#pens fic

[spine-buster]

To Sail Beyond the Sunset ft. Sidney Crosby | Chapter 5

gif credit @/rinkrats

A/N: 6000 words of...well...

Every time June put on a pair of pointe shoes, she felt like she was putting on a piece of second skin. They were as much a part of her as her nose, eyes, and hands. Every ballerina had a very specific way of moulding their pointe shoes to fit their feet, and June was no different; she could do it with her eyes closed, one arm tied behind her back – all the old adages were true for her. From the satin, the elastic, the ribbon, the toe pads and Second Skin, to knowing exactly where to sew the elastic to support her ankle, how long to cut the ribbon, where to bend and pop the shank, and how many times she needed to band the toe box against the wall or floor or even with her own heel so it softened and wouldn’t make noise on stage. She was perfectionist with it, but it was like second nature to her. She’d prepared thousands upon thousands of pointe shoes during her career. She didn’t think she’d ever forget how to do it. She could be a hundred years old suffering from dementia, and if someone handed her a pair of pointe shoes, she’d know exactly how to make them fit her feet.

When she was one of the principal dancers at the National Ballet of Canada, she’d been filmed for a video on their YouTube channel for this exact routine and it went viral, tallying something like 20 million views to date. Everybody apparently wanted to know how the best ballet dancer in Canada – and one of the best in the entire world – prepared her pointe shoes. Ballet already fascinated people, she thought, and pointe shoes were about 90% of that fascination. How could someone balance their entire weight on their toes? And not just balance – how could someone dance on their toes? Spin on their toes? Jump and land on their toes? For three hours? June made it look easy. She made it look effortless, like she was floating on stage at any given moment. “Magical” was often the adjective used.

Going back up en pointe again, after years of not doing so, was something June never thought she’d experience. She thought she’d be dancing well into her thirties. But the best laid plans… The first time she went back up en pointe, it was rougher than she wanted it to be. It was harder than she wanted it to be. With all the dancing and practice she’d done since she could walk, she thought it would be much easier. But no. Her body had betrayed her in a way she never thought she’d be betrayed. It failed her on one thing she’d gotten so much recognition for in the past; it failed her on the one thing that had made her famous. She knew she had to have patience with herself, but it was still frustrating. For years her body had been contorted and hyperextended and abused to look a certain way on stage and now it couldn’t even do the thing she wanted. She’d had more blisters than the entire popular of Halifax, more shin splints than she could shake a stick at, muscle strains, dancer’s heel, Achilles tendonitis, snapping hip syndrome, patellofemoral pain syndrome, and even osteoarthritis. She found a lot of anger in herself before she realized that she’d already given so much to ballet that she didn’t need to give anymore.

For all that her mom did when she was growing up, June really did love ballet. It brought her a solace not much else could bring. When she danced, she felt free, like she could do anything and be anything. And when she was performing on stage, she could become someone else. She didn’t always have to be Juniper Brooks, who grew up working class in a basement apartment in a suburb of Halifax with a pseudo-psychopath of a stage mom. She could become Odile, or Odette, or Sleeping Beauty, or Giselle – she could be anybody else but herself, and that helped her, in its own way, realize who she was a person with and without ballet. Ballet was truly one of the things she loved most in life which was why, when she couldn’t dance anymore, she decided to teach. It had given her so much, so she wanted to give back.

Ballet for June was hockey for Sidney. They’d both had their fair share of joys and pains associated with hockey and ballet while in Cole Harbour. For June it was her mother and jealous girls in her classes; for Sidney it was other boys (especially the older boys) with intent to injure him, and parents. Imagine. Grown-ass adults being jealous of a kid. If June could have, she would have told off every single one of them to their face. Because she knew she couldn’t do that without developing a reputation, sometimes, she’d scream and cheer for Sid so loud in the stands to drown out the parents’ jeers. They’d look at her like she was crazy, but she knew she was doing the right thing. Some of them would even look disappointed, as if they were sad Sidney wouldn’t be able to hear them call him names or tell their kids to get him. The funniest thing about the situation was that when Sidney won his Stanley Cups and brought them back to Cole Harbour, she’d see them waiting in the parade route or autograph line with their grandchildren.

Such was life.

***

Katja Simmons was one of June’s best friends, the person she was closest with besides Sidney, of course. They met at boarding school, having been roommates for their last two years, making the company together straight out of school. While June was promoted to principal dancer, Katja became a first soloist, and was still dancing with the company. Their positions meant that they usually got to dance together on stage – which is how June liked it. She liked having someone on stage with her that she could trust.

“Have you proposed to Sidney yet?” Katja suddenly asked over the phone. Their pair had been talking for over an hour and a half at this point, and the question really came out of nowhere.

“What?!” June shrieked. “Katja, what the hell?”

“Oh come ooooonnnnn, June,” Katja pressed. “He’s been back home for a while now. Have you proposed marriage?”

“Katja—”

“—Be his wife—”

“—Katja—”

“—Because you know you want to.”

“Katja!” June shrieked again. “Where is this coming from?”

“You know how much I love love,” Katja said as if that explained everything, and honestly, it kind of did. Katja had gotten married last summer to her long-time boyfriend, Niko, after almost ten years together. June was her maid of honour. She brought Sidney as her date. “And I’ll just never forget how he looked at you when he saw you for the first time after Swan Lake. Or how you two would write letters to each other literally every single day throughout high school. We can all see how in love you guys are. I just—I can’t believe you can’t see it, June! Or don’t.”

“Katja, I’ve told you – it’s so much more complicated than that,” June said. “He’s my best friend.”

“But that’s the way it’s supposed to be! Look at me and Niko. You wouldn’t want to marry someone you’re not friends with, right?”

“Of course not,” June agreed. “But it’s different. It’s…it’s…”

“It’s what?”

June took a deep breath. “Sidney is the most important relationship in my life – that I’ve ever had in my life. Between my mom being the way she was and Sidney just always being there for me – being this constant presence in my life even when we moved so far away from home and each other – Katja, I wouldn’t want to ruin anything. I can’t ruin anything. If I don’t have Sidney, I have nothing. Ballet can be taken away from me, but Sid can't.”

Katja was quiet momentarily, taking in June’s words. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Of course.”

“You’re not going to ruin anything because you can’t ruin what you and Sid have. It’s beyond that point. I don’t think your worry should be if you’re going to ruin anything – you shouldn’t have any worries at all. I think that you and Sid should have a talk about your future together, because you guys have been in love with one another your whole lives. You’re it for each other. It’s like When Harry Met Sally – remember what Harry says at the end? When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. You two need to realize it. Once you do, the rest of your life is going to start.”

***

“Have a good night, Chloe,” June smiled as she propped open her studio door to let out her remaining student. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sid’s SUV inconspicuously parked in the corner of the lot. She was expecting him, so it wasn’t much of a surprise, but she wondered if anybody else in the parking lot coming to pick up their kids did.

“Goodnight, Miss June! See you tomorrow!” Chloe waved off as she rushed to her parents’ car, throwing her bag into her brother’s face in the backseat before getting in herself.

June waved at the entire family as they drove off and watched them turn onto the street. It was only then that Sidney turned off his car. She watched as he got out and made his way towards her, a smile on his face. “Hey Junebug.”

“Hey. Come in,” she said, keeping the door open until he walked through, locking it behind him so nobody could pop in. They walked through the small lobby and into the dance studio – the only space they really felt any privacy, despite the door being locked.

They sat down in a corner of the room, knees touching since they were sitting so close. Personal space was a thing of the very, very distant past for them. “You’ve got a big smile on your face,” Sid commented.

“I’m happy to see you,” she said, trying not to hear Katja’s words from their phone conversation lull around in her mind. “Plus, some of the girls got their acceptances.”

“Really?”

“Claire, Malika, and Isabella are going to NBC,” she informed him. “And Zoë was accepted to the Royal Winnipeg Ballet.”

“Wow!” Sidney exclaimed, genuinely shocked at the news. “That’s incredible!”

“I know. They’re over the moon. I’m over the moon for them,” June couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Big difference from how I found out. And much different reactions, too.”

“God, yeah. I still remember that day,” Sidney said. “It’s still so clear to me – that look on your face as we met on the sidewalk. And you telling me everything afterwards. You were so upset, Junebug.”

“Could you blame me?” she asked.

Sidney shook his head. “Not at all.”

2002

“Do it again.”

June inhaled deeply. Her feet were killing her. Her knees were killing her. Her arms were killing her. The second she had gotten home from practice, her mom had demanded they practice everything in class again, since June fell out of one of her landings once. “Mom—”

“—Don’t mom me—”

“—Please, I’m exhausted,” she tried.

“Exhausted? You were the one who chose to fall out of your landing during the routine. Now do it again.”

The routine in question was Odette’s variation from Act 2 of Swan Lake. Most girls in her class still had trouble with staying en pointe during specific turns or for more than a minute of choreography. June was perfecting two-and-a-half minute character role variations. She and the other girls weren’t even on the same planet. But it still wasn’t good enough for her mom. “Mom, I’m beg—”

“Do it again, Juniper!” she snapped.

June held in the tears, the fatigue, the outright exhaustion, the everything, and assumed position. Her mother hit the play button on the boombox and the classical music began. If she was going to get out of this and satisfy her mother, she needed to execute every move with absolute perfection – her mother wouldn’t settle for anything less. So she did – every arm motion, every turn, every movement of her body was done with such precision that June almost shocked herself, considering the time of day and the fact that she’d already been in a four-hour class. She hit the last pose perfectly, and the music stopped. She waited for her mom’s reaction, scared of the outcome.

“Much better,” she said. “It should be like that all the time. Now go shower and get ready to eat.”

