky always found it wildly amusing how she slept, lips slightly puckered, eyes fluttering until she fell in deep and hands fisting the blanket up to her chin. Eventually, Bucky got frustrated, moving around in his seat to find a comfortable position. How come he couldn’t find a comfortable position on a first class seat?

- Buck ... - she groaned, opening her eyes. - Stop moving around.

- I’m sorry, princess. I’m just ... so bored. How do you do this?

- I sleep. - she placed the blanket on her lap. - Why don’t you get something else to eat?

- How many hours left?

- You don’t wanna know. - she rubbed the sleep of her eyes, Bucky still laid against his seat, blanket on his lap, head against the head rest. Y/N started thinking about how to entertain him until her gaze fell onto his lap. Looking around the cabin was quiet, no cabin crew or passengers on their feet, just a calm cabin.

She moved closer to him, head against her shoulder, facade of a glistening angel on a renaissance painting. Her fingers traced the soft finish of his blanket, the embodied company name until her fingers were under the soft fabric. She slide her hand under his shirt, feeling his warm skin as her hand travelled downwards towards the Hugo Boss boxers he wore, fingers hooking on the waistband. Bucky swallowed dry, wondering if he had finally gone to sleep and this was finally a good dream or if his sweet, innocent girlfriend was actually about to do what his mind was rushing to as her fingers wrapped around his softened member. He grunted, looking at her like she was a fever dream, hips mindlessly thrusting into her soft warm hand. He would say there was no better feeling, had it not been for the fact he had been inside of her.

Y/N bite her lip, insecurely swiping her thumb over the tip, his pre cum dripping onto it. She didn’t know what she was doing, mostly going by the erotica she had read and seen before, guiding herself by his low sounds, mumbled by his own hand which laid against his own mouth. She looked up at him, cerulean eyes looking at the ceiling as if all his strength would break loose were he to look at her and she thought that was the most gorgeous he’d look. She straight herself up, pushing his hand away from his mouth to start kissing him, something which would look rather innocent to anyone who passed by. Her kiss was warm, hot and sinful, much more different than the shy ones she would lay on him each morning yet he guessed it matched with her movements, fast and tighter against his cock. He tried to remain still, allow her to do what she wanted to do but his body had a different idea, hips thrusting and gyrating against her hand like some idiot teenager as her mouth lowered to kiss his pulse point. His breathe quickened, coming into staccatto as her movement quickened. The environment was blurry and all he could think about and hear were her movements and his body shuddering until he was spurting thick ropes of white liquid onto her hand and his breathe came out knocked as if he had finished a race.

She cleaned her palm with a tissue, bringing her fingers up to her cherry tinted lips from her chapstick, disappearing within the plumpness of them. He swore he could cum again just from that sight. As he tried to regain his breathe from the latter event, she gave him a shy smile, pushing her blanket up to her chin. Whatever she did to him, whatever release she had given him had made him comfortable enough on that cloud nine that sent him into sleeping, only awaking once the plane wheels hit British soil.

It was dark, around 9PM the captain had said and Bucky himself thought the trip was over until both of them disembarked onto the airport which was a completely different world. Had it not been by Y/N’s unwillingness to spend more time in an airport, he would’ve possibly stood behind taking pictures yet once she spotted a man with a sheet with her name written in, she had his hand on hers and dragged him up to it.

Bucky had been in London, he remembered it from the war and some buildings were the same yet everything was brighter. His eyes shone against the decorations, wondering how bigger they could get and Y/N took great pleasure in seeing him so happy. All she wanted was to make him happy, all she wanted was to see him happy. The taxi driver stopped in front of her childhood home which gladly always seemed to look the same with christmas lights and garlands. Both of them step out the car and the nerves finally hit Bucky. How do you meet someone’s parents? How do you meet the person who just gave you a handjob’s parents and make a good impression? How could he make a good impression? He was a hundred year old never aging man with a metal arm dating the little rose that everyone put on an altar. He didn’t belong. Maybe he could stop her, maybe he could convince her not to ring the bell except she was already ringing the bell and the door was opening up.

A short woman in a white jumper and jeans opened the door. She had Y/N’s eyes, the same eyes Bucky would recognise anywhere and based by the tight hug she gave Y/N, he would guess she was his mother.

- Mum, this is Bucky. - she held Bucky’s hand. What should he do? Should he wave?

- Oh my, you’re tall. I thought that with a nickname like that you’d be small. Oh, here I am again rambling. We are so happy here, you know, you’re the first man Y/N brings home.

- Mum!

- What? It’s true. You’re my oldest child and only now have you brought a man. Aunt Petunia is really proud of you.

- Mum!

- Come in, Bucky. Can I call you Bucky? Come meet the family.

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

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That Damned Laugh

To the anon who informed me of Rainbow Rowell's RACISM, i am writing this for my love of the characters, not the author's writing skill or fame. fuck her. i am still very much aware of what she wrote about and how she portrayed a character, but i cannot stop this inspiration when it comes to me. (wait to be clear to everyone reading this who hadn't seen the anons and my discussion, carry on wasnt the accused racist book. that was something else.)

If you, anon, end up seeing this and maybe don't like what I'm doing or whatnot, I'd love to hear from you again.

For those of you who maybe do practice Death of the Author, I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Carry On