June didn’t have to be told twice. She left abruptly and ran into her room to take off her pointe shoes and leotard. She didn’t allow herself to cry until she got into the shower, and even then, wiped her tears away furiously. Her entire body ached at how much pressure and stress it had been under that day, and she felt she could barely raise her arms anymore to wash her hair. After she dried herself off, brushed her wet hair, and changed into some new clothes, she went back out into the main living area. Her mom had already put out her plate to eat: a small filet of salmon, steamed broccoli, and some cherry tomatoes. To anyone else, like Sidney, the portion size would probably be a snack; for her, it was dinner. Even a glass of lemon water was already made for her. When June sat down, she noticed her mom eating the same thing, but double the portion. They ate in silence.

June retreated to her bedroom after dinner to finish homework from the weekend and prepare what she needed for the upcoming school week at Astral Drive Junior High. It would have been the time that she called Sidney, too, but he was at a hockey tournament this week and June knew he and his family were probably driving home right now (and that he was probably doing his homework in the car). She’d have to wait until tomorrow to talk to him.

June wasn’t expecting a knock at her door from her mom. Usually, after dinner, her mom left her alone. After today especially, she didn’t think her mom would bother her. But alas, she was wrong. June wished she didn’t have to see her face until tomorrow morning. She took a deep breath. “Come in.”

Her mom opened the door and stood in the doorway, watching June at her desk with a binder open. “That last performance you did – it should be like that every time, Juniper.”

June stayed silent for a few moments. “I know. My arms were hurting rea—”

“—That’s the lazy girl’s excuse,” her mom dismissed her. “I push and I push and I push because you’re lazy and you can do better. If you’re not pushed, you fall behind. And then what good are you, hmm?”

By this point in June’s life, she’d heard those words a million times. But it didn’t sting any less. She fought to hold back her tears. “I out-danced everybody in cla—”

“—You danced like a lazy, selfish, stupid girl,” her mom interrupted again, not letting her get a word in. “I was embarrassed for you. Every penny I make goes to your dancing and you weren’t even fucking trying. You better start acting and dancing like a ballerina or else some other girl is going to steal it from right under you before you go.”

June furrowed her brows. “Before I go where?”

All of a sudden, her mom’s face had switched from agitation and anger to one of almost pride and smugness. “The Dying Swan,” she began, referring to a piece June had practiced meticulously and had performed at a local recital a few weeks ago. “A trainer from the National Ballet School was in the audience that day. Yulia called her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means the National Ballet School has recruited you. You’re going to boarding school in Toronto.”

June’s heart stopped beating before it fell into the pit of her stomach. While she should have been happy about the opportunity to go to the best ballet training and high school in Canada, she couldn’t feel happy. At all. Instead, she felt blind-sided. The thought of leaving home, of leaving everything she knew, was scary. And the thought of leaving one person in particular – Sidney – made her sick to her stomach. There was no way she would go through with it. She couldn’t – not while Sidney was still in Cole Harbour and she was being shipped off to boarding school in a city she’d never even been to. She didn’t think she was mentally strong enough, and she wished her mom could see that – that it would probably do more harm than good. “No,” June shook her head.

“What did you just say?”

“No. I’m not going.”

Her mom’s eyebrows raised. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Juniper Brooks?”

“I’m not going and you can’t make me,” June tried to remain strong. “I’ll stay in classes with Yulia.”

“To hell you will,” her mom was harsh. “You’re going to Toronto and that’s final. All the paperwork is done. Your dorm room’s even been assigned. You don’t have a choice in this, Juniper.”

“No!!!” she screamed, and every emotion, every tear that she was bottling up inside came out with it. She shot up from her chair, and that’s when her mother turned her back and began walking away from her. “I’m not going! I’m not!” she followed her out.

“This was all done for you!” her mother screamed back. “All for you! And look how ungrateful you are!”

“Mom, please,” June pleaded with her. “Please don’t make me go. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll train more. I’ll put in more hours. But please don’t make me go there all alone.”

“Empty promises from a lazy girl,” her mom shot back. “Hopefully the school teaches you hard work. And dignity. God knows you need it as you stand there begging.”

“Mom,” her voice was full with tears now as they streamed down her face. She didn’t know what she could say to make her mom change her mind. She knew the tears wouldn’t help – if anything, it would make it worse. “Mom, please. Please. I can’t go.”

“You will go, Juniper.”

“Mommy—mommy p-please,” she wailed. June thought of only one thing: she got down on her knees, even though they hurt more than anything, right up against her mom. Her mom whipped around to see June putting her hands in prayer position, looking up at her with red eyes. “P-P-Please mom. You can’t separate me and S-Sid. I can’t g-go to T-T-Toronto. I c-c-can’t leave him. I can’t leave him. He’s my b-best friend. I can’t be that far away from him. I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you want. But I can’t leave Sidney. I can’t—I can’t be alone without him s-s-so far away—”

All of a sudden, there was another smug look on her mother’s face, but this time, it was mixed with amusement. Sick, twisted amusement. “Well well well,” she said, concealing her smile, crossing her arms against her chest. “I guess Sidney hasn’t told you yet?”

June froze in position. “Told me what?”

“Sidney’s leaving too. He’s going to a hockey boarding school,” her mom revealed. “In Minnesota.”

The words were like a nuclear bomb to June. She kept frozen in her position as the words sunk in. Sidney’s leaving to a hockey boarding school in Minnesota. Of course June knew about the possibility because Sid told her, but it seemed like such a long shot because it was a private school, and neither of their families had that kind of money. If there had been a change, Sidney would have told her about it. Right? She understood she wasn’t a Crosby, but she may as well have been one, and she would be the first person to know…right? Right? “You’re lying,” she found herself saying, tears still streaming down her face. “You’re lying and you know it.”

“I’m not a liar like you,” her mom spat back.

“I—you—that’s a lie. That’s a lie. You’re j-j-just saying that so you can ship me off to b-boarding school and never see me again,” June cried. “You’re lying b-because you hate me.”

“I’m not lying. You can ask Sidney tomorrow.”

“Sidney would never do that to me.”

“He already has.”

June felt like she was going to throw up. Both outcomes were horrible. If her mom was lying, then she was just a nasty liar; but if she was telling the truth…well, the truth was worse. The truth was much worse. “I hate you!” June wailed. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!!!” she wailed over and over again.

“I’ll live,” her mom dismissed her. “You’re going to that school if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming, Juniper Brooks.”

June got up from her knees. With all the emotion she had left in her, she screamed one more time. “I hate you!!!” With that, June ran back into her room sobbing, collapsing onto her bed as she cried and cried and cried.

Her mom didn’t come knock on her door for the rest of the night. Even when June’s sobs were so loud, they could be heard through the walls.

***

The next day, as Sidney waited for June on the sidewalk so they could walk to school together, he saw her approaching from the distance. He’d missed talking to her last night. Their usual Sunday night phone call usually had June reminding him of all their homework they did and that he had to bring to class for their teachers. But as she got closer, Sidney could see she wasn’t happy, and when she got even closer, he noticed her eyes were red. That could only mean one thing. “Were you cr—”

“—Are you going to boarding school in Minnesota?” she demanded.

Sid’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t find the words. “I—I—”

“No bullshit,” she swore. They hardly ever swore, even alone together. “Are you going to a hockey boarding school in Minnesota or not?”

“It…it literally just happened, Junebug,” he said, admitting it. “How—how did you know?”

“When did it happen?”

“We got the call Saturday at the tournament. They called my coach because he has a cell phone. How did you know?” he asked again.

“My mom told me.”

“How’d she find out? God, word must travel fast. One of the guys must have told someone back here and—”

“So you’re going?” she asked, her voice shaky.

Sidney paused. “Junebug, I—my parents and I had a really long talk about it. Like, really long. And we all think it’s best that I go, at least for a year, and see what it’s all about, and so I can get away from all the…noise over here. I was going to tell you, Junebug, I swear.”

June broke out into a fit of tears. They were streaming down her face like Niagara Falls. At least in Sidney’s situation, he and his parents talked about it. They thought about the pros and cons and made the decision as a family. As opposed to her situation, of course, of just being told of being shipped off somewhere with no choice. “My mom told me last night,” she managed to say through tears. “She told me because—because I was crying about…about…”

“About what?”

June tried to wipe away some of her tears. “My mom is sending me to boarding school in Toronto. For ballet,” she revealed. “She told me last night. I told her that I couldn’t—I couldn’t leave you. That’s when she told me about Minnesota.”

Sidney couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re going to Toronto? For ballet?”

“Against my will,” she said. More tears rushed down her face. “I want to be with you, Sid. I can’t leave you. I can’t go there on my own without you. I can’t—I can’t…” she couldn’t speak anymore, the sobs overcoming her.

Sidney hated seeing her cry, even though it happened every so often. It was one of the worst things in the world to him. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly as she cried on his shoulder. The sound of her sobs shook him to his core, because instead of annoyance or just general sadness, there was fear in them. “It’s going to be okay, Junebug,” he said, rubbing her back.

“No it’s not.”

“I’ll make sure it is.”

When June thought about it, when she really thought about it, it was the moment she fell in love with Sidney. She remembered clinging on to him for dear life, as if he was about to float away to Minnesota if she let go. She wasn’t ready for anything that was coming her way that late spring or summer, but she knew she would have been a lot worse off if Sidney didn’t help her through it. She remembered being so scared. She remembered hardly being able to sleep the week before they both left. She remembered them saying goodbye to each other and her bawling her eyes out in the taxi, crying so hard she threw up. Sidney had promised her that everything was going to be okay, and she believed him, but the fear kept creeping up.

“Hey Sid?” she asked after a few moments of silence, her voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Remember when you told me it was going to be okay?” she asked. “It all was okay in the end, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was,” he nodded. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

June couldn’t help but smile slightly. “As if you had the power to do anything. We were teenagers.”