Characters: Simon Snow, Baz Pitch

Words: 1,905

~~~~~

BAZ

Simon Snow does not laugh, full stop.

(Well, to be fair I'm not a cackler much myself, but I do at least guffaw from time to time.)

Snow spent so much of his youth being weighed down by the 'Chosen One' moniker and being tormented by yours truly. Still, I know of that little list he kept of things he liked about Watford and all its experiences and people. It seemed he did take joy in most of it all. After all, I'm sure he had fun at Bunce's house on many an occasion.

But just being around him and in this way for a while now, you start to notice. He's seen me laugh. A few times, in fact. And hard. I'm not very proud of it; what that man can do to me and make me do. He doesn't like when I cover my hand over my smile. It's habit, though, I've reminded him countless times. The fangs and all. We're working on it.

But Simon may just smile or huff. I've giggled with him on our particularly soft nights or togethertimes.

All this to say... I've found a new hobby/goal/obsession recently.

Make Simon Snow laugh.

My cheekiness all these years has kept my humor to cruel, lowbrow tones. Maybe it makes me less funny, I don't know. But once or twice I'd nail a comeback or snarky one-liner (of course with a bit of flirt thrown in) and Snow will giggle and shake his head. But that's all I've achieved! A small, pandering, boring -- though still admirably adorable -- (Damn that Snow) giggle.

I've moved on to physical humor. I tried throwing myself dramatically over him when he's in bed, but he just seems to think it's all part of my Pitch flair.

Today I made a minor breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen trying to mix myself a smoothie. Bunce has been gushing about a smoothie craze for weeks now, so I finally figured why not. The damn lid wasn't on tight enough. Not-yet-smooth smoothie shot everywhere. There was a pause as it happened, my one hand on the Liquify button, my other resting nonchalantly atop the lid that didn't do any lidding, dammit.

Snow looked up at me from his seat by the kitchen counter, eyes drawn from his phone. A beat. He barked out a laugh. A much louder one than I think I'd ever heard him make.

"Put a sock in it, Snow," I growled, to keep with my facade, though inside I was jittery with glee. I wanted to hear more.

Snow convinced me to binge a new show. Crime Minds. Something like that. No, criminal. It's Criminal Minds.

You wouldn't expect this to be a series fit enough for a cuddle, but Snow and I are an unexpected couple. So it works.

A few dumb jokes are littered throughout the show, in between corpses and the same police station set being reorganized and shot from different angles every episode. One such joke was so inconspicuous and so nothing that I cannot even recall it now. But both Snow and I chuckled at it. Then Snow made an additional comment to it, making me laugh. And soon we were both giggling together like schoolboys, like we had early on when we were maybe still a bit bashful with each other.

He shoved his face into my ribs and snorted when I whispered the new inside joke much later on in the episode. I was also grinning like a madman, but the soft tickle his action gave me didn't exactly---

Oh.

In bed. Perfect. Lovers fool around all the time in bed. Not fool around as in sex--well, no, of course sex, but I mean they also play around-- never mind.

SIMON

Baz has been acting off lately. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. He seems distracted. More like how I act. I'm always thinking of something else, not able to stay focused on one thing for long. He's like that, but trying to act like he isn't.

We're doing something odd today. We're in bed at sunset. It's hardly sunset, as a matter of fact. The sun isn't seeping orange and red into the flat yet. Penelope took us out on a hike today. It tuckered the both of us out. Baz drained a buck when we got home.

I'm laying perpendicular to Baz (or is it parallel? composite? I could never remember mathematics), my legs resting over his stomach. He's reading and I'm playing a puzzle app on my phone.

BAZ

Now's the time, Baz. Just do it, don't think.

His socked feet are right in front of me. There's only been a handful of times we've sat in this position, half of them being my lower half resting on Simon's sturdier upper half. It's now or never.

I stare at his feet for too long, zoning out and forgetting that I was left staring at them, so it definitely looked like I have a fetish for feet. Which I don't. Focus, Basilton.

I take a finger-- no, two fingers. I scratch quickly at his heel. His leg jerks, foot being pulled back.

"What?" he asks me, as if I hadn't been plotting this for weeks. As if I just did it to get his attention.

"Something on the bottom of your sock, love."

Simon went right back to his head hanging upside down off the side of the bed, phone held out in front of his eyes.

Well, that proved one thing. He's ticklish.

He places his ankles right back where they originally were, crossed, atop my stomach. I try again, this time on his arch. I apply more pressure.

"Bahaz!" Simon shakes his foot out, "Is that how you start a foot massage?"

"Would you like a foot massage?"

"No. Not if it's going to tickle like that."

My cheeks heat up. Damn that buck. I'm rosier than I usually am.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, coolly. I barely stuttered.

"I wouldn't try it," he's back to looking at his phone again, "Penny did once and I nearly broke her elbow or something. She wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"So you're very ticklish, then."

"Don't," this is the first time Snow seems to tense up.

There's a moment of quiet between us. A tense quiet. I lunge for his ankles and he shoots up into a sitting position. I scratch at his arch with four fingers now and he screams.

"Baz!" Simon whines a bit and he somehow yanks his legs free, not without losing one of his socks in my grip.

SIMON

He's grinning at me. No. Sneering.

I still hate when he does that. Reminds me of back when I wanted to throttle him. Sometimes I still do.

"Baz," I warn. His whole posture changes into a predator's, like he's the lion and I'm his fresh zebra. The new stance sends a shiver down my spine, with his shoulders hunched and all, ready to pounce.

"Baz... Baz, Baz, Baz..." I say over and over again because he's smiling at me, and then I start to smile, too, "Bahaz!" I try once more, but his name is all that's coming out, and now I'm giggling. I'm nervous. He did this to me.

BAZ

He's already giggling and I haven't even laid a hand on him.

"Yes, Snow?" I respond to his many calls of my name before I lurch forward, sending my whole body crashing on top of his and trying to pin him. I dig my fingers into his sides and don't stop for as long as I can maintain contact through his squirming.

"Gehehet off!" he's already crumbling, words being broken up with short laughs.

I slide my fingertips to his stomach and scratch there; Snow bucks. It gets even better when my cold fingers make contact with his warm skin beneath the shirt he's wearing. He yelps like I've never heard him yelp (like he's burnt his finger, but he's also 11-years-old again), and he dissolves into loud, beautiful laughter.

"St-Stohohop! Baz! I'm going to end you!"

"Isn't that how we always said it would end? Snuffing each other out? I'm perfectly happy that it's now going to end in my favor. You should've told me you were this easy to defeat earlier on, Snow."

"Shut up!" he cackles, legs kicking wildly behind me, as my body is thrown over his torso. Now I have both my hands buried into his sides, squeezing and squeezing. I get curious, my cheeks still burning with blood, and I lean down to his neck and... (no, I don't bite) I start nibbling. Snow loses it.

His whole face scrunches up, as I watch when I pull my head back. His smile is huge and bright. And the laughs bubble up from his stomach, releasing softer into the air like he sucked a little of the joy from it before releasing to keep for himself.

"Dohon't do that!"

"I thought you love my kisses."

"Not tha-HAAT!"

He shrieks again, hands too slow to stop my face from moving in. I nibble and even lick a few times, careful not to touch him with my fangs.

Did I mention that my hands are still tickling at his sides and ribs while I'm nibbling? Oh yes, I've waited so long for this sound. I wasn't going to make it come out lightly.

I blow a raspberry and that's when Snow's laughter catches and turns all hiccuppy. The noises are infecting me, starting to make me giggle. I shift, and my face now descends towards his stomach, which is bared after I rucked the shirt up.

SIMON

"TYRANNUS BASILTON G-GRIMM FUCKING PITCH-- OR WHATEVER YOUR LONG STUPID ARSEHOLE NAME IS--"

He's laughing at me. I keep laughing even without him tickling me.

"I swehehear I'm going to fucking kill you and your whole family if you do that dohown thehere--" I'm hiccuping. Crowley, how embarrassing.

BAZ

He's got me. I can hardly breathe from laughter. I keel over into him or he into me, but soon we're a laughing pile together on top of the mussed up sheets on the bed.

I make a loud snort and that reels us both back in again, laughing til we're red in the face and til my cheeks hurt.

Simon is giggling away, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, but he just keeps on giggling. I'm able to sit up a little more and Snow's head is in my lap. He's beaming and looking up at me through squinted, teary eyes.

"That was fun," I say, and I don't think it's the brightest or smartest thing to say. But I say it.

"I love you," Snow's smile is still wide, like he's drunk from it. There's a moment where I feel like I've died again, color drained from me.

It doesn't seem to bother him, that he's said that. For the first time. I run my fingers through his reddish curls once, letting them tangle in the locks towards the back of his head. I hunch myself down so I can kiss him.

"I've wanted to hear that for so long," I whisper.

"That I love you? You haven't figured it out by now?"

"No, you idiot," I say with nothing but fondness, brushing my nose along Simon's jaw, "Your laugh."

#carry on #carry on: the rise and fall of simon snow #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #simon/baz #simon and baz #fanfiction #carry on fanfiction #carry on fanfic #fanfic #ticklish!simon #ticklish!simonsnow #lee!simon #ler!baz

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imgoingtocrash · 3 years

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Made of Iron, Born of Fire: The Fanmix

by @imgoingtocrash

Listen on Spotify and 8tracks

Read the series on Ao3

AKA: A labor of love for @savvysass’s birthday!!!!

What can I say that hasn’t already been said because we’re both incredibly sappy people in our Author’s Notes? Writing this series with you has brought me so much joy in the last two years, and I never could have hit over 100k words without you. Here’s to whatever we write next in the series...and all of the WIPs we’re working on right now...and only god knows what’s next for us personally and professionally...and most importantly, to you on your Birthday. Thank you for being such a good friend, in both fandom and outside of it. I’m so, so thankful to know you and love you. 🥰

Director’s Cut Below, because we all know I love talking about this series, and yes, that does extend to why I picked these songs. (And also maybe because these song choices only make sense in my brain and hopefully Savannah’s?? Who knows! Feel free to ask questions if you want but let’s be honest this series and fanmix are most importantly for us, because we love the series so dang much.)

My Wildest Dreams by Ron Pope

I spoke in riddles and in rhymes, but my time with you has taught me to simplify, you’re not quite what I pictured you would be, you’re better than my wildest dreams.

We’ve talked about this one before, and I’LL TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN!!!! Ron Pope is so good imo, and this song wowowow the father-child feels, but especially with Tony and newborn Peter a la A Foreign Feeling and A First Time For Everything.

Big & Scared by Raleigh Ritchie

I want to be better for you, let me do that now, you’re my favorite human, so you should be prepared, I’ll help you get through it, when you’re big and scared

We’ve mentioned Tony’s thoughts about legacy multiple times by now, and I think this song really represents Tony looking forward to the person Peter could be become and that “breaking the cycle” mentality of supporting Peter even when he’s not a perfect father.

Legacy of Sadness by Ron Pope

irrational as it may seem I guess I’m sorry, even though I know that none of it’s my fault, it is easier for me to count my blessings, than to cry for every single thing we’ve lost

I have 0 shame putting these two songs by Ron Pope almost back to back because they’re the opening and closing of an album dedicated to his child like...it’s so perfect for Tony and this theme of reflection on who he is and who Peter will become/is becoming and all that entails.

this is me trying by Taylor Swift

They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential, and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that

I wrote something...very sad but also soft recently??? and this is for That it’s about pre-CW Pepperony being separated and the road to them trying to come back together including Tony working on himself and I love it!!! It hurts really good!!! This whole song is perfect for it and I can’t wait until people get to read it.

Be Good When I’m Gone by Four Year Strong

I'm sorry I can't stop to listen, but I've got so much to do and I've got some place to be, the house looks like the aftermath of a hurricane, I hope it stays that way

Tony being a busy parent but doing his best to make time for Peter in his life and making that time count has been something super important to illustrate to us, especially the transition from being a CEO to being a superhero and how that changes how Peter sees Tony’s absence over time.

I Won’t Back Down by Johnnyswim, Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors, and Penny and Sparrow

Tony puts on the original version by Tom Petty in Home Is Where The Heart Is, but I think this cover has a very slow, emotional undertone that’s really great too. The interludes, if you didn’t catch it, have all been featured in a fic previously.

Let It Matter by Johnnyswim

So if it matters let it matter, if your heart's breaking let it ache, catch those pieces as they scatter, know your hurt is not in vain

Pepper in Never Tell Me The Odds ALL DAYYYYY. She’s the emotional rock of that fic (and of our Ironfam TBH) and it’s all because she allows herself to feel her feelings and encourages the Stark boys to do so as well.

Simmer - Acoustic by Hayley Williams

And if my child, needed protection, from a fucker like that man, I’d sooner gut him, cause nothing cuts like a mother

Post-Home Is Where The Heart Is...y’all know Pepper’s not that mad about what happened to Obie. Also just Pepper when someone hurts her family?? I always write it as her sort of putting all of her emotion into something she can control and doing it well, so, this song is all about that.

Tightrope by Nia Hendricks

one step after another, keep holding on to each other, don’t look back, move on and let go, that’s how you walk on a tightrope

Pepperony trying to navigate their relationship and the insanity of superhero stuff and also co-parenting. It’s all excellent, I love them so much, I enjoy writing it so much!!!!

Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan

Never got the chance, to say a last goodbye, I gotta move on, but it hurts to try, how do I love, how do I love again?

This song is tilted towards romance, but if you’ll remember, we’re a Pro-Tony Survives Endgame AU series, so it’s not about THAT...but well...Infinity War sure will hit something fierce for certain non-romantic relationships in this series, huh?

The Bones by Maren Morris

Call it dumb luck, but baby, you and I, can't even mess it up, although we both try, no, it don't always go the way we planned it, but the wolves came and went and we're still standing

Post-Endgame Ironfam!!! Tony and Pepper married with their kids, their family and HAPPY...THIS IS WHY WE DO ALL OF THE ANGST...FOR A FAMILY...WE LOVE THEM

Carry on Wayward Son by Kansas

Considered Pepper and Peter’s ‘song’, as it’s referenced multiple times in the series, and was one of the bigger solidifying moments of their mother-son relationship as a whole.

Mundane by Hardcastle

And I’ve been sinking into silence, dwelling on my thoughts, and in these months, I haven’t felt that most conversations have left me anything but blue

Peter’s selective mutism was something very special to us when we originally had the idea, and making sure we talk about it and utilize it in the right way is something we’re still working on, particularly with the Therapy Fic we’re brainstorming atm.

survivin’ (One Eyed Jack’s Session) by Bastille

What can I say? I'm survivin', crawling out these sheets to see another day, what can I say? I'm survivin', and I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I think I'll be fine

Spoiler Alert: Peter’s not fine, like, a decent amount of the time. But he’s sure trying, and we love him for that.

Jacob from the Bible by Jake Wesley Rogers

Mama, don't worry, it took me years, to say I'm sorry, to see your tears, Mama, forgive me, I grew up too fast, but it's not on you, it's in the past

Mostly part of Peter growing up to become a hero and realizing what his parents--particularly Pepper--have gone through for him to become the person he is today, but that sometimes he still doesn’t feel like he’s making them proud enough.

Compassion Is a German Word by To Kill A King

Don't be so arrogant, you ain't no different to anyone I've met, we're all the heroes in our own film, or maybe the villain in someone else's

Spider-Man being an excellent superhero boi!!! Being kind and good!!! We love it!! Also, I put a TKAK song on...a LOT of my playlists, because I think they’re great.

brutal by Olivia Rodrigo

And I'm so sick of seventeen, where's my fucking teenage dream?, if someone tells me one more time, "Enjoy your youth", I'm gonna cry

I mean...this song is such a Teenage Mood...I had to do it...

In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning by Frank Sinatra

So, I had this cute little scene in my head that went with this song for SO LONG but there wasn’t really anything for it to fit into so...yeah that’s part 2 of Savannah’s Birthday Gift, a little soft Baby Peter drabble. Fluffy Goop from top to bottom. That can be read here.

Home by Phillip Phillips

Just know you're not alone, 'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home

...I know it’s not original, okay? It’s found family, it’s great, I don’t care!

Comes and Goes (In Waves) by Greg Laswell

And this part was for her, and this part was for her, this part was for her, does she remember?

This song is good family angst in general BUT these specific lyrics made me think of Mary and that they never forget her in their lives despite the other stuff going on (because we refuse to let them).

I Have Made Mistakes by The Oh Hellos

I have made mistakes, I continue to make them, the promises I've made, I continue to break them, and all the doubts I've faced, I continue to face them, but nothing is a waste if you learn from it

No one in the Ironfam is perfect, but they all do their best to try and grow even when they’re scared they’ll never be able to. The ups and downs are all par for the course of this series to us.

Easy Days - Demo by Bastille

Cause I don’t wanna fall back again, back into the easy days, everything was so simple then, little fires burned away

Strife is a part of life, and the family in this fic growing through their loss and struggles and moving ahead as a unit to get to a better place is super central to making the fic what it is...but it’s easy for them to remember the old days before being superheroes and wishing it was simple again.

North by Sleeping At Last

Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind, let our hearts like doors open wide, open wide, settle our bones like wood over time, over time, give us bread, give us salt, give us wine

The way Tony went from feeling so alone to having an entire built family that’s so full of love and everything he never dreamed of...*screams into my pillow* I love this series so much thank you and good night!!!

#made of iron born of fire #irondad #ironfam #fanmix #savvysass #this series just makes me burst with content i can't describe it #also doing the graphics was a fun experiment!!!#mine #mine: marvel

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troop-scoop · 4 years

Text

Youth III

Chapter Three - Brawford

Word count: 2.3k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )

Chapter Summary: Some semblance of trust with Jonathan is built. Steve shows what you’d consider his ‘good side’ and you remember things from your early childhood and before you ended up in 1983.

⟛⟛

“Where do you need to be dropped off?” Jonathan questioned quietly, turning down the music on the radio. The rain had let up a half-hour ago, and the sign welcoming drivers into Hawkins had been passed five minutes ago.

“Oh, the um – the motel. . . on Brawford.” You answered just as quietly. It was beginning to get dark. It always got dark quicker in the fall. You forgot why, but it always added to the feeling of fall. Dark orange sunsets and pink sunrises, leaves falling onto the concrete pavement for little kids to jump on while walking to school. At least that’s what you were reminded of in the early days of November.

But November always made your dad anxious when you were growing up. He’d always be tense throughout the first part of the month like he was ready for something bad to happen that he could focus all his attention on. But now, maybe you were actually beginning to understand why he got so uptight. Now that you thought about it, he really began to get nervous in late October as well, and in July was when he’d take a week or so off of work completely. Those were the days that worried you. He’d be held up in his office going through old things of his that he kept hidden away in the closet until that time of year.

November made sense to you now. But October and early July? Those were odd.

“The motel? Like, Linda’s motel? The lady who’s daughter used to babysit me?”

“Well, the owner is named Linda, I didn’t know her daughter used to babysit you.” You responded, shifting in your seat to cross your legs and bring your arms to tighten around yourself. “But yeah. You know, the only motel in Hawkins.”

Jonathan nodded, taking a right turn onto an unmarked street. But it was the way to the motel, you knew that.

“You’re emancipated, right? That’s the word around school.” The attempt at small talk was genuine, and it was obvious by how he gave you a quick glance before looking back to the road.

“Yeah.” Was your only answer. You didn’t know how to elaborate on that. You didn’t have papers. Just a load of cash you’d saved for over a year from doing chores, random bets with friends that you’d won. It allowed you to pay for a room and cheap food. But Linda had offered to let you stay there for free if you helped her around the motel. You’d agreed. So you washed sheets, made sure appliances were still working in rooms, cleaned rooms when people checked out, and went about their business.

The motel came into view when Jonathan turned onto Brawford, and the first thing you’d noticed was the red BMW parked near the front office, with a familiar brunette leaning against the trunk of the car. There was only one person in all of Hawkins you knew who had such an expensive car.

“Harrington knows you’re staying here?” Jonathan asked, pulling into the parking lot and into a spot a few spaces away from Steve’s car.

“I never told him.” You responded, reaching into the backseat, grabbing his shoulder bag, and pulling it into your lap. Counting out the number of posters, you took half of the stack and a random pen from the bag. Tearing off a corner from a poster you wrote down the number for your motel room and handed it to him. “If you need help with anything, call me. I’m serious.”

Jonathan nodded, taking the small piece of paper as you got out of the car. The sound of distant cars driving by against the set street could be heard, as well as drops of water sliding off the roof of the motel and hitting the metal railing. You looked at Steve, hearing Jonathan drive out of the parking lot and down the street.

“I wouldn’t expect to see you here, Your Majesty.”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes at your greeting. He crossed his arms over his chest, which is when you noticed the thin black notebook, with red ink scratched into it. He saw you look at the notebook and he held it out to you.

Holding the stack of posters close to your chest with one hand, you reached out and took the notebook from him with the other. “Mr. Swann told me, to tell you, to stop writing in red pen.” You chuckled a bit at his comment, placing the posters on top of the notebook and holding it close.

Steve gave you a questioning look before reaching his hand back out, his index finger hooking onto the notebook and pulling it to be parallel with the ground so he could see the posters. “You’re helping Jonathan? I thought that was about your project?”

Sighing, you pulled the notebook back. “His brother’s missing, Steven.” At the sound of his full first name, Steve shifted uncomfortably. “No one at school is in his corner, right now. Sure, people are volunteering, and the cops are trying to help, but no one at school is actually trying to support him. Besides, Will needs to come home.”

“He’s a bit odd. I’ve known him since preschool, I just-”

“He has issues opening up. That’s it. I’m sure having people think you’re odd since preschool doesn’t really help.” Steve sighed at that, looking down at the ground, kicking the ground with his foot, almost gently. “You know, if you went missing, I’d help try to find you.”

At that, the two of you seemed to switch demeanors, with him looking up at you and you turn your attention to the wet ground. “Begrudgingly.” You added quickly, getting a laugh from him.

“Well. . . It’s something, I guess. Not as rude as I thought.” He joked, moving to open the trunk of his car. Looking up you watched as he pulled out a plastic bag, and hold it out to you.

“If you put anthrax in there-”

“Y/n, are you serious? Where would I get drugs?”

“I mean, I’ve heard you talk about weed before.” You responded, taking the bag from him. Holding the notebook and posters between your upper arm and ribs as you held open the bag and reached in for something that was in plastic packaging. Turning it in the bag to see the Sony logo. A metallic, pink, rectangular device in the packaging. “A walkman?”

“Yeah, I figured you’d like one. Everyone else seems to have one, except for you.”

“What’s the catch?” You asked, tilting your head.

Steve shook his head, placing his hand over his chest in fake offense. “Catch? What, I can’t buy something nice for a friend?”

“Oh, so we’re friends?” You asked, a smile creeping onto your face. “I already owe you like five bucks for lunch last week, it’s starting to feel like you're trying to collect as many favors that you can cash in whenever you want.”

Steve shook his head again. “No. I had to go to Radioshack for my mom, I saw the Walkman and thought you’d like one.”

Nodding in response you grabbed a plastic case, the cover for a familiar album. “AC/DC? You bought me cassettes?” You hadn’t had anything to listen to music on for a while. Sure M.TV was available in your motel room, but the speaker was fuzzy and sometimes cut out during the best parts of a song.

“You don’t really strike me as Rick Springfield kind of person.” He shrugged. “You seem more like a rock kind of person.”

“Hey, Jessie’s Girl is gonna be a classic, just you wait and see. You’ll be begging your future kids to stop playing it.” You responded. “But. . . yeah. I get it from my dad. Queen, The Smiths, The Clash.”

The two of you stayed quiet for a second as you looked into the bag again, seeing a few more protective cases for cassettes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come over? Carol’s been up my ass all day about trying to get you to come, and from what I’ve noticed, you don’t hang out with people outside of school.” The concern that was mixed into his voice was subtle, but you noticed it, and you’d lying if you said you didn’t appreciate his concern. He cared about people. While a lot of people wouldn’t see Steve Harrington as the type, you knew he was. He was just so wrapped up with Carol and Tommy that he didn’t take the time to realize he treated others.

“I’m sure. Parties aren’t really my thing, even with only a few people. Three’s a crowd, ya’ know.”

Steve gave an understanding nod. “Right. . . Enjoy your music, by the way, asshole.”

“Enjoy your party, douchebag.”

⟛⟛

The smell of coffee, cinnamon, and fresh baked goods surrounded the coffee shop as you held onto your little brother’s hand. The two-year-old little boy had just started to walk outside of the home, though he still insisted on holding someone’s hand. Considering you were the closest to his height, he usually went for you.

Waiting by the counter with your dads for your drinks allowed your gaze to wander. The warmth that the shop usually offered seemed to fade, and be replaced by a cool air that surrounded you and as that happened you saw a young woman with a child around your brother’s age. She wore a pale pink sleeveless shirt tucked into a flared skirt. Her hair was neatly done and put up, and her jewelry was sparkling around her neck and wrist. A single silver ring with a diamond on her left ring finger.

The woman looked directly at you, readjusting her grip on the infant she was holding and giving you a warm smile as she walked towards the counter.

Looking up to your dads to see if they had noticed her as well, you saw they were talking to each other, and when you looked back over to where she had been, the warmth of the coffee shop came back and the woman was gone, as well as the child.

⟛⟛

“Torrey-”

“Oh hush, James.” Torrey held her finger up to James’ mouth, he stepped back a bit, grabbing onto Olivia’s shoulder as the older girl moved to her bed, reaching under and grabbing a bag from underneath. “We’re going on an adventure. Buddy up, losers.”

Looking over to your left you saw Daniel looking at Torrey with a skeptical look, sitting on the arm of the rundown couch in the motel room. His brown hair unbrushed and sticking up in random directions. The imprint of the seam of his pillow in his cheek from when he was sleeping. You already felt bad enough that you had to wake them up because Torrey was on some sort of sugar rush.

“This is a terrible idea,” Olivia grumbled, pulling on her vans and hoodie. “Dad’s gonna kill us.” She added, speaking mostly to Derek. James, Derek, Issac, and Olivia were all siblings. With Olivia being the only girl in the family and probably the second most reasonable out of her siblings. James was first in that regard.

“What? You think mine won’t kill us?” Torrey asked, gesturing to her two younger siblings, Sarah and Howard. “They’ll be fine,” Torrey added, gesturing to you and Daniel. “Uncle Will is always nervous to even take something away from them. Especially, Y/n. She’s daddy’s little girl.”

“Shut up, Torrey!” you told her, grabbing your jacket from the armchair. “I am not ‘daddy’s little girl’ I do what I want!”

“Oh yeah? Then don’t chicken out, we’re gonna go to the liquor store. I’ll buy you guys some drinks, just not actual liquor. I’m not gonna be responsible for Uncle Will’s little girl getting blackout drunk.”

“You know how Will is with her, he’ll lose his shit if he knows she even left for the vending machine!” James defended you.

“No, I’ll come! I can keep a secret.” You responded, looking up at your oldest cousin, even in the dim lighting with only the lamp on Torrey’s nightstand on, you could tell that her dark brown eyes were narrowed in doubt. “You know, for someone who’s in college and engaged, you’re a terrible influence.” You told her.

“Believe me, I know. Buddy up!”

Sighing, you looked over to Daniel who had gotten his shoes and jacket on as well and was already walking over, taking your hand as Torrey went over to the door, unlocking it and looking both ways down the walkway, before turning to look at the rest of you who had already grabbed someone’s hand. She held her finger up to her lips letting out a ‘shhh’ before slipping out of the door, with Derek and Sarah following right after, then James and Olivia, You and Daniel, then Howard and Issac following right after. On your way out, you noticed a small dent in the wall, like when you missed the nail and the hammer hit the wall instead. It had clearly been painted over, but it was there.

Issac closed the door with a quiet click just as you had all reached the stairs, quietly stepping down the stairs and down into the parking lot.

Your cousins didn’t seem to notice, but you had, the front office was lit up, the floor to ceiling windows allowing you to notice the old woman, likely in her 80’s looking at all of you, but making eye contact with you. She looked as though she’d seen a ghost.

The owner of the motel came out from the backroom, going to the old woman and taking her away from the windows. The younger woman was still older, but she looked at you all as well and froze.

You knew staring was considered rude, but you couldn’t help but stare. Both women seemed as though they’d seen something unbelievable. You only looked away when you were so far away that you couldn’t see them anymore.

⟛⟛

Add yourself to the taglist!

@stonersteve @ilovebucketbarnes @stevexscoops @leximills666 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers

#steve x reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction

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byorder-fanfic · 4 years

Text

The Mechanical Dragon

Summary: Marion Qing was born with a spanner with her hand, and Arthur Shelby was born with a paintbrush in his. The two spend their youth in Charlie’s Yard, with Peaky caps proud on their heads. But what happens when war tears their lives apart?

Word count: 2499

Warnings: Mentions of racism, war, amputation, mental health

Author’s Note: This is an idea I’ve had for a while, and I hope I did alright. I have lots of Peaky Blinders OC one shots like this in my drafts, so look forward for some more! If I've said anything incorrect or offensive, please correct me. Hope you enjoy xx

Marion Qing was practically born with a spanner in her balled up fist. That's what her mother always proudly said to her friends, as they all watched the toddler graduate from jigsaw puzzles to pulling apart a clock that'd stopped ticking. Ever since she could walk, she had always trotted to where sparks flew and fires burnt as blacksmiths laboured over steel benches. Ever since she could talk, she had asked question after question about the hows and whys the mechanics worked. That was how she met the Shelbys. She had found her way through Small Heath to a little Yard that was thick in craftmanship and (although she did not know at the time) stolen bits and pieces she ached to tinker away at. Suffice to say, she had ran as fast as she could when a very surprised Charlie Strong found the ten year old sat on the floor, her grey dress thick in soot as she managed to work out how to fix the gramophone that had been collecting dust. Only, as she turned back to check that she wasn't being followed, she hurtled into the chest of a very surprised teenager, Arthur Shelby Jr, who had been sketching some horses from his Uncle's stables. After explaining her predicament, he had merely laughed and walked her back to Charlie, who was holding up the gramophone with an agape mouth that turned into a coy grin when he saw the girl slowly make her way back, holding hands with his eldest nephew.

"So, how'd you like a job?" He said. Although he'd deny it every time Arthur brought it up, the grumpy man managed the smallest ghost of a smile when Marion laughed and hugged him with her thin arms.