Sidney shrugged. “I would have found a way,” he said. “I still wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

They looked each other in the eyes just then, letting the words hang in the air for an immeasurable amount of time. Sidney meant the words he said, and June knew it; he wouldn’t say them if he didn’t. Over thirty years of friendship, and he still felt that way. Through all the tears he had to hug away, the classes and competitions where she was worked to the bone, the cruel gossip from others, the unfair rules, the tiny meal portions, the feelings of loneliness – he would use all the power and influence he had in the world to make sure nothing would happen to her. Over thirty years of friendship, and she felt the same way about him. Through all the bullying he encountered, the taunts and jeers and slashes and hits, the news articles written about him as a kid proclaiming him to be everything from a local hero to a pissy show-off, the girls in their class who would grab his hands and twirl around and yell “I’m going to marry Sidney Crosby! He’s going to be a millionaire!” when they were twelve, thirteen, fourteen years old – she would never let anything happen to him.

June got up suddenly, all in one go. Sidney stayed firmly planted on the ground, looking up at her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get my pointe shoes.”

Sidney tried to remain calm, but he felt a nervous tightening in his chest. He nodded his head and watched her walk out of the room. While she was gone, he moved so he was sitting up against the wall of mirrors, underneath the barre. When June came back in, she was wearing ballet tights with a low back camisole leotard and a black pancake tutu. She had a new pair of pointe shoes in one hand, and her pointe shoe kit in the other. She sat back down across from him, without a word, leaving some space between them to have everything in front of her.

Sidney watched. He watched as June meticulously prepared her pointe shoes, as she’d done thousands upon thousands of times before, as he’d watched her do when they were teens. She was like a surgeon performing a quadruple bypass; the precision in everything that she did to prepare them was so detailed and thorough, it was probably only rivalled by his own pre-game rituals and superstitions. Hearing the familiar pop of the shank or watching as the needle and thread broke through the delicate satin – it was all part of a process he was so familiar with, and respected so very much, because it meant that June could do what she loved.

Only when she was done did either of them speak. “I’m going to stretch and warm up,” June informed him, pushing her phone that she left on the floor towards him with the pointe of her shoe. “When I’m done, I’ll tell you what song to play. My phone is connected to the speakers.”

“You got it, Junebug,” he said, watching again as she went over to a space at the barre and began stretching, hoisting her leg up and rising and falling, just as she’d learned so many years ago. She even went to get a roller. When she was done, Sidney was attentive to her every desire.

“There’s a mash-up song in my music – it’s not in my Spotify – it’s called Odette/Odile variations,” she said. “And turn the volume all the way up.” Sidney didn’t recognize the name, but scrolled through anyway, until he found it. He made sure the volume was on the highest setting before tapping on the song and putting her phone down beside him.

The second that the music began, Sidney knew exactly what kind of dance he would be seeing. June had performed every principal role in every major ballet in her day, but Swan Lake was her favourite, and being Odile/Odette was her favourite role, more than Giselle, or Sleeping Beauty, or Juliet, or any of the others. He thought she would choose an easier piece – he didn’t know why he thought that – but no. June was going for the big guns: the two solo variations where the ballerina really got to shine, showing off her immaculate technical skill and sophisticated character work.

Sidney watched in awe. It was like she hadn’t even stopped dancing. Her arms were fluid, her legs were straight, and she went up en pointe as if it was the easiest thing in the world. She executed every move flawlessly. Even her facial expressions were just as he remembered them when he would visit her in Toronto and buy tickets front row, centre stage to see her perform. The muscles in her legs, arms, and back were still strong and definite, carrying her gracefully around the room as she performed every pirouette, every attitude, grand jeté, sissonne, arabesque, double cabriole, brisé, and entrechat six with grace, elegance, strength, and determination. When the music for Odette’s variation ended, and she transitioned into Odile’s, Sidney knew exactly what he was going to get. Though she transitioned to embody Odile instead of Odette, her movements were just as precise, and there was something different about the way her body moved to take on the character. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen in anybody else, and June executed it so flawlessly. She did every time, and just because this was an audience of one, it didn’t matter.

Then the French horn and trumpets began. The symbols clashed. The infamous song blared through the speakers. June took a few moments to herself, when the danseur would traditionally dance, and then it was on. Back in the centre, arms extended, aaaaand…

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen…

Sidney could feel the tears well in his eyes as he watched her.

Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty…

Sidney’s heart stopped beating as he watched her complete the set. She did it. She fucking did it.

Thirty-one. Thirty-two.

She landed her ending pose perfectly – and she wasn’t even done. She had to end the pas de deux, and she did so in a flurry of piqués and chaînés that saw her whip herself around the room like a tornado. After more pirouettes, entrechat six, looking down and extending her hand to an invincible danseur, the music hit its last note and June flapped her arm out like a wing.

Then, silence.

Sidney and June let everything June had just done speak for itself and stand on its own. The first time Sidney had seen June do this, he had cried – and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. The crowd had erupted in a raucous applause at her completion of the 32 fouettés and at the end of the pas de deux, and he had gotten swept up in the moment. Now, alone in a ballet studio in Halifax where she’d just done the same thing, there was silence. It wasn’t until June forced her body out of the pose, and made eye contact with Sidney, was any other noise heard.

A sob.

June let out a sob she didn’t know she was holding in and practically collapsed into Sidney, who quickly outstretched his arms to catch her. He held her as they sat on the floor and she cried in his arms. They didn’t say a word to each other. Everything was being said in what they were doing – holding on to each other for dear life. It was only until June stopped crying that she pulled away to look into Sidney’s eyes.

And when she did, she knew that look. She knew that look because it was the same one she gave him, that she never gave to anyone else. Not even to her ex-fiancé. “You love me,” she said. She didn’t ask, because by the look in his eyes, she knew.

Sidney nodded. “And you love me,” he said, a statement and not a question, too.

June nodded. “All this time.”

“I think we’ve been in love with each other for thirty-one years and didn’t realize it sooner,” he said.

In movies, there is usually a grand declaration of love; running through an airport, or flash mobs, or a long speech with exquisite words. This wasn’t that. Sidney and June’s declaration of love was not grand, and it was not ostentatious. They weren’t chasing the other through an airport or organizing a flash mob atop the Halifax Citadel. This, instead, was simple: two people, after thirty years, sitting on a floor in a ballet studio in Halifax, finally admitting they loved one another.

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby fan fic #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #pittsburgh penguins fic #pittsburgh penguins fan fic #sidney crosby blurb #pittsburgh penguins blurb #pens imagine #pens fic #pens fan fic #pens blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #to sail beyond the sunset series

[ghostbsuter]

"I can see dead people." He mentions with a shrug, using the chopsticks to fish more noodles into his mouth.

Dick stares at him. "Huh."

"Is that why you help?" He asks, getting more spring rolls.

"Yeah. Once someone becomes a ghost, word gets out quick, and they come to me. Always tatling about unfairness and justice." The kid waves the words around, rolling his eyes.

Dick just pretens to he uninterested, despite his mind racing at the new info. He is piecing past moments together, every shadow leaping away, every note with tips, leads and—

Huh.

"Do you... like it? Doing all that?" Richard approaches thus carefully, brows furrowed at the kid opposite of him.

Danny moves his head, giving a 'so-so' answer. "It's not much to like, I can see ghosts, and they know it and use it. If it brings them to peace or whatever– well, that's just a plus."

Dick stares. He places his chopsticks down and looks at Danny worried.

In turn, the kid sighs. "Sometimes gifts become curses the longer you have it."

And Dick understands.

Mind made up, he throws a pair of keys at the kid, watching fondly as the other catches them with confusion.

"Next time use these, instead of entering through the window."

Danny mock-salutes with a shit eating grin. "Yes, Officer grayson."

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #dick really got a kid now huh #dick: oh wow how did you get in here #danny: *fist down a cereal box and cheeks syuffed full eith food* wdym #he annoys dick during his police hours #he doesnt even blink twice when he later catches him tyring to sneak in as nightwing #dick got the most chill kid ever #dick telling bruce of how easy danny is: :D #dick then finding out about every horrifying and downright traumatic wvent in ddannys past: D: #hes calling connie raven and black canary #for the ghosts and much needed therapy #dick abt danny: what a good kid! #dick abt danny after: oh god youre traumatsied #he's parenting so hard he should get an award #tbf danny gives him a makeshift trophy with “best officer pops.ever” in glittery pen

[iindigoeyed]

saw this dress and purse and i KNEW i had to draw this, it's so her!!

#ml #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #omg i post art not clickbait?? #Hmm dont think i added enough sparkles..... #i initially wanted it to look like a page from her sketchbook but i got render-happy #I was gonna add tikki but she didnt fit the color palette -_- #indigarts #marinette #forcing myself to draw/write because if i dont i will literally never finish anything #not exaggerating i have over 40 art & fic wips combined #and like... 4 aus in the works? #my hands cant keep up with my brain!!! #Yall bored during hiatus... not me. stay safe tho! #and not to mention that ive been so sick i cant hold a pen most of the time #ok i'll shut up now #edit was no one gonna tell me i put the hyphen in her name wrong.

[quotergirl19]

Colin: You seemed to enjoy your dance with Lord Debling.

Penelope: I did. He’s the first gentleman who has ever wanted to dance with me.

Colin: That is untrue. You and I have danced many times.

Penelope: Lord Debling actually wanted to dance with me. He made me feel like I was special to him and said I was lovely. You only ask me to dance out of pity. You do not count.

#Quotergirl mini fic #Hit him with the you do not count Pen!!! #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 speculation #netflix bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

[saintslewis]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: tattoo artist!lewis hamilton x black fem!reader

summary: in which reader needs a good tattoo artist to help her vision come to life and lewis, a mutual friend, is recommended and is more than happy to help you out.

warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, mentions of tattoo needles, mentions of w33d, smut (18+ mdni), pet names, just read 🫵🏽 (buckle in, frens) sorry for typos!

saint’s team radio 🎀: heyyyy! this spawned in my mind in the middle of the night and my super talented fren @mauvecherie-writes came up with this masterpiece. hope you all enjoy 🤭. (anon i hope this does your request justice!)

tags: @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @httpsserene @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @peyiswriting @purplelewlew @alika-4466 @arshiyuh @yeea-nah @louvrepool @motheroffae @lorarri

pls like, reblog and comment! 🫶🏽

pls note, the lady in the header does not represent the reader! 🫶🏽

“You’ve been sitting there thinking so hard, I could see steam comin’ out your head.” Marie laughed as she walked close to you with two mimosas in her hand, handing one to you. The get-together she occasionally hosts with all of your mutual friends was in full swing, everyone in different corners of the huge house.

Giving her an eye roll, you sipped on the drink before answering. “Girl, fuck you.” You cussed, hearing her laugh. Following close behind her was another one of your friends, Lani. Her kitten heels clacked against the tiled floor as she sat next to you on the light blue couch.

“What’s going on, what’s the tea?” She sipped on her drink and held onto it and she looked at you. “Well my lovely friends, I’ve been thinking about getting a back tattoo for a good minute now.” You replied, leaning back into your seat as your friends gasped with excitement.

Marie held your manicured hand in excitement, “Girl oh my god, it’s going to look so good on you!”. Lani then put her drink down then sat up to look at you properly. “What you gonna get? How big?” She asked.

“A red dragon maybe. Covering the whole thing, It’s been on my mind.” You answered, looking between your excited friends. “Anddd you’re wearing a backless dress right now! Y/n, you better get this damn tattoo.” Marie said, still very much holding onto your hand.

“Anddd it’s going to look great during backshots.” Lani smiled and that earned her a smack on her arm from you.

“Stop thinkin nasty. I just want it because I think it’ll look good with all those backless clothes I got.” You admitted although the thought of it made your skin a little warm. “So what’s stopping you from getting it, bae? ‘Cause I’m excited like I’m getting it.” Marie gushed. “Can’t find a good artist around here who caters red ink for black people.” You shrugged.

It was tough trying to find tattoo artists in your city, much less those who work well with red ink. Most were extremely pricey, others worked with complicated pieces and only wanted pieces like portraits or lions or they just left you on read after attempting to make an appointment.

A moment passed by and Lani smacked your leg repeatedly as she came to a realisation. The look of unspoken excitement travelled between your friends and soon enough, you knew they were plotting something.

“Y/n, oh my goodness you genius!” Marie exclaimed and that made your eyebrows furrow even more with confusion.

“Okay, I am very confused by what is happening so I’m just going to grab another snack.” You voiced out and you couldn’t even move because both women held you down as they smiled like maniacs.

Lani nodded first then turned her head to look at you. “Okay okay. Y/n, we’ve got the perfect artist for you. D’you remember Lewis?” She grinned and you tried to think about it fully.

Lewis, Lewis…oh god, that Lewis. The incredibly beautiful man you met through your clearly unhinged friends at a housewarming party two years ago. He was that type of distant crush that would never go away even if you tried and it didn’t help that he was the quiet type who would hang out with your large friend group every now and then.

“…uh huh. What about him?” You replied, hoping that no one heard your voice almost falter at the mention of him. “He’s a tattoo artist! I don’t know how I forgot but that man just keeps to himself for real.” Lani chuckled before continuing. “But yeah anyways, he could do it for you!”

Never in a million years would you think that he would be a tattoo artist and funnily enough, his arm is filled with them. You actually had no clue what he did, always curious whenever you saw the G Wagon that he would hop into after any get-together was over.

“I don’t know, you guys. I’d have to talk to him first about everything and that seems like a lot. I don’t wanna bother the guy to squeeze in someone who has no clue what they’re doing-” You stopped your ramble once you realised that your friends were just staring at you.

“Girl, you never ramble like that unless you find a dude cute.” Marie teased as she watched you avoid eye contact with her. Smacking your lips, you shook your head and tried to appear like this news didn’t phase you.

So focused on the subject at hand, you didn’t notice that Lani was gone. Finally hearing the familiar clack of her heels, you looked up and your breath hitched. You had just denied even thinking about him but there stood Lewis, quietly chewing on his gum with a glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

With your hand still in Marie’s hold, she squeezed it as she stood up and moved to stand next to Lani. “Lewis, you remember Y/n, right? An absolute beaut.” Lani started. “Anywho, my good sis wants a tattoo and obviously, you came to my mind. Aight, see y’all later.” She continued and just like that, her and Marie disappeared.

“I’m sorry for them, they can get a lil crazy.” You spoke, offering your hand to him and he gently shook your hand with both of his large ones. “They’ve also had some green gummies so I get it.” He smiled and that alone, just sent you to another dimension.

He’s British. You made sure to make little notes along the way.

And he dressed incredibly well. Sleeveless white shirt, white cargos, air force ones and his huge tattooed arms on display. The jewellery making the outfit look all the more good.

It also didn’t help that your dress was the same shade of white as his entire outfit.

“Although we’ve briefly met before, I’m Lewis. Nice seeing you again.” He introduced himself, not breaking any eye contact with you and he could tell you weren’t expecting to see him. “Y/n. I’m sure those two already told you why they dragged you here,” You nervously smiled. “Didn’t wanna waste your time with my questions.”

“You’re good, love. Wanna sit down and talk about it?” Lewis asked, pointing to the couch you were just sitting on. This area of the house wasn’t crowded so you could hear each other clearly.

The nickname he called you by threw you into a loop, nodding at him as a response because you couldn’t come up with one on the spot.

The two of you went on to speak on everything revolving around the tattoo. Your experiences trying to find a good enough artist that you wanted to feel comfortable with, the placement of it and the design. There were all types of jokes thrown into the conversation, making you feel comfortable. He also listened, nodding and replying after you spoke.

“So I’ve got two options if I decide to chicken out of the dragon one.” You said, twiddling your fingers as you still avoided eye contact with Lewis. “Alright even though my favourite would have to be the dragon.” He winked, chewing his gum.

You flushed hearing him say that. You couldn’t imagine being naked in front of him, letting your body be a canvas he gets to work on. Of course you would like to be naked in another way but that couldn’t happen. He definitely has to have someone in his life. Would he though if he just winked at you? Or was he just playing with you because he can sense you’re shy-

“Y/n, love, you still with me?” Lewis worried a tad bit as he watched you zone out on him. Shaking yourself out of it, you were grounded by his eyes boring into yours. Clearing your throat slightly, you asked a different question. “Uh if I do go ahead with it, where will we be?”

“Right now, my studio is under renovations so I’ve got my home studio. Hope that’s okay with you, anything to help you be comfortable.” He reassured, sitting back and the sight of him just sitting so confidently had you squirming in your seat, having to cross your legs.

“That’s fine,” your voice reaching an octave higher than normal. “What was the other design, sweetie? Haven’t done a tattoo on a client in a while so I’m grateful that I’ll be the one who gets to work on this.” Lewis mentioned, watching you lose your train of thought everytime you two locked eyes and he found it quite endearing.

“…A lower back tattoo, preferably a word or a heart.” You muttered, Lani’s words running through your mind. Stop, you can’t think about that right now. “That’s a nice one.” He commented, tilting his head and admired your shyness.

Ever since he laid his eyes on you, Lewis had made it his mission to find a way to get with you. He was in awe everytime you would show at one of the many games nights or celebrations, looking effortlessly beautiful yet timid as well. He hadn’t known if you were single until a mutual friend mentioned you and blind dates in the same sentence.

Lewis thanked the universe for giving him the chance to do his favourite thing with the woman he had fancied.

After a bit more conversation, you had managed to get his number and bid goodbye to him, a very warm hug from him to you, and you hurried to your car to take several deep breaths afterwards. After not being intimate with anyone for a long while, you were embarrassed that a single conversation left you in a puddle with an all too familiar feeling in your stomach.

Consoling yourself whilst driving, you grew excited for the week ahead for the tattoo, of course.

-

Darting your eyes between your phone and the house you were currently parked outside of, you felt confused although your gps led you to the correct address.

“Sis c’mon, he wore a cartier bracelet like it was nothing.” You joked to yourself, trying to keep yourself at ease with the fact that your entire back will be filled with ink very soon.

Clearly the camera right by the gate was able to see you and the gate opened up for you. Finally parking next to the car you were familiar with, you fixed up your outfit. You tried walking to the front door with an excruciatingly slow pace to try and calm your nerves but as soon as Lewis opened the door, that all went out the window. His gaze was piercing as he leaned on the door frame, watching you twiddle with your nails and walk over to him with the same shy energy you held the other day.

“You can’t be lookin at people like that, Lewis.” You spoke with a slight smile, being welcomed into his large home. “Like how, Y/n?” He smiled as he closed the front door behind him, admiring every inch of your body.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.” You chuckled, choosing to not feel his glare on you after you said that. He chuckled as well, deciding to not comment and wanting you to be comfortable first.

“Anything you need before we start, love? You seem nervous.” Lewis asked, placing his hand on your back and lead you towards his home tattoo studio. An incredibly large room with decor that screamed Architectural Digest, the tattoo chair stitched with his initials ‘LH’ and a candle was lit, a ocean-like scent wafting through the air. You had told him that you liked that candle scent all those days ago and the fact that he remembered made you blush.

Low rnb music was playing and a calm atmosphere washed over you as soon as you entered the room.

“It’s my first big tattoo, of course i’m nervous about it.” You replied with a sigh, plopping down on the soft couch and placed your phone on the record player stand.