The rest is, as they say, history. Arthur had introduced her to the rest of his family, who had been more than welcoming to her. She and Tommy were the same age, and she was the best mentor for Ada, teaching the girl how to win fights against her brothers. Polly had been sceptical at first of the small girl with a loud voice and a joking personality to rival John's, but then Marion brought her a rose twisted from metal sheets she'd found, and her heart was taken with the little girl. The Shelbys had been her top defenders, fighting boys that made lewd comments and threatening to cut off the eyes from anyone who pulled their eyelids in a taunting manner. In response, she'd break the noses of anyone who threw slurs at the brothers and nearly killed one boy who'd gotten too handsy with Ada before the rest of them could lift a finger. Marion grew up like the boys, her skinny frame filling out into lean muscle and strong arms that proved she could fend for herself. She was a part of the Shelby siblings hand me down clothes cycle, always getting Arthur's old shirts and slacks that she'd have to cuff a dozen times to fit. She was permanently covered in oil and grease, which Tommy used as an excuse to avoid her plentiful hugs. Arthur, however, didn't care if he was in his Sunday best- he was already ready to drop whatever he was doing to hold the girl in his arms, coming away with second-hand stains and a big smile. When they joined the Peaky Blinders and rose their way to the top ranks, Marion had her very own razor blade cap that John had sewn for her (a little bit of his blood dried in the seams- he had nimble fingers, but it was a tricky project) as she paraded around Small Heath, safe and happy. Charlie was practically a father to her, since hers had died long ago, teaching her everything he knew and watching her learn things herself. As he got older, he'd just sit back and watch as Arthur and Marion slid under rusting cars, laughing along to their jokes and teasing that always occurred between the three musketeers of mechanics. When his sister died, Marion made him his very own frame with a black and white photo of the late Rose Shelby in. It was before the plague of Arthur Shelby Sr settled in her eyes, like death in the baby blue irises. She was shaking as she gave it to him, the only time she had, and ever will shake. She had been expecting a nonchalant reply or a little gruff huff, but he took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, whispering a soft 'thank you' in her ear.

When the boys went to war, she worked in the factory, building munitions for them to fight with. When she wasn't working, she was at Charlie's Yard to help out with the odd bit of work, and distract herself from missing the laughs of the Shelby brothers. She helped teach Finn to write when Polly was busy with business and Ada was off organising Communist meetings, and had helped him write many letters to be sent off to France. Sometimes, she'd help Martha with the kids, but she was never any good at babysitting. Rather, she fixed cribs and built a cot mobile for baby Katie. It was the second year after they'd left when the accident happened. Well, the factory called it an accident, but Marion knew it was a product of purposeful neglect and tight funds. As a particularly experience blacksmith, she'd been given the more technical work of building bombs and other explosives. One faulty piece of machinery, probably taken from Charlie instead of properly bought from a proper shop, and the trigger was set off. Thankfully, she had thrown it before she ended up all over the walls. Unthankfully, the explosion had blown her very heavy table (that was supposed to be secured onto the floor) into her. She'd trapped her leg, shrieking so the whole of Small Heath could hear. They'd had to amputate. It wasn't too bad, though. With a little bit of wood and nails, Marion had fashioned her own prosthetic. As a woman, she was used to strapping her stockings up, so, with a piece of leather, she managed to attach the limb to a sturdy garter to keep it on. She didn't go back to the factory, which had received an earful of complaints from every Shelby woman, and a lot of strong words from a red faced Finn and a morally supportive Isaiah Jesus nodding in the background. Instead, she stayed at the betting shop, doing errands where she could and fixing horse shoes and the like.

When the boys came back, they were in for a shock. Not only was little Finn taller than they remembered and Polly wasn't drinking so much, but their Marion had lost a bloody leg!

"Why didn't you tell us?" Arthur demanded as soon as he put her back on the ground. He'd picked her up and swung her about as soon as he saw her, before he realised there was a limp block where her leg should be.

"Wanted to see your face," she shrugged nonchalantly as John less-than-subtlety gawked at it, earning a nudge in the ribs from Martha. "I'm glad I did- it's a fuckin' picture, mate!"

The rest of the boys sent off to France had a similar reaction. It was the funniest thing she had ever seen when thirteen year old Isaiah and ten year old Finn were reprimanding fully grown blokes from staring at her. They'd both been there as she whittled the wood, offering to help at every single moment. It annoyed Polly endlessly, wondering why all the enthusiasm couldn't be devoted for doing errands for the betting shop. It was all false complaints, as the boys were doing something other than worrying for the next letter, and learning some useful skills, like woodwork. The boys also helped her with her surplus of jokes on the matter.

"How'd it happen?" Danny had asked the first night back, as they all sat in the Garrison, Freddie and Tommy in the middle of some sort of dispute the rest were attempting to politely ignore.

"Ah, well, it's a tragic story." She said it loudly and theatrically, clutching her chest. She no longer wore Arthur's hand-me-downs, opting for her own softer shirts that smelt fresh and new, until she spilled whiskey and petrol on it. Isaiah and Finn gave each other knowing looks. God knows how the boys managed to convince Polly and Jeremiah to let them come along. But, with two glasses of tap water and an understandable amount of clinginess to their family who had left for years, they were hardly in any trouble.

"She barely survived," Isaiah echoed as he attempted to get even closer under his father's arm (if that was even possible), who was watching him fondly.

"She's a true hero!" Finn raised his glass like he'd seen his brothers do plenty of times before, earning a scoff and affectionate hair ruffle from Tommy, as Arthur sat back in his seat, waiting to hear more. John wasn't there, instead he was spending his first night home with Martha and the kids. He was happy to be back and more than happy to babysit every day, especially with Martha feeling under the weather recently.

"Well?" Freddie asked, resting his elbow on the back of his chair.

"It was 1916," she said solemnly. Polly and Ada shared a roll of their eyes, going unnoticed by the boys. "Business was hard, me and my ma didn't have enough money for the flat." She let her face go blank, silently praying Finn could keep his giggles in for a second longer. "So I had to get money another way."

"You sold your leg?" Tommy sounded astonished, his wide eyes believing the lie she was feeding him. Then everyone started laughing, and he rolled his eyes.

"Nah," she grinned against the rim of her glass, as the rest of them shared snicker and a sigh and cocked their eyebrows at it. "Factory had faulty parts whilst I was building some explosives, it knocked a bench onto my leg and crushed it."

"Fuck," Danny whispered, looking at her with wide eyes. The rest of them looked at her sympathetically, a look she didn't enjoy.

"Oh well," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Guess I can join you idiots with one foot in the grave, hey?"

The Garrison was filled with laughter, Arthur bringing one arm around her as his booming voice carried through the room. They spent the rest of the night celebrating, instead of wallowing, something they were all thankful for.

Arthur was fascinated by it, always asking if it hurt or how did she make the joints move so well. Marion wasn't too bothered, happy to give him a distraction from his 'Flanders blues'. He was the only one she told about the phantom pains, and he confided in her about the nightmares, each holding on to the other in their struggles, each trying to help the other. When she asked him to paint it for her, he gave her the sweetest, wide-eyed look of astonishment that made her giggle.

"Are you sure?" He repeated that about a thousand times, more so when he actually set out the acrylics he got when he was younger.

"Yes, I'm sure," she'd always reply, with a roll of her eyes. The final result was beautiful. When Arthur had dragged her away from Charlie's Yard (cautious of the walking stick she'd been using whilst her leg was temporarily out of use), she felt excitement course through her, heart beating faster as she stumbled up the stairs to Arthur's little room. He'd sat her on the bed, leaving the stick on the floor as he turned around to show it off. She'd expected horses, as that was always the thing he'd draw the most. Instead, she saw red. From the ankle to the thigh, a scaly, scarlet creature coiled around the wood, intricately and painstakingly painted in a familiar fashion.

"A Chinese dragon?" Her voice was breathless. She'd grown up isolated from her culture, just like how the Shelby family had lost their Romani roots when their father forced them to settle. There were many Chinese families around Small Heath though, who spoke in Cantonese and Mandarin that she longed to understand, and wore pretty patterns that she envied. She'd told Arthur all this when they both got pissed on her eighteenth birthday, just a bit before Finn was born. That was the first time they'd kissed...and did other things, although they'd never spoken of it since she woke up alone.

"Yeah, I remember, y'know, that night..." he sounded unsure, eyes darting everywhere but in her eyes, hands twisting his cap together. "And, well, I thought it'd look pretty. So, I went to the suit shop, and asked for a pattern to copy. I wanted to make sure it wasn't...y'know, uh, offensive or nothin', but if it is, I can go over and try somethin' else, or-"

She cut off his blabbering with a rough kiss, teeth clattering and her giggles as his moustache tickled her. He hadn't had that at twenty one, but it wasn't an unwelcome addition. Her newly painted prosthetic sat between them on his bed, digging against her right knee as Arthur tried to pull her closer in his eager kiss. Thy broke apart, him blushing and her smiling. With an arched eyebrow, she pulled up her skirt (she didn't wear them a lot, but it made the process easier when she did), revealing to Arthur her knickers and the garter belt she'd fashioned after a few lessons from Polly, below the straps was the scarred stump, ending a few inches above where her knee once was. She noticed his wide eyes with a little bit of newfound shyness as she slipped the cushioned end around her scars, clasping the leather straps onto the belt with a few clicks.

"That's fuckin' amazing," Arthur whispered as she looked up at him. He started to blush again. "Listen, Mari, I...I want you to know that, when we were eighteen, right, and I...when we...well, I shouldn't have left ya." He sighed, looking down to his empty hands. His cap had fallen to their floor once his attention was diverted elsewhere, and he was attempting to replicate the twist of material with his rough hands. "I loved ya then. I love ya now. I just didn't know, still don't...how I'm supposed to be good enough for ya."

"You know," she said, admiring the dragon that flew up under her skirt (she was certain Finn and Isaiah were going to awe at the painting). "Just don't leave again, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, pulling her onto his lap (successfully, this time) as he kissed her again, making a silent promise to himself that he'd never let go.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders oc #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x oc #john shelby #tommy shelby #isaiah jesus #finn shelby #charlie strong #polly gray #ada shelby #freddie thorne #danny whiz bang #jeremiah jesus #martha shelby

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zankivich · 5 years

Text

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 17

a/n: this is it y’all. And what a ride it’s been. With all the shit in the world, and the shit that’s gone down in the fandom, I wish we had a shawn like this. but alas all we have is fiction and this is the best way I could think to end it, so I hope you enjoy. That’s all folks. Peace.

*six months later*

Breaking News: Shawn Mendes has topped the Billboard 100 for his fourth week in a row with his hit single Fallin’ All In You. The pop star crashed onto the scene with the powerful ‘Youth’ co-written with his friend and fellow artist Khalid, and he hasn’t left us hanging yet! Is this the start of a new force to be reckoned with in the pop world or just a flash in the pan?

And we’re back with E! News. Shawn Mendes has stolen all of our hearts and it looks like he’s not willing to give them back. Here he is on the cover of GQ looking absolutely dashing as always. But the pop singer is not just here for his looks, it appears he’s a bit of a romantic as well. In the recent interview he chatted about his latest record, the potential grammy nominations, and...his girlfriend?!

Shawn Mendes is the biggest thing in pop music this year. Here he is walking the red carpet at the vma’s after taking home five awards from the night. And perhaps more stunning than the leading man himself was his girlfriend in tow, top artist manager in the game right now, y/f/n y/l/n. The two were quite the pair at the show and insiders say they couldn’t get enough of each other. Sorry ladies, this one’s taken!

Uh oh! Looks like there’s some drama in the world of Shawn Mendes. The young artist was seen leaving his attorney’s office in LA after being slammed with a law suite from none other than his father, the legendary Manny Mendes of Mendes Industry. Manny Mendes claims that Shawn was under contractual obligation not to release or perform any music and that the star may have actually breached his contract prior to signing to Atlantic records!

Popstar Shawn Mendes was recently spotted out in New York with his beautiful girlfriend, y/f/n y/l/n. The two were seen holding hands at a coffee shop and taking a stroll to a bookstore. It seems even celebrities still read books my friends! Y/n made news when she became the first ever manager to win Manager of the Year at Billboard’s Women in Music while simultaneously having one of her artists, Ariana Grande, take home the Woman of the Year prize. It seems the two are a power couple far on their way to dominate the music industry. I for one can’t wait to see what they do next.

*y/n’s point of view*

Sometimes you wake up from a really good dream. And you can’t remember what you dreamed about, can’t remember anything that happened, but all you get is this really pleasant feeling in your bones. This was one of those mornings. You woke up and your back cracked as you stretched and you curled your toes and groaned quietly. The sun was streaming through the windows. Your sheets were all comfy. And you opened your eyes to what? Your boyfriend looking at you like a total creeper.

You immediately groaned and rolled over away from him.

“Why are you staring at me, weirdo?”

“Well good morning to you too, love of my life. I’m feeling great, by the way.”

You giggled and rolled back over to find yourself in his arms. He pressed his lips to your forehead and settled his weight against you. The warmth was unlike anything you could experience elsewhere.

“What time did you get in?” You whispered.

His palm cupped your cheek, eyes bright and adorable.

“A little after three. Didn’t wanna wake you. I missed you.” He mumbled.

“I missed you too. They keep taking you away from me for longer and longer periods of time huh?”

He nodded softly. “Yea, unfortunately. Andrew thinks the world tour is gonna sell out though. They’re...they’re talking about adding dates, babe. I have a huge fanbase in the philippines...The philippines, y/n?! Me!”

God he was cute when he got excited. And Shawn was pretty much always excited when it came to music. The kid must be a dream to manage.

“I’m so very happy for you.” You chuckled. “Something tells me you’re gonna love it out there”

“You think?” He sighed. “I guess I just...I’m gonna miss you. Like crazy.”

“Me too.”

“Will you come visit me?” He asked pushing his way between your legs. “In LA?”

You snorted and wrapped your legs and arms around him.

“Of course.”

“Yea? How about in Paris?”

His lips touched your ear and you bit your lip.

“Mhm.”

“Brazil?”

“Yea.”

“Hmm...will you be my good girl? Let me take care of you?”

Your thighs tightened.

“I don’t know. I can be very bad when I’m abroad.”

He pulled back to stare at you, eyes less soft and fluffy and more hard and dominant. His curls were everywhere, even going so far as to tickle your nose. How could someone so fluffy be such a dom? It was astounding.

“How bad?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Why don’t you flip me over and I’ll show you?”

“Good god, I love you woman.”

You laughed into the sheets as he threw your body around like a rag doll. It was certainly good to be home.

“Everytime I’m away for a long time are you gonna make me remind you who you belong to?” He hummed against the dip in your back. “Who gets to make you feel good?”

You sighed noisily. “If I can help it.”

His hands on your body are like tidal waves. You never get used to it. Can never catch your breath to prepare for the next thrashing hold, the next grip, the next slap. The sun raises steadily into your bedroom, but neither of you notice. He’s too busy undressing you, touching you, making you beg. In the grand scheme of things, if he was going to be away for so long, the least the could do was throw your back out upon arrival home.

“Can I try somethin’?” He whispered kisses trailing up your tummy and between your breasts.

Your toes curled against his calves. You had to hold back a moan.

“What is it?”

“Well...I’d need to tie you down first.” He explained. “And then, as much as I love these beautiful eyes of yours I’d like to cover them for a little while. I thought about gagging your mouth on the plane ride home, but I think I wanna hear you cry out for me. How does that sound?”

It was a Tuesday morning. If you’d even bothered to look at the clock you would know it was eight thirty in the morning and you were due in the office soon. Meanwhile Shawn had spent his time planning out a whole ass elaborate sex dream. What was one to do?

“Go get the blind fold. Hurry.”

The dom/sub relationship continued to be one of the greatest sources of pleasure and relief in your life. There’s something about the way he kisses your ankle when he straps it to the bed. The way he checks that you’re okay when your legs are spread wide. The more vulnerable you became with each other, the more open that you were the more that you let yourself fall into these moments. Bare and naked on the bed. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to act shy. You were on full display for him, just as he was for you. And he was in charge of your pleasure, a power that was not to be taken lightly. The good news was he knew exactly what to do with it.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“And the ropes? Do they hurt at all?”

“No, Sir.”

Without your eyes, your senses began to alter. You could sort of feel the air in the room differently. Your nipples hardened and your teeth sunk into your lip. He was watching you and you could feel it.

“What are you doing?” You murmured.

His voice came from lower, maybe between your legs at the bottom of the bed.

“Just looking. Appreciating.” He answered. “You’re beautiful baby.”

On the other side of the blind fold, Shawn was doing just that. He tilted his head back and sighed as he cupped himself firmly in his hand. While you were practically throbbing spread open for him to see, he was quite literally throbbing for you.

A groan entered the air, ending the silence.

“I missed you so much. You have no idea how much I thought about you while I was away.”

His fingers trailed up your leg and across your thigh causings your lips to part.

“S--Shawn.”

“How much I missed being inside you. Hearing you cry out for me. Are you gonna let me hear you, y/n?”

“Yes. Yes, just please touch me.”

He chuckled. “You get so impatient when I’m away.”

You sighed and pushed your hips gently towards the ceiling.

“Cause I miss what’s mine….I need it.”

You felt the bed move before you felt his presence over your body. And yet you knew the second that he was hovering over you because of the feel of his dick against your stomach. His nose skimmed your ear and you practically melted before him.

“Yours eh? You need it?”

You nodded shakily. “Please, sir? I need it so so bad.”

He sighed, long and breathy, and you could tell he wanted it just as badly as you did. You licked your lips in anticipation for it. Fuck.

“The things you do to me…Not yet. I’ve got plans for you baby girl.”

If only you knew. If only.

The buzz of it comes out of nowhere it feels like. There’s just silence. Your breathing, and the dips of the bed as he moves and nothing else. And then out of nowhere it comes buzzing. Your lips part instinctually, your body knowing something that your mind hasn’t even caught onto yet. The first time he touches it against your clit drives you wild, and before you know it the whole world sets ablaze.

“Unnnngh. Fuck.” You whimpered.

He hummed. “I got you something while I was away. What do you think?”

He’s an expert at playing you like his favorite instrument. The toy presses firmly to your clit and he rubs up and around so perfectly that you gasp. The fingers on his other hand join the party and suddenly you’re full in more ways then one. And the fact that you can’t see any of it? That there’s nothing but darkness and yet stimulation everywhere? It only heightens it all. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

“So wet for me. Is it because you haven’t been able to get off without me, or is it our new set up?”

You snorted. “I can get off without you just fine Mendes, just not quite this creatively.”

He chuckles and you smile, the ability to move in and out of this scene that the two of you play with one another, feels like all the love and trust that you’d chosen to given to him exclusively.

He finds his way on top of you again. The feeling of his presence and his weight rocking you to our very core. The vibrations don’t let up and your thighs begin to burn from the exertion, but here you are. You can feel the heat of his hard on and the feel of his breath against your clavicle. It’s too much. Your body can’t handle all the different sensations, but Shawn doesn’t seem to care.

His lips latch on to one of your nipples and the result is catastrophic. You burst from within for him. Like a wave crashing against the shore. Inevitable. Euphoric. Your back arches and the restraints dig into your skin as you threatened to bust out of your skin let along the ropes. It’s so powerful that it brings tears to your eyes, and a sob from your very gut.

“Oh my god! Ohmygod ohmygodohmygodohmygod! S--Stop!”

The vibrations disappear just like that. Suddenly your face in his hands and he’s ripping off the blindfold.

“Are you okay?! Did I hurt you?” He cried. “Y/n, speak!”

And then you started to giggle...softly at first and then loud and unabashed. Your knees were pulled awkwardly together against the resistance of the ropes. When Shawn saw that you were okay he rolled his eyes in that way of his. He was so cute and fluffy when he wasn’t making you cum your brains out.

“You’re gonna give a fucking heart attack one of these days you know that?”

You snorted softly and licked at your dry lips.

“Well damn daddy, how you gone tie a sister up and and put a fucking witachi wand to her and be shocked when she cums like she’s being electrocuted? You gotta commit, sir!”

He busted out laughing in that way that made his whole body shake, even his curls. You loved those laughs of his. They were everything to you. He hid is face in your neck. You could feel his laughter against your collarbone. You loved him then, more than anything in the whole world. The love of your life, he was.

It’s not until he pulls back far enough so that you can see his eyes again that the thing that is molten hot in your gut comes back. He is way too fine for his own good.

“How ‘bout I commit to making you cumall over my cock with that wand a few times? And then i thought I could take you to breakfast before work...and perhaps stop in again for a little late lunch?”

You closed your eyes and moaned.

“Put the blind fold back on.”

“Yes ma’am.”

***

There are things called insiders in the industry. It’s nosey, but very well connected people who just tend to know shit. And not like the people who leak to the tabloids, those were like commoners compared to royalty. Industry insiders could make or break a narrative. Which meant, y/n like to keep a few of them in her back pocket. It meant knowing the good shit before anybody, and more importantly...the bad shit so that you could plan and get ahead. Luckily this time it wasn’t news to get ahead of. Just perhaps news to keep a secret.

“Oh no. I know that face. You’re either about to wreck my life, or make my day. Either way one of us is leaving here in tears.” You sighed.

Into your office walked Caroline Graves, music industry insider, and one of your greatest friends though you didn’t see each other much. Caroline usually walked with gusto and poise. Today she was timid and shy, her big wide eyes tantalizing with secrets. She surely had something to share.

She smiled awkwardly. “Hi, babe!”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me. Have a seat.” You snorted.

She nodded and slid smoothly into the seat before you. She was slim and tiny with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was about as white as they came, but she was a feminist to the core and the two of you had vouched for each other for years. Today was no different.

“I have news…” She began.

You chuckled. “Sis, everytime you come in here ya got news. Now what is it?”

“Something is circulating about the grammys.”

This had you sitting up straighter in the seat.

“Yea?”

“The word on the street is...Manny Mendes is trying to get Shawn Mendes barred from a single nomination.”

You bit your lip in anger. “That cold-hearted, Voldemort acting ass bastard. I should have expecto patronum’d his ass when I had the chance.”

She raised her eyebrow at you only for you to shrug.

“My boyfriend likes harry potter. When he’s happy I tend to be happy too. Please go on.”

“Apparently he’s got no grounds for the lawsuit he slapped Shawn with. He’s gonna lose the suit and he knows it, so he’s trying to pay anyone and everyone to change their score cards. Because the other word on the street is...Shawn’s gonna be up for Best New Artist, Album of the Year, Best Collaboration, Record of the Year, and Pop vocal.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry?!”

She nodded. “I was just as surprised. But his debut album hasn’t left the top ten since he released it. He’s got three of the top songs of the year under his belt, and the kid is damn charming. The world loves an underdog, but you know what they love even more? A rich kid who gives it all up to chase his dream.”

“Well...shit. Shit….I mean...Shit.” You mumbled, collapsing back in your seat. “Even I didn’t call that.”

“No one did. I just want you to be aware that if my sources are right, and I’m sure you would know better than most, if Shawn’s lawyers push for the dismissal of the case and for his master’s to be returned? Things might just get a lot messier than he’s prepared for.”

“Dammit. Okay. Well thanks for the heads up. Now tell me what else is going on in this fucked up world?”

***

You heard the most peculiar sound coming from outside your door. It was a whirring sound, the kind of hypnotic machine rumblings that might make one feel nostalgic about your mother cleaning on the weekends. Perhaps it was only peculiar because you weren’t on the other side of the door, and thus to hear the sound didn’t quite make sense.

You slid your key into the door carting your purse and laptop bag into the house. Your confusion quickly came to an end when you found your boyfriend standing on the couch in sweatpants and nothing else as he attempted to vacuum the rug in the living room. In any other sense it was a vision of complete and utter ridiculousness. And yet there was nothing but tenderness in your heart. You leaned against the door with glee watching him with his tongue poised between his lips in concentration. He lifted the cord to the vacuum cleaner way high into the air as he attempted to go under the coffee table. The result was that it knocked the plug out of the wall, shutting the thing off.

“Shit.” He muttered.

A giggle passed your lips alerting Shawn that he was no longer alone. The frustration on his face turned to pure joy at the sight of you, a look that you could never get used to in a million years. He was too soft for his own good, and you loved him endlessly.

“Hey,” He smiled. “Are you spying on me?”

You shook your head, finally setting your stuff down on the kitchen table.

“Not spying...just admiring. The place looks great by the way.”

His smile only grew larger at the praise, and he quickly hopped down off the couch to make his way over to you.

“Really? I’ve been cleaning all day. I wanted it to look nice when you came home.”

His arms came to wrap around you and you quickly wrapped him up in your grasp as well. The warmth of his hold and the love that seemed to radiate from within him was enough to make you melt. And he knew this of course.

“Well it does. It looks amazing.” You hummed.

“Yea? How would you know, you’ve barely looked around. You’re just staring at me.”

“Exactly. And I like what I see.”

“Oh yea?” He asked leaning closer so your noises touched.

“Mhm.”

His lips were soft and heaven like against yours. The entire day seemed to wash away when he touched you. And you still couldn’t fathom how he managed to do that. He pulled back just far enough so that your foreheads could rest against one another and you could peer up into his eyes as he spoke.

“I know work has been really crazy for the both of us with award season. And I know I haven’t been home much--”

You quickly interrupted. “Hey, you do not need to apologize to me for working your ass off. It’s been an incredibly successful year, Shawn. You deserve it.”

“No I know, I know. I’m just saying I can also recognize that for every second I’m out there succeeding, I’m not here. And I just want you to know that I still appreciate you and us and our life that we have here. I want to build and sustain a life with you more than anything. That’s important to me.”

He had those stupid pouty lips and those ridiculous big brown eyes. It was a wonder anyone had ever said no to the bastard ever. You loved him. Oh god did you love him. He probably could get down on one knee and your ass wouldn’t even hesitate. Oh how times had changed for you.

You nodded gently. “Thank you. That means so much to me. Thank you for cleaning the house and for taking care of me. I appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too. I appreciate everything that you do for me and for our apartment and for the world. What do you say I take you out to dinner tonight. Give you the night off from cooking.”

“Hmmm...Can I put on something sexy for the occasion?”

He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Baby, I’d be hurt if you didn’t.”

Changing out of the outfit from a day of stress and anxiety into something that had your man taking pause where he lied on your bed as you got ready was beyond worth it. You’d gone for a silk red dress that hit mid thigh and wrapped around you tightly. It was the kind of dress that made you lean back with your shoulders, that brought the poise and elegance that could only be achieved when you knew you were that bitch. With winter came protective styles and you were more than happy with your high bun that was sleeked to perfection.

“You look so pretty.” He sighed from the bed.

His eyes were big and hesitant when you looked at him from the mirror. It was as if he wanted to touch but knew he needed permission. God what a man.

You bit your lip. “You look kinda pretty too. Come ‘ere.”

Shawn was decked out in a nice pair of slacks, an upgrade to his usual skinny jeans, and dress shoes to match. He knew you preferred them to the chelsea boots so he usually only pulled them out for special occasions. Speaking of things he knew you liked, his dress shirt was a beautiful ocean blue and the buttons were non-existent. Ya man had his tiddies out exactly the way you liked him. But no stress woke friends, your tiddies were out too. Equality.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed the side of your head as you stared at each other through the mirror. The way he pressed himself against your ass was not lost on you, nor was the way you arched your back lost on him.

“Damn we look good.” You snickered.

He grinned. “Baby I don’t mean to toot our own horns but like...we’re fine as fuck.”

“Boy, toot toot toot. We are FWINE, with a W. I know we don’t believe in publicly sucking face like those obnoxious PR couples that have to keep careers afloat, but I think the world deserves to see this.”

“I think you’re right, my love.”

Two selfies--one of Shawn in a crouched position with the prayer hands staring up at you like the GAWDESS you were and another silly cute one of you sticking your tongues out at the camera--later you were off to dinner. The fact that you end up at your favorite restaurant is a surprising delight. Nothing feels out of the ordinary because your man took care of you on a regular basis. Dinners out and dressing up was a weekly occurrence, especially when you weren’t busy. However with grammys looming over your heads alone time had been scarce. So him going out of his way to make time mattered a lot to you. A lot alot.

You kept your face hidden in his neck on the ride there, a personal driver now the norm for your hotshot boyfriend. He’d gone and made you sentimental and sappy and there was nowhere to hide how you felt. Shawn had been more than patient with your difficulties in sharing emotions. But you had grown significantly.

“I love you.” You hummed against his neck.

His hands had been intertwined with yours, and he paused from playing with them to squeeze tightly at the digits.

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything.”

You shook your head playfully, voice small in his ear. “Not but like a lot. Like a lot, a lot.”

He chuckled. “Yea?”

You nodded, the fingers not intertwined with his finding place in his curls.

“I just can’t really imagine my life without you in it, I guess. You’re my person.”

He turned in his seat so that your legs moved over his knees and your bodies were more overlapped than apart. His palm found your cheeks and you melted like only he could cause, like only he was capable of producing within your being.

“Well good. I don’t really plan on you being without me anytime soon. I hope that’s okay?”

You nodded again. “More than okay. Don’t go away.”

“Never.”

Dinner is splendid.There’s a new added layer of paparazzi appearing outside before you’ve even arrived. Shawn can’t really go anywhere unseen anymore, but you’d never met someone so worth enduring it for. It feels simultaneously like romance and love while also feeling like a random tuesday with your best friend. Somehow he still manages to make you laugh. Somehow he can still get your toes to curl beneath the table. He asks if you’ll be his date to the grammys. You agree only if he’ll take you out for pizza after. He promises. You know he’ll uphold it. By the time desert comes you don’t think the night could get any better. You’re wrong.

“Hey do you mind if we stop at the studio real quick? I left my guitar there earlier when I was laying down a track.” He asks.

You agree because what reason do you have to say no? In hindsight never in a gazillion years would Shawn leave his guitar at a studio. He’d hold in his lap on the plane if they let him.

It’s the same studio you took him too that first time he showed Khalid how to lay a vocal better than the producer could. When he asks you to follow him in and the lights are dimmed beyond belief, you don’t get it. The fact that his guitar is nowhere to be found might certainly be a hint, but apparently you were dumb as a bag of rocks.

“Will you uh...will you sit for me?” He asked pulling up a chair by the vocal booth.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It’ll all make sense in a second.” He smiled. “Please?”