Playing with the band of your shorts, you knew he was looking at you from the doorway. “Also it’s a lil silly but I don’t even know if this shit will look good on me, y’know? I wanted this but i guess it’s just the nerves.” You continued.

Not even hearing him move from his spot, you lifted your head to see him crouched down in front of you. His tattooed hands landed on your thighs without breaking eye contact with you. “Can I tell you what I think?” He asked. All you could do was nod. He hadn’t touched you in the way you wanted but in an instant, you could feel a puddle forming.

“On you, it will be the best piece I’ve done because it was made to sit on your body. A canvas that people will get to admire, a canvas that you’ve given me the honour to work on.” He continued, hands barely moving from your legs.

Taking a breath, you finally got the strength to respond to what he said. “Are you always this poetic to your clients?” You tried to joke but his eyes were glued to yours, the same way he looked at you at the housewarming.

“It took me a while to garner the confidence to talk to you, to just be in your presence. Every time I had the luck to see you, I would cherish it because we wouldn’t be in the same room all the time. I want the time we have here to be meaningful. And before you make that adorable timid face, yes, I have always found you attractive.” He spoke and you were just speechless.

“Are you serious?” You managed to speak, your voice becoming softer the more you accepted everything he was saying.

“Would you like me to show you how serious I am about you?” Lewis shifted his legs so that he could kneel in front of you. You could see the truth in his eyes as he spoke, darting between your eyes and lips.

You whimpered and you couldn’t control it, his hold on you was so strong.

“I need your words, princess.”

“Please. Please show me, Lewis.” You whined out.

That was all it took for him to begin to reach for the band of your shorts but you put your hands on his to stop. His eyebrows furrowed and before he spoke, you went for it. “Kiss me.” You breathed out. Lewis stood to his full height then sat on the couch next to you, pulling you onto his lap.

You made the first move and leaned in, your lips moving together in sync as he kissed you passionately. His hand held the back of your neck, bringing even closer while his other hand trailed down your arched back.

Your whimpers echoed throughout his home studio as he pulled away from the kiss, watching you try and grind to get some sort of pleasure in. Gently putting his hands on your waist, he guided you and you gasped as you felt his length, long and hard. Just waiting for you.

It felt unbearable, a knot in your stomach needed to be released and you threw you head back, just wanting to wash over the arousal. Lewis watched how you pleasured yourself on him, your denim clothes restricting the both of you from connecting skin to skin. “You enjoying yourself, darling?” He licked his lips, looking up at you with dark eyes clouded with lust.

You wanted to respond, desperately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. The warmth from the two of you became stronger, him leaning up to begin peppering kisses on your necks and not wanting to create any marks just yet. “..Yes.” You managed to breathe out and you loved the feeling of his large hands roaming around your body, not able to get enough of you.

Lewis held your hips firmly, halting your movement and that made you want to cry out of not getting a release. “Lewis, please.” You whined and he chuckled against your neck. “Take your clothes off and lie down, princess.” He said, looking at your cute angry face with a slight pout evident.

Instead of doing what he said, you just looked at him in the eyes clearly wanting to start a challenge. However, he knew his gaze made you weak. It was one of his many charms. All he had to do was slightly tilt his head and it had you standing up and slowly taking your clothes off, him following suit. You oggled at him, his tattoos gracefully placed on his skin making your mouth water.

With you laid down on the couch, he crawled up your body and crashed his lips into yours. He held your neck so gently as he kissed your jawline then your neck all the way down to where you needed him the most. Lewis laid between your legs to admire your clothed core, giving praise to your thighs and ass as he planted a kiss on your inner thighs.

“Oh shit…” you gasped as he started licking all around your clit until he planted his mouth on it, your moans bouncing off the walls as Lewis devoured you like you were his dinner. Sticking his tongue in and fucking you with it was really the cherry on top, your hand flying to his head to keep it in place and you ground into his face.

Screaming as he entered two fingers in your pussy, you felt a tear slide down at the immense pleasure he was giving you. It had been a very long time since someone had gone down on you but never had you orgasmed from head before. Until now.

Lewis licked you clean as he climbed up and kissed you so that you could taste yourself. You could tell he wanted to say something but you reached your hand to palm him through his pants, watching the different expressions on his face. Slapping the side of your thigh, he held your face.

“Bend over for me, princess.” With a smile on his face and you knew you were going to be here a while.

-

The buzzing of the tattoo gun sounded out through the room, Lewis wiped the dripping ink from his canvas. He was doing the last bit of work to fully complete his piece on you, the ink contrasting beautifully with your skin.

Finally switching it off and clearing his station to prepare for the clean up and to place the plastic cover on, he lightly smacked your ass to wake you up. “Darling, we’re finally done.” Lewis softly said, already focused on the clean up.

You hummed, “That’s amazing, baby. Thank you.” You spoke all drowsy from the nap you took earlier and the buzzing feeling of your body even after the tattooing gun isn’t touching your skin. Not to mention the sativa joint you smoked together before the final session.

You and Lewis kept this arrangement going, him saying that once he finished his artwork on your back, he’d take you on a date to wherever you want to go and you agreed. The mutual crush you had on each other transcended to a different level, becoming almost domestic every moment you spent together.

“Can I see it?” You asked, rising up from the chair and you looked at him while batting your eyelashes. “Of course you can, princess.” Lewis leaned down to peck your lips then led you to the mirror. You gasped when you saw your dream tattoo, sitting perfectly on your back and your mind was running wild with thoughts already.

“The backshots with this tattoo are going to be amazing.” You giggled and he just rolled his eyes. “Okay that’s enough weed for you, baby.” Lewis chuckled then lightly tapped your ass.

“You were thinking it though!”

saint’s notes 🪩: mind you this has been sitting here since feb 🧍🏽‍♀️. this is dedicated to @mauvecherie-writes , thank you for your patience fren 🤭 and yes the monaco fit made me go feral.

#☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #saint writes #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut

[plutolovesyou]

SUPERBLOOD WOLFMOON | teaser + summary

♡: spider!ellie williams x reader

FULL SYNOPSIS: in a city shrouded with mystery, lovable loser ellie williams leads a double life. by day, she's an ordinary young adult. she juggles her studies, a boring job at a run-down record store for a few extra bucks, playing guitar in her free time, and ignoring your texts, the usual. but by night, she transforms into a famed superhero, beloved by the country. she's there when any problems arise, whenever she is needed to sort a squabble out. however, maintaining anonymity as arachnelle is of utmost importance to her. she vowed to take that to her grave, it was just easier this way, keeping her life split in two.

as her most dear friend since the earliest days of childhood, you've always sensed there was a lot more to her than meets the eye, and in recent times your suspicions have reached an all-time high, with her being even more strange and avoidant than usual. your patience is running thin, as well as your curiosity rising, and you cannot help but pry into her affairs. but as you delve deeper into her secrets, you uncover a horrifying web of intrigue, crime, and danger, with a shadowy figure known only as the "claw" pulling the strings from behind the scenes, and potentially being the very source for any and all peril occurring in the city. amidst the whirlwind of chaos, blossoming romantic feelings begin to accumulate for your best friend, only complicating the already bizarre relationship between the two of you more. as you become entangled in this whole ordeal which all started with a few simple peculiarities—a fiasco you never grasped the true severity of before diving headfirst in—you'll traverse the labyrinth of hidden truths and city-wide corruption, all while grappling with your own personal emotions and doubts at the core. you'll be forced to face the daunting question of how much risk you're willing to endure in pursuit of the complete truth, and whether the sacrifices made along the way were truly worthwhile in the end.

read this first! ▪︎ daily click ▪︎ series playlist ▪︎ series masterlist

☆: yeah i can't keep a single thing to myself like ever i'm wayyyy too impatient and excited to share new things. new series!! i'm sososo hyped for this one :) lmk if you'd like to be added to the series taglist whichever way! the formatting of this is nicer on desktop trust me...

#superblood wolfmoon! ❤️🕷🕸🌚 #pluto + their pen ☆ #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #lesbian #ellie the last of us 2 #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #tlou 2 #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams series #ellie williams concept #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams fic #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine

[aka-indulgence]

Too much thinks for brain

#i love digital pen #makes drawings look more brhu #me everytime my thoughts can last more than 1 page #(which is almost all of them) #me: i should write a long fic about that #every other thought i have: sure you will #jhrthjyu #aka doodles

[ahhrenata]

thinking about steddie time travel fix-its and s1 steve.

#the pen sketch came from teen wolf #I watched it the other day #his hair was so versatile lol #some of the time travel fics I’ve read don’t usually go back to s1… but I wanted to try out the look #Eddie I just imagine with shorter hair 🤔 #I’ll color these eventually #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanart #stranger things art #stranger things au #s1 steddie

[iheartbookbran]

actually you know what in retrospect the best part abt the Debling plot was that the reason he decided to not propose to Penelope after all was bc he realized that the minute he put a foot out the door he was getting cuckolded by Colin lmfaoooo

#and he was actually correct like pen didn’t even deny it asdfhkkhgdsdgj #my girl was fully committed to having brown-haired kids with two blond parents a la rhaenyra targaryen #the fact that it was cressida who told him makes the whole situation even funnier #anyways where the fics at??? #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #polin #anti debling #not really gotta feel sorry for my guy he was never even a player #the plot device that keeps on giving and i will never shut up about it #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton season 3

[toastedkiwi]

100 Yard Sprint

Summary: you want to play catch on the football field with Travis.

Pairing: Travis Kelce x Pen Pal!Reader

Travis couldn’t help but smile. The letterman is quite big on you. Your small hand is gripping his. You’ve stolen his designer glasses from his game day fit. You’ve got a bounce in your step. He could contribute it to the booze you had up in the suite and just the excitement of being on the field with him to pass a football around.

He took you through the tunnel out to the somewhat bare field. There’s guys cleaning up the sidelines- a reporter and his cameraman wrapping up. A couple various groups of fans still hanging around taking their time.

“Alright, Jerr,” Travis said as the two of you stepped into the end zone. “Here’s the end zone.”

“You gonna throw me the ball?” you asked. “And then I’m gonna do a touchdown?”

“Yes, baby,” he said.

“Shouldn’t Mahomes be throwing it?” you teased.

“I can throw you the ball from ten feet away, Jerry,” he said backing up. “Just get into the spot you want.”

You stood right on the line and got into a defensive position.

“Oh wait, you’ll need my helmet,” he said walking back to you.

Travis carefully took the sunglasses off and you looked right up at him. He wore them instead and placed the football in your hands before crowning you. He took off the baseball cap and wore it himself but backwards. It didn’t fit quite right.

He finally let you dawn his helmet. It’s a bit too big for you but it’s adorable especially with you smiling up at him.

“I’m ready, Coach,” you said.

“Sure you are,” he smiled stepping backwards. “You’re cute, ya know.”

“Cute as a mouse?” you asked.

Travis laughed, “that’s in your name, Jerry!”

He walked back to the ten yard line. You stood at the edge of the end zone. You got into a defensive position.

“2- 42, 28,” Travis called out getting ready to throw the ball. “HIKE!”

He threw you an easy ball. You managed to catch it. You immediately started running away from the end zone behind you.

“INTERCEPTION, BITCH!” you yelled running past him.

“Wha—? Shhhhiiiit,” Travis said spinning around.

You’ve got a full blown sprint going. He started running after you. He couldn’t believe how fast you’re going. The determination you have is unmatched.

Travis watched as you got to the end zone and launched that football against the turf. You then celebrated with one of his own touchdown celebration dances. He laughed. He ran up to you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and lifted you off the ground. He spun you around.

“LETS GO, BABY!” Travis exclaimed.

You laughed clutching the back of his red undershirt.

“Congrats, Pretty Girl, you scored your first touchdown,” he said.

“Do I- Do I get a trophy?” you asked breathing hard.

“I’ll find you one,” he said carefully letting you slide down.

“The Lombardi?” you asked with doe eyes.

“Give me some time. I gotta get the team to the Super Bowl,” Travis said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Let’s go to the locker room,” he said.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Lemme grab you your winning football.”

Travis quickly went off and fetched the ball. He got back to you.

“Piggyback ride?” He asked.

“Please!” you exclaimed.

He crouched down just enough for you to hop on. You clumsily got on. He stood up hooking his arms under your knees. Your arms went around his neck. He started making his way back down the field to the tunnel.

“Your helmet kinda stinks,” you said.

“Well, I did play in it today, Jerry,” he said.

“Gross,” you mumbled.

Travis chuckled. He happily carried you all the way back to the locker room.

Once by his cubby/locker, he let you slide off of his back. You stumbled a bit but he was quick to stabilize you.

“Sit down, Baby,” Travis said softly.

You sat down on the bench and he gave you the football to hold. He took off his helmet for you and placed it on the shelf. He took off his sunglasses, gloves, and the baseball cap. They were placed on the shelf. He carefully fixed your hair.

“You’re hot,” you said.

Travis grinned, “you’re not so bad yourself, Jerr.”

He leaned down and tilted his head. He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. He felt you smile. One of your hands found his bearded cheek. You’re pulling him closer. He’s lucky that it’s an empty locker room.

“You’re trouble, Y/n, ya know that?” Travis said pulling away.

You gave a dopey smile reminding him that you’re still very much intoxicated.

“I’m gonna take a shower and get changed-,” he told you.

“Can I join you?”

“No, Jerry, I’m not gonna get in trouble because of you,” he said. “You’re gonna sit right here. I’ll be quick.”

“Can I have your phone?” you asked.

“Yeah but don’t be causing trouble,” he said.

You gasped offended. Travis chuckled and found his phone in one of his bags. He unlocked it for you and gave it to you. You, without any hesitations, called his mother while he took off his cleats.

“You little asshole,” Travis said shaking his head.

You giggled.

“Momma, don’t listen to her!” he exclaimed the second he heard his mom say ‘hello.’

“Excuse me?! I’m trying to have a conversation here,” you slurred.

“You’re telling on me to my own mother!” he said.

“I would never!” you lied straight through your teeth.

Donna laughed hearing her son bicker with you. She can’t wait until she sees the two of you getting married. She’ll tell this story at the wedding.

#travis kelce x pen pal!reader #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce #travis kelce x you #travis kelce x y/n #travis kelce x female!reader #travis kelce fanfic #nfl fic

[minnesota-fats]

Jason and Jazz becoming friends through a pen pal thing at school that would send emails and letters back and forth—even after the project ended—until one day when Jazz never got a reply to one of her letters, she kept sending them despite not getting a reply up until she moves out from home and to Gotham for college.

Jason never got to reply because he had died and Bruce and Alfred didn’t have the heart to open letters that were for Jason and couldn’t bring themselves to actually write to this kid who was Jason’s pen pal. If they had actually read the letters they would have learned that Amity Park was overrun with ghosts and that Jazz was scared for her baby brother and living in a very neglectful home. They would have learned that Jazz was lonely and that she missed her friend and that the only think keeping her sane are these letters that she is writing to her one and only friend, Jason.

When Jason finally starts talking to the family and even goes to a few dinners—that usually end poorly, but we won’t talk about that!—and Alfred gives him a pile of envelopes tied together neatly addressed to him in numerical order. Jason is confused for a second until it clicks and these were from Jazz and that she had never stopped sending him letters. He takes them home and cry’s for a bit because his friend never stopped writing him, even when he was dead. Then Jason READS THEM!!! And becomes increasingly concerned after each letter ranging in detail and severity such as, “my home town is being overrun by the undead,” to “I’m scared for my brothers safety, Jason.”

And then the final one saying, “now that my brother has graduated high school Im taking him and moving to Gotham, this will be my last letter. You are my best friend!”

The rest is up to you guys!

#cute #fun #:3 #danny phantom #danny fenton #fluff #Jazz fenton #jason todd #pen pal’s au #oh my god they were pen pals #batman #red hood #red hood outlaws #jazz fenton and jason todd #anger management #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp fic #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp anger management #dp x dc anger management #uwu #prompt #fic idea #i tried writing it but i can cuz my adhd is being sucky

[spine-buster]

To Sail Beyond the Sunset ft. Sidney Crosby | Chapter 4

gif credit @/9116

A/N: Surprisingly, no flashback scene in this one...but we finally get to figure out what June's hiding! And some interesting thoughts from Sid...

Lazy nights with June on the lake were Sidney’s favourite thing to do in the summer. Besides fishing, it was probably the one activity that brought him the most solace. It was the only time that his mind was completely clear from any worries, doubts, overthinking, everything – even hockey. Time with June was the best medicine in the world; it was the cure for everything, and the thing Sidney always wanted.

It was Canada Day, which meant that June was over. Sidney heard his screen door open as the sun set over Shubenacadie Grand Lake, and saw June carrying their drinks – a Jack and coke for him, a margarita for her – before she closed the door with her foot and walked over. “Thanks Junebug,” he said as she handed him his drink.

“Anytime,” she smiled, settling in right next to him, as she often did, the entire left side of her body pressed up against his right. She raised her margarita and he raised his Jack and coke. “To Canada,” she said.

Sidney clinked their glasses together. “To Canada.”

“And to Mr. Canada-who-scored-the-Golden-Goal.”

Sidney snorted. “You just had to, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” June put on an exaggerated smile, clinking their glasses together again for good measure. “Do the people across the lake still do fireworks?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Good, she said, leaning her head against Sidney’s bicep as they looked out onto the lake. “Nothing can beat this sunset, though.”

Sid smiled, taking another quick sip of his drink. They were quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the sound of the lake waves gently rolling. Sidney was thinking about the feeling of June nestled into him. This was far from the first time that they’d been in this position, but the feeling of her body so close felt…different now, especially when Andy’s words were still mulling around at the back of his mind.

Sidney thought about June as a wife. She’d been engaged before, to a man named Cameron Currie from Toronto. His family bred thoroughbred horses at a farm north of the city and had been doing so for generations – they socialized in very prominent circles and donated money to the arts, which is how June met him. He was a nice guy, well-to-do, great pedigree and all that, but they called off the wedding. June told him it was because they couldn’t work out some things, and that they could never find a resolution. While Sidney was happy for her, and wanted to see her happy, at the back of his mind, he would think about her life as a wife. Would they buy a new house together, or inherit his parents’ farm? Would June be a hostess to the social circles and put on parties with passed canapés and champagne flutes? Would she put all their commitments on a shared calendar? Would she visit him at work and support him in his business endeavours? Would she take off her robe at night, get into bed, put hand cream on, and read a book until she fell asleep? Would she kiss him goodnight? It was probably sick to think about, but Sidney did it anyway. And whenever feelings of jealousy would arise in him, he’d squash them down quickly, wondering why he was even feeling jealousy in the first place.

For the first time, Sidney’s mind wandered, and he let it go further, further than he’d ever taken it before. He thought about June as his wife. He thought about her teaching her classes and him dropping by more often and how her girls would probably giggle and call her Mrs. Crosby instead of Miss June just for fun. He thought about her being home when he got home from a game or a road trip and hugging him at the door. He thought about her running him an Epsom salt bath for him after a long road trip or gruelling game. He thought about her making him grilled cheese sandwiches when he missed home. He thought about her cuddling into him at night and holding each other as they slept, or being one of those couples that always had to be touching somehow when they slept, even if it was just a foot. He thought about her attending his games – more of them, obviously, since she’d be around all the time. He thought about waking up together in the morning and making coffee. He thought about hearing the sound of little feet running down the hallways and jumping into bed with them to cuddle underneath the covers.