You hesitantly lowered yourself into your seat, facing Shawn as he smiled at you. His knees were bouncing, his hands waving anxiously as he tried to balance them. You hadn’t seen him so nervous since...since he asked you out on your first date. The hell?

“Shawn?” You asked. “What the hell is goin’ on?”

He swallowed. “I...I wrote you a song. And I just finished it this afternoon. Can I play it for you?”

There's that softness in his eyes again. The personification of puppy-love. He had only ever asked to give you the world since you met him, and he fought through every single wall you’d had put up long before he arrived, until he could. He plays with his rosary around his neck and flicks the beads back and fourth between his thumb and forefinger. The anxiety comes off of him in waves. He’d never been so nervous to share a song with you before. It must mean that it meant more to him than usual. The least you could do was indulge him.

“Of course.”

It’s beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful thing he’d ever written. And drastically different from the album. Shawn had gone for R&B and soul on the record with that pop flair that made for a commercial hit. But this was all singer-songwriter. Intricate chords on the guitar. Raw vocals. Nothing else. And the words are just for you and him. It’s your life together in a song. Things that no one but the two of you could ever understand. Cooking on sunday afternoons because you hadn’t left bed until then. Your head in his lap, his fingers in your scalp when your braids were hurting. His lips on your neck. It was you. And no one else.

“Well...What did you think?” He mumbled spinning aimlessly in his chair like a toddler hyped up on sugar.

You smiled widely. “I think...I think I’m really fucking lucky to be loved by you. It’s beautiful. What is it, the next single?”

He shook his head and it made his curls bounce. God was he cute.

“Not exactly.”

“Okay, well what’s it for?”

“I’ve been thinking lately ya know? About us, and about the life that we have together. In our apartment. And I just have been thinking about how I could maybe make it better for you--no baby, just let me finish,” He whined when you went to interrupt him. “Not because it sucks but because I’m always thinking of how it could be better. And there are things I still wanna give you ya know?”

You bit your lip, for some reason willing to indulge him.

“Yea? Like what?”

He rolled closer and closer and took your fingers in his own. Intertwined.

“I wanna give you a house. With an office, so that you can get work done but I can still come see you and bother you. I wanna give you a jacuzzi like that one we found in the Domincian Republic that one time? I wanna give you...a baby one day. You know if you--if that’s what you want. If we decide that’s what we want together. I want your mom to retire. I want you to never have to worry about anything ever again. I want to dominate the world with you, build an empire, a legacy.”

Now it was your legs that were shaking. You didn’t know how he could manage to make you feel so overwhelmingly full of love. You have not a clue how you had managed to snag him of all people. It was utterly unbelievable, and you simply would never be willing to give it up.

“And just how in the world do you expect to make all that happen, silly?”

He chuckled nervously and squeezed your fingers.

“Can I be honest?”

“That’s all I ask.”

“I haven’t quite figured it all out yet. Do you think you’d be okay with giving me a little time?”

You laughed. “Of course, babes. Take as much time as you need.”

“How ‘bout forever?”

“Forever? Well I’m not getting any younger, sir.” You snorted.

He shook his head softly, letting the wheels of his chair fall back so that he could make his way to one knee. The image had its intended effect. You froze like a lobster being tossed into the pot, and probably were just as red beneath all the melanin.

“I promise that no matter what happens, I’m gonna do everything in my power to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I want to love you for the rest of our lives. I want to be your partner in crime. Always. Baby, will you marry me?”

“Shawn….S--Shawn...That’s an engagement ring.” You whispered.

He nodded. “It is. It’s your engagement ring. If you want it. Do you want it?”

Your fingers felt over your chest to feel the way your heart was beating so fast it might burst through. You’d spoken about it. Had had the whispered dreams in each other's ears in bed late at night. He’d promised it one day even, but never had you seen this one coming. Ever. And certainly not this soon.

“I….YES! Gimme!”

“Yea?!”

“YEA!”

He fumbles with the ring and just barely gets it onto your finger before he’s in your lap kissing you, still on his knees for you like it was nothing. Your arms wrapped tightly around him as his lips melded to yours and it couldn’t have felt any better. He was yours. A fact you had known and felt secured in for so long you could remember no different. But this was different. This was him asking you for forever. Just the two of you. Thick and thin. The whole shebang. This was love at the highest level, and trust, and compassion, and heart.

There are tears on your face and on his. You try to wipe lip gloss from his lips while he rubs at your eyes that are leaking. It’s very much the two of you. Messy and dramatic and ridiculous, but equal. When he pulls you into his arms your heart is fully and infinitely his. And there’s no space to miss it because you’ve already got his in return to fill the space.

“I love you more than anything. I can’t wait to marry you.” He smiled.

“Me neither. Me neither. I love you so much.” You whispered. “Can we go home now and make love please?”

His eyes widened. “Just like that aye?”

“Just like that.”

“You haven’t even looked at your ring.” He chuckled pulling your arms from around his neck.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh Shawn you know I don’t care about material pos--WELL DAMN! Suddenly I can’t see. Suddenly I am blinded by the light! SHEESH!”

The thing was massive. A beautifully elegant, diamond encrusted band wrapped around your finger. It was easily overshadowed by the diamond itself. The classic princess cut, which he had somehow picked out without ever asking you. You didn’t know how many carats it was, and in reality it didn’t really matter. If you knew him, and you did, it wasn’t about being flashy. It was truly about giving you everything he thought you deserved. And this had just been another on the very long list.

“It’s beautiful. You know that.” You sniffled holding your finger up to the light. “Jesus, Shawn.”

“I had it designed after we moved in together. I might have asked Ti for some pointers.” He smiled reaching your hand. “I just wanted it to be perfect.”

“It is. It really is. Please come here?”

More kissing. More holding. More love. More emotion. Being in love is a lot of work y’all.

“Please...Please take me home now.” You murmured when the warmth of his hands on your hips had begun to burn through your dress and all you wanted was to thank him...and thank him...and thank him.

“You have no idea how much I want that….But I actually have another proposition for you.”

At this you paused.

“Oh for the love of all that is holy! Shawn my heart cannot take anymore tonight. What in the caucasity could you possibly have to show me?” You whined.

“I cannot wait to tell our children how you made me swoon on the night I proposed.” He snickered, suddenly handing you a thick, padded envelope. “I thought you might like to be my business partner as well as my life partner.”

In the folder were documents detailing the lawsuit of Mendes Industries versus Shawn. It documented the trial, and the win on Shawn’s lawyer’s part. It documented all of the songs that they'd won back, all his hard work that was now his possession again. And it offered the trademark to a new name, a new industry one might say….S+Y Industries. and it had the audacity to list your name as CEO.

“What in the entire fuck is this?” You gasped. “And speak quickly because you know I slap irrationally when I get excited.”

And suddenly his hands found your hips again, like a little rum rubbing against the gums of a teething baby, lulling you into his hold. You could smell his cologne and his heat and it made your heart beat calm if only slightly.

“See I had this incredible manager, who wasn’t a manager, decide to craft my contract on an album by album deal, which means after this tour...I have options. And so I thought maybe I might house all of my work from the past, present, and future, under my own label. And then I thought how crazy that was...how I couldn’t do it alone, so I just thought...maybe you might like to run it with me.”

His hands trembled against your waist. It was the only indication that you weren’t crazy, that this was indeed the wildest shit anyone had ever asked of you in your whole life. Of everything you could have ever expected from this, this wasn’t even in the same stratosphere. To run your own label had been a dream of yours since you were a child. When he had said he wanted to give you the world, the man wasn’t joking.

“Baby you--you gotta speak. My heart is pounding. I’m going crazy over here.” He mumbled licking his lips.

Your body slowly unfroze as you looked up from the paperwork and into the eyes of the craziest man you’d ever met in your life.

“Well that’s what your pasty ass gets for pulling this shit on me like this.”

He only smiled softly at you. “You’ve got a point. So uh...what do you say?”

“I say...I’ll have to have my lawyers read over it of course. And my terms for being CEO will only be founded on the basis that my salary increases from what I’m making now. We’ll need to discuss what your role as President will be, and what that will look like within the context of the company as you continue to tour and make music of course. And I want to make sure you’re protected from--”

“Sweetheart,” He whispered, pulling your eyes to him. “Just say yes. I’ll do whatever you want. You know that. Just say yes.”

You nodded silently, admittedly a little lost in his eyes and his confidence and his soul. Jesus.

“Y--Yes.”

“Come here.”

And he kisses you again and again and again until your bodies are more one than two. Until your heart beats both faster and slower at the same time. Until it’s just the two of you against the world. You liked your odds.

*two months later*

*Shawn’s point of view*

There’s a reason why he needs her with him at all times. There’s a reason why his hands shake when she’s not holding him. A reason why his breathing is out of sorts when she’s not around. There’s a reason why they’re sat in the front row at the Grammys and a reason why he makes them point out her seat in the crowd for him.

The grammys were the most terrifying night of his whole entire life. A lot of people felt like they could define a night, a year, an entire career. But they could never mean more than to a boy who had grown up with them around the house, who had seen them on the coffee table, who had to leave his life behind to even get a shot at one. The Grammys meant that the world had accepted him, had welcomed him in with open arms...despite his dad doing everything in his power to get them not to. But they also meant that she had believed in him like no one had, like not even he had.

So, that night when he performs he’s only performing for her. And he’s only singing to her. Perhaps for that reason alone it’s one of the smoothest performances he’s ever had. When the last note rings out, he lets his guitar fall against his thigh and he holds his fingers to his lips to send a kiss her way. He knows the camera is on the two of them. He wants them all to know that no one has ever loved anyone the way he loves her. And the kiss she sends back his way is all he’ll ever need. It’s the icing on the cake. To be loved by her. He was ready to go home with that and only that. You have to believe that.

He walks backstage and Andrew is waiting there with a guy dressed in all black and a headpiece in his ear. They both stop him, and he’s just a little bit annoyed that he can’t get back to y/n faster. They had a game plan to take a drink every time Alicia Keys performed a random song that night.

“What’s up?”

“They’re about to announce Best Collaboration and Best Pop Vocal. You’re up for both, so you’re staying here.”

He winced. “W--Wait can I...can I go back to my seat first?”

Andrew shook his head. “What? No, man. Come on the camera’s ready to go.”

“But y/n! She’s got my phone, I can’t even text her.”

“You can look at her if you win the grammy, now stop whining!”

His heart pounds. His legs shake. His hands wreak havoc on his guitar until they yell at him for playing and take the damn thing away from him. It’s the scariest minute of his whole entire life. He’s lucky they hadn’t started drinking quite yet.

“And the winner for best collaboration goes to….Shawn Mendes ft. Khalid, “Youth”!!!!”

The curtain backstage opens and he doesn’t move. Because surely there’s a mistake. Surely Ariana Grande or someone else won. He was just a guy with a guitar. There was no fucking way.

“SHAWN GO!” Andrew huffed pushing him towards the stage.

Khalid is already there. Shawn feels so stunned he waddles awkwardly toward the stage. Fucking Lizzo is standing there for Christ sake. Khalid is all smiles and jumps on him with love and a squeezed hug. He still can’t believe it.

Lizzo hands him the fucking grammy and suddenly its in his hands. His hands. And the whole room goes silent because they’re waiting for him to speak. Him.

“I...I don't know what to say.” He mumbled.

“THAT’S MY MANS. STAND UP TALL BOY!”

He looks over in the direction of her and she’s standing for him. She’s got tears in her eyes. She’s smiling so big it looks like it hurts. For him. All for him. And because she said so his spine straightened. Because it was actually all for her.

“I...can only thank one person on this earth for this grammy and for this year and for this life that I have now.” He sniffled, throat tightening as he turned to her. “You found me when I was nothing but a trust fund asshole who couldn’t look more than two feet in front of him. You loved me and healed me and cherished me when no one else would. This is only because of you. Because you’re the most talented human being in this room, and you work harder than any of us. Because for some reason you think I’m worthy of your love. Thank you. I--I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I love you. T--Thank you.”

It’s like walking on butterflies. It’s like doing coke and ecstasy and molly all at once. His ears feel like they’ve burst. His heart is thudding so fast he’s given up on trying to calm down. He just wants to go to her. He’s not too proud to wipe away the tears in his eyes, and there’s a moment where Khalid and he just hold each other. Because they just wrote a song about how the world wasn’t fair, and it had somehow been recognized by that very world. In the middle of this hug, he is once again tugged in a different direction against his will, because why the fuck not.

Best pop vocal album doesn’t even make sense. Like it was actually wild. He had thought it was ridiculous when he got nominated, and for them to hand him the award is just absurd. Absolutely absurd.

“What the hell?” He asked y/n through the mic, because apparently he could only speak to her during his acceptance speeches. “I really thought Ariana had this one.”

Ari was sitting next to y/n in a ball gown that nearly swallowed her, but he could at least see the two of them nodding at each other.

“So did we!”

“I’m so sorry.” He mumbled to both of them, incredibly sincere. “Uh...I wanna thank my fans for even buying the music and coming to see me.That is the wildest thing in the world to me and I promise to never take it for granted. I’m gonna leave now. Okay bye.”

They finally let him go back to his seat during the commercial break. He practically falls into her arms. Her lip gloss coats his mouth and he couldn’t be happier. Finally, with her fingers on him he can relax.

“I can’t believe you used your first grammy speech to just ramble about me.” She whined wiping away the colored lip gloss. “Did you not write a damn speech like I told you too?”

He shook his head softly. “I didn’t think I would win. And you--you looked so pretty. I got starstruck. I won two grammys baby, I’m the happiest guy alive right now. Now can we please get drunk and listen to Lady Gaga? It’s all I want.”

“Sorry sweetheart. You’re up for three more tonight. No alcohol for you.”

“I...What? But--But what about our drinking game?”

“You have a reputation to uphold sir.” She said sternly.

He simply pouted at her with as soft of a look as humanly possible. She raised an eyebrow as if it wouldn’t work. His fiance was a tough cookie to crack.

*ten minutes later*

“Look babe! Alicia is at the piano again!” He murmured excitedly.

“Alright. Down the hatch!”

And the tequila kept coming for the rest of the night.

*an hour later*

“Babe, I wanna go home.” He whined into her shoulder.

“Mmm, can’t yet. There’s still like three more awards left. You’re three for five babe.”

“You smell so good. I think your collarbones are my favorite body part. I’d like to dedicate some time to them later if you’d let me”

She giggled. “Boy, we’re in public.”

He pouted at her, a bit annoyed that this award show was stopping him from making love to her already.

“Then let’s leave. Right now. We can elope. I don’t even need a wedding. Just you, me, a bottle of champagne, and that villa in Rome. What do you say?”

“I say….you need to give me your cup before you slip and tell the whole world we’re engaged.”

No fun.

He leans on her shoulder and stares up at her wondering how the hell she got so pretty when the next awards are called.

“It is time to announce Best New Artist. Past winners have included Alessia Cara, Doa Lipa, and me, Billie Eilish. Here are the nominees.”

“Baby, I love you.” He whispered pursing his lips for a kiss.

“You are on camera. They’re about to announce your award, babes.”

“There’s no way in hell I won, y/n. Look I’m so content right now I just wanna--”

“And the winner is...SHAWN MENDES.”

And suddenly he was upended by the gracious melanated pillow that was his fiance's titties. Truly a crime against humanity.

“GO!” The entire first row yelled as he stared around owlishly.

Tequila is a hell of a thing.

He reached for her hand and immediately began walking towards the stage, not at all concerned by her yelling at him or trying to remain in her seat. Fat fucking chance.

He gets her on the stage and they both hug Billie, and he has a moment where he realizes he actually fucking won, and what that means. They hand him the award and y/n tries to step back with BIllie but he won’t let go of her hand, wouldn’t dream of letting go of her hand. She’s not wearing his ring in that moment, and he knows exactly why, but he can still feel it -- the commitment, between the two of them. That will never fade.

“I’m so sorry that I’m up here again. I--I’m sure that you’re sick of me. But, I’m so glad I get the chance to have her up here with me just once. I don’t uh I don’t get to talk about all that she’s done for me, mostly because she won’t let me. And mostly because her job is to make people like me and a lot of you get to a place where we can share our stories and our passion through music. But not all of us are that lucky. And for a long time, I wasn’t.”

He peered over at her for courage and strength and perhaps because he just liked to look at her. When she smiled it made him feel safe. And so he kept talking.

“I signed a contract with my father when I was fifteen years old...and I thought he wanted the best for me, thought that he’d make me a star or something. But instead he took every song I ever wrote and kept it from being released. And he didn’t let me perform, record, or even write anything that could be viewed in public for years. And I think a lot of people in this room wouldn’t even know what to do with themselves if they couldn’t create. Music is what makes me--us--human. I’m nothing without it.” He peered down at his grammy and swallowed thickly. She pressed her fingers against his back and it was like he could breathe better, so he smiled at her “But uh it would mean nothing if I didn’t have you. I’m gonna write songs about you for the rest of my life. I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life. And if we get a couple grammys for it that’ll be cool. But I’m me because you allowed me to be. So this is for you. Okay? No take backs.”

He hands her the award and rests his hands upon her waist. They’re shaking, but he can’t tell when she’s kissing him in front of the whole world. The applause that rings out around them might as well be background noise. He’s got nothing in his head, his heart, his field of vision, but her. And he kind of wants it to stay that way forever.

That alone could be the end of the story. And he’d never ask for another thing again. But instead they take home album of the year and he has to get up there and make another speech. He was sick of speeches, and he was sure the rest of the audience was too. So he quickly thanked his collaborators, Khalid again, Niall for essentially creating the record with him, Andrew, everyone at the label, his mum. You know, the people he couldn’t thank when he was do busy praising y/n?

“Sorry again. I guess I could have thanked all those people earlier in the night but I just wanted to spend some time talking about my fiance tonight. It’s my favorite thing in the world. Have a good night everyone!”

And a bit of a gasp rings out across the crowd. And he pauses cause he’s not quite sure what’s going on. He looks to Alicia who gave him the award and her eyes are wide. Not a great sign. He peers over to y/n because surely she could tell him what the hell had happened. She stares him down like a wolf that hasn’t eaten in a few weeks. Even Ariana Grande is shaking her head at him in a big puffy dress like she’s disappointed. And the poor bastard that he is, he truly doesn’t know what he did wrong at first.

“Well that’s what it’s all about folks. Love. It’s a beautiful thing. I think I speak for us all when I say we wish y/n and Shawn nothing but the best in their marriage. That’s our show tonight. Have a wonderful night and spend some time spreading love and positivity.”

Oh God.

“What did I do? What did I do?!” He asked her walking down the steps of the stage.

“You told the whole world we’re getting married, boy. Get your pasty ass down here!”

He walks back to her like a puppy with its tail between its legs. He was genuinely the dumbest fucker alive.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I--I didn’t mean to--it just slipped out!” He apologized. “At least I didn’t tell them about the label.”

She rolled her eyes. “I simply cannot believe you’re my forever. You just won five grammys. Shut up and kiss me already.”

That much he could do.

The End.

Permanent taglist

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sondermink · 3 years

Text

Salt

Wine and Drag Race were exactly what he needed. Not to be caged into any stereotypes, but Sonder absolutely adored partying, and tried his very best to keep up with Cass and the band. Maybe it was because Cass was part Vampire and could metabolise the drugs quicker, or maybe it was because he was a youthful sixteen months younger than Sonder, but he needed a break.

Cass didn't seem to mind. In fact, he had become a little distant, but Sonder wouldn't admit that it got to him. His unintentional polyamorous relationship (with a girl, no less) was heavy on his mind. Normally the drugs numbed it, but Sonder was very much enjoying the wine with his best friend instead.

"What would your drag name be?" Sonder asked, his cheeks flushed red and giddy. "I think mine would be Saalty Tension. Can you see it?? And I would be boldly against tucking." He laughed heartily as Ru Paul savagely tore down a Queen.

"Well, I haven't actually thought about it, but Saalty Tension sounds hot." Jeremy purred his delicious, irresistible purr. Sonder didn't know if it was on purpose or not. Jeremy didn't talk to him like that. Not that he hadn't seen his friend flirting with people before, but Sonder was rarely the recipient. Although, it wasn't impossible... Jeremy took Sonder's wrist in his big, manly hands, and turned it over so that he could press a fluttering kiss to his palm.

"You would absolutely need to tuck. I've seen... Well, no, You're too shy to show me properly, which is a bit unfair because you've seen me naked a thousand times..." Jeremy was on a tangent, and Sonder blushed deeply. "I've seen you in those sequined go-go shorts. That's practically naked."

Sonder giggled and pulled his wrist away on instinct. His fingers danced over the spot that had been kissed. "Stop it! What are you doing, you bloody perve?" Sonder pushed on Jeremy's shoulder, making the Lockhart giggle instead. His hair flopped in such a way... Oh... "It's... Stop it, I can't believe we're even discussing this, it's nothing like yours..."

"I saw it, a little, remember that time you jerked off while I fucked Tyler?"

Sonder's breath caught in his throat. They didn't bring that up much, not when they were this close to sober. He swallowed the remainder of his wine to close the gap. "You did not!" He protested, sitting forward to fill his glass. He turned at the waist and topped off Jeremy's glass. "I was extremely discreet, and you've always been a show off! I mean, I would too, if I was - Well..." He gestured to the comparative Greek God.

Jeremy scoffed. "You're not being insecure, not after all this time?" Sweet, kind Jeremy, took Sonder's hands in his own once more. His big, strong hands. Sonder gulped. "You've got nothing to worry about. From what I've seen, you're totally perfect." He gave an encouraging squeeze. Sonder gave a small smile and took his hands back, back to the wine. Surely it was just the wine making him this flirty. Besides, it was normal for them. They'd always been flirty. "You don't need to be big when you're a bottom, anyway."

Sonder spat his wine dramatically and turned back around to Jeremy, properly red in the face now. "Excuse me?! You're just full of assumptions today, aren't you?" He attempted a playful slap at Jeremy's cheek but it ended in Sonder doing nothing but pressing his hand against the stubble there. His thumb brushed Jeremy's lower lip, and the blonde obligingly let his mouth gently open. He'd kissed him before. Loads of times. They kissed for experimentation in the beginning, and then for fun, and later for more fun, and sometimes when they were drunk... Like now... But Sonder hadn't even finished his second glass...

"I've topped. Loads." Cass. And he was really being very liberal with the word 'loads'. Maybe a couple of times, but lately they only hung out when they were both on massive amounts of drugs. He was sure Cass had sex with Shosh now more than ever, now they were on the road and in each other's space at every moment. With Jeremy's rough face in his hand, his soft lip against the tip of his thumb, did he really even care who Cass was shagging?

He leaned forward and kissed him. Gentle at first, playful, as if it were a question. 'Is this okay? Were you just teasing me?' And Jeremy answered with vigour. The boy wrapped his arm around Sonder's waist, forcing the smaller boy up, his stomach pressing against Jeremy's chest. Okay, definitely not teasing. Sonder's hand went up into Jeremy's gorgeous hair, which he tugged, and the blonde emitted a moan. Sonder smirked against Jeremy's mouth and so the boy answered it, tugging on Sonder's hair, his tongue pushing into his mouth. Sonder moaned, much louder than Jeremy's, which had the boy chuckling. "Idiot." Sonder whimpered, biting Jeremy's lip and dragging, slowly, letting the reddness pop between his lips while the Lockhart locked eyes with him.

"Is this okay?" Jeremy asked through his hooded eyes, luscious eyelashes batting ever-so-sweetly. Sonder gave a small whimper. Cass. He looked up, thinking about it for a moment. How happy Cass seemed with Shosh. How drunk he was with Sonder. Maybe they weren't compatible as a couple. Maybe they were better as friends? They'd jumped into everything so fast, which was just so unlike Sonder. He had been proposed to by Caldwell before he'd even had a dick inside or around him.

His hands rested on Jeremy's shoulders, thumbs rubbing small circles into the skin of his neck. He'd known the boy for most of his life. And he'd always wanted him. There wasn't a moment in his life where he wouldn't have dropped everything to do whatever Jeremy wanted to do. He truly, with all his heart, loved Jeremy Lockhart.

"It's perfect." He said, firmly and with purpose. And as soon as the words left his mouth, Jeremy was on top of him like a racehorse out of the starting gate. He kissed up Sonder's slender neck, brushing his nose up his skin. Sonder straddled Jeremy on the couch as drag queens yelled at each other. Jeremy grabbed a hold of Sonder's ass and pulled him closer while the other went up his shirt to play with Sonder's pierced nipples. It was all so much. And in such a position there wasn't much Sonder could do but to moan, whimper, and grind. He could feel Jeremy's erection pressing eagerly against his ass. Sonder had been hard almost the entire conversation. His own penis pressed into Jeremy's stomach.

"Is it too much?" Jeremy asked, coming up for air. Sonder shook his head immediately as he rubbed his ass pointedly against Jeremy's dick. The Lockhart fumbled at the fastening of Sonder's jeans, and Sonder stopped his grinding. "Does that ever work? You sweet moron, skinny jeans." He mumbled the words lovingly through kisses and bites before dislodging himself from Jeremy's lap. "My place or yours?" He giggled, pointing to his room. It was definitely the closest, and it was the one more equipped for penis on penis sex.

Jeremy grabbed the boy in a fireman's hold, having Sonder make an unsavoury noise as he was suddenly scooped up. And so easily... "Jeremy!" He protested, not-so-secretly loving it. It wasn't long before he was thrown back onto his own bed. He had bought himself an extremely impractical bed spread. Bright pink and fluffy, like a stuffed toy. It was not for having sex on. Sweet, stupid Jeremy didn't think of that at all and jumped on it eagerly. "Oh my god! If you got cum on this I'd actually skin you and use you as a bed spread instead. I'd Buffalo Bill your sweet ass." Sonder shoo'd his friend off the bed until it was just sheets. The sheets could handle it.

Jeremy looked so sweet standing beside the bed, waiting impatiently, dick literally in his hands for Sonder to ready himself. Lubricant on the bedside table, an array of condoms. Toys, if they wanted to. Sonder had come a long way since Caldwell, virginal and afraid, Moore. He wouldn't have to blow Jeremy to hint to him that he wanted to have sex. Jeremy only needed to see the hungry look in Sonder's eyes as he walked calmly around the bed to his best friend and pushed him into a seated position. He took Jeremy's chin between his thumb and forefinger and had the boy look up at him. "I'm down for anything, really. And I don't normally top. I'd rather ride than top. I'll top if you really want but I'd prefer to lay down on my Egyptian cotton sheets and have you ravish me." He brushed his thumb across Jeremy's kiss-swollen lips. He looked up at him with his silly puppy eyes. Clearly, he hadn't expected his teasing to come to this.

"I'm down for anything." He pulled on Sonder's wrist, making the boy giggle, as he fell back into his bed. Jeremy started by undressing him properly this time. Sonder's dick popped up lewdly as his pants were pulled roughly down, and he turned an even deeper shade of red. Jeremy managed to pull Sonder halfway down the bed with a tug of his jeans and Sonder had to do the rest, kicking them off unceremoniously.

"Your dick is perfect, what were you even talking about?" Jeremy didn't wait for an answer as he took the length in his warm mouth. Sonder's toes curled. Oh, God. It had been a while. He wouldn't have lied and said he'd never imagined Jeremy's mouth before. Even wanked off to it. But he was so.... Eager. Hungry. Sonder grabbed the boy by the hair and pulled him up, crawling over him, kissing and tasting the saltiness on his mouth.

Jeremy's jeans were easier to extract but they both giggled as the woolen jumper captured Jeremy's upper body. It gave Sonder an opportunity to tickle him at first, his first instinct, and then to lay him back and kiss all over his chest, flicking his tongue against his nipples. A contained Jeremy gave a muffled moan before being able to get the jumper off completely, and once he had his hands he put them to use. Jeremy spat in his hand and Sonder scoffed. They had lube right there! Jeremy appeared to not notice as he grabbed a hold of both of their dicks and let his saliva be the lube and... Oh. And it felt very nice, made nicer by the fact that Jeremy had a little dribble making a line of spit from his mouth to his dick. Sonder's toes curled.

He put his finger to the line of spit first, an attempt to wipe it up? But Jeremy took it as an excuse to take Sonder's finger in his mouth. His tongue flicked just deliciously and Sonder moaned. Jeremy was a well trained slut and Sonder hadn't taken advantage of it at all. Jeremy had been out fooling around all of Hogwarts and Sonder had been left masturbating to the thought of it. He had to make up for lost time now. He replied to the finger sucking by taking Jetrmy's big manly hand in his and sucking on his finger in kind. It was Jeremy's turn to moan as Sonder gave the boy a preview of what he could do to his thick dick once he got a a chance to. He looked down between them, at his own dick on top of Jeremy's. The similarities and the differences. And for once, he didn't care.

Jeremy had a wet finger now, which was exactly what he had planned. He pulled Sonder forward and kissed him deeply, lewly, his mouth hungry to taste, his lips bruising and teeth grazing. And with that, he pressed his wet finger against the warm hole of Sonder's ass. The boy cried out in shock and pleasure, and before Jeremy could very annoyingly ask if it was okay, Sonder pressed his hand against Jeremy's, making his finger go inside further. It felt so good, and Sonder could feel himself becoming overwhelmed. With their bodies so close together there was barely room for a hand on a dick anymore, but Sonder made do. With less of a stroking and more of a teasing of Jeremy's slit.

Sonder felt himself come, sticky and warm, all over Jeremy's stomach. And once Jeremy realised what was happening, he too added to the mess. Sonder let out a soft screech at the untidiness of it all and pressed his legs together in an attempt to contain the sea of semen. Jeremy only laughed, and being the friend he was, he threw Sonder off of him and let the jizz go everywhere. Sonder cried out in protest and as he did, Jeremy laid his full body weight over his stomach, cum and all. He shrieked, pushing at the mountain of a man on top of him to no avail.

"Disgusting! You have to wash my sheets."

"Why?! It's your fault as much as mine!"

"Be-Because I made an attempt! You're so gross, oh my god! Get off me!"

Jeremy obliged with a goofy, just-done-it look on his face. Sonder rolled his eyes. Covered in cum, he was already stripping the sheets around Jeremy's naked body.

"Get up, you big... God, you big goofy mess! C'mon, we can shower."

That manged to get him standing at least, and to be quite fair to him, he did put the washing on. Sonder sucked Jeremy off in the shower later that night. Jeremy returned the favour later in his own bed, but there was no mess that time.

They cuddled together as they had done a thousand times before. Jeremy's face against the back of Sonder's neck, Sonder absentmindedly tracing on the skin of the arm Jeremy threw over him.

"What am I meant to say to Cass?" He asked quietly, waited patiently for an answer, but Jeremy had fallen asleep. Sonder drifted off too, but only after worrying about his ethics for a few more hours.

#c:jeremy #smut au #tw negative body image stuff #omggg it's been a LONG time since i've written smut #especially mlm #so be kind <#3

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fiction-in-my-blood · 4 years

Text

The Bewitching Hour Part 1 (SITS Smut) Kyohei x MC

I’m thinking of turning this into a series with all the guys in it, so if you enjoy, stay tuned :)!

Warnings: Fingering, Sex

~~~~~~

Work had been trouble lately. Not only was the ghostwriter severely struggling with doing her own job, a lot of the Revance members were on edge because of it. Takashi’s Demon Mode had been making more frequent appearances and many worried for their own safety, few also worrying for the only woman in the house. Not only that, The morning the producer woke up, there was a stranger in their kitchen.

“Who the hell are you and how did ya get in my house?” Kyohei roared at the half naked, rejectfully majestic man that stood at his fridge, peering at the contents like they were going to put themselves together for his breakfast. The man didn’t seem much phased by the shock of one of the inhabitants of the house that wasn’t his, he found it amusing, that showed on the smirky, mysterious grin that appeared on his face when he turned around.

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it, I spent the night.” The admission did nothing to ease Sir Kyo’s suspicion, instead making him more pissed off in the early hour. No one would be a morning person if this is what they had to deal with first thing.

However, before he could argue, demanding him to explain, a high whine came from the far end of the room. “Mitsu~, I told you not to come down until I was ready.” The strangely provacative yet shy call of the young woman, merely dressed in an overbearing sweater and shorts, hair a mess after the activities she had partaken in the past night, shocked the other resident.

“But, my dear, you were taking too long. I was getting a different type of hungry.” The man, surely older than her but a gentlemanly youth about him, cooed, a teasing smirk forming on his lips as he remembered what he had been hungry for only a few hours before this conversation. Masami blushed.

“They call it a walk of shame for a reason, Mistu. Get your stuff before anyone else wakes up.” She crossed her arms in defiance, the brunt of her configuration halted by the notebook she held in one hand. Kyohei recognised it as her writing journal.

“Okay, I guess I can get dressed. Unless you want to keep something for future uses?” The man with fair hair long enough to be pulled back into a long pontail sauntered over to the ghostwriter, leaning over her to steal her lips. Before he could catch them, however, he was blocked by a wad of paper.

“No kissing, Mitsu. It’s in the agreement.” She sighed, almost exhausted with having to remind him all the time. The roll of her innocent eyes didn’t go unnoticed by the slightly distracted producer.

“Hello. What the hell is going on here?” A little pissed with having such a rude introduction, Kyohei made himself known to the couple. The fact he would soon learn about some of her stress relieving habits brought a blush to Masami’s cheeks, trying to hide them with her hand as Mitsu chuckled to himself beside her.

“I-I have those lyrics done, Kyohei. Read through them when you’re ready!” The ball of red quickly made her exit after slapping her notebook on the coffee table in the living area. Mitsu couldn’t help but enjoy the sight Kyohei would usually also be happy to see.

“There’s nothing to fear, sir. Just a trade in professions. You may like the use my services too one day.” With the way Mitsu’s been acting in this extraordinary scenario, Kyohei couldn’t tell what he was suggesting. What was this man’s profession and what did it have to do with Masami?

“If you’d like to see my portfolio, I’d love to comission if you find it desirable.” Only now did Kyohei spot the large art pad held to Mitsu’s body with his arm as he continued to rest his hands in his pockets.

“You’re an artist?” Kyohei, significantly cooled compared to moments ago, grew slightly curious to the man’s offer.

“And Miss Mami is my muse, and I her’s. We arranged it years ago.” The nickname rolled off with such ease it showed how close the two must be. Kyohei almost felt jealous just talking to the man.

“Show me.” He demanded, wanting more to see what had impressed the girl so much to have the obvious relationship they had together. This made that mirthful chuckle reverberate from Mitsu’s chest once again. Despite the clear irritation on the producer’s face, he placed his sketchpad on the kitchen counter and opened it up. Kyohei’s eyes went wide at the images before him.

Pages upon pages of naked women, mostly Masami, framed in comprimising positions, always a lewd look in their eyes. The drawings seemed so realistic, Kyohei almost felt like he was there when it was created, even if they were just sketches- mainly black and white. The one that really caught his eye was the masterpiece on the back page. It was Masami, on her back with her knees pressed to her chest, feet up and vulva on full display. He looked away, an intolerant blush surfacing on his cheeks.

“I’ll say, my most recent piece is my favourite. Masami surely was in her creative flow last night.” A look of pure pride overtook what his usual expression seemed to be as he gazed upon the picture of his business partner. She seemed too innocent most of the time, it was only Mitsu who ever got to see this side of her.

“Creative flow?” Kyohei was drawn by the odd explanation for such a drawing, his gaze following the man as he ripped the page out with little regard to his other pieces.

“You don’t know of her Bewitching Hour? And how long has she lived here?” A tone of pity mixed with amusement filtered out of his mouth as he placed the sheet of paper on the counter before closing his book once again.

“Like any woman, Masami is a powerful being. Sometimes her talent gets too much for her and she can’t seem to let it out at all. She gets so pent up sometimes, I’m man enough to admit even I can’t satiate her creativity.” Mitsu laughed on the memory of an irritated Masami climbing off his lap with a heavy sigh of not being able to pleasure herself with his body. He didn’t mind, he had those nights too, it was the joy of their agreement that made him so confident in his abilities.

“But what’s a Bewitching Hour?” Kyohei was beyong interest by now. For months he had wanted to her his hands on the innocent cutie that lived under his roof. This might finally be his chance.

“It’s just my term for it. She does her best work, in the bedroom and in her songs, at night. The only way she can filter her ideas is in the act, as one would say. On nights I can’t get to her, she’ll desperately play piano. I’ve never heard it myself, but I’m sure its beautiful.” A mesmerised look drifts into Mitsu’s eyes as he imagines all the dirty scenarios he could get into if he could just catch her off guard in one of her musical trances.