He thought about June as a mom. He held his breath in his chest when he did, but his mind was running wild. He thought about breakfasts together in the mornings and dinners together at night. He thought about everybody helping out in the kitchen and throwing spaghetti against the cupboards. He thought about being at the table and doing homework together. He thought about school runs and birthday parties and hockey practice and dance classes. He thought about Halloween costumes and Christmas decorations. He thought about baking cookies for Santa and wrapping the kids’ presents and staying up to put them under the tree. He thought about June scooping their kids up in her arms and peppering their faces with kisses. He thought about her brushing and braiding their hair. He thought about them reading to their kids at night. He thought about them sitting out on the deck, with their kids in their lap, watching Canada Day fireworks over the lake.

Their kids.

Sidney could feel his heart skip a beat at the thought of having a family with June. To say he never thought about it would be a lie, but every time his mind wandered and it did come up, he would think to himself that it was impossible. They’d grown up together, they had been separated but still stayed close, they had entered into other relationships with other people and never once mentioned the possibility of being together. Being with him – was it something June even wanted? Being with him in that way? And more than that – she wasn’t just with him. She was with Sidney Crosby. He knew that he wasn’t “Sidney Crosby” as an abstract idea to her, as he was to everybody else, but she would be with Sidney Crosby and the idea of Sidney Crosby, and that was a lot to take on. He could understand completely if—

“Sid?”

“Yeah Junebug?”

“You were just sort of…out of it there,” she said, her tone having a bit of worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, trying to play it off. Just thinking about you as my wife and the mother to our children. “Just had a rough workout with Andy.”

“He didn’t even give you the day off for Canada Day?”

“You know Andy.”

June laughed slightly. “I do. He never quits.”

When the sun had set, and the sky became pitch black except for the light of the moon and stars, the fireworks from neighbouring cottages on the lake began. The distant sounds of kids screaming every time a pop went off and exploded into the air made Sid and June smile. They were done their drinks by the time the fireworks finished, and they were both almost too comfortable to get up. But it was getting cold, and June’s feet were always colder than the rest of her body. When they moved inside, Sidney immediately got a blanket out of a pouf June made him buy for the family room and turned his TV on to Netflix. “What are we watching?” he asked.

June was bringing their glasses back to the kitchen. “I don’t know. Something patriotic?” she joked.

“I don’t think so,” Sid grinned. “Come on. What have you been watching?”

“Honestly? Selling Sunset.”

He burst out into laughter. “Seriously, Junebug?”

“It’s addicting!” she defended herself as she walked back to the family room. “It’s mindless and mind-numbing and I love it, okay? Forgive me for getting into a show like that after the doom and gloom of the last year and a half.”

Sidney rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, fine. Selling Sunset it is,” he said, plopping down on the couch, into the corner of the sectional. June unfolded the blanket, sat on the couch next to Sid, and lay it at their feet. She leaned into him just as she’d done outside, using his bicep to rest her head against. He scrolled through Netflix to find the show, and played the episode and season June told him to play.

He had no idea what was happening, so he would ask June some questions. “What’s her name?”; “Her husband is how old?”; “Wait didn’t we just see her?” At some point, he noticed June’s voice get softer. Eventually, when he pointed out how ugly a house was and she didn’t respond, he looked down to see that she had fallen asleep against him, her chest rising and falling softly. She looked incredibly peaceful that Sidney couldn’t help but smile. Like many things, this wasn’t the first time, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last time. This time, he decided not to wake her. Instead, he let the TV show be background noise and allowed himself to fall asleep too.

***

Nathan MacKinnon and the Colorado Avalanche had, unfortunately, been defeated in the playoffs by the Las Vegas Golden Knights. That meant now that Nate was back home in Halifax, but it also meant that Nate was angry and trying to get over yet another second-round exit by his team. As one of his best friends, but more importantly his mentor, Sidney took the role very seriously. He had talked to Nate already – a long, emotional conversation – and assured him that he felt the same way about his own team’s exit. It took a while, but Nate did seem to get over it – superficially, at least – and was in the mood to work out on a consistent schedule with Sid and Andy. This was a positive, since Nate loved them. He took his diet, nutrition, and fitness extremely seriously – unlike Sid, who ate what he wanted to eat (like four grilled cheese sandwiches made by June) and drank what he wanted to drink.

However, despite the workouts being consistent and Nate’s typical responses of getting hot-headed and angry when he lost a race or a drill, Sidney was shocked to see that at this particular workout, Nate was paying more attention to his phone than he was the pylons for his lateral movement training. But when he saw the tell-tale answer – a smile from Nate – Sid knew he was going to rib him. “What’s keeping you on your phone?” he decided to start off light.

He clearly caught Nate off guard. Nate looked up quickly, pretending that he hadn’t just spent the last few seconds staring at his phone screen and smiling. “Nothing. It’s nothing,” Nate was dismissive.

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” Sid pressed, a grin growing on his face.

“It’s nothing. Just drop it,” Nate insisted.

“Stop pretending it’s nothing,” Sid countered, being an ass.

“Not pretending.”

By Nate’s tone of voice, Sid knew he had him right where he wanted him. “Then why were you smiling?”

“God, what are you, a private investigator?”

“Detective Crosby at your service,” he said. “Come on, man. Is it a girl?” he asked, already knowing the answer to the question.

“No.”

“Is it a guy?”

“No.”

“Is it—”

“—Sid, I’m asking you nicely. Please drop it.”

Sid could tell Nate was ready to explode by the playful line of questioning. Nate didn’t like to get called out on his mysterious behaviours and when he did, he went off. Sid was one of the only people who could call him out on it though. Though Sid wanted to take things further and aggravate Nate a little more, he dropped it. “Okay, fine. But if it’s a girl you should bring her around sometime,” he put in one last quip.

“Oh, you mean just like how June’s meeting us for lunch?” Nate decided to bite back. Two could play at this game.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nate rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I have to spell it out for you, do I?” he asked. “You guys are in love with each other. Always have been.”

Sid furrowed his brows. “Where’d that come from? Did Andy tell you to say something?”

Nate laughed out loud. “Andy thinks so too?” he asked. Clearly Andy hadn’t said anything to Nate, which made what he said all the more shocking to Sid. “Nobody has to tell me anything, Sid. I saw it the first day I met her, and I see it in you all the fucking time. We can all see how in love you guys are.”

Sid shook his head. He couldn’t take this from a guy eight years younger than him. “It’s not like that. It’s different with her. She’s my best friend.”

“Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?” Nate asked rhetorically. “You wouldn’t want to marry someone you’re not friends with, right?”

“Well, sure, but—”

“—But what? It’s not rocket science. You guys just don’t see it, do you?”

Sid couldn’t say anything back. He couldn’t talk back to Nate because he knew Nate made a good point. Just like Andy. But Sid couldn’t say that out loud, because he was still trying to grapple with his feelings, whatever they were. “Hey Nate?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m asking you nicely. Please drop it.”

Using Nate’s own words against him was the only way Sid knew to fight back at this particular moment. Nate understood that completely, but he wasn’t going to let Sid off the hook. And truth be told, Sid shouldn’t have let him off the hook either. They were best friends – they should be able to talk about this stuff. “Her name is Sorcha,” Nate revealed. “We grew up together. Went to all the same schools. But she was bullied really badly because of her size and her hair and all that stupid shit, and I was friends with the guys that did it. I saw her the other week in a café and we’ve been reconnecting. I don’t know exactly what’s happening but I know that I want to be spending almost all my time with her.”

“So you like this girl?”

Nate nodded. “I like her a lot. It almost scares me how fast I got really into her. She’s a sparkplug and she takes no shit from anybody, let alone me. She’s got this confidence to her and I—I’m just so attracted to her and I don’t know what to do.”

Sid nodded softly. He and Nate would always end up this way – being secretive before spilling their guts to one another. “June’s already been engaged. I don’t know if she’d ever want to do that again. And to do that with me. I mean I know—I know we’ve known each other forever, but nowadays, being with Sidney Crosby means something a hell of a lot different than if I was just some guy from Cole Harbour.”

Nate nodded his head now too, completely understanding where Sid was coming from. But Sid was still so blind, and Nate wanted to open his eyes. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Of course.”

“She’s always been with Sidney Crosby, bro. From Shattuck to Rimouski to the Penguins and the gold medals, she’s always been with you. I don’t think your question should be if she wants to do it with you. I think she has been doing it with you and will always do it with you no matter what. It’s just up to you guys to have that conversation about your future together.”

Fucking hell, Nate was right. He was exactly right. How could he be so dead-on about something? Sidney wondered what he and June looked like to outside eyes if this was the opinion of the majority of people around them. Did everybody think this? Was everyone just waiting on baited breath until they got together? “Since when did you get so mature?” he asked Nate,

“Since I started hanging out with you, bro.”

***

June said she was working late again tonight. So Sidney had a plan.

Late lessons meant that lights would be on in the studio. It meant June’s car would be in the parking lot. It meant that he’d see a parent’s car dropping off their daughter and coming back after however long to pick her up. It meant that Sidney was in his car across the street watching and waiting to see if all that happened.

It didn’t.

Once the lesson was over, parents did come to pick up their daughters. But nobody returned. Not after an hour. Not after two hours. Not even after three hours. It was only June’s car in the parking lot for the entire night – nobody else came or went, not even a cleaning crew. That’s when Sidney knew something was up, and that’s when he knew he needed to get to the bottom of it tonight.

When he saw from across the street that the lights in the studio were starting to be turned off, he got out of his car and walked across the street. When he saw June emerge, locking the front door behind her, he approached. “Junebug,” he called out her nickname so she wouldn’t get startled and scream.

She still jumped at the sound of her nickname. She looked up, clearly shocked to see him there. “Sid? What are you doing here?”