“Remember, if you ever hear music in the dead of night, the Bewitching Hour has begun.”

~~~~~~

Several days after the mysterious and mature artist escaped the Revance home without being spotted by any other members, Kyohei has gotten very little sleep. Mostly from anticipation to hear any type of tune drifting through the halls and some due to the thoughts that clouded his brain. How would he initiate such an occasion? Were her trances even a thing? Would it be right to take advantage of that to experience the feelings he’s been waiting so long to feel? Maybe yes, maybe no. It all depended on her, really. If he showed up, made himself known, and she just happened to jump on him, he wouldn’t stop her. Even if she needed a little coaxing, he would be happy to take the place of her muse if for a night. He just wanted to encounter what he had heard, and seen in still images, was so magical.

Then, on one fateful night, a jolly tune bounced in the distance and Kyohei shot up in bed. Where or who it was coming from didn’t matter as long as who it was he hoped it would be. He grabbed a shirt just in case this didn’t turn out how he had hoped and stormed out the door.

In the hallways, following the strangely enticing sound to what must have been from the recording studio, the darkness and tune was a little eery. It was upbeat and fun, but the emptiness of the halls and the hyperawareness that everyone was asleep made a suspicious shiver run up Kyohei’s spine. Please, please don’t let this be Takashi.

Sure enough, through the door that was standing open, was a risquely dressed woman, her fingers jumping along the keys of the keyboard in their in-home recording studio. She was in her pyjamas, a worn tank top that must have been from her teenage years from the cute character on the front and shorts of a different design but just as old. Her hair was up in a rushed bun, sagging to the side when she tilted her head in frustration. Her ideas weren’t flowing the way she wanted them to and Mitsu was in Osaka for an art showing. She had no other outlets.

Except for the man that now stood directly behind her. She didn’t notice him at first, too wound up in her musical whimsy until she felt a warm pressure on her shoulders. She jumped, the electric instrument groaning with a clatter of keys as her fingers slammed down at the unexpected sensation.

“So tense. You need to relax if you want to get your work done in time not to get punished.” A tone she was all too used to breathed on her ear as Kyohei leaned over head, the feeling of his erection pressing into her back. Not that she could feel it, she was too stunned as to why he was here and too busy trying to bay her urges. No matter who it was, she would go for anyone in this state. Before she had met Mitsu, she would go on the prowl in less that suitable establishments, usually mistaken for a prostitute, even though she was the most dressed person on the whole block. Although, it didn’t matter to her, she usually got what she needed.

“Help me then.” The demanding tone spurred Kyohei on, the stern look making him chuckle. She looked as frustrated as Mitsu had made her sound and that led him to believed that this could happen. That he could get what he want. What they both wanted- for whatever different reasons.

Slowly but directly, Kyohei’s fingers from one hand drifted over her bare skin, along her collarbone and arond her neck, making her look up at him by tugging lightly on it. From some of the sketches in Mitsu’s book, she liked and was a frequent user of positions like these. Masami gulped at the heat that suddenly flooded in her.

With that slightly startled but so heavily lustful look in her eyes, Kyohei continued, inching his other hand down her chest and under her top. She moaned the second he tweaked her nipple. Both of their hearts raced at this less than innocent act taking place in such a common area of their home. Masami didn’t think about it, too caught up in trying to filter through the words flying around in her head, but Kyohei was metaphorically shitting bricks. If someone came in, would it be his fault? Would she get angry? The sound of a whimper pulled him out of those thoughts though.

“K-Kyohei, ca-can you... Can you finger me?” The forwardness of Masami’s words and the pleading look in her eyes as he held her face up to meet his gaze caused a shot of arousal to fire through Kyohei’s body and he wasted very little time in pulling her up. He quickly looked around for a surface to lay her on, but there was only the couch and the office chair that didn’t have any important equipment on it, so he pushed her onto the ground, laying her legs over his as he leant over to her. His hand was no longer around her neck, instead both were either side of her head, holding himself up over her.

With her hair sprawled out around her, pale wrists settled close to were his hands were, eyes slightly wide at seeing him in this position and cheeks flushed with desperate but embarrassed need, Kyohei had never been more turned on by any other woman. Masami wasn’t anything special. She didn’t have the ‘perfect’ body or have the greatest make-up skills. She was slow and at times absent-minded, just like right now, she seemed to be concentrating on something else and Kyohei didn’t know that this was what she was usually like in the moment. She was concentrating on her lyrics.

But Kyohei didn’t want that. He wanted all thoughts on him.

So, sitting back onto his heels, he focused all of his attention to her lower half. Palms falling on her knees, which only now had he realised were slightly bruised and was sure they were from the last time she had done something like this, his hands crept up her legs. The warm sensation on her body, chilled by the cold room and limited clothing, sent an excited shiver through her- dispersing any thoughts of music to the side, just for now, just so something could make sense. There was Kyohei Rikudoh, having her straddle him while she was on her back, making his way to her nether region with a look that seemed a little too excited.

But, Masami didn’t have time to think that fact over as she felt some sort of pressure on her clit. She gasped out a moan as she looked down to see Kyohei’s thumb disappearing underneath the fabric of her shorts. The motions on her fastened the more she moaned but the second she got a little louder, it was gone.

But only for a moment. Masami was about to complain before she felt that same digit enter her fully. Although shorter and thinner than some men she’s had, Kyohei’s thumb worked wonders on the nerves that were building up in that area and the nerves that had been in her head for the past few hours. He enjoyed the silent gasping as he pressed in different directions before slipping out and replacing it with his middle finger, once again seeing that short burst of annoyance before her lips parted to take in enough air to remind herself to breath. He wanted so badly to trap those plump things under his, exploring her mouth like it was the Mariana Trench, so, he leaned in.

“No.” A muffled call escaped Masami’s lips as she covered them with her hand, protecting herself from his advances. He stopped his thrusting fingers, wondering if he had hurt her, but she shook her head.

“N-Not on the lips.” She stuttered, the darkest blush she’s had tonight ligthening her face as she kept her hand there. Kyohei was slightly confused, his brows frowning at the strange demand. She would let him fuck her, but she wouldn’t let him kiss her? Well, he knew she was strange, but he didn’t believe it when she had reprimanded Mitsu. He thought it was just because he was there.

“I-If that’s gonna be an issue for you...” Masami led off as she sat up, inched herself away the best she could to keep the distance away from their faces and his fingers, which he hadn’t realised where still in her, slipped out. She bit back a moan at that, too embarrassed and scared to have annoyed him to make a noise.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going to force you.” Kyohei smirked, wanting this more than he wanted to exercise each of his fantasifull whims. Masami’s shoulders eased at that and her gaze wondered down his body.

“Oh?” She muttered at the tent she saw pitched in his shorts. They were loose and thin, something like basketball wear, so she could definitely tell most of that height wasn’t material. She was in for a treat tonight.

With the tilt of her head, she reached forward, pulling down his waist band and helping his cock escape before he could say a word. To his surprise, he panicked as she grabbed it with such gentle fingers his hands flew behind him to keep himself upright. As her knees weren’t hooked over his anymore, she could sit on her own legs as Kyohei’s crossed his in front of him.

Masami knew what she was doing, she had a routine. Something she knew worked every other time she had done this act with someone new, so, she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his dick before licking it.

“You’re rather forward, huh?” Kyohei tried to regain his usual composure as the petite woman before him hardened him so suddenly he worried there’d be no blood left in his skull. She looked up at that incredulous smirk and couldn’t help but blush as she realised what she was doing.

“I want this.” She replied bluntly, not blaming herself for her less than ordinary ways to relieve stress. She licked him one last time before she brought her lips right next to his ear, careful not to let go of his cock. “So, will you fuck me now, Sir Kyo?”

Her questioning tone was almost innocent if not for the words that spilled out of her mouth so easily. Kyohei felt something come over him, an all too familiar feeling of lust, and he pushed her back by her shoulders onto the floor where she had been moments ago. He pulled her shorts and panties off, all in one go, and threw them behind him without much care as to where they ended up.

“You came prepared?” Masami frowned her brows at the condom Kyohei pulled out of his pocket. She wasn’t mad, she was happy he had one, but it did confuse her. She didn’t really know he was aware of her trances.

“Always am, Miss Mami~.” Kyohei’s teasing tone, mimicking the voice of her usual muse, made the girl blush, covering her frown with the back of her hand as she laid there, waiting patiently. She looked too cute for what he was about to do to her.

“Shut up and help me.” She grumbled, reminding him why they were here in the first place, and Kyohei couldn’t help but chuckle. The two stayed in their separate states until Kyohei sharply entered her.

Both mind’s turned into a pleasured fog that distracted either side of this couple from the outside world. Not that anything was happening that they would need to look out for, everyone was asleep and Kyohei hade the foresight to close the door. This allowed them, mostly Masami, to moan to their heart’s content. She clutched the top that fluttered over her as Kyohei towered over, holding himself up with one hand and her right thigh with the other.

“K-Kyohei.” She gasped out, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him as his hand massaged that part of her leg, waiting for her to be comfortable enough for him to move. He seemed pushy, but he did care, being the secretly thoughtful guy he was. The sound of his name told the producer he could start thrusting.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted as those movements pulled him out of the short but sweet trance he found himself in as he watched the young woman writhe beneath him distracted him from the tightness of her. How could a woman said to be so risque and ravaging seem so virginal?

“Y-You’re just big.” The comment made her blush and she pouted, momentarily preoccupied from the heavenly sensation slowly grinding into her.

“Don’t frown like that. I’m sure you’ve dreamt about this, haven’t you?” He drew even closer to her once again, propped on his elbows as he continued to thrust in and out of her, one hand holding her cheek. He was careful not to make it seem like he would try to kiss her.

The smugness of his tone and sudden hard pound of his hips made Masami’s hands fly down his torso to grip the skin of his behind, hoping it would spur him onto giving her more of that much needed pleasure. “K-Kyohei.” Her ideas were finally organising themselves. She was so close. All she needed was a little encouragement.

“Go on. Scream my name. I know you want to.” Even though his own breathing started to hasten, his heart racing and his words sometimes tripping over themselves, Kyohei tried to seem as cool as he usually was. But, the clawing feeling on his lower back and arching of her’s, pressing their bodies even closer together was just so erotic, he found his own thoughts becoming jumbled. There was so much he wanted to say, so many dirty things he wanted to whisper in her ear to make her blush harder, to stutter his name more, he couldn’t understand any of the words that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Something about loving something, but the shriek of the woman below him pulled his thoughts away from that strange sensation.

“K-Kyohei!” Arms flying up his body and around his neck, pulling him closer and her up so he could snake an arm around her, holding their bodies flush together, Masami couldn’t hold back anymore.

“More. Please. I need so much more!” She whimpered in his ear and he only just realised his thrusts had slowed while he was thinking. Then, one thought made sense. Flipping them over so he was on his back and Masami was sitting on his lap, his cock buried so deep inside her she was sure she must have been hollowed out by him, Kyohei smirked.

“Go on, do it yourself. Use me to inspire you.” Sitting, holding each other, his hand clutching the back of her hair so he could whisper in her ear without risk of her pulling back, Kyohei pulled as much out of her as he could. Albeit the ground prohibitted most of his movement. When he loosened his grip, Masami sat up, looking at him with another one of her cutely questioning expressions.

“How do you- Oh!” Masami gasped as he pushed her hips down, mainly to distract her from her question and also to pleasure himself. Her hands once again clenched the fabric on his chest and she subconsciously started bouncing up and down, the sound of skin hitting skin sounding between them. Heavy breathing, moans of each other’s names, and the smell of hot, sweaty sex filled the room. It was lucky they had good ventilation in here.

It didn’t take much longer for either to finish, coincidentally at the same time, and when they both felt each other’s releases, Masami collasped forward, landing on Kyohei’s chest with a soft thud. She was panting, her thighs aching slightly from the exercise, and Kyohei chuckled, his arms sprawled out either side of him. The two finally had a moment of silence...

...Until Masami jumped up, his penis sliding out of her but she didn’t seem to care much, and yanked her journal from the table she had been struggling over before he showed up. As if this hadn’t just happened, as if one of the most sort of bachelors at the moment wasn’t laying half-naked on the floor behind her, Masami started working. She started pouring her heart out onto the pages in front of her, making quick work of the song she had been struggling with for the past day and a half.

It couldn’t be hidden, Kyohei was a little pissed. He had just had one of the most amazing sex sessions he had ever experiences, and she was still able to make it to the desk chair and write? So, he got up, meaning to turn her around and pound her against that journal that seemed to occupy her thoughts, when she met his stern gaze with a delighted smile. He only now saw the slightly darkened rings under her eyes and, despite that, she still looked adorable.

“Thanks, Kyohei, you were a big help!” Masami cheered, slapping her book shut and standing up, only to find the two much closer than she had anticipated. Both their lower halves were completely on show, but she couldn’t let herself look down. She was beat but, most of all, she was able to write. She had been able to accompish what she set out to do.

Kyohei just chuckled at his own stupidity. He should have understood what Mitsu meant when she really did just use his body to satiate her creativity. This was just a trade in professions, a transferable muse and a writer, nothing more, nothing less.

“Call me if you need anymore help.” He winked, his smug smirk returning to his face as Masami blushed at the offer, turning to find her shorts, throwing them on and running out the door so she could finally get some much needed sleep. What neither of them had realised was the pair of panties, tucked behind a filing cabinet after Kyohei had carelessly thrown them over his shoulder.

#scandel in the spotlight #kyohei rikudoh #sits #voltage games #voltage fanfic #voltage smut

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anikkis-fantasirealities · 3 years

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“The Banquet Rooms of the Grandeur Campus”

③ Human Interest Story ┊ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵒ ʸᵉᵃʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵘᶦᵈᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʸᵒᵘᵗʰ···ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᵉ ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᵍᵉⁿᵘᶦˢᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵍᵒᵒᵈʷᶦˡˡ·

꒰⁺˚₊·₍₍loading...₎₎ ✎...۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ -ˏˋ 📨 ˊˎ-

༘✶ ㊉㈦〘 ⅯⅯ 〙⋆｡˚𓆟 ༉ ║ Posted : ０６/１５/２１° ｡༄ ‧₊˚ ๑ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ •ଓ.° ｡❍ ㈩㊇

- - ——— ꒰ An article by Nicole “Nikki” Elaine S. Chua ꒱

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ࿐ྂ—͙❬₊° ᶦ ᵃᵐ ᵃ ᵇˡᵒᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ·“= ‹⸙͎

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┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

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┊ ┊ ︎✧

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On a scorching afternoon where the shouting of children, chasing each other after classes have concluded, and the chattering adults have started to lock up the messy rooms, there was not one place that was quiet. I, on the other hand, had a quest to fulfill under a time limit! The red ballpen flung onto my chair desk when white sheets of paper were clenced by my thin palms. I ran outside past our broken doorstep to our class, over the pastures, and on top of stone-edged floors. Time is ticking... 4, 3, 2, and those squeaky black dull shoes made it! In opening the slim door to the right side of the room, they were like glorifying gates that screeched wide open—awaiting for my arrival. Well, it wasn’t that dramatic, but I was perspired out of sprinting under the gleaming sun. My short legs wobbling for a tiny second. The beads dripping on my worried face were shaken when I entered the room at around the size of a studio-type residence.

It was normal for me to be an errand girl who assists her class and obey her teachers with respect, no matter what school my identification card is designated to. I grew up with that kind of personality: helpful, caring, kind, diligent, and patient. Hence, these exhausted shoes have travelled to many places across gymnasiums, libraries, storage rooms, and laboratories. Though, sometimes, my mind still can’t get used to such a huge room, like that of the faculty rooms. I still become staggered over the hectic aura of the space, where long tables sat in rows, and people in pink & blue uniforms kindling the noise from the outside within. I would look around to see piles of examination papers, rolls of cartolina squeezed into a box, and scattered gadgets for teaching being charged to full energy. This is an article featuring the 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝙀𝙧𝙖 𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙮: 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙎𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡.

Throughout the years I’ve walked on those narrow corridors, and climbed up stairs to different floors of the vintage buildings, I also meet ways with many generations. One generation was younger than me—that of clumsy children innocently playing in the fields endlessly. The other was of my age, those who exist with me, as they attempt to finish their studies without tilting their heads to nudges of distraction. Then, there was this generation who were much similar to us—like students in a classroom laughing and sharing stories with each other. They had the knowledge of the world in their hands. In their arms, they carry heavier packages to unbox. Though, unlike the previous generations I meet who simply stepped up and down the stairs, the prudent grown-up smiled back to me, walking slowly pass my agitated shoulder.

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ㅤㅤ ❝ That room that I remember the most, ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ was under construction before the pandemic began. ❞

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I had the desire to help them lift their troubles by standing by their side, but they refuse because it is the role they signed up for, and my position had no power to be elevated to their level. Though, through these words, I know I would be able to do something to display their everyday lives behind teaching the New Era youth, giving the best advice, and serving the school with unconditional love. I was given the chance to be closer to the people who inspired me to present the compassionate self with the direction, ambition, and deduction to offer my best contribution to the world I belong to.

At the back of those generalized comforting grins and caring embraces, come their different fairytales that make the generation a community of teachers—young or old, millennial or Gen X, whatever gender and status they may have. They were a social generation, with hundred of stories to unfold and share to the youth. That was one thing I admired about them the most.

Well, I have encountered many teachers in my life since entering school, but the memory that always stick to my mind is my experiences with the teachers of New Era University: Integrated School. For some, they would cover their face when they recognize their teachers riding on a public vehicle rushing to its detination. Others simply ignore their respected educators when they spot them being at school even if the sun has already tucked in for the day.

However, I was one of those students who waves and greets them with my two-front teeth sticking out in happiness—trekking my way to school, riding shiny metallic jeepneys, and walking through scrapped walls that used to be fully painted. The inspiration flows out when I’m with them—a witness of their trials and ever-changing biographies in their very own home, the school, itself. Yes, the school becomes their shelter, figuratively, because that is how passionate they are in the path they’ve chosen to wander upon.

Then, there’s this vague image that I always remember—a banquet room where teachers eat together side-by-side during lunch breaks. The clanging of plates and utensils compliments the happy vibe of the room. The meals packed in transparent plastic bags from the canteen look fancy because of the optimistic mood all throughout the proximity in between me and the busy adults. Oh, and how could I not forget to mention the signature pancakes by New Era University: Integrated School that some teachers indulge in the most?

The giggles never end when I hear their jokes from afar, while I am walking through their room to return the checked papers I’ve finished to my Filipino teacher in Grade 10. Everyone was like workers in a castle of royalty—busy and preoccupied with their own duties, yet working towards one united purpose, that together creates a vibrant mix of emotions in the great hall. The harmonized melody it produces once the sweat and tears has finally been paid off, truly, the lunch breaks are what makes the banquet more lively. It’s a feast to behold!

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ㅤㅤ❝ Whenever I catch my name, I return it, ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤwith my good-natured, ‘Hi po, Sir and Ma’am!’ ❞

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On one side were the lockers, where old and new student’s projects filled the barren storage with interesting information. There are multiple brown wooden tables overlapped with colorful designs where groups of teachers sit together. The masters of Science sat at the bench to the wall at the right, while the experts in English stay behind a counter adjacent to the door on the right. People who speak of Filipino, Math, Computer, and MAPEH had benches next to each other in the middle of the bustling hall that was their faculty room. They are not divided, literally, for their workplaces are not distanced from one another. Each part of the table has a customized area per teacher, whose pictures of blood-related family and schedules are inserted under transparent cover—giving them motivation to carry on their sworn responsibility. However, just like BFFs who stick together, some teachers transfer to other tables to enjoy the rest of the day with their close co-faculty members.

They would talk about their personal lives, their interests, and at times, the students & problems they encounter in classes. Some gave glee, but of course, there were also those that gave headaches. That’s why whenever I am presented with a new subject teacher per grade level, I can understand if the they know me well from the narrations of the teachers who’ve handled me. They are aware of my struggles, efforts, and kindness as a pupil of New Era. They are familiarized with this face, the expression, and its body language.

Though, I am still proud that they recognize my batchmates dedication, too. Each teacher imparted values to all their children equally. There was no favoritism, and everyone gets a chance to participate. When we make mistakes, we are still accepted and loved. All this, even though they are humans who are aroused by intense feelings? No matter how impressive, or lowly we are, it is that chance to be better that we are most thankful about in this palace of high education.

All the pictures you’ve seen so far contain significant beings in my life as a student-soon-to-be-adult. That’s the magic of being someone not so known in society or history, but will remain a treasured person in your life—a special connection only you and that person understands, and not everyone else does. Even though I tend to stutter and zip my mouth when I am often in the loud banquet when I do not want to disturb the delightful get-alongs by our educators, eventually I am noticed and asked, “What are you doing here, Nicole Chua?” It’s the admiration that regardless if I was hidden or completely revealing of myself, they help me to speak out and be more confident with the adults. That is something that I also want to influence my classmates with, because these teachers outside lessons and activities are not so intimidating & looming at all!

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ㅤㅤ ㅤ❝ I can recall the cooked dishes and the grades for judging, and I cherish them knowing you cannot taste them again. ❞

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They are friendly, approachable, and absolutely considerate of the many kids they manage from Mondays to Fridays. Off campus is a different story that I can’t personally share for the privacy of their lives, though I would say it’s rough. It’s rough to come back home—to take care of your very own children while finishing school records, bringing along the stress from work into their real dwelling. They are not just mothers and fathers of the campus that caters hundreds of beautiful princes and princesses. They are also parents worried of their own children’s future.

The sicknesses, the loans, the quarrels, and the trickling hourglass—all this is what they must face in the cold, dry evenings. They are vulnerable to all these things that makes them a part of reality, and not just some fantasy with no flaws. It didn’t matter if they were in the coordinator’s office, the cookery laboratory, the office in the second floor, or that special place on the fourth floor. I was there to hear their encounters with their rude children, or the sweet marriage they had. If I clean harder, dart quicker, and volunteer even more, I can appreciate them who were not supernatural beings veiled in fiction. They sacrifice for that hope, that they will teach the next generations how to educate those after them, and those before them. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.

One time, I was holding onto the dream of being a part of the school’s newspaper—it was my “𝗛𝗨𝗗𝗬𝗔𝗧” to fulfill the vision, reflected by that tender link I had with that story. The tension was still on me when I came to the opening. I had no clue why I felt that way, even if I’ve entered too many banquet halls at that point. Though, I was determined to open that door and introduce myself with the passion I had. She was someone I did not know so much back then, but now, I’m writing this article because of her instruction. Her proficient Filipino words, and the lectures she offered to us. There was the excitement, the uplifting compliments, and the will to keep on writing. This may be the last time that we will be coupled for education, but I’m hoping to see our names as staff on the front page. Am I too much, or was that a mysterious ending?

Teachers in general only want the best for their learners, for influencing their lives is the greatest fulfillment. They can be strict or relatable, but together, they spend the rest of the day in the banquet room, merrily toasting for a job well done. In this monumental learning institution, many important people shall rise and do their part in society, away from the fairytales and fictional playtime. Perhaps, next time, if you can also observe your own school’s faculty room, you can hear their stories—the sounds of a feast, and assist them in preparing for the afternoon festivities.

I hope you were able to see the beautiful reality of the teachers of New Era University: Integrated School with my own eyes. Do greet them hello, or help them in your tiny acts the next time you see them, and it will definitely brighten their day. Thank you for reading their ordinary tales! Come back again in another blog where my fantasies become realities! A Nikki reminder: let’s help one another to rise up to success, instead of degrading one another to failure!

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ❝ It’s the ultimate desire, and yet I felt so anxious, ㅤㅤ ㅤbut now we’re so close, yet so far between screens. ❞

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· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚ . . 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . * · . · · + . ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ· ** ˚ . . + 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ. . + 　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧ ⋆ · * . · . · · .. . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ· + ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ · ** ˚ . . + ㅤㅤ　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⋆ · * . · ㅤㅤ . · · .. . . · + .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. · + . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ * . * . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ . · ·

ㅤㅤ﹙dedication. ﹚ ୨˚୧ ˚ ༘♡.↳ ₊˚‧

This blog is dedicated to “I am a Teacher,” for her patience, remarks, rainbow scarfs, adorable dogs, and wonderful words given to me. You are My Most Precious Treasure in this writing journey, from blandness to vividness.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 🧁 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ┊彡 Credits

➥ Cover Edit

➫ Ma’am JB

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➥ First Blog Divider

➫ Sir Leo

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Second Blog Divider

➫ Ma'am Eva

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Third Blog Divider

➫ Sir Prince

➥ Fourth Blog Divider

➫ Sir Prince

➥ Fifth Blog Divider

➫ Teacher Med

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ�� ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Source of Information

➫ The author’s encounters

➫ Briefly shared stories by her teachers

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 end. 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

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#NEU-IS PH #Creative Non-fiction #Feature Article #Blogging #Human Interest Story #aNikKis Fantasirealities #Teachers #Faculty Room

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amortentiando · 5 years

Text

From the series of: Wolfstar raising Harry

Harry loved Sirius's drawings.

Since he discovered them, stored in a box on top of a closet, he'd sometimes spend hours looking at them one by one. Most of them were drawings of Remus, of course, and contained a signature of Sirius Black and a date written in ink in the corner of the sheet, all dating from 1975 to 1979. Most of them were clearly captured moments at Hogwarts, in the Gryffindor common room, or in the boys' dormitory, as his godfather himself had told Harry. Some showed Remus sitting in an armchair by the fireplace reading a book, others were doodles of his profile sitting on a chair in the classroom a few feet away. One showed Remus sleeping on some pieces of parchment on a table, and on another he held a cup of something steaming, while sitting on a window, looking outside.

Harry loved each of those drawings because he felt like he could almost be there, feeling the moment when he looked at them. He had found one of his father, fallen asleep while sitting with his cheek pressed to his hand and his crooked glasses, which Sirius said was one morning when he fell asleep in the middle of Professor McGonagall's class and ended up getting detention for it. Sirius let Harry have that one, and the boy hung it on the wall next to his bed. He loved looking at his father every night before going to sleep, and wished he had one of his mother too. From the pictures, she seemed so beautiful. Harry even tried to ask his godfather to draw his mother, but he said he didn't know if he could draw anymore and that he certainly wouldn't remember her features so perfectly to do so. Even though he couldn't quite explain why, Harry felt very sad that night and Remus realized that when he went to say good night.

“Your mother was amazing, Harry. She was beautiful, not only on the outside but also on the inside. She and I were great friends. You have every right to feel sad that you haven't met her. ”

"That's not it," the boy replied. "Not exactly."

"So what is it?"

“It's just… you and Sirius don't remember what they looked like anymore. In time, you’ll will forget even more, and I will never really know, and they didn't deserve it. To be forgotten. ”

Remus couldn't answer for a moment. He nodded, swallowing hard, and finally murmured:

"You're right."

Sirius didn't know what gift to give Harry on his eleventh birthday. He always gave him a toy or they went to meet some place the boy really wanted to meet, but this time Harry was already too old for toys and he wanted to give the boy something more important to celebrate his eleventh birthday and his entry into Hogwarts, when the official invitation finally arrived. But July came and it was almost over and Sirius didn't know what to give him until Remus told him what Harry had said about his parents, and he figured out what to do. He would try to draw a picture of Harry with his parents as best he could.

However, Sirius soon came to the frustrating conclusion that he definitely didn't know how to draw anymore. His skills were nowhere near what they were before, during his hot , inconsequential youth, when art was part of who he was and there were no other worries, when he had not lost the people he loved most and everything was still easy. Or maybe it was easier because back then, when he managed to name his feelings for Remus, he just had to look at the boy to feel all the nerve endings in his body inspire to put on paper what Lupin really was: a masterpiece.

It was with this in mind that he stopped wiping the quill on his face absently and looked at Remus, that was facing the other way in front of the sink making coffee and wearing a frayed old shirt that had once belonged to him – or so he thought, but couldn’t be sure. For so many years they had been sharing everything, that even most of his clothes already belonged to both of them. No, Sirius thought, sitting at the kitchen table with the parchment and ink in front of him. I still see a masterpiece when I look at him. I could still draw him on every inch of this scroll without even having to look at him for long. But the problem, he soon realized, was that Harry was right. It wasn't Remus he needed to draw, it was James and Lily. And he no longer remembered his friends' faces, the little details that made a difference, that made the drawing more real.

Black dropped the quill on the paper and sighed heavily, scratching his eyes with his hands and resting his face on his palms. He felt Remus approach from behind and kiss his cheek close to his ear as he dropped a cup of coffee in front of him on the table. They had both woken up just minutes ago, it was still early Monday morning, and the first thing they did, as always, was to check the mail and go to the kitchen.

“What's the matter?” Remus sat next to him and pulled out the newspaper to read.

“Harry was right when he said that. I don't remember them anymore, not everything... Not enough to draw them.” Sirius sighed heavily, staring at the sketch he had tried to start.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Sirius." Remus touched his arm. "Harry will love it anyway, you know that."

“His birthday is tomorrow and I could barely get started on it yet. And you know how I hate doing things in half…” Sirius ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. “Isn't it ridiculous? That I’ve forgotten them? He was my best friend. My brother.” He looked at Remus, bewildered, searching for some words of comfort. "Do you remember them?"

Remus dropped the coffee cup in his hands and turned to his husband.

"Do you know how much time has passed?"

"Ten years," Sirius concluded, without much thought. In October of that year the death of James and Lily would complete ten years. Time had literally flown by, for if Sirius thought of the beginning, in the first weeks after their death, when he thought he would never recover, he could see the great path they had taken. It was only a few years ago that they stopped scratching each calendar day, another craze they had acquired together, to count the days they had survived missing the Potters. Each scratched day was both a victory and a deeper pain. Each scratched day was like a burden to both of them, a reminder that no matter how many days were scratched, the pain would not pass, the longing would always be there, and they would never return. It was then, realizing that this was doing more harm than good, that Remus decided it was time to stop. Sirius still remembered the night when, before bed, his husband stopped in front of the fridge with his quill in his hand and stared at the calendar for countless minutes. Finally he took it from the refrigerator door, dropped it on the floor and looked at Sirius. The only thing he said was "do it" without explaining anything. “Do it, and we'll get it over with. And leave it behind.” Sirius took his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the calendar. He muttered a spell that set the paper on fire and they both watched it burn for a while.

The other day, the longing was the same.

"Ten years," Remus agreed, bringing him back to the moment. “It's too much time. You can't remember everything, Pads. It’s not your fault. I don’t remember them either. But we still remember the main things, the most important moments. Nothing can take it from us.”

Sirius nodded, he was right. Remus always knew what to say. He then felt one of Remus’ gentle kisses on his lips before the man turned back to the Daily Prophet on his hands.

Sirius took a sip of his own coffee and looked back at the parchment, determined to try his best. He dipped the tip of the quill in ink, but when was about to begin, Harry appeared in the kitchen yawning and shuffling his feet. Sirius quickly pulled a sheet of newspaper over the drawing and dropped the quill. He watched the boy stop in the middle of the kitchen and scratch his eyes, adjusting his glasses in place and running his hands through his messy hair. He blinked a few times and looked at the two men sitting at the table before smiling and saying good morning.

For a moment it was as if Sirius saw James Potter for the first time again, on the Hogwarts Express platform. The boy, growing taller and slender every day, with round glasses and tousled, minimally curled hair, had the same dark skin as his father, the same careless, quiet expression, almost the same voice and manner. Sirius could see, for a brief second, James Potter's face perfectly in his mind. It was a brief, fleeting image, but it was enough to make him sure he could finish that drawing now.

"You look so much like your father," he said, unable to hold back the thought.

"Except the eyes," Remus added, also watching the boy.

"You have your mother's eyes" Sirius agreed and smiled.

#harry potter #wolfstar #marauders era #the marauders #james potter #lily evans #lily potter #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar raising harry #mine #headcanon

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 5 years

Text

Playing With Fire ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Gray x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author’s Note: This is the first time in a long time I’ve written so please give me feedback so I know how to improve! Hope you enjoy! Also, this is a LONG ASS chapter (like 8 pages). Sorry about that.

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Michael leaned against the brick wall of some miscellaneous Birmingham building, blowing an impressive puff of smoke from his cigarette, as he watched you as you walked back to your mother’s shop with arms full of bolts of various fabrics. He watched that sweet smile that you sent the poor homeless man that sat on the sidewalk and the way that you bent down to help the young child that lost his ball as it rolled towards you, tossing it back to him despite the obvious load in your arms.

He was absolutely smitten by that sweet smile. He also knew not to cross it though, having seen the wrath you inflicted on some teenage boy who thought he could pin you against the wall and try to kiss you without your permission. Michael couldn’t blame the poor bloke. You were absolutely beautiful and given the chance, he would have taken the opportunity too (consensually, of course).

You were oblivious to this affections. Sure, you knew of Michael Gray and the rest of the Shelbys (they were a hard lot to not know in Birmingham considering they ran the dang city) and had numerous interactions with them all on several occasions but you stuck to your family’s business most of the time, honestly not finding the time to go out often, and therefore didn’t run into Michael much unless he was coming in to get something hemmed or to pick something up for Polly.

On this particular day, you did happen to notice Michael standing across the street, puffing at his cigarette. Blinder business, you assumed. There was always some sort of Blinder business.

Arms full, you leaned back into the door, struggling to push it open with your back. The little bell above chimed and your mom’s attention snapped up, expecting to see a customer, but instead saw you struggling. She rushed up from the sewing machine to help you, grabbing half of the bolts from your arms and setting them on the dark wooden table. “Thank you! There’s no way we would have been able to finish Arthur’s suit without these.”

Your mom grabbed the dark grey fabric that she needed to make his vest from, rolling it across the table and using the measuring tape that hung around her neck to help draw a pattern on it. “Did you need any help on it or should I start on another order?” You asked, walking across the room and behind the counter to where the list of orders were kept.

“Actually,” Your mom started, “None of the orders need to be ready for at least a week. I was thinking maybe you’d want to go out with a friend tonight.” She looked at you with a smile, knowing that this wasn’t a very frequent opportunity.

You looked at her strangely, “No it’s okay. I can just start an order tonight so you won’t be stressing yourself out last minute as always. Mrs. Monaghue’s dress shouldn’t take longer than a day!” Your mother was always working. You could never bring yourself to leave your mom with all that work. That’s all she ever did was work and with your father working in the factory, you were the only one to help.

“Sweetie, it hurts me to see how much of your youth you’ve already given away to helping me in this old shop here. I can’t remember the last time I saw you have fun with people your own age. You can afford to go out for one night.” She insisted, a sweet caring smile on her face.

You knew she was right but you were still hesitant, “I don’t even know where to go or who I’d go with.” You explained, picking up an order sheet and walking over to grab the fabric, considering the matter settled that you wouldn’t go if you didn’t really have a plan for a fun night.

Your mom could see what you were doing and followed, hot on your heels, ripping the paper from your hands and pinning it to the desk with a smack of her hand on top of it, “I’m glad you mentioned that because I hear that Louisa - remember your best friend from back in primary school that moved? - I hear she’s back in town visiting her aunt. Her aunt told me she doesn’t get out much back home so we arranged for you to have a little night on the town together tonight.”

“You already arranged it?!” You exclaimed, wondering when on earth this took place considering you were with your mom all the time. A smugly proud smile swept across her face and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “You are ridiculous sometimes.” You teased with a laugh.

Later that night, you found yourself walking alone down the dark streets of the city. Louisa was definitely a different girl than you knew back all those years ago but that didn’t come as much of a surprise to you. You were much different than you were when you were ten too. You just wouldn’t have abandoned your only friend in the city to go off with some snobby rich boy for the night.

“You alright there?” A vaguely familiar voice stole your attention from your thoughts and you looked up. Michael stepped out of the shadowed stoop of a loud building and out onto the sidewalk.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” You sent him a polite smile.

His gaze lingered for a moment, “Y/N, right? Your mom’s the seamstress?” He asked.

You were shocked that he remembered. You definitely remembered him. I mean, how could you not? He was ridiculously handsome and ran with the Shelbys, not a duo of characteristics that were easy to forget. You nodded, “Mr. Shelby, right?”

“Close. I’m Michael Gray but might as well be a Shelby.” He laughed a little and you couldn’t help the smile that cracked on your face. “So what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing out here at this hour?”

Your eyes rolled just thinking back to Louisa leaving you, “Just making my way back home for the night.” The prospect of sitting alone drinking in a bar just didn’t sound all that appealing to you, so after you found yourself flying solo, you quickly decided to call it a night.

Michael checked his pocket watch, “Already? You look like you got all dolled up for a night out.” He observed. You suddenly felt self conscious, not used to having your hair done nicely or the red lipstick that graced your lips or the nicer-than-usual dress that replaced your typical skirt. Michael noticed all of these things about you and more but thought they only enhanced the beauty that was there anyways.

“Yeah…” You trailed off, “My friend was swept away by Prince Good-For-A-Night.” You joked, eyes going to the wet ground before finding his again.

He stepped down from the small step and extended his arm to you, “Well, lucky for you, you’ve found yourself Prince Charming. I mean, if you feel like waiting a little longer to rush home. Let me buy you a drink so hopefully your night wasn’t complete rubbish.”

Prince Charming indeed, you thought.

Eyeing him up and down, you nodded, “Alright Michael. I suppose I’ll let you buy me a drink.”

You found yourself walking into the bar arm-in-arm with Michael. This was the first time you were in the Garrison. Drinking had never really been your thing so you’d never had any business there but you could definitely go a drink or two. It was a night to let go after all, right?

Once seated, Michael just wordlessly flashed two fingers to the bartender who quickly returned with two glasses of what you soon discovered was whiskey. “You come here often?” You asked, already knowing the answer if the bartender knew his order.

“Tommy Shelby runs the place. You could say we’re here frequently. You?” He sipped his drink, and you found yourself watching the way his lips curved around the glass, mesmerized by his features.

“Can’t say that I do. I’m usually too busy working.” You answered, taking a drink of whiskey and trying to pretend the fire in your throat didn’t burn as much as it did.

He gestured with the glass in his hand, “What’s with that? I always see you at that shop of yours but never out and around town unless it’s on some errand.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Have you been watching me Mr. Gray?” You questioned. Your tone wasn’t accusatory though, more curious. What on Earth was there to be interested in?

“Not necessarily watching you but it’s hard to miss such a beautiful lady in this town.” Of course he’s been watching you. He wasn’t stalking you by any means but when he saw you he found it impossible to move his gaze. And then you smiled. An adorable blushed smile spread on your face.

Were your cheeks red? They definitely felt hot. Gosh, could he see it? Is this what positive attention from a boy felt like? You could definitely get used to it. “I could say the same thing about you.” You replied.

Michael was surprised at your flirty comment and chuckled, “Ah, so I’m a beautiful lady?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “The most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”

Michael couldn’t describe what he felt with you. You were so kind and innocent but witty and flirtatious. You were such an enigma that had him sucked in. Before he could stop himself, he had to ask, “Do you maybe want to go for a walk?”

To be honest, you weren’t sure when you found yourself inside the Shelby’s betting shop and even less sure when or how you found yourself pressed up against the wall with Michael’s lips crashing into yours. His hands were all over you, one on your cheek and the other on your waist, pulling your body closer to him.

His lips were surprisingly soft against yours and he tasted like whiskey. The alcohol may not have affected you much but you were definitely drunk off of his kiss. Michael’s hands slowly trailed down lower, gripping you by the thighs and lifting you up, never breaking the kiss. He carried you over to a desk and set you down on it, leaning forward over you until you were lying down, pulling his body close to yours.

You were grateful nobody else was in the building. This was definitely out of character for you and despite the fact that you weren’t necessarily close to the Shelbys, you didn’t want people seeing this side of you. This wild, hormonal, dirty side. You barely let yourself see it.

“Michael…” You breathed out as his lips made a hot trail down your neck, sucking dark marks here and there until he found that spot that made your toes curl. Mouth occupied with your neck, his hands began roaming down to your breasts, lightly raking over them with his fingertips over the fabric of your dress. The teasing was driving you insane but before long he was massaging them. You were in absolute heaven.

Michael’s mouth returned to yours in a passionate, fiery kiss that had you lost. His arms slipped behind your back as he smoothly lifted your body to sit up, legs dangling over the edge of the desk with him standing between your knees.

You were shaken from your daze though when you felt his fingers begin to unzip the back of your dress, “Wait!” You exclaimed, hand shooting out to his chest, ready to push him away but not doing it for some reason.

He stopped right away, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” His blue eyes searched your face for any signs of distress.

“Yeah… everything’s fine. It’s just that… I’ve never, you know,” You raised your eyebrows in inference, “before.” You couldn’t bring yourself to match his gaze and you were grateful that it was somewhat dark, hoping that it cast a shadow over your burning face.

“Really?” He asked. He didn’t sound judgemental. He was genuinely dumbfounded that a woman like you could never have been with a man.

You finally found the courage to look back at him, even if just for a second, “I know, I know. It sounds pathetic. I ju-”

“It’s not pathetic at all.” He assured you, placing a gentle hand on your cheek, “We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

His voice was so sincere and you felt like he genuinely cared. Was this really how you wanted to lose it though? On a desk in a dark old betting shop run by gangsters to a man that you only really knew in passing? As much as your logic told you that maybe this wasn’t how it should be, your heart screamed that it was. Michael was here in front of you, a beautiful specimen of a man who had never been anything but kind to you in any interaction you’d had since he’d moved to Birmingham, and nothing but concern for your wellbeing and comfort shone in his eyes. Yeah, you were sure.

You nodded in assurance that this was what you wanted, reaching up to kiss him again before you could change your mind but Michael pulled away, forehead resting on yours, “I need you to say it, darling. Say that you want this.”

“I want this, Michael.” You whispered, becoming desperate for his touch. His lips returned to yours, much softer and romantic than it was before.

Slowly, his lips made their way down your neck, focusing on the places he’d learned you’d loved the most. He kissed up towards your ear before whispering, “If you want to stop at any time, just say so.”

“Okay.” You breathed, finding his tenderness almost sexy. There was nothing more sexual and comforting than knowing that you were safe with somebody.

Michael’s fingers resumed their previous quest of unzipping your dress, the fabric slowly loosening around your frame and beginning to hang off your shoulders. His hands slid up your back, gently brushing the material from your body and it pooled on the floor. You stood before him in nothing but your underwear and bra and felt extremely self-conscious being the only undressed one.

You reached out for him, sliding his coat off his shoulders and he threw his cap off to the side as well. You tugged on his vest and looked up at him shyly, “C-could you maybe take these off?”

Michael could tell how nervous you were and was more than happy to do whatever made you feel more comfortable, especially if it meant taking clothes off.

Soon, his vest, shirt, and suspenders were on the floor and his smooth chest was pressed against your breasts as you kissed. One of his hands snaked up your torso from your hip, finding a home on your breast, kneading them through your bra. You moaned against his lips, feeling an unfamiliar throbbing between your legs.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, large hands running over your breasts through your bra. Without actually responding, you reached back, untying it yourself and discarding the supportive material. Before he could see anything, you quickly wrapped your arms around your breasts, shielding yourself from his view. He leaned in close, closing the gap between you and gently grabbing your wrists, pulling your arms down. “You’re absolutely beautiful.” You blushed, “And absolutely fucking adorable.”

His hands gently massaged your breasts, the roughness of skin rubbing against your soft tissue in all the right ways. Your hands tangled in his sandy locks, pulling his mouth closer to yours, as if it were possible.

Your hips shifted forward on the table into his clothed crotch and he groaned at the contact. “Oh darling…” His voice was hoarse. His fingers tugged lightly at your underwear, “Mind if we lose these?”

Your heart nearly stopped. This was what you wanted but the prospect of standing completely naked in front of somebody was terrifying to you. It was one of the ultimate trusts to you and you just hoped you were trusting the right person. Carefully, you lifted your hips off the table as he drew the thin fabric down your legs, discarding it on the floor.

Michael could sense how tense you were and he couldn’t deny that your innocence was alluring. He wanted to teach you so many things about yourself and the pleasure that you were capable of feeling and showing him, but the latter could wait. Tonight was about you.

He used his knee to spread your legs wider, a hand going to rub between your folds. You gasped at the new sensation and gripped his shoulders tightly when his fingers found your clit, “Oh my God, Michael.” You breathed, your voice almost disappearing.

“That feel good, darling?” He asked, nipping at your neck as you fell apart in his hands. Shocks of pleasure vibrated through you as he quickened his pace. He replaced his fingers with his thumb and brought his middle finger to your entrance, “You ever done this before?” He asked, still rubbing your clit. You shook your head nervously, reveling in the feeling of his thumb still. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “We’ll go slow.”

Little by little, his finger entered you. It was definitely a new sensation that wasn’t exactly the most comfortable but the waves of pleasure you were experiencing helped distract you. His lips found yours again, trying to bring your attention away from the stretch as he slowly added a second finger. You winced, definitely feeling the stretch much more. “It’s okay. It’ll feel better.” He cooed.

Once he was able to get both fingers in, he began thrusting gently. He curled his fingers upwards and hit a spot that made you jump, extreme pleasure coursing through you. Michael laughed a little at your reaction and continued to give that spot attention, “You like that?” He asked with a cocky smirk.

“Please Michael…” You trailed off, lost in the pleasure that was building inside you.

“Please what?” He questioned, loving the knowledge that he was making you fall apart for the first time. He couldn’t wait to see what you looked like when you finally came, images of your contorted face just making the bulge in his trousers harder.

The tension in your stomach was too much, “I think I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me.” He demanded, mouth hot against you ear, as your body began to shake and quiver around him. Your walls clenched around his fingers and he almost came right then and there from just imagining what that would feel like around his cock.

You were seeing stars and your entire body felt like it was pins and needles. Michael’s fingers worked you through your orgasm, slowing down when he felt you coming down from your high. “Holy shit.” You breathed out, almost a whimper.

Michael removed his fingers from you and began to undo his pants, his erection springing free. Your eyes widened at his length and you wondered how he was supposed to fit considering you could barely fit two of his fingers.

He could sense your hesitation, “We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.” He assured, voice sincere.

You shook your head, “No, I want this. I’m just nervous I s’pose.” His hand stroked up and down his length and you looked at it, unsure of what exactly you were supposed to do. Michael couldn’t help but chuckle a little at your face.

“Just lay back, I’ll do the rest. Let me know if you want to stop.” He explained, leaning you back on the table. His hands came under your hips, slowly pulling your bum to the edge and bringing your ankles to rest on his shoulders. He lined up with your entrance and leaned in to kiss you as he began to press into you, inch by inch, pulling out and thrusting back in, allowing you to adjust.

It hurt. You weren’t going to lie. It stretched and it burned and you couldn’t help the whimper of pain that fell from your lips. Michael brought a hand to your cheek, stroking it gently, “I’m sorry, baby. It’ll feel better soon. You’re doing so well.”

Finally, he filled you completely and it was the most interesting feeling being filled like that. It wasn’t comfortable but it felt right, like you were supposed to be full like this. “You can move.” You told him cautiously once you felt relatively adjusted to him.

He moved his hips slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out before going all the way back in. Slowly, the pain began to disapate.

“God, Y/N, you’re so fucking tight.” It took everything in Michael’s power not to take you hard and fast. The way your walls squeezed around his cock was unbearable and he had a hard time concentrating.

“Can you go faster?” You asked, finally beginning to feel pleasure. Gosh, he was hoping you’d say that. Michael began to pick up his pace, going faster but not completely drilling into you.

When you opened your eyes, you looked up and saw Michael’s eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His right hand left your thigh and pulled your leg down to rest on his hip, your other still propped up on his shoulder. In this new position, he hit a spot deep inside you and make your walls clench and you moan out.

“God, baby, do that again.” He begged, hitting that spot over and over. Your walls tightened around him uncontrollably as he aimed that particular area that drove you wild.

Soon, that familiar coil began to tighten in your lower stomach and you knew you were close. Michael could sense how close you were from the way you writhed beneath him, “Hang on, darling. I’m almost there with you.”

He thrust faster and you found it increasingly difficult to stave off your orgasm. Learning that he’d liked it, you began clenching around him on purpose. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, sure to leave bruises, “Fuck!” He reached down, fingers furiously rubbing your clit.

“Oh my gosh. I can’t wait anymore, Michael!” You whined, biting into your hand to try and stay quiet. He reached down and moved your hand, pinning it to the bed.

“I wanna hear you, love. Go ahead. Cum.” You lost all control at his words, eyes screwing shut as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Pleasure completely overtook your body as you squeezed around Michael, triggering his own release. He slowed, milking both of your orgasms completely.

When he finally stopped, he stayed in you, both of you panting loudly. He looked down at you and thought you were absolutely gorgeous with your hair a mess and your skin covered with a sheen of sweat. Your beautiful E/C eyes were large and lust blown and your breasts rose up and down with your slowing breasts. And then when he finally pulled out of you, he watched the remains of his release drip down your smooth thighs. He’d never seen something more erotic in his life.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, hands running comfortingly along your thighs.

You laughed, “You could say that.” You sat up and pulled him in for one last kiss, “Thank you.”

Michael looked at you strangely, “Did you just thank me for fucking you?” He asked with a snort.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling dumb for saying it, “Well, yes. But I mean, thank you for being so nice about it all.”

Gosh, how could a person possibly be so adorable. Here you were, completely fucked out, his cum dripping from your body, and you were sitting there in front of him, blushing and thanking him for being nice.

He couldn’t help the smile as he shook his head and leaned in for a soft, gentle kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled you to him once more. “Well thank you too. You were quite nice as well.” He teased.

You reached behind you, finding his hat and smacking him playfully on the chest with it.

“What time are supposed to be home?” He asked, hands still running up and down your arms.

“Eleven.” You answered. Michael glanced up at the clock on the wall, seeing it was 10:45.

“We should probably be gettin’ you home soon then. You can’t go gettin’ in trouble if we’re gonna see each other again.” He reached down and handed you your bra.

Your eyebrows raised, “We’re meeting again?” You asked, slightly worried that he meant you would become a booty call.

He smiled, dressing himself and passing you your clothes along the way, “I figure I should take you out on a proper date. Say Tuesday?”

You bit your lip, looking at him skeptically, “I guess we’ll see about that.” You teased, buttoning the finishing buttons on your dress.

“I’ll be there at eight.” He said, finishing the matter.

#michael gray #michael shelby #michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #michael gray fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #michael gray x pregnant!reader #michael grey x virgin!reader #michael gray smut #michael gray fluff #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut

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hopetofantasy · 4 years

Text

‘Wandering Romance’ - Part 3

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans Trigger Warnings (if applicable): mentions of abuse, toxic relationships, minimal self harm. Created for @skamevents

Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

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CHAPTER 3: 'No one feels the same'

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It was the sound of crying that woke him up.

He wasn’t dreaming anyways, because his dreams were reflections of his mind. And his mind didn’t want to cooperate, at least not for the last few hours. He knew why, though. He just didn’t wanted to acknowledge it. He wasn’t even entirely aware of drifting back to awareness. He didn’t want to face the world. The world was filled with empty pain and love lost. True love felt like an illusion, even when he tasted it for a while.

It all tasted sour now...

He slowly hauled his tired body of his yellow, crumpled sheets and tried to identify where the sound came from. Some lingering thoughts forming on the outskirts of his empty mind. ‘Why was this happening?’ ‘Why did it sound like such an agonizing heartbreaking thing?’ ‘This feels so deep, too deep...’

He simply didn’t know.

He acted on instinct, when he crawled towards the mop of curls, bouncing on top of a blubbering mess. Legs tangled into the soft blanket, a hollowed ball of sorrow on the barely fitting mattress, nails unconsciously scratching the arms, leaving deep red marks. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be permanent. Even when the pain felt like it was. But he simply couldn’t ignore it.

He felt it too.

His own heart broke at the sobs.

A mirror to his own feelings.

“Robbe...”

No answer. Just the sound of pain put away for too long, underneath multiple steel layers. A sudden halt to the loudest sobs. Softer tears streaming down the angelic face. Him even crawling deeper into himself. Unclear mumblings. A nail struck harder into the white skin.

A slight drop of red.

Sander couldn’t ignore that. He immediately grabbed the other’s hands, pulling them towards the side. As a result, causing the soft body to fall into his own. An older pattern from days long before. When they looked at each other for hours on end, forgot the world ever existed and their bedroom air was filled with laughter or passion. Sander didn’t want- he didn’t try to reflect.

He tried. But he failed.

“Robbe, wake up! WAKE UP!”

Dark brown eyes shot open to meet the green. Teary, tired and hollow. Things Sander knew best. He felt like somewhat of a specialist in these feelings, unfortunately, not by choice. Fate had dealt him a bad hand. But never for this love. True love, his mind whispered. For the silent boy staring at the deep green of his soul. The one who immediately crawled closer to his warmth.

Who brushed softly over the broken, red skinned knuckles of his right hand.

Who silently whispered “sorry” to him.

Who didn’t even need to do that.

Who pulled his face closer.

Laid hands on his side.

Breathed on his lips.

Took one second.

And eventually...

Made Chernobyl happen.

-^-

Only few hours earlier, they were met with different feeling: enthusiasm.

“God, I missed you two”, the raven haired boy exclaimed, while grasping at both his and Robbe’s arm. It had been too long, though, when they truly had a boy’s night. A real night of good clean fun. Just with the five of them.

Unfortunately, life happened. Jobs happened. Kids happened. Well, maybe not unfortunately, gratefully, but it was just hard to say goodbye to your youth. And say hello to responsibilities. To unpaid bills on the counter. To tired days alone.

To broken minds in the night.

Yeah, okay, Sander, time to tone you down a little.

“Yeah, boys, we really need to do that trip we’re always talking about. That road trip to nowhere. Just a week without anything, like we said right?”, the beach blonde answered. His answer lighting up all the faces around the table.

Aaron was bouncing his head to the idea, always eager to explore more, to learn more. Robbe looked at him with puzzled eyes. Thank god that their son had a sleepover, because this was probably going to be an eventful night.

Moyo barked out his roaring laugh. “Like we don’t keep planning that thing, over and over again. Last time we brought it up, it was right before Robbe started dating someone else again. The time before, Jens decided to spew out a couple of kids. And then that time we came up with it, the whole thing with N-”

The brown skinned boy suddenly stopped, winching at his unfinished sentence. They all knew what he meant, though. It had been just a couple of nights before Noor’s death. One of the few magical ‘before’ moments they collectively remembered. Like they could survive anything. Knowing that they were there, filled by drunken laughter, silly jokes and endless teasing. The prologue to the rest of their lives. They didn’t know at the time.

He tried to examine his friend’s face, catching Robbe doing the exact same thing. They had conversations about this. Maybe Moyo never truly knew, what she had meant to him, himself. There had been lingering somethings in the past. Treaded paths not taken. Careful whispers, loaded glances and brushed lips, too subtle if you didn’t had the knack to pick it up. But the ex-couple did.

He saw how Moyo gripped his glass tighter, urging the gold liquid through his throat. He coughed, asked the rest if they needed anything and walked away with the platter of empty drinks. A glimpse of shiny eyes. Leaving an awkward silence between the squad.

It was Jens, who eventually broke it.

“I think he never got over it, you know?”, looking at his trembling hands.

“Who ever did?”, the other curly boy answered hoarsely.

“We never did. It wouldn’t have been fair to her.”

Sander nodded along.

Sometimes, he caught himself looking at his son, with a heavy breath, seeing her in his features. Reopening all the old wounds from before. But then, his heart would fill with unconditional love again, because, thank god they still had a part of Noor on this world. Readily to love. To see how he would grow. How he would blossom into more than he already gave today. Pride.

“I miss her.”

“Me too.”

Loss is a part of you, it never leaves.

“Guys...”, Jens choked out next. “... I need to say... I’m sorry...”

Again, a curveball they hadn’t anticipated. The boy’s eyes were slowly filling up with tears. They all remained silent, nodding along, knowing that this was something Jens needed to say. The group were never big on feelings, but this sure felt like a beginning. Therapy. Catharsis. A peace of mind.

“I’m sorry.”, the dark haired started rambling. “This is hard for me to admit. But, I should’ve never kept David a secret for you all. I mean, it’s just... Noor wanted to have some time... to deal with all of this, right? She panicked the moment the stick turned blue. I never knew who the guy was and she never told me, either. But then she made me promise never to tell anyone, even you all.

Noor tried to fade into the background more, so nobody would ask what was happening. I shouldn’t have supported that decision... But it’s what she wanted. Trying to set up a stable life. A 9 to 5 job, a savings account and an own apartment. She even took the crappy job at the art school, that paid less than her talents were worth. But she was happy, you know?”

Sander felt the urge to lay a hand on Jens’ shoulder. Robbe seemed to have the same thought, because he was already doing it. They really needed to stop with this telepathy thing. It was starting to freak him out. They weren’t a couple anymore.

“I... I loved her like a sister. I thought she was going to be a great mom. And I was there as the fun uncle, not necessarily the father figure. Noor didn’t want that. She could do it on her own. “I can change the diaper myself, idiot”, she’d yell at me, while throwing some of the baby powder in my face. “I don’t need a babysitter, Jens.” “Go live your life.” She would laugh at the things I did. She was always stubborn like that, you know?”

A collective, watery smile.

The way Jens told this story, though, it felt as if she was standing right next to them. Her presence felt so tangible. Sander could feel her, rolling her eyes, screaming things like “Are you really all crying over me, now, almost a decade later? Dude, wtf, have some fun. Talk about tv shows. Cars. Beer. Idk. Not death. What the hell, people? Get some shots!” Hands would be thrown.

He wanted to revel in that ghostly warmth. Celebrate her life. Find a perfect spot to spray a huge, damn mural. Instead, he said: “Jens. We know how she was. Please, don’t say sorry. We know how you tried. We know she was stubborn. She would say the same if she was here. You never did something wrong. Sometimes fate is just an a-hole. She shouldn’t have died so young. You couldn’t have known.”

He pinched the raven boy’s arm, trying to make him look up. He was met with a face filled with pain. “One day, we will tell David about her story. All together. He’s smart, he knows a lot of biology already and next year, he’ll get sex education in school. We’ll have to tell him some time how he came to be, who he is and what he means to us, right? We can do that.”

“Together”

The deep brown found his, exactly like they should. He knew Robbe said those words, before his mind registered them. As if he was thinking with his heart. As if he ever stopped thinking with his heart. His other hand trailed towards the other, knowing it would be there without question. And their fingers intertwined.

Then he saw that a certain someone had eavesdropped on their conversation.

Moyo had took a while to come up for air again...

They had let him.

Because they understood.

-^-

Conversation had become more of an option rather than a necessity. Faces started to blur, music roared in his brain and sweat drops rolled from his skin. After the bar, they’d found their way to the city centre, to some obscure underground club Moyo said ‘was the bomb’. The atmosphere felt invigorating, as if a painting came to life. Filled with colors, vibes and feelings. Much more of an extreme Bosch than a calming Monet.

A few shots in, Aaron somehow caught the eye of a beautiful brunette. Since he’d never truly grown out of his awkward phase, it had been a blast to see that train wreck happening. And in no way, they were gonna save him from that situation. It was too funny to let it slide.

It almost felt like the old times. Almost.

Because as intoxicated as he was, he felt his burning gaze. He didn’t had to look. He knew what he would see if he decided to turn towards his ex-lover. An excruciating mix of hurt, pining and lust. A reflection of his. They knew each other better than any other soul on the world, so it came as no surprise that they felt similar about the whole situation.

He just didn’t know if he wanted to open that can of worms.

Ever since the David Bowie performance by their son, there had been something more. Even more longing, even more hurt, even more doubt. But Robbe had a boyfriend. The exes shared a beautiful son. They were divorced. They couldn’t just do what they wanted, without consequences. There were others involved. Sander just didn’t know how long he could it hold off anymore.

On cue with his thoughts, the boys suddenly decided to ditch them both, to buy some stuff from a backdoor dealer. Something to take the edge off, he guessed. They’d eventually come back, but that wouldn’t negate the predicament they’d put him in. He didn’t dare to move inside his ex’ neighborhood. He didn’t want to leave him alone either. So he was stuck either way.

The answer came in the form of a drunk body colliding with his, punching him right off the barstool. The helping hand, the held breath, the brown eyes. His soulmate’s eyes. What was it with them? What made them so interesting? So filled with love and passion and hurt and just so many emotions at the same time. He once tried to put them on paper, but he never got them right.

His brain couldn’t function anymore.

He let his hands do the work. They grasped the shirt in front of him, a vaguely familiar black one, and pulled hard. His shiny lips just one breath away and Robbe was already closing his eyes, moaning loudly. Moaning his name. Sending all kinds of emotions through his body. He just needed to take that next step. Slowly... pulling... in...

Before Robbe was roughly pushed away from him.

“I need to talk to you, NOW!!!” A rough voice yelled.

“Okay...” The other answered carefully.

And Robbe was pulled away, leaving a nauseous Sander behind.

-^-

He didn’t meant to eavesdrop.

He didn’t.

Really.

He never thought he was gonna hear Robbe argue with his boyfriend.

It clicked in his brain, the minute he bought some water and went outside for some fresh air. Sobering him up a little. Second guessing what he was about to do, a few minutes ago. To maybe ruin the careful friendship they developed, after so much pain and memories. Maybe it was better to be saved by the bell than to make that mistake again.

But then he heard him.

“... kissing your ex!”

“I wasn’t kissing my ex, Wouter!”

“You were about to! Don’t bullshit me, Robbe. This is one of the reasons you broke up with me, didn’t you? To get back together with that lowlife?”

Excuse me?! What was he insinuating? He was a productive member of society, thank you. His work brought in enough to pay his bills, take care of his son and even save some up for later. He wasn’t a lowli-

Hold up, did Robbe’s boyfriend just say that they BROKE UP?!

“He’s not a lowlife! He’s my ex, he’s the father of my child and he’s not the reason we broke up either!” Robbe retaliated right away.

“Then why did we, Robbe? I don’t get it. I thought we were good together...” Wouter seemed to try another approach. Whispers instead of yelling. He could see the body language changing from a harsh, defensive stance to a softer approach. It made Sander’s skin crawl. He didn’t know why. It was some sort of vibe that was just... off.

“We weren’t good together. I don’t know if you noticed, but we were NEVER good together. And you know exactly why...”

Wouter held up his hand, trying to touch Robbe’s cheek, wanting to calm him down. Yet, that last one immediately slapped the hand away. He could see how it affected the now-apparent-ex. How the hands started to form fists. The eyes started to flinch. Similar to a bull preparing to strike towards the matador.

“Oh yeah? You thought we were never good together, huh? What are you insinuating? I picked you off the metaphorical street, Robbe, because you were so heartbroken over someone who didn’t even think twice about dumping you. Even with your collective history. I build you back up to the man you are now. I made sure you were loved, that you had your needs filled, that you could call me whenever you wanted. And I did that, didn’t I. Right?!”

A flash of doubt on the other’s face. His expression filled with contradictory emotions, his body freezing at the featherlight touch of Wouter’s finger trailing his cheek and his eyes... Sander never saw them this pained. Eventually, after a short silence, the brown haired boy whispered: “You did that, yes. And I’m grateful for that. But you did other things too. I... I just can’t anymore. I can’t.”

“What can you do anymore, Robbe? What? US? YOU MEAN US?!”, the other started yelling again.

“Stop yelling, Wouter”, the other said calmly. (Fearfully?)

“What’s wrong, baby. You used to love when I yelled at you. You used to love to be yell to. My name, over and over again. After I made you come, over and over again. You never begged me to stop, remember? You wanted more. More of the harsh words, the cuffs, the pushing, the burn inside, the pain, right? I remember not having a safe word at one time. That time was fun, no?”

Sander suddenly felt furious. What the actual f? Was this dipshit really saying what he was thinking right now? No safe word? Pain? Burn inside? What the hell did Wouter do to him? He saw how the expression on the man’s face changed to a cold, emotionless look. The look of something dangerous. Something that rang all the alarms in his brain. His whole body started to prepare, to release inner anger. To fight.

“I... I...”

“You want me, right?”, the other said, with venom in his mouth. “You still want me. You can’t stop thinking about me. Even after what I did to you. You keep coming back for more. You want it, Robbe, face it. You want the pain. You love the pain. You love receiving it.

Even when you say ‘no’,

I know you want it.

Last time, last time was a mistake, you know that. You shouldn’t have said ‘no’. You didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have drank. I wouldn’t have trying to go to your son’s room. You wouldn’t have fell by pulling me. Then you wouldn’t have had the bruises, the cuts. The broken bones. If you just had let me, I could’ve-”

He never got to finish that sentence.

Because, after that, a flash of beach blonde hair moved into the man’s vision.

An ex-lover. A father. A man with bottled up agony, hurt and anger.

Someone who needed a perfect release.

And Wouter?

Seemed to be the perfect victim.

Excellent even, to liberate him from that pent-up energy.

So for Sander, the world temporarily turned black.

Until only the color red was left.

-^-

Chernobyl was beautiful at first.

Chernobyl was love second.

Chernobyl was warmth as a third.

But then Chernobyl was also pain.

Agony.

Heart breaking.

A nuclear disaster.

Which Sander discovered the following morning.

When he turned around to kiss his boy.

His beautiful ex-turned-lover-again.

And found the bed empty.

#wtfock #wtfam #skambingo #skamevents #part 3 of 4

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bittysvalentines · 5 years

Text

Would That I

From: @lizards-online

To: @pieandpucks

Sometimes in life, things are missed. Opportunities are lost, but as a whole we cannot stop moving. Still, something feels left behind, dropped in a time before. We keep going, with something lost and something gained, until life gives us our chance again,to take destiny’s chance to reconnect and find what is lost.

At Samwell University resided one Dr. Jack Zimmermann, a professor of history with an affinity for ice sports and queer literature. His smile was kind and his hair was just beginning to hint at touches of grey. He was a hard grader, and his readings were long, but his passion for teaching and his love of his students always showed through in his work. Students left his classes better thinkers, harder workers, and with only the smallest crush on him. Okay sometimes, not so small. Even the straightest of men recognized that Dr.Jack Zimmermann was a resident hottie. Rumor had it that he was voted “Samwell’s Most Gorgeous” four years straight back in the day.

Jack shuffled a few papers at his podium so as to get them in order before the end of his lecture. “Everyone, thank you for your attention today, just remember if you want to earn some extra credit points, you can attend one of the alumni guest lectures that will be on campus this weekend, and then write a one page response on the speaker’s topic and your thoughts. I’ll be popping in to a couple of the speakers myself, so if you see me, don’t be afraid to say hello.”

Jack began walking across the front of the classroom, dispersing flyers advertising the Alumni Symposium to be passed back.

A student in the back of the room raised her hand, staring down at the flyer in her hand “Dr. Zimmermann, when did you graduate Samwell?”

Jack paused for a moment. “2015. Why?”

“Well, I was just looking at the graduation year of some of these alumni, and it says here Eric Bittle Graduated in 2017. So that means you were only two years ahead of Eric Bittle when he went here!”

The class erupted in murmurs and comments. Eric Bittle was one of Samwell’s most famous alumni. He led Samwell to the Frozen Four his senior year, while being the first out NCAA hockey captain, was drafted by the Falconers and was the first openly LGBT+ player in the league. He won the Stanley Cup his rookie year (first of many) along with the Calder and Art Ross. Even outside of hockey he was famous for his witty vlog which evolved from a cooking vlog to a hockey, cooking and life blog with now over 18 million followers from all walks of life.

Jack swallowed hard. Yes, it was true, his time at Samwell and Eric Bittle’s time did overlap by two years, and in fact, during those two years, he ran into Eric all the time. They were...friends. Shitty made sure of that. Jack would watch the hockey team’s games, not only to support Shitty, but to watch Eric weave and maneuver across the ice unlike anyone else. Even though Jack had decided against playing in college, he never did lose his love of the game. Meanwhile Eric would hover about the library doing anything but homework when Jack was working. Plus, the semester they took a class together was definitely a bonding experience. But it had been a long time since they had spoken. After Jack graduated, he felt too awkward reaching out to someone who he had a massive crush on but was WAY out of his league. And when one month turned into two, and then one year turned into five, and five years into a decade, Jack had trouble remembering where all the time had gone.

“Hah. Uh, yes he was two years younger than me. We had a class together once.” Jack decided firmly against mentioning his large crush on the blond to his entire History 336 Seminar.

The students in the room all lamented about how cool it was that their professor knew a celebrity.

Jack closed the door to his office and scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a sigh. Would it be awkward to see Eric again? Would Eric even remember him? Probably not. It was just a youthful crush. Even if Eric was still as attractive and charming and wonderful as he was back in the day, Jack was far past his prime. He could just not go to that lecture, but he felt drawn to it, as if something wanted him to see Eric speak. Jack picked up his phone and dialed the most recent number. It picked up on the first ring.

“What the FUCK is up Zimmermann, to what do I owe the pleasure of one of your rare and coveted calls? Are you in legal trouble? Did you kill someone? Did you kick a goose and now you’re losing your Canadian citizenship?” Shitty was Jack’s best friend. He was boisterous and energetic but genuine nonetheless. His words washed over Jack with a wave of excitement and familiarity.

“Haha Shits. I’m good. And no, no geese, at least not this time. I was just wondering, would you want to come down to Samwell this weekend? There’s an alumni symposium going on, and I think you’d enjoy the speakers.”

“Ah ha old Jackabelle misses me. Of fuckin course I’ll come down to the symposium, but I’ll warn ya man I’m not gonna sit through more than ONE old white man talk. ONE. Who's the lineup anyway?”

“I can forward you the flyer but just off the top of my head: there's the current head of the English department, Dr. Masawa, she’s gonna be talking about her book, um Dr. Atley is going to present some research, and um, Eric Bittle is going to be there.”

“Bitty fucking Bittle? The myth, the man, the legend himself? Well fuck my ass and call me chicken we HAVE to go to that. It’s been like FOREVER since I’ve seen Bits. What a fucking beaut. We texted a bit last month but it's been like a year and some since I last got to hang with him. You know he’s got a daughter now?”

“Oh. Uh, no?” A daughter. Jack’s head spinned. He knew he didn’t have a chance with Eric but he didn’t realize that Eric had gotten married and had a kid. That would’ve been big news right? Was Jack really that out of the loop? He needed to read the news more.

“Yeah she’s fuckin adorable as fuck. Like, two, three now maybe? He posts pictures of her on Facebook like all the time.”

“That’s uh pretty cool. Listen Shits, I have to go I have a, uh, book to read. I’ll see you this weekend. You can stay at my place. Text you bye.”

“Bye Jac-” Jack hung up the phone before Shitty could fully say goodbye. Why did he feel like there was a pit in his stomach? He didn’t care that Eric Bittle was a married father. So what? It’s not like he had a chance with him anyway. What would he have done? Gone up to him after his speech and say “Hello, I had a crush on you in college, and then we never talked after I graduated. Want to go on a date?” Even if Jack had had the confidence to do so, it was literally impossible now because Eric was a married father, a professional hockey player, celebrity, and an A Level hottie. All Jack had was a doctorate, a wall of books and a million papers to grade. He wasn’t even in the shape he had been in when he was in college, so really, he didn’t have anything to offer. Jack should just shut out all the fantasies of those big brown eyes, and golden hair, and gorgeous toned legs. Gosh what was he doing?

Jack crossed the room and slumped into his chair behind his desk and picked up a stack of papers sitting on a chair beside the desk. The best way to distract himself was to drown in work.

Eric Bittle woke up at 6 a.m. Saturday morning to the sound of his daughter crying. He was tired and sore from his game the night before, and a bruise was starting to form on his left thigh due to a nasty check from a Bruins defenceman but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Eric threw off his sheets and rushed into his daughter’s room. Allie was just about two and a half years old, and was in the midst of potty training. Unfortunately for him, Eric was also in the middle of the thralls of hockey season so a lot of the potty training fell on her daycare teachers. Being a single parent was tough. When his cousin Elizabeth had passed away, leaving her and her partner’s daughter to him, he had no idea what to do. He had been five years into his professional hockey career, out, single and totally unprepared for the hurdles of parenthood.

He pushed open the door to the nursery to find his daughter sitting upright whimpering. “Oh you poor thing. Looks like we’re going to have to get you changed real quick now aren’t we Miss Allie?”

Eric brought her to the changing table and cleaned her and dressed her for the day. It was a little earlier in the morning than he had planned, but he needed to get a move on to get to Samwell in time for his guest lecture. Eric had reached out to his old advisor and she recommended him an education major who would be glad to watch his daughter while he spoke and mingled, not wanting to be away from her for the entirety of his day off. He dressed her in cute bunny socks and a yellow shirt and white pants. She was just about the cutest thing in the world. Soon Eric himself got dressed, packed a diaper bag and headed out.

On his way Eric’s thoughts winded through his head. It had been quite some time since he’d been back to his alma mater. Samwell had been such an influential and formative place for him. From developing his hockey skills to coming into his own as a gay man. And even though he never did have a long lasting romantic relationship, the friendships he made there pushed him through his life and helped him become who he was. Thinking back to some of the people, he thought about the boys, Lardo, some of the other team captains, and his mind landed on one Jack Zimmermann.

Eric had always had such a massive crush on Jack, with his boyband bangs, his droopy eyes, jaw that could cut glass and a behind that would give greek statues a run for their money. Eric had first met Jack through Shitty, but then subsequently kept running into him in the dining hall, gym and then one semester for a class. Jack would come to their games and Eric would watch him stack books in the campus library while he pretended to do homework, but always ended up back at the circulation desk, talking about everything and nothing until it closed. They had been friends, and Eric had had the largest crush on earth on the sad-eyed Canadian. But Jack was way out of Eric’s league. He had been voted Samwell’s Most Beautiful for four years straight, and suitors were constantly trying to ask him out. And then Jack graduated, leaving Bitty yearning for what could have been. According to Shitty, Jack was a professor at Samwell, but the two hadn’t really kept in contact. After the fact, there had been some boys, some boyfriends, even some hookups, but nothing lasting more than a few months at a time. At 30 years old Eric Bittle had never been in a relationship longer than 9 months.

The sight of Samwell pulled Eric out of his thoughts and Eric shook his head. He had things to do, and he wasn’t going to let ghosts from the past distract him from his job today: to speak about Samwell, sports, and his activism.

Jack entered the packed auditorium with Shitty in tow. He smiled and waved to a few of his students while Shitty was speaking as if he was a physical manifestation of stream of consciousness. They took their seats in the front row reserved for faculty, staff and alumni.

“I wonder what he’s gonna talk about. I hope he brings up all the swawesome shit the SMH did. Like that one kegster when-”

“Wait Shits shhh there he is” Jack cut Shitty off.

Eric Bittle walked onto the stage with a mic affixed to his shirt. He wore tight fitting navy blue slacks that highlighted just how well the NHL had bulked him up. His top two shirt buttons were unbuttoned on his white and navy blue patterned shirt. The sleeves were rolled up ¾ of the way showing off the definition in his arms. Jack’s throat immediately went dry with his face getting more red as the moments ticked on.

Fuck. Eric Bittle was even hotter than he remembered and was a million times more attractive in person than he had been in promotional pictures. And his voice, the accent was so cute! Keep it together Zimmermann, that’s a married man. Jack was going to have a hard time sitting through this entire speech.

Fuck. Eric walked on stage, scanning the audience and almost immediately his eyes landed on one Jack Zimmermann. He was wearing a tweed jacket, with glasses and his hair was just a touch grey. Time had been very kind to Jack. Eric’s throat became dry as he stumbled his way through his introduction. Shit Jack was in the front row. How was Eric going to concentrate when the hottest man in the world was right in front of him, watching him speak for an hour and a half.

Clapping. Jack was clapping. He zoned back in after having not actually comprehended a single word for the past 90 minutes. He had just sat and stared at the most gorgeous man he had ever seen and tried not to get a boner. Shitty was speaking to him. Jack needed to respond.

“Yeah. He does look good in those pants” Shit. Probably not what Shitty asked him.

“Not what I was talking about, but yeah you know what now that you mention it, mother fucker looks fresh as fuck! I gotta fuckin tell him those pants are doing it for him.” Shitty bolstered himself out of his chair, and up the steps and onto the stage where some faculty were gathering to congratulate him on his speech. Jack followed.

“Eric Mother fucking Bittle” Shitty bellowed as he walked, Jack close behind, to where Eric stood, now holding a young baby girl on his hip as he spoke with alumni and faculty alike.

Eric turned to face the two men and smiled. “Shitty B. Knight you best not be swearing around my daughter like that. And Jack, it’s good to see you. It’s been awhile.”

“Fuck yeah it has been. You two were adorable back in the day. You should’ve kept touch more!” Shitty laughed.

Jack smiled awkwardly. “Yeah it has been a bit hasn’t it? I’m sorry I never kept touch. Congrats on the hockey, and the Stanley Cup, and the marriage and uh, kid.”

Eric’s face twisted into a confused half smile. “Marriage? Jack Zimmermann I am not married. I was her godfather. Life happened and now I’m her Daddy.” Eric looked at her, and kissed her forehead softly.

Jack’s brain short circuited. Not...married? “Oh so are you…”

“No I’m not seeing anyone. I’m doing quite fine with her all by myself.” Eric blushed.

“Okay I see where this is going, I’m gonna back out of this convo..” Shitty etched away from the two men. The latter hardly noticing.

Jack awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “In all honesty, Eric, remember all those years ago, when we went to Samwell together. I had the biggest crush on you, but you were so out of league I never did anything about it. I should have, but I was a bit of a coward.”

Eric’s face turned a bright shade of pink as he stammered out a response. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann! You had a crush on me back then? I’ll have you know I pined for you for two whole years thinking you were straight until someone told me YEARS later that you weren’t, and then when I did realize you were an option, I never thought in a million years that you would be in my league anyway. You’re meaning to tell me you had a crush on me that entire time?”

Jack blushed furiously. “We both had crushes on eachother I guess. I’m sorry I never made a move on you back then. If it means anything, I’d like to uh make one now.”

“Well how about our timing. Gladly Jack. Here, ” Eric pulled out his phone with one hand, careful not to disturb Allie, and handed it over to Jack. “ text me.”

Jack put his number into the phone and texted himself. “In the meantime, would you like to catch up? It’s been a long time.”

Unbeknownst to the two men, several students stood by in shock, watching their professor flirt with and score a date with a literal celebrity. Two in the front high fived. “Get it Dr. Zimmermann!”

#bittyjack #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

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