“You told me you had extra lessons,” he said. He didn’t want to make this too confrontational, but he knew that if he didn’t press things, he wouldn’t get anything out of her. “I saw everybody leave and then nobody came back.”

“You were watching?”

“I—right across the street,” he pointed over to his Range Rover in the parking lot across from them. “You’ve been acting funny and now all of a sudden you’re supposedly giving extra lessons when I know you want these girls to live a normal life outside of ballet. Why’d you lie to me, Junebug?”

June let out a sigh. She’d been caught – and of course she’d been caught, because her best friend in the entire universe was Sidney fucking Crosby. “Sid, it’s not what you think it is.”

“Really? Because I’m thinking you’re keeping a big secret from me, and we never keep secrets from each other.”

“Sid, I—”

Suddenly, it hit him. “Do you have a secret boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”

“Oh my GOD Sidney,” June rolled her eyes like she was a fourteen-year-old girl again. Why on God’s green Earth Sidney would ever think she’d get a boyfriend and hide him was a mystery to her. “I do not have a secret boyfriend and you know that.”

“Then what’s going on? Were you seeing anyone in there?”

“I wasn’t seeing—UGH!!!” she let out a loud, slightly angry, and exasperated groan at his jumping to conclusions. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down – so did Sid, waiting for her to answer for her secretive behaviour. She didn’t – couldn’t – even look him in the eye as she mustered up the courage to reveal to him what she’d been doing. She didn’t know what reaction to expect from him. “I’m dancing again, Sid,” she finally revealed.

He was shocked. June watched as his jaw dropped slightly, but he must have been aware, because he picked it right back up after a few moments. “You—you’re dancing again?”

“Yes. After the girls leave I just—I just sort of dance alone in the studio.”

Sidney felt so stupid that he accused her of having a boyfriend now. This was not what he was expecting given what had happened to her. “I can’t believe it,” he didn’t know what else to say. “I—pointe shoes and everything?”

“Mhm. Pointe shoes and everything,” she used his words, nodding her head slightly as looking down at her feet. “I’m just seeing if I can do it again. The pointe, I mean. And the movements and variations and grand pas and all that. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to become a professional dancer again or anything—”

“You’re still a professional dancer, Junebug,” he interrupted, his voice soft. “Nothing or no-one will take that away from you.”

June didn’t respond, looking away after Sidney’s words. If she did look at him, she was sure she would burst into tears. “Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing. Not off gallivanting with some secret boyfriend.”

Sidney felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“Can I watch you one day?”

June’s eyes focused on his. He’d seen her dance countless times before, but they had all been when she was in the National Ballet of Canada and their company. Every time he’d seen her, she’d been at the top of her game. She hadn’t danced in a proper ballet since her injury, obviously, and though she knew Sidney wouldn’t have an ounce of judgement in him, she didn’t know if she was prepared for him to see her dance after not dancing for almost six years. Especially since he was still at the top of his game, so talented and gifted despite his age. To her, he still played like a 21-year-old when he won his first Cup. The things he did on the ice still inspired her. Though she was still surrounded by ballet in her every day life, their situations were vastly different. “Maybe one day,” she said hopefully. She knew she would have to fight for the courage.

Sidney understood. June took a lot of pride in what she did. He bit his bottom lip slightly. “When you are ready to let me watch, can you tell me?”

“Of course.”

“Promise?”

June held up her hand, extending her pinky. Sidney let out a chuckle and he raised his too, locking their fingers together. “Promise.”

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby fan fic #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins imagine #pittsburgh penguins fic #pittsburgh penguins fan fic #sidney crosby blurb #pittsburgh penguins blurb #pens #pens imagine #pens fic #pens fan fic #pens blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #to sail beyond the sunset series

[wasabi-gumdrop]

working on some character designs for neon glory 🤭

#wip #wasabi doodles #neon glory #i have … feelings #about how i drew Eijirou #i’ve thought about his design for a long time #and now that he’s here … oof 😮‍💨 #the Shindo design came out of left field tho 😵‍💫 #and oooh no Katsuki just happens to be right in the middle /: #anywaaay! working up inspiration to finish the next chapter 💪 #krbk #Kiribaku #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #shindo yo #shindobaku #if you squint #bnha #krbk fic #wasabi writes #getting over my fear of the pen tool #inking is probably my fave part of the process rn

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering. 

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball. 

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though. 

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight. 

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you. 

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you. 

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you. 

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others. 

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?" 

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?" 

"I could never claim otherwise." 

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?” 

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.”  He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.  

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.” 

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.)  But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets. 

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend. 

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people. 

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face. 

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs." 

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear. 

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion. 

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan smut #star wars fanfiction #my pen #smut #fluff #fanfiction #fics #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan smut

[scintillyyy]

i am once again banishing the idea that bruce was never affectionate with tim/was mean to him/was a cold, distant mentor to him. begone.

#does the cheek squeeze and 'natch' mean nothing to you people #does bruce teasing tim about not understanding a joke about girls mean nothing!! #does bruce making tim a tuna fish sandwich not count!! #what about bruce lovingly watching dick & tim goof around at his work #or bruce building a special car just for tim #or calling tim his best friend #or sneaking into his room in the middle of the night to tell him about a case #or the time they almost drowned in legacy and bruce got the strength to save them bc tim was sad #one day...i will put pen to paper on the bruce & tim training era fic in my head....at least outline it or something.... #sorry that piggy back seems to the metric of love and yet. it's not.

[saintslewis]

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 — 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

— pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!oc

— trope: fake/arranged marriage

— summary: the Browns and the Hamiltons have been neighbours for many years, Nadia and their oldest son, Lewis, not being as close as the families had hoped they would be. Years later, everyone drifts apart into different neighbourhoods, some others becoming one of the best drivers to ever grace the sport of Formula One however being a man of his stature, fame came along with it and so did the scandals.

can a fake marriage to a complete stranger help keep his image alive? let’s find out!

✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ———————— let’s meet the lovely couple!

👩🏽‍🏫 —— nadia brown!

“the coolest teacher ever”

⸰ֺ⭑ - a south african native who moved to stevenage with her mom when she was 8 and gosh, her character development is one for the books. from being the shy one for all of her school years, university changed everything and made her the social butterfly that you will all grow to love soon. fav colour is pink. fav artist is beyoncé. she teaches history and knows jack shit about f1 except that the cool guy that her parents support used to be their neighbour. absolutely loves the moon and is a part time stylist. will fight for you even she met you a second ago.

🏎️ —— lewis hamilton!

“the goat.”

⸰ֺ⭑ - a literal superstar. the stevenage driver who i would describe as the coolest person ever and many would agree. an adrenaline junky with a heart of gold and filled with positivity (and sass but you didn’t hear it from me). thee fashionista and he knows he’s fine, he just does. father to roscoe. fav colour is purple. loves discussing space and its beauty. did i mention he’s the coolest guy ever? super supportive of everyone around him and he’s knighted. ladies and gents, mr mercedes!

✧༚ ˎˊ˗ info abt renaissance!

˖ ࣪⭑ - warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, a bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, a talk of ad21, south african slang, slight hints of smut (18+ MDNI), not much of a slow burn lol, lots and lots of brand names, slight themes of sugar daddy! lewis at some point lol (think of it as him spoiling her!)

˖ ࣪⭑ - inspo: this idea just spawned into my head as well as a few of my wip’s mushed together to make this masterpiece. i absolutely love beyonce so using RENAISSANCE for a project so special to me just make wanna do a couple cartwheels. i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did making this!

˖ ࣪⭑ - saint’s team radio: omg hi everybody 🤭. first oc on tumblr woohoo! not a lot of the song lyrics will relate to the plot of the chapter but more so the beat of the song or the vibe? hope that makes sense lol. i hope you guys like the humour i’m gonna add in here. there isn’t a schedule for this yet but hopefully i’ll be more organised in the future. let’s get this party started!

˖ ࣪⭑ - taglist: @thisismeracing @goldsainz @folkloresthings @flowerchild-96 @userlando (i read your blogs as if it’s my morning paper so i hope you like this 😭) @non-stop-imagines @royallyprincesslilly . let me know if you wanna be tagged in this or future fics!

˖ ࣪⭑ - dividers by @cafekitsune 🫶🏽

˖ ࣪⭑ - pictures from pinterest and twitter

˖ ࣪⭑ - nadia faceclaim: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 !

1. I’M THAT GIRL

- the first meeting.

2. COZY

- imagine having dinner with your family then they announce that you’re getting married? you better get cozy for this one!

3. ALIEN SUPERSTAR

- first “date”. gotta show the world the newest married couple!

4. CUFF IT

- didn’t Lewis say he was a professional dancer? well now he is 🕺🏽

5. ENERGY

- first day in the paddock, let’s gaurrr

6. BREAK MY SOUL

- ooohhhhh, the school’s calling for a meeting with Nadia 😟

7. CHURCH GIRL

- party time activated ‼️

8. PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA

- a rainy afternoon in the kitchen with the both of them dancing? literally screaming!

9. VIRGO’S GROOVE

- catching feelings there?

10. MOVE

- a visit to Nadia’s work place isn’t so bad, right? …right?

11. HEATED

- time to let the world know who exactly Nadia is and why to not mess with her or her husband. period.

12. THIQUE

- party time pt 2?

13. ALL UP IN YOUR MIND

- paris fashion week? uh yes!

14. AMERICA HAS A PROBLEM

- quick lil trip to new york or la or san francisco? who knows? 🤭

15. PURE/HONEY

- three words. eight letters.

16. SUMMER RENAISSANCE

- the Hamiltons hit the Hamptons!

status: ongoing

saintslewis 🫶🏽

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one x black reader #x black fem reader #formula one x reader #x black reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x oc #fake marriage au #☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen