#no matter what he assures that hes always there to listen and support anything you do !! such a loving and loyal bf he is

[katsu28]

through the lens

pairing: jamie tartt x reader 

summary: a richmond win, a trip to ola’s, and a camera is all it takes to find out how jamie tartt really feels about you

warnings: swearing ofc, reader is afc richmond's team photographer, 2.5k

a/n: humbly inviting begging anyone and everyone to drop ted lasso requests from this list or this one in my inbox <3 i write for jamie, roy, sam, dani, and isaac! now pls enjoy the result of my jamie tartt brainrot 

The atmosphere in the locker room was positively electric. 

AFC Richmond was fresh off their first win in a very long time, and everyone was beyond ecstatic, buzzing with residual adrenaline and pride on a game well played. All the players were in a huddle in the center of the room, jumping at each other with nothing but pure joy in their eyes. 

All you could do was try your best to capture the moment without getting in the way of the festivities, which you somehow managed by climbing up onto one of the benches in front of the lockers as you snapped picture after picture of the team getting their celebration on. Nobody really paid you any mind throughout, until you turned your camera on one Jamie Tartt, who was already looking right at you the second your viewfinder focused on him. 

He beamed, lifted his hand up in a small wave, and for a split second you thought he might’ve started to make his way over to you, but he was caught on the shoulder and redirected by an overjoyed Dani Rojas. You swiveled away from Jamie and towards where Colin and Isaac had started some sort of chant that you could barely make out over the ruckus. 

Focusing on them gave you the chance to let your heart rate settle back down after sharing that split second moment with Jamie. It was pathetic, really—pining over someone like him.

More of a silly little crush than anything, you knew it would never lead to anything because you’d rather a sinkhole open up in the middle of the road and swallow you up than tell Jamie that you liked him. But that didn’t stop your feelings for him from growing. He’d come back to AFC Richmond someone different—sweet and empathetic and the biggest supporter of his fellow Greyhounds—which made it that much harder to keep your crush under wraps. 

Hell, Keeley had figured it out within weeks of his return and accidentally let it slip to Roy. He’d very gruffly assured you that he hadn’t told a soul, but you were sure that the whole team knew about it by now. Everyone except Jamie. You’d never been so glad for his thick head. 

“Alright, I know y’all are excited about the win, I am too but listen up!” Coach Lasso’s voice cut through the commotion, hands waving over his head to get his players’ attention. At the drop of a hat, every single one of them fell quiet, eagerly awaiting what their beloved coach had to say. 

You were looking forward to it too, not only because a Lasso signature speech was always a great opportunity to get raw, unfiltered photos of the team, but because he always had something positive to say, no matter what the outcome on the pitch had been. The amount of love and care Ted Lasso had for his players was his strong suit, and it showed in everyone’s respect for him. 

“I’m real proud of what all y’all did out there on the pitch tonight. I know I say that after every match and I mean it every time, but this one is just a little bit sweeter. I appreciate every single one of you boys more than you could imagine,” He continued, looking to address each person. They looked like kids again, giddy with glee as they soaked in their coach’s praise. 

You took shot after shot of everyone in the moment, so enveloped in your craft that you didn’t notice someone had come to stand beside you until you let your camera hang. That was when you noticed Jamie, inching closer with an innocent look on his face until he saw you looking down at him. 

“Hiya,” He said, playfully nudging your leg with a cheeky smile. “Gettin’ a good view up there?” 

“Shouldn’t you be listening to your coach?” You shot back, fighting the urge to pick your camera back up and take a shot of his lopsided grin and stupidly endearing twinkle in his eye as he looked up at you. 

“Nothin’ I haven’t heard before.” Jamie shrugged, but he turned back around to look at Ted.

Even though he wasn’t paying attention to you, it was hard not to pay attention to him. That was a problem you’d increasingly been running into, not being able to focus when Jamie was around. You thought you’d had it under wraps, but it seemed like you’d developed a sixth sense for whenever he wandered into your vicinity. And lately, that sense had been pinging a lot more than usual. 

Maybe you were reading too much into things, but it seemed like Jamie had been popping up everywhere you went in the facility. Granted, it was mainly the pitch and the locker room hallways, but it flustered you all the same. One brief conversation about even something mundane like weekend plans or the weather paired with a smile and a cheeky wink before he disappeared around a corner and you were left wondering what you’d been doing in the first place. 

Ted was closing out his speech by the time you’d remembered you were actually supposed to be doing your job right now. You jerked out of your thoughts, snapping a few photos of the coaching staff before he finished up for the night. “Now go ahead and let loose, golden goose!” 

“I’m pretty sure it is geese, Coach,” Sam chimed in, giving him a good natured smile.

“You know what I mean! Go have some fun, celebrate, all that jazz. But not too much fun because I expect to be seein’ y’all bright and early tomorrow morning for practice. Remember, the early bird gets the worm! See, I know I did that one right.” With that, Ted waved the team off, retreating back into the coaches’ office with Coach Beard on his heels and leaving them with all their pent up energy. 

“Sam says we’re all going to Ola’s to celebrate!” Bumbercatch exclaimed, drawing a roar of approval from the rest of the team. 

“You comin’ with us?” Jamie asked you hopefully, tilting his head to the side a bit. Warmth bloomed on your cheeks at the prospect of him wanting you to tag along. “Catch the festivities, give the people what they want?” 

Oh. He was asking because you were their photographer. Not for the other foolishly hopeful reason you were thinking of. Of course. 

“Yeah, I’ll tag along. Gotta catch you boys in your natural habitat, don’t I?” 

Jamie’s mouth lifted into a cool smirk. “‘Course you do. You can catch a ride with me, if you want.” 

“Oh! Um, only if it’s not too much trouble.” You could only hope you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt.

He nodded, extending a hand up towards you to help you down from your perch. You accepted it maybe a bit too eagerly, because your step down from the bench put you a little closer to Jamie than you’d planned, barely a few inches between the two of you. You swore you almost stopped breathing when his chest brushed against yours as he inhaled a sharp breath. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, and it almost looked like he was as stunned as you. 

You both mumbled an apology, words tumbling over each other messily as you stepped apart. His hand flew up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. Yours went straight for your camera, busying yourself with a few random buttons as if it were a defense mechanism. Neither of you could look at the other for a good while, not until you got into Jamie’s car and were on the way to Ola’s to meet the rest of the team. 

“So. What’d you think of the game?” 

“S’good! You did great, Jamie,” You exclaimed, excited now. It was true, Jamie had been on fire tonight with a goal and two assists. “All of you did great.” 

“Should I pose for ya next time? Give ya a proper action shot?“ He sounded only half joking. “M’trusting you to make me look good, y’know!” 

“Posing is overrated. I like the shots I get when you lot get out there on the pitch. They’re natural.” 

“But what if I make a stupid face when I pass the ball? Those can’t be any good.” 

“They’re called candids, and I happen to think they look better than your promotional shots.” 

“Bullshit! I looked sexy in those shots and you know it.” 

While he wasn’t wrong, you had a point to prove now. Taking a deep breath, you counted to three in your head before picking your camera back up, swiveling in your seat and snapping one, two, three pictures of him. 

Jamie’s brow furrowed at the shutter clicks, giving you a confused glance over in your direction. “Oi! What’s that for?”

“That’s a candid.” You said simply, ignoring your heart pounding a million miles a minute against your ribcage. You flicked through the photos, pleased to see that they’d come out just as you suspected—perfect. 

“Not even getting my good angle, some photographer you are,” He muttered, giving his head an overexaggerated shake. 

“All your angles are good, Jamie,” You scoffed. “And you don’t need me to make you look good, ‘cause you’re doing it just fine on your own.” You didn’t realize what you’d said until a beat later when he looked extremely delighted, but every part of what you said was true. 

Even caught off guard and driving, Jamie Tartt looked unfairly good. The lights off the dashboard washed over his handsome face in a warm light, making him look softer than the harsh lights of Nelson Road did. 

On the football pitch, he was tough and cocky, mouthing off to opposing team with the sole purpose of getting under their skin, and the lighting reflected that. He was Jamie Tartt, a striker with a right foot kissed by God, one of the greatest footballers in Richmond history. In this car, here with just the two of you, he was at ease. His guard was down, his facade gone. He was just Jamie Tartt, a boy from Manchester. That was the Jamie you’d grown some not-so-small feelings for. 

Ola’s was definitely quieter than any pub in Richmond would’ve been, though you suspected that the team rather enjoyed it this way. They loved and appreciated their fans, but it was nice to be surrounded by friends as opposed to being gawked at the whole night. Even so, someone had turned on music with a heavy beat that thumped through the restaurant and everyone was having a good time. 

It was the perfect opportunity to grab a few more quick shots of the team and you took it gratefully, milling around the place for a bit snapping pictures here and there before coming back to your seat to flick through everything. You had to see what you could give the PR team to put on Richmond’s socials. 

A pint of beer slid in front of you drew you away from your camera, but it was mostly the smiling Jamie who’d slid into the chair next to you. He leaned in a little closer to be heard over the chatter of the restaurant, bracing his arm on the back of your chair. 

“D’you ever stop working?” 

“Meaning?” 

“Nothin’ bad! I just mean…every time I see ya you’re nose deep in that camera, barely get t’see your face.” 

“The point of my job is to see your face, not mine,” You joked, growing more nervous at the way he was looking at you, like he meant he actually wanted to see your face more instead. Jamie’s expression softened into something fond, knee bumping against yours gently, fingers brushing against your shoulder. His touch sent a feeling not unlike static shock through you, racing through your veins and sending your heart thundering loudly in your ears. 

You were suddenly aware of just how close he was to you and leaning closer still, so close you could see a smudge of dirt from the pitch on his neck that he’d missed, the flecks of gray in his blue eyes. 

“S’shame. Got a face too pretty to be behind the lens all the time. Prettier than mine, even.” 

“Stop it,” You mumbled, but there was no real force behind your words. Jamie thought you were pretty. It made you feel giddy inside. 

“No, you stop it. You’re stunnin’.” He insisted, looking entirely sincere. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“M’not. I mean it.” Jamie shook his head vehemently. You pressed your lips together, denying it still. “You don’t believe me. Here,” He was quick to grab your camera off the table carefully, leaning back a bit and hitting the shutter button determinedly. You’d barely managed to stretch an arm over your face before the flash went off. He squinted at the tiny screen, studying it for a few seconds before smiling proudly. 

“Think I finally know what’s so good about those candids you keep talkin’ about. That one’s a keeper.” He was firm in his words, turning the camera around to show you the picture he’d taken. Part of your face was obscured by your outstretched hand, but you could see most of your smile and a gleam in your eyes that you didn’t know you had until this very moment. You liked it. 

“D’you wanna go on a date with me sometime?” He asked hopefully, fiddling with the edges of his shirtsleeves. Warmth flooded your cheeks in an instant. “A proper one, where I can come by yours and ring your doorbell and give you flowers and all that shit.”

“Someone give Lust Conquers All a ring, ‘cause Jamie Tartt is a changed man!” You shouldn’t have been cracking jokes right now. It definitely wasn’t the time, but you couldn’t help yourself. It escaped before you could take it back. 

But Jamie just rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, alright, have a laugh. You didn’t say yes.” 

“I also didn’t say no.” You pointed out, scooting a few inches closer to him. He returned the gesture, sliding towards you until your knees pressed together. You were inches away from each other, again, but this time it was different. This time, you knew how he felt about you.

“That’s still not a yes.” He said softly, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been as close to him as you were right now. 

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. “How’s that for a yes?” 

“S’good. Missed the mark though. Should be more like…” He trailed off, sneaking a quick peck to your lips before grinning sheepishly. “That.” 

“Sneaky boy.” You rolled your eyes, but your tone was anything but annoyed. “Good thing you’re cute.” 

He preened at your compliment, giving a little self satisfied smile. “And a good photographer?” 

“Decent. If football doesn’t pan out, maybe I could make you my assistant.” 

“That mean I get to spend all day with you?”

“If you can handle it.” 

Jamie’s lips quirked up into a soft smile and he kissed you again, a little longer this time. His hand moved up your shoulder around the back of your neck tenderly, a blooming warmth against your skin. “I’ll manage.” 

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[madamvanrouge]

Vil Schoenheit As Your Boyfriend

↠ When you started dating Vil, everyone's treatment of you is bound to change. You're now treated as a celebrity as well, and Cater hounds you for pictures.

↠Vil already knew you would get popular on dating him, and helps set clear boundaries so people don't overstep their familiarity with you or use you in any way to get closer to Vil.

↠Don't worry, Vil, being the perfect embodiment of the Evil Queen's spirit of tenacity, will be there at your side. Someone asks for too many selfies from you? Someone's getting too close for comfort? He'll be at your side in an instant and tell the person rude enough to disturb his partner to get lost in an instant.

↠Vil's love language [giving] is quality time and acts of service. He loves spending time with his partner, making memories that are bound to last a lifetime. He has a busy schedule? Don't worry, he'll still take some time off to see you. If he's too busy, he might ask you to come help him with work or atleast join him for a meal. He's attached to you too much, don't blame him. He will make time for you no matter how busy he is. You are his first priority [mostly]. Vil loves providing for his partner with acts of service. Expect the spa treatment whenever Vil gets his hands on you and a nice, relaxing movie date while you snuggle together with hot chocolate in your matching cups. (<3)

↠Vil's love languages [receiving] are words of affirmation and acts of service. The queen loves being told of his beauty, not just from his followers and admirers, but especially from you. The words you give Vil are so much more precious to his heart than any other, so be sure to praise him and do his hair for him gently (don't worry, he'll teach you how if you don't know) while letting him know how well he's done, how proud you are of him. Even if you just bring him a simple lunch or drink after he's had a long day, the queen of Pomefiore will become eager to wrap you in his affection, wishing to shower you with kisses and hugs.

↠Vil will definitely take you to meet his dad during the dating period. Vil's dad is really chill and supportive. He's glad Vil found someone he can share his life with, and only wishes the best for you two. He sees you as another child, and takes you and Vil out for fun family outings whenever your schedules manage to match.

↠Vil isn't averse to cuddling, he mostly prefers cuddling at night because during the day, it might give his clothes wrinkles or make his hair messy, which is not something he prefers. Of course, if you're going through a rough spot, morals be damned, he'll cuddle you for hours if needed, get Rook to prepare you a bath and your favourite drink, and massage you himself as you tell him what happened.

↠Vil is not very jealous as a partner. He's very self assured but if he spots you getting too physically friendly with someone (or if he sees you with Neige), he'll immediately intervene with a professional smile, pull you towards him and change the subject if necessary. Later, he'll sulk about it and demand for kisses.

↠Vil will hug his phone like a highschool girl after mushy, fluffy texts. He also has a tendency to scream like a highschool girl in private if you agree for a date or if he's super happy that you planned something together. Bless Rook's ears, he's always listening.

↠ Vil's kisses are usually slow and gentle, the type that leave you with a lingering feeling of euphoria long after the kiss has been broken. His lips are always soft and hued with lipstick, which you might have to fix for him if it gets smudged after a kiss.

↠Vil's hugs are long-lasting in private, he loves embracing you and feeling you in his arms, as you relax together. In public, he refrains from anything more than holding hands or cheek kisses.

↠Epel is now your and Vil's gremlin child who will constantly seek your protection when Vil is out for his blood. Good luck.

[memphisflash]

𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: It's been a year since you've seen Elvis - he hasn't called or reached out to you once, yet you still can't forget about him. Summer rolls around and you find yourself back in Vegas, picking right up where you left things with the singer that brings the heat to the desert every year, and you can't help but fall harder and deeper...

Word count: 6,7K

Warnings: basically a smut fest. reader losing her virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), kissing after oral, somewhat uncomfortable first time for reader (that shit hurts, hello???), they fuck multiple times- woops.

A/N: I tried to keep it short and sweet, but anyone who knows me that's a damn joke, because I always get carried away HA. I kinda hate the ending but oh well, I had to stop somewhere. Hope y'all like it!

← part one | masterlist →

A whole year had passed since that night you shared such an intimate moment with Elvis.

He had asked for your number before the two of you said goodbye but you didn’t expect to hear from him. You didn’t, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

You didn’t want to become just another foolish girl that was completely head over heels for the singer, but you couldn’t help yourself, no matter how hard you tried.

He’d been on your mind every single day for that whole year.

You listened to his records, read everything the magazines printed about him and would even watch some of his movies to hear his voice. Your boss at the local art gallery you worked at in Tucson, your hometown, even caught you daydreaming a couple of times and snapped you out of it which was highly embarrassing.

The whole thing was embarrassing, to be quite honest.

You were in love with a man who was fawned over by thousands of girls across the globe and he most likely didn’t even remember you. After all, you hadn’t been the first girl he brought up to his suite in Vegas.

You hid those feelings well for your parents though, who thought you were just infatuated by the superstar and dealt with the amount of times you played his music through the house. Your father secretly liked it – you’d heard him sing along plenty of times when he thought no one could hear him.

But your best friend Emma knew better. She was the only one who you had told what happened between you and Elvis and like the supportive, and sometimes tad overly excited, best friend she was, she made it her own personal mission to save up for another trip to Vegas the coming summer.

You picked up a few extra shifts at your job and even babysat the children in the neighborhood and before you realised it, summer was there and you and Emma made the six hour drive to sin city.

Las Vegas was as exciting as ever. With Elvis’ residency being promoted like a summer festival, Elvis fans were everywhere – walking the strip to spot him or any of his entourage members, taking up hotel rooms in the numerous accomodations in town and shopping, dining out or seeing afternoon shows by other artists to kill time.

Vegas was thriving off of the tourists and if you could, you would want to stay here for the rest of your life. Despite your innocent nature, the sinful aspect of it all drew you in.

“What if he does recognize you…” Emma retorts to your worries as you lay side by side on a tanning bed by the pool of the International hotel. You two had booked so many months in advance that you were assured a nice room in the crowded hotel. “and asks you up to the room again. This is Vegas, baby, anything can happen!”

Emma grins widely as she looks at you over the rim of her sunglasses, wiggles her eyebrows and then laughs as she pushes them back up the bridge of her nose, reaching for her margarita. You laugh with her and sigh deeply as you watch some people in the pool splash around, chattering and hollering adding a nice atmosphere to the pool area. “Oh please, Em, I bet he won’t even recognize me. He’s been to other places for the past year and God knows what kind of girls he met.”

“You’re hotter,” Emma says matter-of-factly as she puts her drink down and lays back on the sunbed, soaking up the rays of the harsh Vegas sun.

“You haven’t even seen the other girls,” you snort softly, looking at her even though her eyes were closed behind her glasses.

“I don’t need to. I’m your best friend and I’m obligated to tell you, you’re hotter. And even if I wasn’t, I would still tell you the same thing.”

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face and let it spread across your features, playfully slapping Emma’s arm. She always knew just what to say.

Ofcourse you didn’t think you were ugly, but you would always compare yourself to other girls that seemed just a little more prettier. A little skinnier, their skin a little more flawless, their clothes a little more expensive.

Emma often talked you out of it though, because she was right when she’d tell you that wasn’t the way to live your life.

You did have to admit that your confidence had grown in the past year, even if it was just a smidge. Your boss gave you more responsibilities at work which had you come into contact with customers face to face more often, which included handsome business men and rough around the edges cowboys who came in to buy an art work.

They’d flirt with you more often than not and their blatant but sweet compliments even helped you with your blushing. In a way, you’d grown used to the men in Tucson, so hopefully you’d be the same around that one man from Memphis.

If you’d even meet him again.

“Okay, let’s say he knows who I am and he invites me up to his suite again,” you said, sounding a little more light hearted. “I think I wanna have sex with him.”

“You already did, Miss Foreplay.”

“That wasn’t.. sex!” you whisper loud enough for Emma to hear above her own laughter, gasping as you chuckled. You sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the sunbed, leaning in closer to your friend so nobody else was able to hear you. “I’m serious, Em. I want to.. I want him to.. you know.”

Emma pushed her sunglasses into her hair, turning her head to look at you. She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. “You can say it, Y/N, it ain’t some kinda disease. You want him to pop your cherry,”

The way the word ‘cherry’ rolled off her tongue so sensually it had your cheeks heating up a little, but you quickly forced the heat back down, slapping your friend’s arm once more.

This time with a little more force, which made her pout and rub her arm.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“Fine. You want him to fuck you then.”

“Emma!”

The girl next to you laughed loudly and quickly avoided you before you could assault her poor arm again. You shook your head but laughed along with her – she was impossible at times, but you loved her like a sister.

You and Emma had tickets to several shows Elvis did at the hotel. You were staying for two whole weeks and would attend a few shows during the week, and every show during the weekend.

While getting ready for the dinner show that started at 7, the phone in your hotel room rang. The sound startled you a little, hoping it wasn’t the front desk with a noise complaint because you and Emma had been playing music while getting ready – and Emma was singing along in the shower, sounding like a dying cat.

You put your curling iron down after switching it off and ran into the room from the bathroom, picking up the phone. It was the desk clerk, telling you you had an incoming call from an individual named Jon Burrows.

You didn’t know anyone by that name, but thinking it could’ve been work related, you accepted the call.

But as soon as you heard that deep voice and that Southern drawl, you realised this wasn’t Jon Burrows.

“Hi Cherry,”

Your heartbeat started picking up, resembling something of a group of wild horses gallopping.

“Elvis?” You questioned, sounding breathless and in somewhat of disbelief.

He didn’t confirm, but you knew it was him. Especially when you heard his deep, rich sounding laugh which felt like a comfortable blanket being wrapped around you.

“Now why didn’t ya tell me you’re in Vegas, honey? I called your house and your Daddy told me you were already here, comin’ to see me..”

You looked at Emma as she wandered out of the bathroom, waving your hand like a maniac to the radio that was playing. She frowned but took the hint and switched it off, walking closer to you to silently ask who you were talking to.

“Well, I’m sorry, Elvis,” Emma immediately widened her eyes and sat down next to you, pressing her ear close to the phone. “I didn’t.. I didn’t know how to reach you..”

You mentally cursed yourself for such a lame answer, but it was the truth. You didn’t have his number, and in that whole year, he never called you.

At least, not to your knowledge.

“You comin’ to see the show? How long are ya staying?”

“Me and my friend will be here for two weeks, and yes, ofcourse we’re coming to the show. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” You made sure your voice sounded extra sweet and Emma nearly toppled over when Elvis said, “That’s my girl.”

“Don’t make any plans for after the late show tonight, honey. I want you and your friend to come to a little party, okay?”

Emma looks at you and immediately nodded yes. You agreed and after talking to Elvis for a few more minutes, he hung up to get ready for the show. You put the phone down and looked at Emma, who was staring at you with wide eyes before you two squealed like two teenagers.

“Oooh, that man wants you, believe me,” Emma smirks as she gets up and turns the radio on again, dancing happily through the room while getting ready.

As always, Elvis was amazing on stage – his moves making you feel things and his vocals were superb. He recognized you in the crowd and during the moment where he wandered through the crowd and kissed girls, he made sure to press an open mouthed kiss onto your mouth, his tongue playfully flicking against your lips.

You were already on cloud nine, fantasizing about what would happen during the rest of the night when you’d have him alone. You were praying that that party wouldn’t last very long.

It turned out the party was held in the dressing room and you nearly fainted at the sight of Cary Grant greeting Elvis when you stood next to him. They talked for a short while and you couldn’t even keep up with the conversation, so many things around you were happening.

Emma was standing across the room, talking to Charlie Hodge and by the way she was squeezing his arm and throwing her head back as she laughed, you could see they were hitting it off.

Good for her – Emma had horrible taste in men, often falling for the bad boys, but Charlie Hodge seemed like a nice man. And a funny one, because you could hear your best friend’s flirtatious laughter all across the dressing room.

Elvis and you didn’t talk much one on one, as there was always someone who came up to strike a conversation with him. But he kept his arm around your waist, because he liked knowing that you were still there, close to him.

To him, it wasn’t strange at all. He acted like you’d always been there, like you belonged to him and only him.

It sent your mind spinning, or maybe that was because of the two Cosmo’s you’d already had.

The party was nice – everyone was having fun, talking to each other, enjoying each other’s company and sipping drinks. But it was like Elvis could read your mind when he looked at you and leaned in closer.

“Let’s get outta here. I want to be alone with my sweet little cherry,”

The way he whispered in your ear nearly had your knees buckling, but instead you flashed him a smile and quickly nodded. Elvis slipped his hand into yours and as he signed to Red and Sonny he wanted to leave, the four of you moving out of the room. You exchanged one more look with Emma, who grinned widely at you and blew you a kiss, mouthing a “have fun!” to you before she disappeared out of your sight.

After walking through a few long hallways and a short ride on the service elevator, you arrived at the top floor of the International and you disappeared into the suite with Elvis.

“You know, I really missed ya, honey,” Elvis smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close against his chest, making you stand on your tiptoes a little due to the height difference.

Again, you wanted to ask him why he hadn’t called if he missed you so much but you knew better than to ruin the moment.

You hugged him back, telling him you missed him too and in this moment, you felt like he truly cared about you.

Like you weren’t just a fan, or just another girl that would tend to his needs for the evening.

“Why don’t you go take a shower an’ we can relax, hmm?”

It could sound so innocent, but with what you had planned for tonight, you knew it was the beginning of something very sinful.

Elvis led you to the bathroom and handed you one of his silk pyjama button ups, this time in a shade of crimson red. Once again, he didn’t give you the bottom half of the set but you didn’t mind it, nor protest against it. As he left you alone to take a shower in the other bathroom in the suite, you locked the door behind you and turned on the shower. You washed your body, making sure to leave your hair and make-up untouched.

Thank God for Emma who hounded your ass for making sure you were trimmed nicely – your bikini line, legs and pits waxed, only a little bit of pubic hair left on your vulva.

You turned the shower off after a little bit and dried yourself off, making sure to spray some perfume in your neck that you carried in your purse and sneaked into the bathroom. You put on the button up, leaving your panties on top of your folded clothes on the sink. You quickly brushed your teeth with the spare toothbrush in the bathroom and took a deep breath before you walked back into the bedroom, smiling shyly at Elvis who was already sitting in his bed against the headboard.

His hair looked like he’d just dry-blowed it, soft and fluffy. He was wearing his own set of pyjamas in black and the tan skin that was visible due to half of his top being left unbottoned made arousal slowly creep its way to the surface.

Talking turned to cuddling, cuddling turned to kissing, and kissing turned to wandering hands creeping up your top.

You were nervous, God how nervous you were, but this time you didn’t stop him when he cupped your breasts.

A soft gasp left you when he caressed his thumbs across your perked nipples. He looked at your face to see if he was taking things too far, but as he saw the flush on your cheeks and the way you were looking at him with pleading eyes, he figured he could go on.

As long as you did not tell him to stop, he wasn’t going to.

Slowly he got on top of you, wiggling himself in between your legs which you eagerly opened and wrapped around his waist this time. He moved his hands out from underneath your top, fingertips working quick as he flicked the buttons open one by one.

“Cherry,” he spoke softly, his eyes finding yours. “Have you been touched in the past year?”

The question rolled off his tongue so casually as if you were just making conversation, but it caused goosebumps to tingle along your skin. You looked at him and shook your head slowly, unable to control the heat that was crawling up your neck, reddening your skin.

“N-No..” you whispered, feeling exposed as the fabric of your top fell open, your breasts on full display for him. “Only by myself,”

You didn’t know where you’d got the courage from to say such a thing, but it slipped out before you could stop it. Elvis smirked, his hands back to cupping your breasts, squeezing them a little firmer.

“Is that right?” he hummed lowly, keeping his eyes on your face as he leaned in closer to your chest, his soft lips connecting with the supple flesh of your right breast. “Did ya think ‘bout me when touchin’ yourself?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, his tongue poked out to swirl it around your nipple. A gasp and then a moan slipped past your lips and you gripped onto his shoulders, arching your back a little.

“Yes!” you moaned out, perhaps a little more desperate than you intended to. “Y-Yes.. Always.. thinking about.. you..”

Your words came out breathless as he sucked onto your nipple softly and he grinded against you a little. You could feel the outline of his cock pressing against your folds and you were pretty sure you were staining his silk bottoms with your arousal.

Neither he or you cared and you grinded back against him, trying to rub your clit against his length.

Elvis could see the difference between last year and now. With those flushed cheeks, he knew you were still the same girl but there was a flair of eagerness lingering about you now.

You wanted him and he sure as hell was going to enjoy taking you, stripping away your innocence completely.

Just as you were about to reach out to unbutton his shirt completely, he was already moving lower onto the bed. His lips dragged over the curve of your breasts and along your stomach, his hands sliding up the back of your thighs to spread your legs and give him the view he’s been so eager to see all night.

Your perfect exposed pussy… right there in front of his nose. So beautiful, so pink, so untouched.

He looked up at you through his dark lashes as he kissed your inner thighs, grinning against your skin when he felt your legs trembling with anticipation. He could practically smell your arousal and it had him groaning softly as he rubbed himself against the mattress slowly.

You wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth on the most intimate part of his body but he decided to take things slow. He knew you were eager but he wanted you to experience it all, and he wanted to be the one who could make you feel this good.

His fingertips caressed through your folds, spreading your slick all over your lips before he pressed his thumb against your clit, adding a little pressure. You were looking down at him the whole time, not wanting to miss a second of this sight, and he loved hearing you moan softly the way you did.

By the end of the evening, he intended to have you screaming for him.

“My Cherry’s got such a pretty pussy,” he whispered as he grinned at you before looking down at your wetness glistening against your skin. He ran his middlefinger down your folds, slowly pushing it inside of your entrance. “All for me to play with,”

You gasped and gripped onto the sheets, your muscles immediately tensing up around his digit. He let out a soft laugh as he pulled his finger back before sinking it into you completely again. “Relax, baby. It’s jus’ a finger,”

Just a finger that already had you moaning louder, like a damn cat in heat. You moved your hands to your face to cover up your mouth and muffle your moans, and Elvis let you – for now. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, moving his finger in and out of you a little faster.

Then he added another finger and you were clenching around him so viciously, he was thinking you were going to push his fingers out of you at one point by just using your muscles.

The thought of feeling that feeling around his cock had him grinding against the bed a little more.

But Elvis wasn’t a quitter and he pushed the two digits deeper inside of you, fingertips curling inside of you and caressing that special spot. Your hands couldn’t contain your moans anymore and they once more found the sheets as you arched your back, spreading your legs wider.

He repeated the action a few more times, fingering you at a steady pace until he couldn’t take the sight of his fingers coming out so wet anymore. It was too tempting.

“Let’s see how sweet you taste, Cherry,” he smirked as he pulled his fingers out and grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing his fingertips into your skin a little to keep you still.

Without warning, he leaned in closer and dragged his tongue from your entrance to your clit. You gasped as your hips stuttered and he held onto you firmer, looking up at you as his tongue swirled slowly around your clit, before he gently sucked it in between his lips.

The sight was downright sinful.

But even though you couldn’t get enough of it, you couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head as his tongue slipped through your folds again.

He put your legs over his shoulders, his hands moving up your sides until they found your breasts again. He fondled them lightly, pinching your nipples in between his fingertips softly as his tongue worked wonders on your eager pussy.

“Mmm, Elvis!” you moaned out freely now, unable to contain yourself. The sounds leaving you, the way you were moaning out his name, made you feel so… slutty.

And yet, you were loving every second of it.

He groaned against your skin, his hands slipping down to your hips as his eyes shot open and stared up at you. He wanted to see your reactions to his actions and make a mental reminder of it – the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip, the way your eyebrows knitted together. And the added roll of your eyes as he sucked on your clit was very much appreciated.

You didn’t know what an orgasm felt like. Sure, you had touched yourself but when that pressure would start building in the pit of your stomach, you stopped.

Because truth be told, you were nervous about it – scared even. And now that Elvis was the one who was causing the muscles in your tummy to tense up like that, you felt as if you were about to crawl out of your own skin.

Tangling your fingers in his now messy hair, you tried to get him to stop, tried to get away from him, but the raven haired devil wouldn’t let you.

He’s been between enough girls’ legs to know that you were close to falling apart. Could feel it by the way your thighs were trembling on his shoulders, hear it in the way your moans turned a little more high pitched, a slight hint of panic hidden on the back of your tongue.

You could practically feel him smirking against your clit as he slipped in a finger, pumping it in and out of you in a steady pace. There was a slight sting, though it was barely noticeable due to the orgasm that had you on the verge of tears.

You clamped your hand over your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut, your other hand still in his hair as he just wouldn’t stop while you were falling over the edge. If it wasn’t for Elvis holding onto your hips to keep you down, you were sure your hips would’ve lifted off of the bed with the way they were bucking upwards and you were writhing in the sheets.

You could barely recognize your own voice as you moaned out, Elvis’ name falling off your tongue like a mantra.

Elvis slowly loosened his grip on your hips and let you spread your legs, raising his head to look at you with a smug grin spread across his face. You pushed some of his hair out of his face and then let out a breathless laugh, running your hands through your own hair.

Elvis loved the way you were looking at him with those half-lidded eyes that held stars in them, cheeks flushed the way he likes.

“Jus’ like I thought, Cherry,” his whisper is low, his voice a little raspy as he kisses your lower abdomen. “Jus’ downright teeth rottin’ sweet,”

Your cheeks heated up even more as he crawled his way back up, kissing you, letting you taste yourself. It made you moan softly in his mouth, allowing him to take the pyjama shirt you were still wearing completely off.

In a matter of seconds, Elvis’ clothing pieces flung across the room as well, thanks to your greedy hands.

Foreheads pressed together, moans exchanged into each others’ mouths, Elvis thrusted his hips forward slowly as your small hand wrapped around his hard cock. You figured if you would do something wrong, you would know by his reaction, but now he seemed to enjoy it with the way his tongue was dipping into your mouth now and then, eyes closed as he grunted and his jaw clenched.

Elvis had planned to take his time tonight, but he couldn’t take one more second of foreplay. He wanted, needed, to be buried inside of you.

“Can I put it in now, honey?” He whispered as his eyes flutter open, looking at you with a small smirk as he remembered how a year ago you were nearly pleading for him not to put it in.

But tonight he could see how much you wanted it, there was no way in hell you’d put a stop to it now.

At least, he prayed you wouldn’t.

A sense of relief washed over him when you bit your lip and nodded, yet he still wanted to hear you say it. “Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes,” you inhaled a shaky breath, squeezing his cock softly in your hand as you loosely wrapped your legs around his waist. “I want you to be my first.”

You felt vulnerable speaking those words and Elvis smiled, fingertips caressing some hair out of your face and gently tugging it behind your ear. He pressed a kiss onto your lips and nodded. “I’ll be real gentle, okay?”

Slowly letting go of his length and having your hand replaced by his own, you put your hands on his upper arms. He didn’t rush it – didn’t push it inside of you at once, instead caressing the tip of his cock through your folds and rubbing it onto your clit for a little bit.

But it was going to have to happen eventually and even though you’d anticipated it, the feeling of his tip finding home at your entrance still made your muscles tense up and your nails digging into his skin a little.

“Relax,” he whispered, looking into your eyes before kissing the corner of your mouth. “Jus’ try an’ relax, or it won’t feel good, cherry,”

Truth was, it wasn’t going to feel good either way. Emma had already warned you about this, even going as far as to say she had bled when she lost her virginity.

God, how embarrassing would that be… although you doubted Elvis would mind it, because he seemed like an understanding man, but you still didn’t want it to happen.

You inhaled a deep breath and nodded, trying as hard as you could to relax, but it was barely working when he pushed himself inside of you at a snail’s pace. Inch by inch his cock disappeared inside of you, stretching you the way his fingers, or your own, never could.

He let out a deep groan that came straight from his gut as he finally bottomed out, having missed someone so incredibly tight engulfing him.

“E-Elvis… It h-hurts..” you looked at him with wide eyes, nails pressed into his arms so firm you were sure small crescent moons were created in his flesh but he didn’t stop you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, leaning his elbows on the bed on either side of your head, slipping one arm underneath your head to keep you close to him. “But it’ll feel better in a little while, ‘lright? Jus’ relax..”

You trusted him and you really hoped he was right, because now you were so full you could barely speak. He could see the tears twinkling in your eyes and as he lovingly kissed your cheeks, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, you melted into his arms a little more.

He held still inside of you for quite a while, letting you get used to the feeling of being filled with something the size of his cock – which, for the record, was definitely not small.

Perhaps someone who’d been so blessed wasn’t the right person to lose your virginity to on a physical level, but then again… go big or go home.

Emma would be proud of you.

And all craziness aside, you were happy that you were losing your virginity to Elvis Presley. Not because he was famous, but because he was so gentle and sweet, taking his time with you and being patient. It was good to have someone older, someone with experience who knew how a woman’s body worked instead of taking what he wanted and calling it a day.

This was truly a special and intimate moment and you were losing yourself into it more and more.

As you felt you were relaxed enough, you whispered to Elvis that you were ready and boy, were you wrong. The second he slowly and softly started thrusting into you, those tears that had blurred your vision were starting to roll down your cheeks. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him closer into your embrace which made him hide his face in your neck – you didn’t want him to see your tears, nor did you want him to stop.

A million of girls have been through this for centuries.

If they could do it, so could you.

“Don’t cry, honey,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your neck. Damnit, why does he seem to know everything? “Jus’ relax… Give all of yourself to me..”

He kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear and they helped you relax and your muscles to lose that tension – must be witchcraft, you were positive of it.

Step by step, slowly but surely, Elvis picked up the pace as he heard your gasps and soft cries turn into soft moans. The sting was still very much present, but the burning sensation had subsided and you were sure that had everything to do with the grunts and deep moans leaving Elvis, and the sight of him on top of you. He had pulled his face out of your neck again, his eyes boring into yours and while you usually hated eye contact this intensely and for so long, now you couldn’t find it in you to look away.

You were lost in those oceanic blue orbs and when he smiled that sweet smile at you, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were sickly in love with Elvis Presley.

It wasn’t just idol infatuation.

You were totally, completely, irrevocably in love.

Sex was a tricky thing to human kind. Some people used it as a meaningless way to get what they want or to meet their needs, and other people view it as something sacred, something meant to be shared with only that person who you love more than anything in the world.

You had no idea it could be this good, never believing Emma when she said that once you’d done it, you would only want more and more. You’d turn greedy, goddamn near feral because it was such a raw and primal instinct… perhaps that was why it was considered a sin.

You’d never think you would turn into one of those girls that would crave sex and felt like they’d just die if they didn’t get it. But Elvis had that kind of effect on you.

The sun had long risen over Las Vegas but the suite was still dark due to Elvis’ dark curtains being drawn. It must’ve been around 6 or 7 in the morning, but neither of you had slept a wink.

When he’d popped your cherry a few hours earlier, it had hurt. The second time you did it, there was still a slight uncomfortable sting. But by the third time, you were a moaning mess as he turned you around and pressed your face in the pillow, the sound of his balls hitting your clit with every thrust filling the room.

If it wasn’t for the sex daze you were in, you’d be embarrassed by the way you were already crawling onto his lap again after the both of you had taken a shower. Your limbs felt weak and Elvis felt the same, but you couldn’t help yourself and Elvis couldn’t deny you.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned as you straddled him and sunk down onto his length, your hands on his chest, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I created a monster.”

You laughed softly at his words as your cheeks flushed crimson, although that could just as well be because you were so worked up. Elvis grabbed onto your hips and pulled you down a little more, gasping as you fept his tip grazing your g-spot.

“O-Oh… Elvis..” you moaned, biting your lower lip harshly. “S-So deep.. like this..”

He smirked, moving his hands to your ass to squeeze your cheeks in his palms before landing a soft slap on the left one. “That’s right, baby. Can’t get enough of bein’ filled, can ya?”

You giggled softly and started thrusting, slow at first but quickly working your way up to a faster and more steady pace. Didn’t take long for you two to become a bunch of moaning messes once more, going at it like damn rabbits.

It had felt like Elvis had taken a piece of your soul from the moment he’d entered you for the first time and you willingly gave it up for him to keep. You had blossomed into a new person tonight – broken out of your cocoon, going from girl to woman.

Elvis bent his knees a little, heels pressed into the mattress as he grabbed onto your hips and kept you from moving. Instead, he took over and thrusted up into you in such a pace that you had to grip onto his arms to keep steady.

“Oh, fuck!”

He was surprised by the profanity coming from you, but definitely not disappointed. He liked his ladies soft spoken in public, but inside these four walls it was a whole different story. Those rules didn’t apply and especially not to you, because he enjoyed this side of you.

Added more fuel to his fire.

“Shit, I fuckin’ love that pussy,” he growled as he clenched his jaw, his fingers most likely leaving marks on your skin. You threw your head back and Elvis took the opportunity to watch the softness of your skin, he could’ve sworn he could see your heartbeat pulsing underneath it, and the way your breasts bounced along with his thrusts.

He wasn’t going to last long and neither were you with the way he was pounding into you, hitting the right spot every time his hips came up. You were moaning so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the downstair neighbors could hear the whole thing.

Though before the two of you could reach climax, he wrapped one arm around your waist and switched positions so fast you barely noticed it until you were laying on your back and he was pounding into you like a mad man. The beads of sweat that formed on his forehead, the animalistic growl that left him when he pulled out of you after a few more thrusts to release strings of cum onto your breasts and stomach was a sight to behold. This man was extraordinary.

You’d fallen over the edge right before he’d pulled out and you were clenching pathetically around nothing, wrapping your arms around him to keep him somewhat close, careful not to mess up the masterpiece he’d created on your skin. His lips found yours, kissing you for a little bit until he hid his face in your neck.

“I think I’ll keep you… My personal little Cherry,” he grinned against your skin and you scoffed softly.

“What am I? A puppy?”

He pulled his head back to look at you and raise an eyebrow, playfully nudging your chin. “Oh, she’s been fucked a couple of times and immediately has an attitude, huh?”

You laughed softly at his words, cupping his face to playfully squeeze his cheeks together. He leans into your touch and softly bites down onto your thumb before kissing it.

“You ain’t a puppy,” he said as he smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You’re jus’ a little baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” You exclaimed, pretending to be offended as you gasp.

He nodded his head and leaned his face closer to you, pecking your lips while he talked against your mouth. “Uh-huh, you are. A baby with pretty little feet and little red cherry cheeks,”

Instantly, you blushed and pouted against his lips, which made him laugh softly. “As long as I’m your baby, I’ll take it.”

You didn’t mean to say those words. They felt too bold for you to be saying and you half expected him to turn serious and tell you not to get things in your head, but instead he looked into your eyes and smiled.

“Ofcourse,” he said, patting your hair. “You’re my little cherry and I don’t like sharin’..” his fingertip caressed across the black star sapphire diamond engraved into the ring you were still wearing around your neck.

For the whole past year, you had not taken it off once.

“We should clean up and sleep,” you whispered, ignoring how his words had sent your heart aflame.

“I wanna get ya ‘nother present,”

He was already getting up and pulling you off the bed, letting you wander off into the bathroom to clean his cum off of you. This time, you left the door unlocked and seconds later, Elvis came in with his jewelry box.

“Elvis, no.. Put that away. Let’s sleep..”

“Honey,” he said sternly, although you could hear he was playful at the same time. Grabbing your wrist, he pulled you closer to him and grabbed a ring, slipping it into your finger, looking at it and when decided he didn’t like it, he took it off of you and rumbled through the box to find another piece. “We can sleep when we’re dead.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head at his antics. While he was putting jewelry on you, from rings to bracelets, your eyes were on him.

This magical, weird, funny, sweet man that had the world at the tip of his fingers and probably one of the richest people in the country, and yet he had no problem giving away his gold as if they were pieces of candy.

You didn’t care about the jewelry, though. Or about the money, or about any of the luxury. All you cared about was the man next to you, a child like smile of excitement rooted on his face.

You didn’t want to think about it all ending, so you forced yourself not to. Because all that mattered was right here and now, and this night (and morning) of two people’s souls connecting the way they’d done.

They say you never forget your first time and you wholeheartedly believed that statement. How in the world could you ever forget Elvis Presley?

Taglist: @peaceloveelvis @notstefaniepresley @jhoneybees

[sturniolosstar]

always and forever.

c.sturniolo & m.sturniolo

cw - highschool au, obsessive!chris and matt, stalking, cheating, swearing, killing, death, manipulation, pet names, female reader

Chris and Matt can’t help that you’re so perfect.

They can’t help but have a constant yearning for you. A feeling that never goes away no matter what, not that they’ve tried to get rid of it anyways. Why would they?

The mention of your name causes their heartbeat to speed up and it leaves their mind in a tangled mess of sick and twisted thoughts. Those thoughts make them crave you in a way they know isn’t right, but they don’t stop. Because they can’t.

They know it’s wrong, but who cares if you’re becoming into someone you don’t recognise nor respect anymore if the only thing on your mind is the person your heart and body aches for every day?

They certainly don’t.

And it’s just a matter of time until you realise that too.

-

They’ve been watching you.

Ever since that one day at the playground in 4th grade where a boy pushed you over.

It was that day where Matt helped you up and Chris pushed the boy over in return and screamed at him.

It was that day where they realised they both had fallen for you and they only seemed to realise the level of desperation they had for you as the years went on.

Since seventh grade and onwards, they would watch your every move.

It was simple at first. They would watch you reach up to your locker and collect your books for next period, they would watch you walk to your classroom as you giggle with your friends about the latest gossip, they would watch your eyes gaze up at the whiteboard every few seconds as you took notes for the upcoming test while your face was scrunched softly in concentration.

And by senior year, it became into something you couldn’t even imagine.

-

They’ve always been protective of you, especially when it comes to relationships.

If they tell you they know the guy more than you do and that he’s not the right person for you, they expect you to listen. It doesn’t matter what you think of him, you’re supposed to listen to them and that’s what they’ve been believing since your first boyfriend in the 8th grade.

It’s now senior year, your final year of highschool. You’ve had a boyfriend, Landon, for almost two years now.

When you first got with him, the boys obviously weren’t happy.

But after your one year anniversary, they became supportive. They were accepting of the relationship, they were nice to him, they would listen about your date nights with the biggest smile on their faces and would chime in whenever they thought was right.

At first, you thought it was really weird. A sudden change like this wasn’t something you expected them to do, but either way, you didn’t want to ask anything in risk of ruining their kindness.

But it wasn’t you who ruined it.

Landon cheated on you on the day before your two year anniversary. And that shattered you completely.

You realised in that moment that Chris and Matt were right from the start, and you apologised profusely to them both but they assured you it was okay as you cried in their arms.

It now became a joke in between the three of you whenever you all would hang out. Giggling and smiling as you joke about what a dickhead he is and how you’re much better off without him. But one joke made all your thoughts come to a stop and your mind go blank.

‘Do you want him dead?’

Matt’s words snapped you out of your trance as your eyes met his. He usually jokes around about Landon but the look in his eyes and the smile that faded away as he spoke wasn’t convincing you that it was just a quip.

‘What?’

‘Answer the question.’ Chris speaks up as his face hardens, his eyes never leaving your face. Your eyes hold a look of confusion, surprise as his are emotionless, simply waiting for an answer.

Your lips part slightly as you narrow your eyes at the two of them. You don’t answer.

This seems to halt the hard look on their faces as they clear their throats and look away. Staying silent for a few moments before bringing up a new topic like nothing happened.

But something did happen.

-

It’s been a week since you had that conversation with Chris and Matt.

It’s been a week and the only thing in your mind has been that conversation.

You haven’t talked to them since.

Your memory floods with the look on their faces. How their smiles faded into a straight line and how empty their eyes looked. They just wanted an answer.

They just wanted an answer to the words that have been constantly circulating in your head. Do you want him dead?

You didn’t even know they joked like that.

But the issue was, you didn’t know if it really was a joke.

And it wasn’t.

You realised that when the remote that one once in your hand dropped to the floor, a scream escaping your throat as tears quickly blur your vision.

‘Landon Taylor, student who attends Somerville High School has been found dead’

Dead. He was dead.

It was just a coincidence, right? It has to be.

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that, your mind came circling back to Matt’s words. The thought of your bestfriends killing someone was enough to make your head spin and your heart pound against your chest.

‘He was found with multiple stab wounds to his stomach and neck’

You immediately think of Matt and Chris with knifes in their hands, shoving it into Landon.

Your face immediately scrunches in disgust as you shake your head no, attempting to get those images out of your head.

Your legs slowly take you to the kitchen counter as you grab your phone, dialling one of your closest friends either than the boys.

They’re the last people you need to see.

To your avail, he doesn’t answer.

You choke on a sob, your head falling down in frustration as you scream once again.

You grab your keys and run outside, getting into your car and driving to his house, desperate in need to talk to somebody. To tell them the feelings that have been bottling up inside of you during the last week.

You quickly get out of the car, slamming the door shut and grabbing the spare key he always leaves out, opening the door.

You call out his name, only to be met with silence. An uncomfortable silence.

You sniffle, rubbing the tears forming in your eyes away as you walk upstairs, calling out his name once again to no answer.

You’re just outside his room and you hear a voice. One that sounds almost too familiar.

‘You can’t have her.’

You heart clenches at the sight in front of you when you open the door.

He’s on the floor, on his knees with Chris standing behind him, his fingers gripping onto the knife that’s shoved into his throat. Matt’s standing in front of him as he repeatedly shoves the blade in and out of his stomach before kicking him down to the floor.

You stumble back, letting out a scream that leaves your throat stinging and causing both of their heads to turn, looking at you.

You see the smile that adorns their lips as they step over your friend’s lifeless body like he’s an animal, walking towards you.

Without a second thought, you turn around and run down the stairs, ignoring their yells for you to come back as you sprint as fast as your legs are able to take you before you’re yanked back.

You scream at the stinging in your scalp, your hair being wrapped around Chris’ fingers as he pulls you back against his chest, wrapping his other arm around you in an attempt to keep you still.

‘Hey- hey, you’re okay’ His tone is reassuring, and soft compared to his actions you witnessed not even a minute ago.

‘Just take deep breaths, honey.’ You hear Matt’s voice as he steps in front of you, smiling sweetly.

‘You- you killed him!’ You struggled to get the words out, unable to believe yourself but you had to. You witnessed it.

‘I know it’s all a bit scary, baby. But we did it for you.’ Matt’s thumb gently caresses your tear stained cheek, his other hand resting on the soft skin beneath your ear, behind your neck.

‘That’s why we got rid of Landon too.’ Chris kisses the top of your head as his grip on you tightens.

Your heart falls to your feet, tears flowing down your now, blood stained cheeks from Matt’s fingers. A reminder that the only person you wanted to turn to is truly gone. The only thing left of him is his corpse and his blood covering your face as well as Matt and Chris’ clothes and hands.

A soft kiss is pressed to the frown on your lips as Matt stares down at you, Chris brushing the hair out of your face and leaning down to kiss your cheek.

You want to scream, squirm, anything that could possibly get you away from the boys you thought you knew. The boys that protected you on the playground are now the ones that are covered in blood and lies. You don’t want to imagine what else they’ve done.

You want to scream, squirm, anything that could possibly get you away from them but you can’t. It’s like your body stills without your mind telling it to.

Your tears came to a stop but your breathing is still rigid as everything you’ve never imagined could happen is happening.

But you don’t mind. They said they did it for you, why would they lie?

‘You believe us, right?’ Chris turns you around to face him. His eyes hold a look of concern as they stare down into your glossy ones. He just wants an answer.

Your throat aches from screaming so you nod your head. You didn’t have a reason not to believe them, after all, they did all of this for you.

A grin takes over his lips as he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose while Matt’s arms wrap around you as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, peppering kisses all over the soft skin.

‘You’re our girl now, sweetheart.’ You feel the way Matt smiles against your neck, Chris fingers lifting your chin up to meet his eyes.

‘Always and forever.’

-

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author’s note - this is so bad LMFAO please forgive me. anyways i have better work coming for you guys i promise 🙏

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! Film Director

"i couldn't have made this movie without you."

Hassan is an award winning film director, you'll see his movies in several pieces of media titled something along the lines of ; "The best Cinematography in Film" "Praise Worthy Film" "Critics' Favorite" "Standing Ovation for Hassan Samir" "Bustling Box Office".

He specializes in psychological horror movies, the genre has always been a remaining favorite of his since a child. He's always favored media that grabs you by the throat and asks you one important question by the end of the film. Seeing his major interest in such movies, he decided to take it upon himself and make his own. In screenwriting programs, the first task the students will have is to watch one of his movies and study it. He has come a long way with his work, some google him to see more of his work and are shocked by how young he js.

But, you cannot google Hassan Samir without seeing his beloved y/n l/n alongside him in the image section, it's bound to happen and he wouldn't have it any other way. The two of you are high school sweethearts and everyone finds that fact oh so endearing. You've supported him and his craft for so long, staying up with him writing up ideas, giving him advice on how to shoot a certain scene, assisting him in casting actors, deciding which songs to put into the soundtrack, emailing certain people. Your input is as valued to him as gold was to the workers in the California Gold rush.

Many people appreciate how he treats you when the two of you are behind the camera. He'll listen to every little thing you pitch and will actually put your ideas into action. This causes the scenes to turn out even better than they already were.

When he inevitably wins an absurd amount of awards, he will always take you with him on stage and insert you multiple times into his speech.

" I am incredibly fortunate to have this incredibly talented woman by my side. All of those films that you love so much, she has assured, assisted and advised me whilst they were in the making, I wouldn't be standing in front of all you if it wasn't for her. We're a two deal package. Y/n, you are the lifeline of these films, I will never quit thanking you for as long as I live. At times, I'll admit, I cry from the amount of love and affection I receive from her, it's overwhelming in the most blissful way possible. Obviously, I am thankful for everyone on my team but y/n will forever be my first priority. Thank you to everybody for coming out tonight."

His beautiful words made you rejoice and take pride within your work and who you chose to marry. You can only imagine the amount of envy yet adoration people all over the world had for your relationship.

While the two of you are at a public event with paparazzi present, he'll stand back and let you have your moment with the eager photographers. Don't mind him admiring the love of his wife. Oh, and don't mind his wandering eyes.

Hassan never fails in reminding you of the intense love he harbors for you. You're a haven for him after a long stressful day dealing with stubborn people, you're a place of warmth for him no matter the circumstance. If people knew how clingy and affectionate he was with you in private, well, I'm not gonna lie to you, they wouldn't be surprised. He nuzzles his head into your thighs and tummy, whispering and blabbering on about how much he missed you, how you should've seen the work day he had, how he's so glad he has someone like you waiting for him at home.

He's the type of romantic to kiss your hand after doing anything, focusing on the area where your wedding ring lies. Having cozy nights where the two of you are in cozy, fluffy robes after a warm bath together, he caresses your cheek before leaning in to kiss your forehead. It doesn't have to be a necessarily specific situation for him to spill his guts about the sinful things he'd do for you. About what he's done for you.

"You're too special to be tainted with the memory of that ابن الشرموطة, focus on me, on us. If only they knew what I've done for you, يا حياتي. But, don't worry, okay? They'll know soon. Very soon."

[it-happened-one-fic]

Nothing to Gain - Azul

Author Notes: I'm honestly not sure how I feel about this fic. Part of me really likes and another part of me.... Either way, I decided I might as well post it since I really didn't know what I wanted to post for this week. This fic was written while I listened to "Whataya Want From Me" by Adam Lambert which definitely affected the overall tone of this fic. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-netural reader/ fluff/ some angst/ pining/ romance/ mentions of Octavinelle and Scarabia overblot so spoilers for those chapters

Word Count: 1820

There was something frightening about relying on others. It was something that Azul had noticed before and was the reason he preferred to surround himself with only the most reliable individuals. 

He could rely on them, and they could rely on him.

But his overblot had shaken him to his core. He’d questioned even his most basic beliefs about himself, and, to be honest, he still wasn’t entirely sure what to think of the events of that day.

However, neither Jade nor Floyd had changed their opinions of him or abandoned him after that day, as he’d feared they would. Instead, they remained by his side, as they always did. But there was a benefit to being there. Even after his overblot, Azul was still housewarden and had a say in how the Octavinelle dorm was run.

There might be some cost, but the benefit was great enough that the twins stayed, and Azul was comfortable with that. He understood it. 

What he didn’t understand was you. 

You stood nothing to gain by being kind to him and supporting him. If you were a normal person, you would either attempt to blackmail him or avoid him. Only allowing enough interaction to show how much you detested him for what he’d put you through.

But you apparently weren’t a normal person. Because you stayed by him and helped him through the aftermath of the overblot. 

Soothing the fleeing students whom he’d robbed of their spells and talents. Assuring them that all was well and such a thing wouldn’t occur again. Reminding them what a good, competent housewarden he was.

It hadn’t been easy, and it had taken you, Jade, Floyd, and Azul all working together to cover up everything that had happened and finally put his overblot to rest. And the entire time you were there, it made him nervous.

But at least after it was done, you would leave. That only made sense. There was no reason for you to stay past that point.

Azul had surmised that you must just be one of those people who liked to see their work done. Sort of like Jack, who’d been with you since the very start, even though he quite obviously had a distaste for both Azul and the tweels.

And, as expected, Jack left as soon as everything was settled. He had no further business with Octavinelle, and all was well on that front. But you didn’t leave.

Rather, you kept appearing in the very fringes of Azul’s vision. Smiling and offering a wave that was always returned by at least one of the tweels, as Azul found himself faltering.

Why were you still here? There was nothing to gain.

By the time winter break had come, he’d come up with a new plan and explanation for your strange behavior. You were always around because you wanted remuneration for your services. That made sense.

Having the tweels offer you a place to stay over winter break with an ever-benevolent warning about the fee was easy enough. An offer for your payment that wasn’t grounded in worry for the fact you were staying in the most run-down building on campus, no matter what Floyd said.

But you hadn’t accepted, and Azul was lost once more. You’d turned the offer down with a fond smile, joking that you didn’t want a bill like the one his offer would mean hanging over your head.

But that was that. Azul was sure he wouldn’t hear anything from you, at least until the next school year had begun. And by then, he would surely have figured out what it was that you wanted.

But he did hear from you. You’d quite literally crashed into the Mostro Lounge, landing in a heap on the ground. Covered in sand and trembling in fear as you’d looked up at the horde of angry Scarabia students that had come to collect you.

And Azul repaid you right then and there. He’d shielded you from those who’d sought you out and handled that matter promptly. 

It wasn’t as if there had been no reward for his actions after all. He’d assured himself that this was all just to get information on how, exactly, you’d managed to upset the students of Scarabia.

And that had led to another debacle, not entirely unlike what had happened to him. Jamil’s overblot.

Despite what Jade and Floyd may have teasingly suggested, Azul knew he’d only assisted you to give himself an in to winning over Jamil. And as for you spending the night safely in Octavinelle under his and the tweels protection for free one night…. That was just another part of his plan. Nothing odd at all.

By the end of the winter break, he’d repaid you, now had a perfectly good excuse to seek Jamil out for conversation, and everything was as it should be.

Or rather, it should have been.

Some part of Azul had seemed to grow cold when he’d seen you run into Ace and Deuce’s arms just after the Scarabia overblot, though. Perfectly happy to leave him behind in favor of your two friends.

And now Azul was having to question himself. Why did that upset him? He’d wanted you gone and handled because there had been no reason for you to be around him. Your lingering had made no sense, and his moroseness was equally ridiculous.

…. Right? Azul wasn’t expecting much as the next term started. He was fully prepared to go back to the way things were. With you hardly ever noticing his presence, while he would do his very best to ignore yours.

But he didn’t have to ignore you. Because as soon as he saw you in the hallway, you were turning to look his way. A smile on your face and a hand raised in cheerful greeting.

And suddenly Azul was frightened. What did you want? Why did you seem so happy to see him when you had your friends right by your side?

There was no benefit to staying near him, and you had seen him at his weakest, lowest, and most vile. So shouldn’t you want to have nothing to do with him?

He’d overblotted and attacked not only you but your friends. There was no reason to look so happy in this instance.

In his confusion, Azul found himself walking towards you quickly. Stopping as you looked at him with a slightly startled expression.

“Angelfish, if we might talk,” He started before glancing at both of the young men who flanked you with confused expressions that matched yours, save the wariness in their eyes. 

“Alone,” He finished a little more firmly than he’d intended, but if you noticed, you didn’t react.

Instead, you just nodded, a slightly uncertain smile appearing on your face as you responded, “Okay.” 

You waved off your two obviously concerned friends and followed Azul without a single concern. Only confusion.

Like you really did trust him. Like you really weren’t concerned in the slightest by his reputation or the things you knew that he did.

As if his past actions didn’t bother you and you weren’t the slightest bit upset by how he’d attempted to shoo you away with paltry offerings.

And it frightened Azul. He didn’t know what you wanted, and he didn’t know what he wanted. 

It was only once he was sure it was only the two of you that he turned to face you once more. Dropping any facade he had of confidence the very moment his eyes met yours.

“What do you want from me?” His voice quivered slightly, but he stood firm as you looked at him with utter confusion.

But then, as if you saw something in the depths of his pale blue eyes, your expression shifted to one of concern for him, and you stepped closer. Your voice dropping to a whisper that was perfectly filled with loving worry and that only made Azul feel more lost than he had before, “Azul? What do you mean?”

Azul had lived the entire first part of his life in the very deepest part of the ocean, but he knew that in this moment he was well beyond his depth.

Because suddenly all Azul could really think was that he didn’t want to let you down. Not when, as your simplistic question had just evidenced, you’d never been with him for any ulterior motive.

No, you stayed for a reason that Azul himself was only just now beginning to understand. You stayed because you cared for Azul, and that was enough.

And, looking back, Azul knew all those things he’d done in the past…. Offering you a room in Octavinelle for a fee only to waive that fee the very moment you’d appeared in front of him, frightened and covered in sand…. All of that had been him not wanting you to come to harm. 

Because even after seeing him at his most shameful, you hadn’t judged him as weak, untalented, or anything less. Instead, you looked at him like he had just as much worth as anyone else here.

And you genuinely cared for him. In your own way, you’d been supporting him ever since then, as he leaned on you without even realizing it.

Knowing all of that now, it felt wrong to ask you what you wanted. Because was it really you that wanted something, or was it him?

You continued to look at him, worriedly searching his eyes for an answer as one of your hands reached up to cup his cheek, “Azul?” Your voice was so soft, and it nearly broke him as he realized exactly how wonderful you were and how it didn’t make any sense for you to be here with him when he was so perfectly broken.

But he inhaled, a smile working its way onto his face as he let his hand cover your own, “I’m sorry, Angelfish. I… Just don’t give up on me yet.”

Your eyes widened as his hand wrapped around yours and pulled it from his face before squeezing it lightly, “I’m having to work all of this out and…”

He trailed off, faltering as he searched for words, but you only smiled. Shaking your head slightly before you responded, “No, I understand. You need time, and what happened to you… It messed you up.”

Azul nodded, half-touched that you could still be so understanding despite the confusing circumstances he’d put you in, and half-disappointed in himself.

Because he could only hope that you would keep appearing in peripheral vision and helping him get through the difficult days.

And he would do his best. He was slowly coming to understand what it was to care for someone without a cost-benefit relationship. And even if he didn’t know exactly what he wanted from you, he would with time, and he would repay you tenfold for everything you’d given him.

[theblue6ook]

Other Lovers

Summary: Here’s something I didn’t tell you. Our charming bachelor Bruce is still invested in his old fling Rachel and our beautiful assistant Y/N is engaged (but not for long hehehe).

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Listen there’s a reason it’s called a slow burn. For more context you can follow the full “Out of My League” series. Also, Y/N is just turning 22, this is doubling as her birthday post. [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]

Y/N had known Danny Russel since primary school. He started working at her dad’s mechanic shop in middle school. They started dating in high school. Russ and her were stupid teenagers in love doing stupid teenager things. Going to Chuck’s Chili way too late on a school night. Taking the cars they were working on drifting. Fooling around in said cars…

He’s been there for her since the beginning. Him and Carrie sat and supported her through her run in with the cops, when her dad kicked her out. Even after she decided to further her education, he was there… on his knee… proposing at eighteen. Again, stupid teenagers in love.

They weren’t stupid teenagers anymore.

It had been a long engagement and she was no where near ready to get married and he was… Russ. Always ready for anything. Always ready to tie the knot and that was great. It was, but they had no money and honestly, they’re in different places right now. Russ really wanted to focus on his music. She needed to focus on Bruce. She means work. Whatever. Bruce is her work okay? When he’s stressed it’s her job to get shit done and he seems really on edge lately.

Plus, her and Russ were kind of going through a rough patch. He didn’t exactly seem pleased she was working with Bruce Wayne or even that she was working at Wayne Enterprises. It had always been her and Russ against the world, but now she was in that world. It didn’t exactly sit right with him no matter how much money she made. But she was trying to schedule a date with him anyway. Well a birthday date. It was her birthday. Bruce had been nice enough to make a reservation for her and a plus one at his restaurant downtown. People waited months to get a table and she had one in less than a day. He assured her it was all his treat for her birthday and to go crazy. So she wanted Russ to come. 

“Y/N/N, you have never been that girl who wants to go to The Occult or whatever it is.” She had been sitting at the office on the phone with Russ for the past 15 minutes trying to convince him to come with her. It was getting to be too much.

“It’s The Ocelot, Russ,” she hissed into the phone. She was trying to be quiet about their spat, but everytime she thought they were taking three steps forward it was five steps back. Rubbing her eyes she said, “Seriously don’t be like this. Bruce is just trying to do something nice.”

“That’s great. Let’s let the millionaire finally do something nice for everyone else.”

“He’s a billionaire, actually.”

“Jesus, Y/N/N I am not going to be caught dead in that snobby place. Lets just do something casual babe. Let me take you to Chucks-”

“Russ, I am twenty two years old,” she snapped, “I don’t want to go to the high school hangout and eat chili dogs. I want to look nice. I want to have a nice drink at a sophisticated restaurant.”

“Babe, I can’t afford to take you there. It is what it is,” he stated so condsending. Like his word was god. Like there was no way in the world he could even show up.

“Well shit good thing you don’t have to worry about the money. It’s already paid for, I have told you this. This is the third time I’m telling you this.”

She could tell they were both getting frustrated and Y/N knows they should take a step back. Compromise. But she had done a lot of compromising lately and what had he been doing? This was her birthday. Was it too much to ask her fiance to take her to a nice restaurant? He didn’t even have to pay for it. He just had to show up.

“Since when did you take handouts,” he scolded. “That’s not the Y/N I know.”

“I’ve got to go, Russ,” she sighed and hung up before he could say anything else.

The conversation felt so backhanded. Everytime she talked to him she felt like she was getting scolded for having a nice job, nice clothes, and nice things. Her boss wants to reward her with a birthday dinner. You’re taking handouts. His driver drops her off at home when she has to work late. Why does Bruce Wayne know your schedule so well? She’s been so excited for this new opportunity, but everytime she wants to talk with him about it he doesn’t want to hear about it. The bands not doing well. I’m busy bartending tonight. What do you mean you have to work early tomorrow? No, I won’t come to your birthday dinner.

It made her question herself. He was making her question herself. Maybe I should just cancel the reservation. I’m being difficult. She picked up the phone again and dialed The Ocelot.

“Hi, I was just calling to cancel my dinner reservation.” A hand came from over her shoulder and took the phone out of her hand, hanging it up. She didn’t even need to look over her shoulder, she knew it was Bruce Wayne.

“I was using that, Mr.Wayne,” she sighed, picking up the phone and redialing the number. He took it out of her hand again and unplugged the phone line. She turned to him, “What is your problem?”

“Why are you canceling your birthday dinner?” he looked at her quizically. “It’s free. I’m paying for it. You love free things.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Everyone loves free things,” she mumbled as she started look up their other contact information on the computer. Maybe I can find an email.

“Even the rich,” he added, “but that doesn’t answer my question.” He leaned his forearms on the front of her desk and hit the off button on her computer so she had no choice but to looked at him.

She leaned her head back into her chair and closed her eyes groaning in defeat, “My fiance, he’s… busy so I’m not sure who I’d really go with.”

“Your fiance is busy… on your birthday.” She gave him a glare that said, just go with it. “Why don’t you take Carrie then?”

“I shouldn’t she has a lot going on-”

“You don’t want to tell her he screwed up again do you?”

“How did you know he screwed up in the first place?”

He shrugged, “I’ve been talking to Alfred.”

“About my love life?”

“What else is there?” So many other things, but it didn’t matter Y/N decided she was done talking about herself. She decided to pivot.

“You know Rachels going to be at the Ocelot too. I saw it on the Gotham Gazette” She looked up at him. “She’s going out with Harvey Dent to celebrate his campaign.”

“How do you know about Rachel?” She gave him that look. 

“Alfred,” he sighed.

-

It wasn’t that Bruce was in love with Rachel he just missed her. A lot. He missed their late night conversations. He missed having someone down to Earth who understood the crazy uptown world they were in. He missed talking with someone about his… night shift. Most importantly, he missed his friend and the fact that she was his friend made him love her. He didn’t even mean to. He just did.

So what was he supposed to do besides… offer to bring the entire Gotham Ballet to The Ocelot the exact day Rachel and Harvey would be there. He didn’t have a choice; she forced his hand. In all actuality, he wasn’t just moving them around for Rachel. Bane is still on the move trying to steal and harbor chemicals and the next CEO he was planning on visiting had made it obvious they were going to the Gotham Ballet. So… kill two birds with one stone. 

Next episode we’ll see Bruce and Y/N “happen upon” each other at the Ocelot. Maybe old flings don’t need to be flung anymore. It’s time for something new and hot (like birthday candles :D)

Also, this was not edited so sorry, I'm MIA this week. I just scheduled this in advance to keep y'all fed this week.

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky

[hobies-princealbert]

having fontaine as a boyfriend hcs | (this is a long one y'all)

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♤ fontaine is a very stoic man. he prefers to be reserved, only speaking a few words at a time when necessary. keep to yourself, you keep yourself alive. that's his motto. that's just life in the glen period.

♤ so everyone in his immediate circle was kinda taken back when you were spotted in the passenger seat of his car, one too many times. no one really hung round taine like except junebug. so no one expected him to actually get a girlfriend. a ting of the side, yes. but a girlfriend....nah.

"yo taine, who's that gurl we see you hangin' 'round? i ain' go hold you she fine asf" one of his 'buddies' straight up ask his boss what everyone's been thinking for weeks.

"my girl" he answered without missing a beat.

"by girl you mean main bitch right? i see you boss. how many more girls you got?"

"just the one. that's all i need" since then everyone in the glen knew you as taine's girl.

♤ if you were wondering how you guys met, it was a simple infatuation turned relationship. he was the regular plug for your brother, and would come by every once in a while. you rarely spoke to each other, just stole glances at each other for a while.

♤ fontaine knew he was only there for business. but he couldn't help actually looking forward to when your brother called, cause that meant he would get to see you again. things slowly progressed to the point he started coming over even when your brother didn't call. now yall are dating.

♤ he is a surprisingly attentive and supportive partner. if you have anything bothering you, you can always lean on him. he's not good on advice, but taine's a great listener and knows how to cheer you up. whether it's a late night drive, or stuffing your face over at his house on the couch, he'll do everything he can to make his girl smile again. and god help anyone makes you upset.

♤ despite his rough exterior and line of work, taine's super gentle with you. he'll open the car door for you, offer you food even if you just ate, and drive you anywhere you need to go, especially at night. he knows the glen ain't safe, he can't risk it especially with his reputation.

♤ he also doesn't mind buying you stuff too. he's not kingpin rich, but he's not broke that's for sure. from a simple drink at the corner store to a pair of gold earrings from the pawn shop. he buys, no debate.

♤ to many, he's an outwardly emotionless man. rarely expresses an emotion besides annoyance and anger. even slick, who's known him since grade school ain't never seen him smile before. but you have. yup you saw fontaine's laugh himself to tears. though the reason wasn't idle, you vividly how he looked when he genuinely smiled.

"t-taine that's not funny, i almost DIED. shut upppp" he snorted as you smacked his arm. you dipped you head on his shoulder in embarrassment cause he was still laughing at you.

"wha' ma- you expect me not to laugh at that shi' you just pulled. calm down you aight" he took back the blunt that nearly choked you out cause you wanted to look bad infront of your boyfriend.

taine knew you weren't that much of a smoker and smoked a blunt every once in a blue moon, or when you really needed one. so it surprised him when you walked over and took the blunt that was resting between his lips and took a drag.

a fast, deep drag, that he knew damn sure your lungs were not prepared for. so when you bursted into a fit of coughs, he couldn't help but laugh his ass off.

don't worry after he cooled down, he rubbed your back and assure you at you were still that baddest bitch on the block. even if you couldn't smoke a blunt.

♤ supppperr touchy. doesn't matter time or place. he has to have his hand resting on you, he just wants to make sure that of he turns his head your still there, and that your real.

♤ he introduced you to junebug once and ever since then he could never shake the thought of making you a mom one day. i know he doesn't look it but he's very family oriented person. he hopes to have one day. but that's a story for another day.

♤ he loves you. he won't out right say it but just by the way he treats you and looks out for you like no other, trust me he simply adores you. that nigga would take a bullet for you cause to him you're absolutely perfect.

[lilithliliam]

My quiet haven

Warnings: Yandere themes. Teacher/student relationship. Obsessive and possessive behavior. There is no bloodthirstiness, there is no theme of death. Manipulation and pressure. The reader is a virgin. NSFW. Jealousy.

The reader is studying with Gojo temporarily, cause she don't plan to be a sorceress. The reader is 18 years old. She must learn to use her power, which is why she came to study in Tokyo.

It’s hard to imagine a Gojo who loves someone very much, let alone Yandere Gojo, but it turns out that this can happen. Where did it all start? Gojo is not particularly interested in people, to be honest, but he really loves and cares about his students. About all of them without exception, but recently he began to notice that he devotes much more time and attention to one of his students than to others, and is it even possible to blame him for this. After all, she, his student, is the very embodiment of femininity, beauty and kindness. She's not like everyone else, she's not angry at him for his childish nature, she doesn't think he's arrogant, or she doesn't have a stupid crush on him. She always seemed to be able to somehow read his emotions. He could say that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him, that his mission had been more successful than ever, that he was not tired at all, but she could understand how he felt just by looking once. When all his students left, she approached him and asked about his well-being, whether he was tired, whether he was accidentally injured. Did he need anything? And she asked with such genuine concern that Satoru involuntarily felt something in his chest - was moving. At first, he brushed off her questions, not wanting to pester her with his problems, but then he didn’t even understand how he began to open up. In one of the most vulnerable moments, when she was the only one who realized that something was wrong with him, with the strongest. She just came up and despite all the assurances that everything was fine, she hugged him tightly. As tightly as she could. She told him not to hide his feelings, because we all are people. He is a human after all. No matter how strong he is, he is still a person who is no stranger to pain, fatigue and suffering. And this is not something to be ashamed of.

"I can't even imagine the heavy burden you carry every day, sensei ,but please don't carry it alone. Whenever you need, whenever you feel alone, I will always be here for you. I can hardly help a lot, but I can listen to you. And no matter what you say, it will always remain between us,” she told him.

She hugged him, pressing his head to her chest and stroking his hair. She whispered various soothing things. And he...just melted like plasticine in her wonderful hands. He felt like a lonely abandoned child who had finally found shelter, a warm home. That day he himself did not understand how he fell asleep. But he slept well then. And then the germ of interest that he experienced in her even at the first meeting grew into true love. He didn't care that she was his student, that she was younger. She will only study for a year and she is already 18. He has been single for so many years that who cares about her age or the family she comes from. Gojo knew that he had earned himself at least one happiness in life and he was going to take care of its safety.

She was kind in character in general. She was kind to everyone, from a small bug on the sidewalk which she picked up and planted on a nearby flower so that it would not be given away, to the janitor for whom she bought coffee in a very cold time, knowing that he would probably frozen And of course she was kind to her classmates. She cared, but not too persistently, for Megumi, hugged and supported Itadori, saying that even though he is a vessel of Sukuna, this doesn't mean that he is bad. She listened and gave advice to Nobara and went shopping with her. She calmed down and even prepared Nanami’s favorite bread and sandwiches, who, by the way, also doted on her. She became the soul and the bright sun of their entire company. And Gojo was fine with this for the time being.

However, over time, he became even more clingy than before. He began to constantly demand her attention. Her worries. If she devoted time to someone else, he would create scandals and hysterics. When he finished his missions, the first thing he did was rush to her and showed off like a kid. And she smiled and praised. Thanked him for his hard work. Prepared sweets or other food for him just because knew that after the mission he would probably want to eat something. And he could sit all night with her in the living room or in her room, eating sweets or chips and watching some movie. He would constantly cry at the sad moments and laugh out loud at the funny ones, but one thing was invariable: he would either lie on her chest or on her lap while she instinctively stroked his hair. When she was once enthusiastically reading some book, he became hysterical like a child and threw it somewhere, while refusing to look at her, and childishly pouting his lip, showing that he was the victim here. At first she was indignant, but then, instead of to reprimand him, she sighed quietly and opened her arms, where he immediately rushed, forgetting about his offense because she forgot about him for THREE WHOLE MINUTES!

Her classmates also noticed Gojo’s strange attitude towards her, but she brushed it off and said that he was like a big baby or a living teddy bear and that he needed to be cuddled and cherished, otherwise he would behave completely capriciously. They didn't approve of this, but seeing how happy Gojo was they couldn't resist. She noticed that his actions were strange at times, but she convinced herself that Gojo was very lonely. She understood the burden people had placed on him since his birth. How they don't let him be normal. And his childish behavior was justified by the lack of a normal childhood before. Seeing one day how bad he really was, she decided that at least she could understand him, not put pressure on him, could become his quiet haven where he could come to rest. She wanted nothing more than for her mentors Gojo and Nanami to finally be able relax and do what you really want. One day Gojo felt that he was ready to completely open up to her. He told everything that was in his heart. About his best friend Geto, who betrayed him to the point of taking his life himself. He expected contempt in her eyes, although he understood that she was not that kind of girl, but he was afraid of her reaction. But she smiled softly and said that it was probably hard for him. And that she understood him. She feels sorry for his friend, she feels sorry for that girl. But the past cannot be changed. If Geto was his best friend, then he understands his actions and does not hold a grudge against him, so Satoru should also forgive himself: she told him. He first smiled and then...cried. He cried in her lap as she stroked his hair in an attempt to calm him down. He calmed down and he and she even agreed to visit Geto’s grave together next time. It would seem that everything was fine. Everyone was happy. Gojo has finally found his soul mate. A person ready to accept him. Here she is, the perfect girl. Strong, albeit weaker than him, beautiful, although not more beautiful than him(joke). But something is still wrong. He looks at her communicating with Yuji and Nanami and something strange stirs in his chest. He watches carefully as she hands a basket, probably with food, into Nanami's hands. After all, Gojo himself saw how she prepared him and suddenly realizes. Oh yes, exactly. This feeling is called... anxiety. No no. Jealousy. No... uncertainty? No, stupidity. So that Satoru Gojo himself, the strongest magician, feels insecure? Nonsense. But deep down he is afraid that she does not feel the same, that she might choose someone younger, like Yuji, someone more responsible like Nanami. But he's not going to give up. He's lost enough people and he's not going to lose any more. He knows for sure that he doesn't want her to care about anyone else. Especially about Nanami. After all, after so much time spent with her, it seems that she did not look at him differently, although Satoru tried to look after her. He gave her sweets, put flowers in her room, or if she was just walking, he appeared out of nowhere and dragged her to the nearest cafe to try a new food, but apparently this was not enough. So Gojo decided to act more decisively. And show her intentions, because even if she guessed about his feelings, she tried not to pay attention to it.

Gojo had hugged her before, like all his students, but now his hugs became more frequent, lower and more intimate? Although she felt that something was wrong, she tried to blame it on paranoia. When she was cooking, he could hug her and put his head on her shoulder and inhale the smell of her hair. One day, when she was eating candy that he bought her, for some reason in the shape of a heart, he asked how it tasted. She says it’s very tasty and he took the candy she bit and ate it, closing his eyes in satisfaction. One day he took her phone to check the time, but then when she took her phone again, on the lock screen there was a photo of them that they took with everyone, but only... the rest of the participants were cut out and only him and Gojo remained. By the way, he put the same photo on his phone. She also noticed that next to his contact there was now a red heart. And sometimes she woke up in the morning with a heaviness on her stomach and when she opened her eyes, she found a sleeping Gojo who was hugging her tightly, trying to fit on her bed. Slowly but surely he became a part of her life, her social circle, slowly and surely filling her entire world. One day, while walking in a store, he offered her to buy “mochi” in the shape of a heart, which were sold for Valentine’s Day, to which she quite logically replied:

-But, Gojo sensei, this is for couples

“Well, yes, we’re dating so what’s the problem here,” he told her as if nothing had happened.

-I love you, you love me and...call me Satoru-sama now, right? She was numb for a minute, not knowing how to refuse him, and he, of course, took advantage of this.

-You take care of me, cook for me, hug me, comfort me. This of course means that you like me as much as I like you. And you will not leave me like everyone else. Don't hurt my feelings. Well, of course, and how can you not love me.I’m so charming,

- he said, knowing that he was manipulating her, leaving her no choice, but he didn’t care. She was his and no one, not even she herself, could change that.

And she, in turn, thought: This is the first time that Gojo is truly happy, it took so much time to heal his wounds, but she won’t open his wounds again and leave new ones? How can she do this to him? Yes, and she must admit that over time she herself began to have feelings for him. It’s hardly pity, rather admiration along with the desire to care. The maternal instinct must be making itself felt, because he's like real child (or maybe it’s just a skillful manipulation by Satoru) So she decided that why not. She will give him a chance.And she did not quite confidently confirm the fact of their relationship, and Satoru was not even shy about rare people in the store, and kissed her right there, because he had been craving this for so long.

As for intimate matters, everything is simple. His beloved is 18 years old, in fact, she is not even his student, and Gojo also has his own... needs. Therefore, he probably won’t want to wait, or give her time to prepare for this mentally. He will gently hint to her by saying something like:

"Hey hey, a wonderful day to lose your virginity, don't you think?"

Or

"How is my favorite virgin doing?"

He constantly kisses her on the lips and moves lower. Will constantly touch her. And one day he will invite her to his house to watch a film. But she felt how it would end, after all, it was Satoru. He almost directly stated that he wanted her. Before she had time to enter his apartment, he was already heart-rendingly and greedily kissing her lips. Lifting her by the ass, he carried her onto the bed while crushing the fat of her ass. Climbing on top of her, he kissed her as if he wanted her to choke on either his tongue or his saliva. While his long, muscular arms explored her entire body, hastily ridding her of her clothes. Having finished with the kiss, leaving a thread of their common saliva on her lips that dripped onto her bare collarbones, he kissed lower. Frantically kissing the beads of her hardened nipples and putting one in his mouth, he began to suck, twisting it around his tongue, causing a series of moans from his beloved. He barely looked away from her soft and elastic breasts and began to look at her greedily, God, how he wanted to take a picture of her now, it was just a pornographic look. He wanted to remember this for the rest of his life. But this was her first time, he had to be softer and more gentle and please her first, and then himself. He sank lower, from her navel, sunken tummy to her femininity and she screamed. Her whole body arched and she pulled Gojo's head closer to her peak and Gojo moaned out loud.

She wriggled like a snake, simultaneously dropping sweet moans that gave him an incentive to move on. He greedily sucked, licked and even stuck his nimble tongue into her, stimulating places that she probably didn’t even know existed. Using his thumb, stroking and occasionally rubbing her clitoris or alternating it with his tongue, and inserting first one then a second finger into her, he quickly brought her to the peak and she moaned loudly and protractedly. He stood up and took off his T-shirt as he walked, wiping his wet mouth and face with it.

"Damn, damn baby. This is the best thing I've ever eaten. I wish you would give me this instead of the usual tomorrow and dinner, baby," he told her.

While she was trying to recover from a violent orgasm, he unzipped his pants and hastily stayed in his boxers, wet from his own secretions, in which his erect penis could be clearly seen. He desperately needed to be in her. He seemed ready to cum now if she just touched him.

She felt something hard and smooth sliding along her wet folds, occasionally touching her clitoris, causing a new wave of goosebumps and moans. Then slowly, as slowly as he could, testing all his patience, Gojo began to enter her. She seemed to suffocate from the feeling of being so stretched and full, something strange was tickling her stomach from the inside.

Now it was real torture for him not to move. It was incredibly tight, hot and very humid! The vaginal muscles tightly wrapped around the penis. The heat that came from them was driving them crazy, prompting them to immediately start moving. But he couldn't afford to be rude, not with her!

He bows his head in a gentle kiss, pulls out of her slightly, and makes a careful push back.

For the first time, a girl feels the movements of a man inside her.

She clasps her hands behind his neck. She doesn’t yet understand how she feels.

Another soft, not strong, deep push. He barely comes out of her before entering again to the end, as if he is rocking the two of them on the waves.

Her quiet moan escapes directly into his lips, breaking the kiss.

Tries the amplitude a little more. So wet that he easily slides in it, feeling the pleasant friction of the sensitive organ.

He told himself that he shouldn't lose patience, that he should be gentle, but... God, he couldn't do it anymore. It felt like heaven, like pure bliss, like a drug in its purest form.

Her pussy was warm, tight, reactive and wet - it was everything he had dreamed of and more.

He tried to be soft, tried to be slow, but hearing her meow and whimper he lost all remnants of willpower and self-control. He set a leisurely rhythm, simultaneously comforting her with sweet words, saying how well she was doing, how great she was and how well she accepted him. Just be patient, okay, is it okay for me, baby? “Be patient with love,” he whispered to her, but he himself seemed about to go crazy.

-Darling, my love, I just want to make you feel good? Okay?

Trying to distract himself and distract her from the unpleasant sensations of stretching, he kissed her cheeks, ears and her sensitive neck.

Surrendering to his tender kisses, she forgot about the pain and completely relaxed.

-It's okay, I'm okay.

-Are you sure honey, damn... say yes

To which she nodded and smiled. And he couldn't stand it anymore. Spreading her legs wide and pressing them to her chest, he began to quickly and hard enter her, his snow-white, coarse pubic hair and the slapping of his pelvis causing additional friction, stimulating her clitoris, bringing her to the edge. Quick thrusts that quickly spread her apart causing her to open up and make room for him inside, stretching her walls and letting them mold to the shape of his cock.

She arches her back, groaning protractedly. Clings to Satoru's shoulders, maintaining his balance. Gojo grabs her throat with his wet palm, speeding up the rhythm.

There is a catastrophic shortage of air. She moans loudly in her lover's ear, squeezing his hair with her palm.

She feels intoxicated already from the sounds he makes. A primal, deep growl emanates from his chest as he looks down to where you are both connected in heart and soul. Forever and ever... He makes his way inside of you, taking pleasure in your whines and squeals and pitiful meows.

-Go-jo ah, more, nhh I want

-Yes Yes Yes, baby. Let's.Do it. Do. You can my darling.

A pleasant spasm tightens in the lower abdomen. She whines, resting her forehead on the man's neck. A shiver runs through my body. The heartbeat quickens, the head is spinning. She clenches inside and moans loudly.

A powerful orgasm breaks through her body, she closes her eyes to white spots, sinking her teeth into Satoru’s neck.

Her second orgasm was more intense than the first, her cunt throbbing around his cock as pleasure pierced her with outstretched claws, ravaging every part of her.

He groaned. "I'm feeling it. You're squeezing my... oh... I'm going to, damn nhhhh.

His body was on fire, pleasure coursing through every nerve as he continued to fuck your quivering pussy, the lewd wet slaps of flesh on flesh accompanying his wanton, wild moans.

-I'm here, almost. Me too. Babe. Babe. Babe.

He screamed as if in a fit and then moved again, then again and again until the white pearls of sperm stained her insides. He waited a little longer, a heavy exhalation escaping his lips, dripping from his forehead, nose and hair. And then he collapsed exhaustedly on top of her, without leaving her. Remembering that he actually rolled heavily to one side and laid her on his chest, trying to even out his breathing. He stroked her hair and gave her a short laugh, kissing her on the top of her head.

-It was, it was... indescribable. You're so good... for...me

He whispered to her various nonsense, words of love, promises. Until felt that she was sleeping.

-Good night, my not virgin. He whispered in her ear, admiring her peaceful, sleeping face with red cheeks and rejoicing at his victory and understanding what it means to be happy. He felt happier than ever. Felt peace, tranquility and tranquility.

He finally found his man, his home. Your own quiet haven. And now no one will dare to encroach on him, no one will dare even look at her. She is his. He branded her, made her completely his, and soon he will build a house for them. He will put her there, he will admire her for hours, he will be the only one, he will teach her himself. He will make her a child, marry her. Don’t want to share her with a child, but it’s better than some Nanami. Let Kento look for another. After all, she is... only his Quiet Haven.

I don't own this arts

[cursedonyx]

The Bars Between Us

Sebastian Sallow x MC

Oneshot AU in which Sebastian was sent to Azkaban despite Ominis and MC (named Dracaena in this fic because it’s my current favourite name) trying to keep his secrets. Ominis and Dracaena spent the next several years trying to free him, and eventually succeed. Sebastian is not the same, Azkaban has sapped him of everything he once was, but a little TLC from the woman he has always loved sets him back on track.

Word Count – 8.6k

Warnings – Angst, traumatised Sebastian, aftermath of Azkaban, engaged Ominis/MC, Ominis approves MC sleeping with Seb, seriously Seb’s been through the wringer, Azkaban is horrible, nursing Seb back to health, smut (MDNI), handjob M!receiving, oral M!receiving, sub!Sebastian, MC feels a bit guilty bc her boy is a wreck

Six years.

It had been six years since the terrible events of fifth year, and six years since Sebastian had stood trial for the murder of Solomon Sallow. Six years since he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Six years since Dracaena and Ominis had scrambled to find out who had condemned him, and vowed to make it right.

No sooner had they left Hogwarts, not able to fully appreciate the finality of riding the little boats across the Black Lake towards Hogsmeade station, leaving behind the place in which they had matured into adults, leaving behind the wonders and horrors in equal parts, that they both signed up for jobs at the Ministry for Magic, working in Magical Law Enforcement, searching for some kind of loophole, some kind of law, some kind of anything that would get their best friend released from hell.

After four agonising years, they managed it. Together, pouring over paperwork by candlelight until the small hours for months, they built a solid defence, their unwavering logic and staunch reasoning standing up to the needlepoint scrutiny of the powers that be. Of course, they knew it was a long shot all the same. The Ministry simply didn’t care about extenuating circumstances, considering those incarcerated to be less than human, doomed to serve their time no matter what new evidence came to light.

Ominis had to throw his weight around a bit. Subtle, hissed threats, muttered warnings and an overuse of his famous glare and family name eventually frightened enough people to get those with the ability to make changes to listen. And then Dracaena came in, her fame and her charm the honey to Ominis’ salt, making promises she never intended to keep, assuring those too nervous to make the jump to support them, doing favours that left an unsavoury taste in the back of her throat.

All of it proved worth it in the end. Sebastian’s release papers were handed over, and Dracaena packed a small bag.

“I’ll be a week,” she said to Ominis. “They want him to stay in a sort of halfway house for a while, to make sure he’s not going to go mental and start hexing everyone in sight. Personally, I’m just glad he’s going to get some time to start readjusting to life outside.” She tilted her head. “Won’t you come with me?”

“Best not,” Ominis said, for the fiftieth time, his patience unending. “I don’t want to overwhelm him, and you’ve always known how to calm him down when he gets too… well.”

She chuckled lightly. “That’s assuming he’s not a complete wreck. I hope it’s not affected him too badly.”

“Dove… he’s going to be very different to what we remember,” Ominis replied, resting a hand on her shoulder as she folded her clothes. “He won’t be the Sebastian we knew.”

“I know,” she raised her hand to his, smiling as he looped his other arm around her belly and held her tight. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder as he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I hope he’s forgiven us for not doing more sooner.”

“He’ll have forgiven you,” Ominis said. “He always had a soft spot for you. I rather expect, even after all this time, that he’s still in love with you.”

Dracaena kept her silence. She and Ominis had naturally fallen together towards the end of their sixth year of Hogwarts, their shared experiences and pain leading them to comfort one another, she taking Sebastian and Anne’s place as Ominis’ refuge from his family, moving in together once they’d left the school. In a small way, she was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to propose, presenting her with an elegant ring of emerald and diamond set in white gold six months ago. She’d accepted gladly, though a tiny part of her mourned what that meant for Sebastian.

She loved Ominis with all her heart and more. She adored his gentleness, his respect, his kindness and consideration. She admired his steel, the restrained fury with which he dealt with their enemies, both inside and outside of work, his searing wit and boundless intelligence. She relished his talent as a wizard, and fell in love with him over and over again with each morning they woke beside each other, still spent from their passions, safe in each other’s arms.

But she still loved Sebastian.

Ominis tightened his arm around her.

“It’s alright,” he whispered. “I know how you felt about him. I know how you feel. If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I would have expected the pair of you to be married by now.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “Dracaena… he’s my best friend. I want him to stay with us. We have the room, and he’d be safer than if he was just left to try and survive by himself after all he will have been through. I know you and him well enough to know you’re drawn to each other.”

“But I’m yours,” she whispered, moving his hand to brush over her ring. “Remember?”

He shrugged. “I know. I trust you. I know that if you said nothing would happen between you, I would believe you because it would be true. But you’d be unhappy. You both would. I know you’re not going to leave me for him, Dracaena, but I know you also make each other happy. He’s going to need all the love and support he can get once he’s out. I’d hope that you can give that to him.”

She tilted her head. “Ominis… are you giving me permission to… play away with your best friend?”

He chuckled. “Don’t cheapen it,” his elegant fingers found her cheek, tilting her head so he could kiss her full. “I’m telling you that if you two happen to come together again, I support it. Didn’t you once tell me you’d have liked it if you could have had us both?”

“I was drunk!” she protested, giggling as he dug his fingers into her ribs, ticking her gently. “You can’t use that against me!”

“I can and will,” he laughed, holding her tight. “I mean it, Dracaena. I don’t mind at all, so long as it’s only him. He’s my brother as far as I’m concerned, and I trust you both.”

“You might regret it,” Dracaena warned.

“If I do, we’ll talk about it, and find a way to resolve it,” he said, releasing her at last. “Go on now, you need to get to the dock. Send me an owl once he’s settled.”

“I will.”

He brushed a hand over her cheek. “See you in a week. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

_.-~*~-._

The sky was a stormy grey, and the waves below were similarly sullen. They crashed against the side of the boat, sending salty sprays onto the deck as if it was their mission to knock the vessel off course.

Dracaena sat between two stern faced Aurors, her hands folded in her lap. She’d left her bag at the halfway house, a modest, three-roomed bungalow surrounded by similar buildings, grey bricked and dour looking. She had perched on one of the rickety chairs by the small, circular dining table as one of the Aurors explained to her that Sebastian would be under careful watch for the first year following his release, and any missteps would see him sent right back to Azkaban.

She’d only half listened as he went over an itemised list for what she should do during her week’s stay at the halfway house, pinning a sheet of parchment to the wall with the details. She was only to feed him small meals, as he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything more. Nothing rich, nothing too fatty, and no alcohol. She’d frowned, asking why.

“Because the prisoners don’t tend to eat,” he’d said, gruffly. “The dementors have to force them in order to keep them alive.”

She’d shivered then, and she shivered now, remembering. They weren’t allowed to leave the halfway house, except for at specific times each day to walk around the complex for ten minutes at a time, to build up his strength. She had to write a detailed report at the end of each day to give to the Aurors, describing their conversations and activities. She was sternly warned that if she didn’t, there would be Trouble. Said Trouble was left unspecified, and she didn’t have the heart to ask.

Dracaena shifted, watching as something huge, angular and black began to rise from the waves, impossibly tall, impossibly wide, made entirely of stone. Only a few small windows lay in the surface, like knife wounds in flesh. Her hands tightened in her lap as dread began to seep under her skin, a visceral fear prickling over her neck and shoulders. She was only going to be there for a short time, to bring her best friend home. She couldn’t imagine how Sebastian would have felt, seeing that pillar of misery approach, believing he would never leave.

She loosed a soft breath, eyeing the distant, tattered black shapes swooping around outside it. He would leave. He would leave with her, and everything would be alright.

The boat approached a yawning cavern at the base of the prison, the Aurors casting a Patronus each, a mouse and a raven. There was a dock in the cavern, the blackness chased away by sparsely placed sconces in the damp, glistening walls. Standing there waiting was a hunched little man, balding on top with buck teeth and a sickly smile. He had a Patronus as well, something that looked like a cross between an ailing puppy and a wall-eyed rat.

Dracaena stepped off the boat, shivering, the feeling of dread still creeping under her clothes and caressing her skin. She set her jaw, drew her wand, and cast a Patronus of her own.

An elegant panther touched its paws to the stone, gazing around imperiously as the Aurors and the little man raised their brows, the dread vanishing from her chest as if it had never been. From the shadows around the walls, several rattling voices gurgled and hissed, as if angry.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“Cell 506,” the little man said, rubbing his hands together with a grin that seemed entirely too cheerful for such a place. “Follow me, my dear.”

The patronuses cast silvery blue light on the walls as they ascended a surprisingly wide staircase, their footsteps echoing. Reaching the first floor, the little man produced a set of keys and unlocked a heavy, barred door.

“No need for magic here,” he cackled. “No one’s got their wands, have they?”

They strode into a cell block, and Dracaena recoiled. The scent of filth was overwhelming, but it was the sounds that chilled her. Her Patronus flickered, moving to stand beside her as desperate sobs filled her ears, tortured cries and garbled, gibbering wails singing in a hellish harmony that echoed off the walls.

The sounds died down as the little man and the Aurors encouraged her on, and though she tried to face forward, to ignore the figures in the cells, she couldn’t help but notice how they scrambled towards the bars, their bony, wasted hands reaching through, stretching for the patronuses as the tattered shadows of the dementors fled their presence. The screams began again as they passed, somehow more agonised than before.

They repeated this four more times, ascending rapidly narrowing staircases and emerging into a new cell block, climbing higher and higher, taunting the prisoners with the promise of relief from their misery in their passing. With each step, Dracaena’s heart beat just a little faster, her grip on her wand increasing, the hackles on her panther Patronus rising as she bared her teeth.

By the time they reached the fifth floor, her palms were sweating. How different would he be? Would the Sebastian she knew and loved still be there, somewhere? Would his eyes still sparkle with the mischief he was so adept at making, at once sliding into fury when he was challenged, and softening whenever he looked at her? She knew he’d be different. He’d look different. He’d act different. But she had to believe he was still there.

No matter her provisions, in the following years, Dracaena didn’t think there was anything on earth that could have prepared her for what she saw when she finally reached Sebastian’s cell.

Unlike so many of the other prisoners, he wasn’t screaming or crying, and he didn’t rush to the bars to feel the passing warmth of the patronuses. He huddled by the wall, next to a narrow mattress and ratty blanket laid directly on the floor. His hair was halfway down to his elbows, thick and matted, almost black with grime. He was dressed as they all were, in a filthy pair of striped trousers and shirt, and they hung loose on his frame. His head was on his arms, resting on his knees, drawn to his chest. The hand she could see was almost skeletal, every inch of boyish puppy fat stripped from his body. His nails were bitten to the quick and filthy, as were his bare feet.

Dracaena raised a hand to the bars, her heart shattering as she took him in, watching as he shivered.

“See, he’s one of the tough ones,” the little man said, with a chuckle. “Just keeps to himself, terribly well behaved. Shame to see him go, really.”

Dracaena tightened her grip on her wand to the point she thought it might snap. She turned to the little man, letting her expression say everything she dared not voice, for if she opened her mouth, she would likely find herself in a cell of her own. The little man seemed to understand, because his sick grin slipped, and he hurried to unlock the cell door. She barged him out the way before he’d even pulled the key from the lock, striding inside and falling to her knees before the broken man she had loved.

“Sebastian?” she whispered, her Patronus sitting in front of the door and glowering. He didn’t move. “Sebastian, it’s time to go.”

He stirred, his fingers tightening on his sleeve. She reached out, brushing a hand over his arm, and he flinched.

“Bassy,” she whispered, the pet name she’d given him both foreign and familiar on her tongue. He tensed, finally raising his head. His chocolate eyes, once so full of life, were dull and defeated above hollow cheeks and a beard that reached his collar. Even so he was familiar to her, the rampant freckles scattering his skin like constellations a siren call to their bond. He blinked, focusing, and didn’t say a word.

“Bassy, it’s time to go,” she said again, cupping his cheek, sliding her thumb over the protruding bone, her fingers winding into the thatch of hair at the back of his neck. He flinched away again, his expression becoming fearful, his eyes darting around the cell.

“Happens sometimes,” the little man said sullenly from beyond the bars. “They forget who they are. Forget who they knew. He’s not said a word in five years, so don’t expect him to. He probably thinks this is some kind of joke.”

She shot another glare that could melt steel through the bars, then shifted her position, grasping Sebastian by the arms and standing, heaving him to his feet.

He came up with almost no resistance, and she staggered, almost flinging him into the air, horrified by how light he was. He made a small sound of muted alarm as he left the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, relaxing her grip. She grabbed for him again when he slumped, his legs refusing to support his weight. She glanced through the bars again as the Aurors stirred.

“We’ll have to drag him,” one said. “Prisoners sometimes forget how to walk, or they just don’t have the will.”

“You’re not dragging anybody,” she spat. She looped an arm around Sebastian’s back, bending to catch his legs, lifting him in her arms like a child. He tensed, then slumped, his head lolling against her shoulder. He was so light, so alarmingly fragile, as if he was made of parchment, ready to tear apart at the slightest movement. Her heart broke again, and her Patronus flickered as she cradled him. Without another word, she marched from the cell, heading for the doors, the other prisoners gibbering as she passed, begging her to take them too, to leave her Patronus, to kill them. She paid them no mind, focusing on holding Sebastian tight to her chest, his feet swinging, his breath rushing over her neck. His hands were folded on his stomach, and one of them slid to her, pinching the fabric of her cloak, then holding gently.

She held him all the way to the dock, refusing to release her grip as she settled back on the boat. She raised a hand to his hair, gently running over the back of his head. It left streaks of grime on her fingers, but she didn’t care. A deep, boiling anger simmered in her chest. Anger for what he’d been put through. Anger that anyone was forced to endure such a hellish place. But mostly, she was furious with herself for allowing this to happen, furious with Ominis for knowing what Azkaban was like, and letting him be taken anyway, the word of some unknown person sealing his fate.

It didn’t matter that they’d spent the next six years trying to find a way to free him. The damage had been done. She felt it in his trembling breath, in the way he held onto her cloak so gently, knowing in her bones that it was the tightest grip he could muster. She wrapped her arms around him more securely, resting her cheek against his forehead, whispering soft words of comfort as her collar grew sodden with his silent tears.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena carried Sebastian over the threshold of the halfway house in much the same way a groom carries his bride. She wasn’t blind to the imagery, and wondered if Ominis would do the same to her once they were married. Would he be able to navigate if his hands were full of her body and not his wand? Probably. He was astonishingly capable, to the point she often wondered if his blindness really was total, like he said. Perhaps he had some Seer blood in him that aided him. It would certainly go a long way to explain how he always seemed to know everything, even things he shouldn’t know.

She kicked the door shut in the faces of the Aurors that had accompanied them.

She eyed the living room of the halfway house, the low sofa facing the kitchenette and dining table. Through one of the doors was a little bedroom, and through the other was a tiny, cramped bathroom. It was towards this that she headed, conjuring a low seat, in which she deposited Sebastian. He was unresponsive as she stood back with a light sigh, gazing down at him and eyeing the stains left on her robes.

She pulled off her cloak and overrobes, standing before him in a simple pair of trousers and vest top, tossing her robes through the still open door, before kneeling down in front of him.

“First order of business,” she said, softly. “We’re here for a week, Bassy. We’ve got a to-do list, but I’ll take care of it as best I can. I’ll need your help, though. Can you do that for me?”

His throat worked a moment, then he gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod. Dracaena loosed a soft breath. At least he was listening to her.

“I think you’d feel a lot better after a shower,” she said, keeping her tone low and soothing. “Would you like that?”

Another miniscule nod.

“Can you take care of that, or would you like some help?”

No response to that. She tilted her head, waiting, her hands on his knees, until he glanced at her, his eyes lighting on hers and flicking away again like a moth fluttering about a lantern. They were still dull and hollow, curtained by the matted strands of his hair. She reached up and brushed a hand over it.

“I think we need to give you a haircut,” she said. “I can’t think of a single brush that can save it, I’m afraid, it's too tangled. Can I cut your hair for you? And maybe this?” she ran her hand over the wild beard. “Much as I think a beard suits you, it could do with a trim, don’t you think?”

A tiny nod, ever so slightly more vigorous than the last. She smiled, and reached behind her, fumbling in the cabinet for scissors.

“I’ll save what I can,” she said, taking a ropey strand of his hair between her fingers. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy being bald.”

A miniscule exhalation. She tilted her head.

“Was that a laugh, darling?”

He didn’t answer, but leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder. She set the scissors aside a moment and wrapped her arms around his back, alarmed to feel the bones of his spine poking through his skin. She held him gently until his arms rose, gripping the back of her top with a featherlight touch. He shivered, his breath trembling on the exhale. She held him tighter, pressing her cheek to his.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, circling her hand over his back. “You’re safe, Bassy. You’re out. You’re not going back there, okay? Once we’ve done what we have to here, you’re going to come and live with me and Ominis. We’ll look after you.”

She felt his jaw clench a moment, then he sat back, meeting her eyes properly for the first time. He held her gaze a long moment, before it dropped to her hands, resting on his knees again. He touched her ring, his skeletal fingers brushing over the emeralds and diamonds. He sighed, seemingly caving in on himself.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it over the rasp of his throat.

She could have cried, then. God only knew what he’d been thinking when he was trapped in that cell. Had he been hoping she’d come for him? That she’d have waited for him? Had he tortured himself with thoughts of other people getting close to her, loving her? Had he known on some level that she and Ominis would end up together, engaged, and soon to be married? Had he loved her as she loved him once, and wished it was he that slid the ring onto her finger?

What would he think if she told him of Ominis’ offer?

“Thank you,” she said. Best not to overload him. She should have taken her ring off, but it was too late for that now. She raised a hand to his hair again. “I… I’ll be honest, I’ve never done this before. It won’t be a brilliant job, but it’ll help.”

He gave another miniscule nod, and closed his eyes. She gazed at him a while longer, then picked up the scissors, sliding them through the matted tangle of his hair before closing them with a decisive snick.

_.-~*~-._

Shorn of his beard and most of his hair, Sebastian was beginning to look a little more like himself, though his face was terribly gaunt, his cheeks hollow, the sharp lines of his jaw standing out above his brittle neck. Dracaena vanished the pile of hair with a flick of her wand, then reached over to the bathtub, turning on the shower and holding her hand in the stream until it warmed to a comfortable temperature.

“Shall I leave you to it?” she asked. “I can give you some privacy.”

He didn’t answer, his hollow gaze turned inward, slumping slightly in his chair. She took his chin and tilted his face to hers, waiting until his eyes focused. “Bassy, do you want me to help?”

He blinked, slowly, his gaze turning distant again. With a light sigh, Dracaena lowered her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly prying them open, one by one. At each, she paused, looking at him until he gave a tiny nod. She withheld a wince with some difficulty as she gently pulled it from his shoulders, able to see each rib through his skin, streaked with grime. Her heart broke a third time.

“Can you stand?” she asked, gently. “We should get these off too.” She touched the leg of his trousers. He didn’t answer, so she tucked her hands under his arms and rose, bringing him with her. He leaned against her, his arms rising to clutch at her back again as she nimbly undid the drawstring. The clothing crumpled straight to the floor, far too large for his frame. She averted her eyes, helping him step under the stream of warm water, lowering him to sit, and he drew his knees to his chest.

How many times in her fifth year had she wondered what he’d look like under his robes? Countless times, lying awake at night, or daydreaming in class. Now he was here it felt somehow wrong, like a violation to take the opportunity to drink in his form when he was so vulnerable. So she didn’t look, focusing on his face as his short hair plastered to his scalp, the water turning black as it streamed over his skin. She pressed a washcloth into his hands, and he held it, but made no further move.

“Come on darling,” she murmured. “Help me out a little bit?”

No response. With a soft smile, she picked up another washcloth and slid it over his back, applying light pressure to the more stubborn patches of dirt. Sebastian closed his eyes, resting his head on his crossed arms as she soaped his back, his grip on his own cloth tightening a little. And even though she resisted, scolding herself silently, Dracaena couldn’t help but look at him properly. Under the steadily vanishing grime, his back and shoulders were as freckled as his face, fading the further her eyes travelled down his spine and arms. He was a lot paler than she remembered, but then he’d gone from an outdoorsy, adventurous nerd to a prisoner in a cell, not a speck of natural light to be found. She’d have to make sure there was a decent spot in the garden for him to relax, once they were all home.

She nibbled her lip, glancing at his slender thighs, once thick. No freckles there. A few on his calves, none on his feet. She wrenched her gaze away before it strayed any further, and she slipped a hand under his chin, tilting his head back so she could get to his hair. He closed his eyes with a tiny sigh as she rubbed suds through the thick strands, massaging his scalp gently until she was sure every speck of dirt was gone. She pressed a hand to his collarbone.

“Sit up straight, darling,” she whispered. “I need to get to your chest.”

He acquiesced, leaning back until he overbalanced. Dracaena caught him with a startled yelp, an arm around his back, spluttering a little as her head and shoulders entered the shower stream. His legs stretched out as he slumped against her arm, his head turning to her shoulder, his eyes still closed. She caught her breath, blinking water out of her eyes.

“You alright?”

A tiny nod.

She took a breath, and keeping her gaze firmly fixed above his waistline, she moved the cloth over his torso, trying not to admire the fine hair dusting his chest, focusing on removing every speck of dirt she could see. She took her time, because at some point, she was going to have to try to convince him, again, to help himself. There was only so far she could reasonably go when he was so out of it, despite what Ominis had said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to look, or to touch… to taste. It wasn’t that she had any problems in taking care of Sebastian in whatever way he needed. It was that he was fresh out of Azkaban, barely four hours free, still confused and addled and traumatised and broken, and she couldn’t assume that he would want anything to do with her at all.

It was still difficult. She shifted, her arm around his back, propping him up as she gripped his shoulder, his head resting against hers, flipping her sodden hair out of her face, her top already soaked. She circled the cloth over his chest a final time, sliding it over his nipple, and he groaned.

The sound was so soft that she thought for a moment she’d imagined it. She paused, swallowed, and repeated the movement. He sighed, tucking his head more firmly against her shoulder, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a stirring.

Dracaena closed her eyes, willing herself to cool the heat rising from under her collar. She was his friend, that was all, helping him after a terrible ordeal. She couldn’t possibly take advantage of him, not now, not when he was vulnerable and needed her to help him. He wasn’t in his right mind. She had to be strong for them both. In time, perhaps she could, but…

She steeled herself and returned to the job at hand, sliding a bar of soap over his stomach and following it with the cloth. The water ran clear over his body, though it still pooled brown and grimy by his feet and legs, and-

She wrenched her eyes back up, glaring at the pale tiles of the bathroom wall.

“You going to give me a hand?” she asked. “I’m getting soaked.”

Again, no response. He slumped against her, his breathing perhaps a little quicker than before. Hardening herself, Dracaena took the washcloth to his thighs, scrubbing perhaps a little firmer than she had before, tucking a hand under his knee to bring his leg closer so she could still support him. Her back was beginning to ache, bent over the bath as she was, but she ignored the dull fire spreading under her shoulder blades, focusing on her task. All the same, she couldn’t help but notice how he shifted, widening his legs with another soft sigh, his hand sliding over her back to grip at her shoulder as she worked. She slid the cloth over the inside of his thigh, and a soft, almost strangled whimper passed his lips as he tilted towards her.

Dracaena had endured many trials in her life. Stopping a goblin rebellion, defeating a power-crazed, dragon-transformed lunatic set on killing her, as well as countless attacks from poachers and Ashwinders, defeating a powerful Dark Wizard in single combat and more. So much more. Still, if anyone had asked her in the later years what she found the most difficult trial of all, she would have said in a heartbeat that ignoring Sebastian’s throbbing erection as she washed him was among the top three.

She did steal a glance or five. She was only human, after all. And by God, he was beautiful. Not quite as long as Ominis, but thicker, a darker shade, the lush pink of Ominis’ love more a light burgundy with Sebastian, and the way he rested against his stomach, his toes curling as the shower stream rushed over him was more intoxicating than heroin. There was nothing more that she wanted than to wrap her hand around his length and draw him to the edge of bliss, to let him revel in the delights so long denied him, to hear him moan and whimper her name…

Again, Ominis’ assurances that he was not only fine with her playing away with Sebastian, but that he expected it ran through her mind. She loosed a soft breath as she moved the washcloth to his hips, his grip increasing on her arm as his breathing rushed past her ear. She set her jaw.

She couldn’t.

“I need to get some things ready,” she said, firmly. “Finish up, Bassy, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She waited until his grip on her arm loosened, helping him sit upright. It pained her to leave him alone, huddled and defenceless as she strode for the door, wringing water from her hair and drying it with a wave of her wand. But she had to. God and Merlin only knew what she would have done otherwise. He was too fresh, too vulnerable. How could she take advantage of him like that? How could she even think it?

Biting her lip, she settled at the small table and drew parchment and quill towards her, penning a short note.

My darling Ominis,

Sebastian is with me in the halfway house, and all things considered, he’s as well as he can be. I don’t want to alarm you, but he’s lost a lot of weight and isn’t very responsive, and I expect it will take some time before he’s better. You were right, he’s not as we remember, but I feel the old Sebastian is still there, somewhere.

I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to be home with you.

Dracaena.

She wanted to add another line, clarifying that Ominis had meant what he said, hoping he would change his mind, for if he demanded she remain solely his it would be easier to deny the stirrings she felt for Sebastian. But he wouldn’t deny her, he wouldn’t refuse. He’d almost been insistent.

She sealed the letter instead, opening the door and beckoning the owl perched nearby. It took the note in its beak and flew off, soon lost amongst the clouds. She took a breath, noting the dark figures leaning against the walls of the surrounding buildings, the curtains twitching in windows. She made a face and retreated back inside. Christ, with the number of Aurors surrounding them, it was almost like Sebastian was a mass-murdering lunatic, not a broken man who had paid a price far dearer than the death of his horrible uncle warranted.

She tilted her head as the sounds of running water from the bathroom shut off. She waited as a shadow moved beyond the open door. It seemed that Sebastian could get about by himself if he needed to. That was good. She moved to the kitchenette, opening the cupboards and grimacing. Simple foods like porridge oats, rounds of dark bread and rice nestled beside tins of nondescript meat and vegetables huddled on the shelves. Dull fare for certain, and she wished she could use her Ancient Magic to conjure something more palatable, but it didn’t work that way. Sebastian had always been fond of sweet things, and there wasn’t a gram of sugar to be found.

She pulled a few items down and set about making a simple meal of white fish and rice with a side of green beans, careful not to make too much. He’d need time to adjust to eating real food again, and she had no idea what he’d been forced to eat behind bars.

Dracaena turned at a slight noise to find Sebastian standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning heavily against the frame, a towel around his waist. He gave her the beginnings of a tired, shy smile, only the corners of his mouth twitching. She left the saucepan and rushed to him.

“There’s clothes in the bedroom,” she said, leading him, an arm around his waist as he slumped against her. “We’ll have some dinner and get you settled for the night, yeah?”

He nodded, a firmer, more decisive action than before. Depositing him on the bed, which creaked, she ferreted around in the old wardrobe, bringing out a selection of shirts and trousers.

“Any preference, or are you not fussy?”

He blinked slowly, his eyes on her, seemingly indifferent about the clothes in her hands. With a shrug, she picked out a dark shirt and pair of trousers, leaving them on the bed.

“I’ll leave you to it, darling, if you need-”

His hand found hers, and she paused, turning to him, finding the corners of his eyes glimmering.

His lips parted, his throat working a moment before his voice found its way out, hushed and rasping.

“This… is real? You’re… really here?”

She knelt before him, taking both his hands in hers.

“Of course it’s real,” she whispered. “Bassy… Ominis and I have spent the last six years trying to find a way to free you. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, you didn’t deserve Azkaban. You’re coming home with us, and you’ll never go back, alright?”

He nodded again, a tiny smile touching his lips.

“You… got me out?”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. “We had to bully a lot of people, rewrite some laws, and build a case. It took ages, Bassy, but we never gave up. We just wanted you home with us.”

“And…” he drew a breath, as if the act of speaking fatigued him beyond all reason. “Anne?”

Dracaena hesitated. She knew this would come up, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. The reason for his fighting, the reason for his research, the reason for his mistake. How could she tell him that the curse that plagued his sister had taken her life three years ago?

It would break him. Destroy him in ways that Azkaban never could.

“Time enough for that later,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “What’s important right now is getting you back on your feet, alright?”

It was a poor answer, and she knew it. Sebastian had never been one to let things lie, least of all something as important as his twin, whom she had buried with Ominis on a beautiful hill overlooking Feldcroft on a blossom-strewn spring morning, the pair of them shedding silent tears not just for the senseless loss of life, but because it meant everything Sebastian had sacrificed had been for nothing. But Sebastian didn’t question her further, merely nodding again and releasing her hands, reaching for the clothes.

Dracaena returned to the kitchen in time to put out a small fire that had started in the pan. She swore and pulled out another tin of white fish, vanishing the blackened mess with a wave of her wand.

Sebastian joined her at the small table not long after, clinging to the walls and countertops to support himself until she hurried over, pulling his arm over her shoulders. Though his first mouthful of food was hesitant, he soon fell upon it like a man starved, going so far as to toss his fork aside and eat with his hands. Once he was done, he held himself still, staring at his plate before the hollowness returned to his eyes, and he withdrew into himself, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at nothing as Dracaena pushed her plate aside, her appetite quite gone.

“You should sleep,” she said, softly. She rose and took his hand, drawing him to his feet and tucking an arm around his waist, leading him to the bedroom. She sat him down, helping him unbutton his shirt, pausing as she reached the hilt of his trousers.

“There’s… there’s pyjamas and things in the wardrobe,” she said. “I can get them for you?”

Sebastian didn’t answer, his eyes dragging with tiredness, but his hand snared hers as she rose.

“Stay?” he rasped. “Please?”

It took every ounce of her self-control to refuse.

“You’ll be alright,” she said. “You’re safe here, Bassy.”

His throat worked a moment, and he nodded, his hand sliding from her grip. Dracaena returned to the living room, setting the dinner things to wash and settling down on the sofa, conjuring a blanket and removing her clothes, lying down in just her underthings.

Ominis was on her mind as she settled to sleep, wishing he was here with her. She longed to feel his elegant arms around her, to reassure her, to comfort her as she wept silently for all the pain their dearest friend had endured.

_.-~*~-._

Dracaena work to darkness and agonised, desperate screams.

She bolted from the sofa, her heart in her throat as she tore towards the sound, her mind conjuring horrors beyond mortal imagining as she burst into the bedroom. Sebastian was huddled in a corner, his arms splayed against the walls, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes wild as he tried to press himself through the brick and plaster, cowering away from something she couldn’t see.

“Sebastian!” she dashed over, grabbing for his shoulders, and he lashed out, howling, the side of his hand connecting with her temple, and she saw stars. Shaking herself, she grabbed for him again as he fought against her, yelling wordlessly. “Sebastian, it’s me! It’s alright! Calm down, please!”

He pushed back against the wall, soft, keening sounds wrenching from his throat, his eyes unseeing as she wrapped her arms around him, gasping comforting words into his ear. Eventually, his arms rose to encircle her, burying his face in her shoulder and weeping helplessly.

“It’s alright…” she murmured. “It’s alright, darling. There’s nothing here that can hurt you. You’re safe.”

Sebastian just cried, clinging to her as she settled on his thighs, wishing she could hold him tighter, wishing she had more arms to wrap around him, to hold him more securely than she could, her hand circling over his back, the other wound into his hair as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“It was just a nightmare, darling,” she murmured. “That’s all. Nothing more. You’re alright.”

It took a long time before Sebastian was able to calm down, his frightened sobs becoming whimpers, quietening to harsh breaths as he grasped at her back, shivering so hard she thought he could power a small house.

“What was it?” Dracaena asked, leaning back a little and cupping his face. “Darling, what did you see?”

He shook his head, his face tear-stained, pulling her back to him and resting his head against her shoulder again.

“I-I’m… sorry,” he managed.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “Bassy, I’ve no idea what you’ve been through, but I’m here to help you. Tell me what you need.”

“Stay… with me,” he whimpered, holding her as tight as he could, though the strength of his arms was little more than strands of silk. “Please, Drac… Don’t leave me alone.”

With a muted nod, she tucked her hands under his arms again, levering him upright and guiding him to the bed, laying him down and tucking him in, before settling atop the covers. Sebastian turned over, his arm looping over her side.

“Will… you be… warm enough?” he whispered.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Get some rest, love, I’ll be right here.”

“Come under,” he insisted, snuggling closer to her. “Please, Drac. I… I haven’t touched… another person in… years. I… I-I need to be close… to you.”

She hesitated, and Sebastian huddled up to her, his hands tight at her back, his skin fire against hers.

“Drac… I-I’m sorry, I-I know you’re… with Ominis, I don’t want… to upset you… or spoil that. I-I just need… to be close to you… please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Setting her jaw, Dracaena slid under the covers, wrapping her arms around him as he snuggled into her, his head against her collarbone, his body pressed to hers, almost as though he needed to become a part of her, to meld his flesh with hers, the pads of his fingers digging into her back.

She held him tight as he shivered, wishing she could take the pain he suffered and draw it into herself to shield him from the horrors he had endured. But she couldn’t. She could only lie there, holding him, stroking his hair as he pressed his face between her breasts, his skeletal frame wracked with shudders as guilt seared through every fibre of her being. She pulled him closer, and he groaned softly.

Dracaena couldn’t ignore the hardness that pressed against her, as much as she wanted to. Despite Ominis’ assurances, she needed to be strong, to show him she cared for Sebastian as more than just a vessel for carnal pleasure. She didn’t need that. As she was with Ominis, her own bliss mattered less than that of her partner, her delight being in when she brought him to the edge of paradise and sent him over, soaring on clouds of ecstasy. Would it be so wrong to gift the same to Sebastian, when her fiancée had condoned it?

Sebastian groaned softly, the tip of his erection nudging against the soft flesh of her abdomen, straining against his pyjamas. He nuzzled against her breasts, only the thin lace separating their skin. Dracaena drew a soft breath. No matter her concerns, perhaps this was what he needed. Had she not vowed to care for him, no matter what he needed? Her hand slid over his side, over the ridges of his ribs, gliding over the hollow between them and his hip, coming to rest on the sharp protrusion of bone. Sebastian whimpered softly, tilting his body towards her hand.

“Are you sure?” she breathed. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes…” he whispered, the word ragged, forged from a throat too unused to speaking. “Please…”

Still she hesitated, preferring to caress his body, worried that it would be too much for him, worried that no matter his assurances, Ominis would be hurt if she allowed herself to indulge, but Sebastian clung to her, the little strength he had poured into pulling her closer.

“Drac…” he whined softly, writhing against her as her hand sculpted over his chest and stomach. “Please, Drac… please, make me feel human again. Please, please touch me… please… I’ll do anything… I just… I need to feel alive again.”

And hell, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to make him feel good after everything he’d been through. She cupped his cheek, turning his face to hers, pressing her lips to his with a softness akin to featherdown and satin. But he responded with fire and fury, his hand clamping against the back of her head, pressing her close as his lips worked magic over hers, scattering the last of her restraint as she wrenched him to her.

His breath came in sharp gasps as she pushed his clothing aside, her hand dipping down to caress the length of him. He tensed, a low moan rising from his throat as she graced her hand along him, before his grip at her back tightened, and he flexed his hips, thrusting into her palm, each movement accompanied by a gasp.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Make me feel good, make me feel right… make me feel real, Drac, please.”

Dracaena sealed her lips to his, drawing his breath into her and sending it back as heaven and light, her hand gliding along his throbbing length, her movements careful and controlled. Sebastian loosed a long, deep moan that seemed to rise from the bottom of his lungs, as if such a sound had been too long caged and finally set free. He sank back to the pillows, his limited strength seemingly spent, his eyes rolling back as his lashes fluttered, and she favoured him with kisses that peppered his face and chased over his neck, pausing only at his chest to swipe her tongue over his nipple. Sebastian groaned, his head rolling from side to side, one hand at her shoulder, the slight pressure increasing as she kissed down his taut stomach.

She could take him any way she wanted. She could pin him down and ravage him until he forgot his own name, she could bend him backward and bury his delicious cock in her throat, she could even turn him over and work a magic inside him that she was certain too few wizards had ever had the fortune to experience. But Dracaena bore down on her desires. Too much could break him. There would be months, years, perhaps, in which she could show him all the wonders she had learned since being with Ominis. She could show Ominis what she learned from Sebastian. She could learn from them both, together, but only if she treated them right.

Sebastian moaned like a starved whore when she flicked her tongue over the flushed head of his cock, his head pressing back into the pillows, his free hand grasping a fistful of the sheets as she slowly kissed along his length. She tucked a hand under his hips as she nuzzled the inside of his thighs, taking a moment to savour the desperate sounds pushed up from the depths of his being, the hand at her shoulder moving to the back of her head, his grip weak but insistent.

She couldn’t deny him any longer. Dracaena flattened her tongue against him and drew it slowly to the tip, already weeping with slick, crystal fluid, his ribs expanding and contracting with each rapid, short breath, his stomach hollowing as his hips bucked towards her. Her free hand found his, and she laced their fingers together as she took him into her mouth at last.

Seven years of longing couldn’t have prepared her for the feel of him against her lips, sliding over her tongue, invading her throat, the deliciousness of his fevered skin, the subtle, peppered tang of his love so similar and yet so different to the gentle salt and sugar of her Ominis. Sebastian’s back arched, his legs falling apart, his hand winding into her hair as his grip on her hand trembled, his thighs beginning to quiver as she flicked her tongue over the underside of his head, so sensitive after so many years of neglect, his voice a wordless song of ecstasy. She sealed her lips and drew them along his shaft, rewarded by a series of frantic moans that rose in fever and pitch. She wanted to pull back, to slow down, to make him wait, the dominant side of her fighting for control, but even she was not that cruel. Instead she bobbed her head faster and faster, lashing her tongue against him until he all but screamed, his hips rising from the bed as his back arched in a curve Fibonacci would be envious of, the beautiful, creamy thickness of his passion coating the cavern of her mouth.

Dracaena drained him of every drop as if her life depended on it, relishing the way he quivered and whined, his body tensing and relaxing with each new flick of her tongue until she raised her head at last, his pale, freckled skin flushed a gorgeous rose, an arm draped across his forehead. She slid up his body to lie beside him, brushing his hair back and wrapping her arms around him as he curled into her, panting.

“You okay?” she breathed, and he huffed a breathless laugh.

“If… if I’d have known… if I had to go… to Azkaban for that…” he nuzzled into her. “I’d have… gone… long ago.”

Dracaena chuckled softly, winding her hand through his hair as he relaxed against her.

“Drac,” he murmured. “I… should have… told you. Back then… I should have said…”

“Shh,” she whispered. “You need to sleep, love.”

“I know,” he replied, already drifting. “But… I should have said… I love you, Drac. I… I always have.”

She held him close.

“I love you too,” she breathed as he slipped into sleep. “Forever and always, I love you.”

Masterlist

Part 2

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Six

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4511

Warnings: 18+ Blog; mentions of food and drinks, unwanted touching, self doubt, pining, two dumb dumbs navigating fEeLiNgS, reader has a nickname but has zero descriptive features, fluff, like always please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

A/N: This chapter!! I think it’s just been a week for me, dealing with minimal sleep and a teething babe— I was near giving up on it. But, it’s done! Wrote out a good portion of it and then hated it so I rewrote it and then ending up going in a completely different direction— but I like where it ended up going. Thanks again for all the love and kind words on this series!! Only 4 more chapters to go!! Adding: Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for beta’ing this labor of love and all her support and help as I write this!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

An endless loop of vivid thoughts frequent your weary mind— starting early in the morning and well into the evening. 

Dieter, his stupid handsome face and the way he has you falling for him, your brain in a constant flustered state. 

You keep mulling over the possibilities of allowing yourself to be vulnerable, open to the idea of something growing between you and Dieter. 

Each alternative has its advantages and risks. 

Leaning into your feelings and granting Dieter access to the thing you’ve spent years guarding, trusting that he will stand alongside you as you fully open your heart to a chance at a future together. 

But what if he doesn’t want the same things as you?? You contemplate if settling for just his friendship is enough, never pursuing the growing connection between you, accepting him in your life but always at an arm's length. 

Dieter’s impending departure has you a mess, your growing feelings for him only making it worse. 

“Are you still there sweetheart?” 

“Yeah— Sorry Mom, I’m still here.” You assured her, finishing up the rest of your makeup as you get yourself ready for the Capri Hotel’s big event. 

“You sound so far away. What’s bothering you?” 

“Ugh. I don’t even know where to begin Mom. None of it’s really all that bad, just a lot at once I guess.”

“Well, I’m here to listen if you need to get it off your chest.” 

Moments like these, you wished she lived closer, missing your kitchen conversations at the end of a long day. No matter how depleted she was after work, she made dinner with a smile and sat for as long as you needed her to, her shoulders always carrying the weight of your heart when needed. 

“Just trying to keep it together most days. School has been busy, end of year things have me drained. Then there’s the whole gallery thing, it has me stressed I won’t be ready for the showing. I’ve finally managed to get a chunk of my pieces painted and prepped— I have like 5 more to do. And I’m sad it’s closing, I only have a few classes left there.” You pause for a moment, you hadn’t intended on an emotional dump when you called your Mom, just wanted to check in and say hello. “It’s all good things though, so I don’t even know why it feels overwhelming, I guess I feel like I’m going to let someone down somewhere along the way.”

“Hmm. Well, I know how hard you are on yourself, but I also know how hard you work— especially when it involves all the things you love. You’re going to get through it all! I believe in you.”

Her voice feels like a warm embrace as it drifts through your phone, the stress already feeling like it has lifted a bit with her reassurance. 

“So, how are things with your guy? Any new things on that front?”

“Well, he’s not my guy.” Chuckling at her abruptness. “I feel like we’re in a good place now— he feels like a close friend that I’ve known my whole life. And the more time we spend together, the more I—“

“The more you what?”

“I don’t even know, Mom. Like there’s these things he does, I don’t know if he’s just being nice or what, but he does these little things that make me so happy. He brings me coffee in the mornings when he drops his niece off at school, leaves little notes for me on the cups— I save them Mom, I have a stack of these coffee cups in my kitchen.”

You hear a muffled hum, her signal that she’s already preparing her response to what you have to share, but allowing you to continue. 

“He came to one of my classes, and you know what he did? He painted a portrait of me— who does that?! And now, we text each other all the time and I can’t stop smiling when his name pops up on my phone, because I can’t stop thinking of him. Then he gave me this cute nickname that makes my insides turn to goo any time he says it and I— I…”

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah— I do.”

*

The air is dry, heat waves dancing across the scorching cement, an array of popular songs blaring from the DJ booth situated on the green lawn adjacent to the hotel’s pool deck. 

The re-grand opening celebration of The Capri in full effect. 

The hotel had been drawing in plenty of guests after the renovation, rooms booked out regularly, a quintessential tourist destination for the small town. Its mid-century design of wood, natural tones and pops of color paired with the sleek modern aesthetic throughout the hotel’s property was beginning to be recognized by many publications, all looking to showcase the hotel’s unique style in upcoming pieces. 

The hotel’s name, big white block letter signage, sits atop the covered entryway. A parked yellow Chevy Deluxe adds to the ambiance of the building’s timeless look. 

Giant palm trees and tropical-esque plants in terracotta pots decorate the grounds of the hotel. Small gardens with intimate seating had been strategically placed for optimal usage. A large lawn space in the back was draped in string lighting and had the perfect view of daily sunsets. The pool itself was a perfect backdrop for a day of relaxing, vintage woven lawn chairs and oversized umbrellas lined each side of the large pool surrounded by lush greenery. 

Dieter was able to snag a chair early on, perks of knowing the hotel owner, the umbrella shade blocking enough of the sun to make the extremely warm weather bearable. 

He’s trying his best to enjoy himself, knowing he’s doing Diem a favor keeping an eye on Wren while she’s running around doing her hotel-party hostess duties, but the growing crowd of guests and invitees feel more overwhelming, reminding him of the elaborate Hollywood parties he’s attended. 

Only a few people have stopped to ask for autographs or pictures, slightly surprised there’s still a fan base that has an interest in him these days. 

“How come they don’t want me to sign their papers? I know how to write my name too!” Wren, her voice tinged with a pouty tone, says from where she’s lounging on her chair next to him. 

“I don’t know, Birdie. Next time, you can sign your name too, seems only fair.”

“Okay. I can draw a heart for them too.”

Wren, satisfied with the compromise, goes back to sipping on her iced lemonade and watching one of her shows on her iPad, zero interest in what's going on around her. 

“How’s she doing?” Diem asks as she sits on the edge of the Wren’s chair, placing another lemonade on the small accent table between the two of them. 

“She’s good, wanted to take a break from swimming for a bit. You, umm— hear from Poppy yet?” 

“Why? You finally going to tell her you’ve got it bad for her??” 

Grateful his sunglasses are dark enough to block the eye roll intended for Diem, he glances over to see Wren still absorbed into her show then back to Diem and whispering a low -fuck off- accompanied with a playful middle finger. 

“She texted me a bit ago, said she was running late, but would be here soon— Oh! Speak of the devil, look who just arrived. I’m going to go say hi and I’ll send her over so you can tell her how much you’ve missed her.” Diem’s menacing voice earns her another middle finger from Dieter, leaving him to greet you properly. 

Dieter catches sight of you weaving through the pack of bodies meandering around the pool, taking in how your face lights up the minute you see Diem welcoming you with a hug, both of you embracing each other as if you hadn'tnd just hung out days prior. 

He’s seen you in your casual clothes outside of school before. Usually a pair of favorite jeans and t-shirt, a sundress sprinkled in on warmer days, but something about seeing you in a bathing suit and shorts has his brain short-circuiting almost instantly. 

Tilting his head forward, his pointer finger pulling his sunglasses slowly down the bridge of his nose. He’s completely taken aback, mesmerized by you, noting every little detail—  your captivating features that make him absolutely weak, every delicate curve so perfectly placed, each flaw you try so hard to hide merely a perfect addition to your allurement. 

The second you and Diem turn in his direction, he’s shaken out of his trance, trying to focus on anything to make his blatant staring seem less obvious. 

“I see an open chair next to Dieter, do you think he’ll mind if I hang out with them?” You point to the open space next Dieter, who is helping Wren navigate something on her iPad. 

Unfortunately, as you say it, you notice a beautiful woman sitting in the lounger you were inquiring about. You try your best to keep the tinge of jealousy concealed, the last thing you want is to draw any sort of attention to your feelings for Dieter at this time. 

“Never mind, I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to set my stuff.” There’s a subtle hint of sadness in your eyes, avoiding watching the women openly flirt with him. 

“Babe, you good?” Diem sensing the shift in your demeanor instantly. Peering back at Dieter to see the interaction he’s having with the woman, who now has her hand on his arm, caressing it as she tilts her head and openly ogles him— her fake laugh is a dead give away that she only sees Dieter for his Star Status and nothing more. 

“Yeah— y-yeah, I’m good.” Forcing a somewhat convincing smile. 

“Hey, I’ve got to go check on catering, make sure everything is running on time and then I’m going to grab Wren for her nap— the last thing I need is a 6 year old meltdown. Don’t worry about her, she doesn’t really seem like his type anyways. We’ll catch up in a bit.” Giving you another hug, letting it linger for a minute, then Diem takes off in the direction of the catering truck. 

You’re left standing there, feeling exposed and alone among a sea of strangers. Nervously scanning anywhere but in the direction of where Dieter and the woman are clearly flirting. You contemplate what an appropriate amount of time to spend here would be, before slipping out unnoticed. 

It reminds of you showing up to a middle school dance, dressed in the new fancy dress you picked out for the special occasion in hopes of seeing the cute boy, who’s name you spent most of the school year scribbling in your notebooks. Only to walk into the dimly lit and poorly decorated gymnasium to see he is with the head cheerleader and they’re both making heart eyes at each in the middle of the dance floor. 

Part of you wants to shrink into the shadows of the crowd, ruminate over the signals you read completely wrong this whole time. Dieter was just being nice, friendly— at no fault of his. You blame yourself for thinking he might have some interest in you, reading into the little details and thinking that you were even his type— clearly far from it. 

An up tempo song blasts through the speakers, amping the tone of the party up and pulling you out of your brief moment of sulking. 

Friends. Just friends. Dieter and you are friends and that has to be enough for you. 

You head in the direction of the open bar, hoping an ice cold beverage will help unburden your angsty thoughts. 

“We should hang out sometime!” Dieter cringes at the advances this random woman keeps making towards him. 

If this wasn’t his sisters hotel, he’d probably wouldn’t feel bad in being harsh and telling this woman to fuck right off. But he doesn’t want to cause a scene, not knowing how she would react to his rejection. 

“Umm, I don’t know— I’ve got a lot going on right now.” Let her down easy. 

“Oh come on! You’re not doing anything, you just got out of rehab— and they’ve got you trapped in this boring town too. I’m sure we could find something fun to do together. I know a few parties are happening in WeHo coming up, I can make a few calls— get some treats to liven things up.” Her hand still fondling his arm. 

He winces at her crass comment, a reminder of why he chose to escape the acrimonious world of Hollywood. 

He doesn’t have a single regret about being here in Ojai either, he enjoys its simplicity and is starting to feel like he could see himself here long term. 

“Look, I’m sure you're nice and all— but I’m not interested.” 

“Okay, well we can do something else then. How about we go back to my room, I’m staying here.” Wiggling her hotel key between her fingers. 

She’s clearly not grasping at the obvious hint Dieter is giving her. 

“No, I’m not interested in your room or you.” He says politely, grabbing her hand and removing it from his arm. 

“What do you mean?!”

“He has a girlfriend, lady!” Wren piped up in Dieter’s defense. 

“Wait! You have a kid? And a girlfriend?”

“No— to both things.” 

“God, rehab made you so fucking boring.” She scoffed, offended by his sobriety and his lack of interest in her. 

“Okay, so what we’re not going to do is that, my niece is right here. You can go now.” 

She didn’t hesitate at his request, grabbing her things and walking away— pretending to be unbothered by the rejection. 

“Sorry about that Birdie. Some people are just—“

“Weird!”

“Yeah, weird. Hey, Birdie?”

“Yeah.”

“I know you think Poppy is— she’s not my girlfriend, we’re just friends. So, let’s maybe not call her that anymore okay?” Although, he likes the way the two words mix together in the same sentence. 

He worries it’s going to slip in your presence, he knows wren means no harm by it, but he would hate for you to feel uncomfortable if you ever were to hear her say it. 

“Mhmm.” Her non-committal response earns her a laugh, fully focused on her show like nothing ever happened. 

Dieter takes in the lively atmosphere around him. Laughter emanating from the party guests gathered in small groups around the pool, a carefree crowd dancing throughout the lawn area, smiles plastered on everyone’s faces— he couldn’t be more proud of Diem and all she has accomplished. 

Readjusting the collar of his colorful half buttoned shirt, Dieter settles back into the chair, letting the sun kiss every bit of his exposed skin. 

“How are things going over here?” Diem quietly asked, pulling Dieter from his ruminative thoughts. 

Diem scoots Wren’s listless legs over to allow room for her to sit down, leaning over she grabs the device from her tiny sleepy hands, Wren’s little head nodding as she struggles to keep her drowsy eyes open. 

“No complaints, looks like you had a good turnout. I’m really proud of you Diem, not just all of this,” His hand pointing around to her accomplishments on display in the form of a successfully running hotel and her well executed re-grand opening festivities. “But with Wren too. I’m glad that I got this chance to be with you both.”

“Don’t go getting all sappy on me—“ Her voice wobbly and soft as she beams at his acknowledgment of her dedication to her work and Wren. “Thank you. And I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without your help.”

Dieter nods, mirroring her heartfelt gratitude. 

“Have you seen Poppy? I saw you both talking earlier.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate, wanting to know your whereabouts, if you’re okay and why you’re not here— with him. 

“She didn’t make it over?” His brows draw together, shaking his head slightly. Her nose wrinkled at the realization of why you hadn’t come over. 

“What?” 

“She saw you and your— little friend earlier, I don’t know for sure, but she seemed somewhat saddened by it. I’m surprised she didn’t come over though.” 

“Shit! I gotta go. You good with her.” He stands abruptly, an unnerving feeling creeping up from his chest, hoping you didn’t mistake what you saw for anything but an awkward fan interaction. 

“Yeah, go. I’m going to go put her down in my office.” Scooping up Wren’s sleeping frame. “Dieter?” 

He turns back to her calling his name, hands flexing at his side, a nervous tick of his, as he waits for what Diem has to add. 

“You should tell her.” 

He’s not sure why it’s so difficult to find someone in a somewhat enclosed area. His eyes scanning every ecstatic face as he sidesteps through conversations anchored in effervescent exuberance, a stark contrast from his growing collection of spiraling thoughts. 

If he could just find you, explain the situation to you in its entirety. 

Explain how he truly feels. 

How you'rer his first thought when he wakes in the morning, the giddy anticipation of seeing how beholden you are as he hands you the coffee he picks up from the bakery Wren and him stop at before school, how he takes in the way you tilt your head just enough to read the ridiculous notes he scribbles on the sides of each cup, “Have a Brewtiful Day!” “Better latte than never.”—each one extracting the most intoxicating laugh. 

How he looks forward to seeing your face light up at his stupid jokes, never once admitting how horrible you think they are. 

How you’re an added reason for him to want to be sober, never wanting to be on the receiving end of your disappointment in him. He wants that rewarding experience of seeing how proud you are of him. 

And how he wants nothing more than to have you in his arms— morning, noon and night, keeping you as close as he possibly can, terrified that you’ll disappear the moment he lets you go. 

His world seems to come to a standstill, everything he had been working up the courage to tell you, drained from his mind instantly. 

Utterly shattered by the sight of you. 

That smile of yours, paired with a full body laugh, directed at the man standing next to you. Your hand holding the top of his oversized bulging bicep as his large hand gently cups your elbow, leaning into each other as you both exchange words. 

A reality he hadn’t even considered in the time he spent looking for you— you being happy with someone who isn’t him. 

Crushed. 

Confused. 

Broken. 

It’s a dizzying sensation. A chance lost— or so he thinks. 

Rubbing his hands against his shorts, removing the evidence of his anxious response to seeing you wrapped up in what looked like an intimate conversation, his head still in a fogged state of shock. 

He manages to will his body to move from where he’s been standing. His jaw ticks anxiously, surrounded by bodies dancing around his blurry peripherals. Releasing a deep sigh, he looks back to you once more, looking for what he hopes is closure. 

Instead, he catches the moment the man you’d been friendly with, gesturing a goodbye as he retreats from the space he’d been sharing with you. 

Dieter watches the way your expression morphs from bright and bubbly to soft and muted the minute you're alone, leaning against the cocktail table with your face tucked into your shoulder, closing yourself off from everything and everyone. 

“Mind if I join you?” Dieter calmly approaches you, still holding on to the single thread of hope that he didn’t lose his chance. 

“Hey! Of course you can.” Your face instantly lights up at the sight of him, patting the open spot on the table, genuinely welcoming him to be with you. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” 

“What do you mean?” A line appears between your brows, shifting your body to fully face him with one arm still draped over the table top, your fingers casually drawing shapes onto the silky thin table cloth. 

“The guy, I saw you talking to him— looks like he works out, a lot— the man is very hot.” Words fumbling out of his mouth, as he points back in the direction he thinks he saw the muscular guy head in. “I just mean, I don’t want to interrupt if there’s something potentially happening there.”

Your lips pressed together in an attempt to fight off the urge to laugh. 

“What?”

“There was nothing happening there, like at all. That was Dan, he’s a good friend and he comes to classes at the gallery. I’d offer to introduce you two, since you think he’s so hot, but he just got back from his honeymoon— with his equally hot husband. We were just catching up.” 

Dieter winces at your explanation of who the man was, feeling like an idiot for so foolishly assuming you were falling for the guy. 

“Besides, he’s not really my type.” You state boldly with your head cocked to the side, one eye squinting to block the sun rays as you take stock of the way the sunlight tangles in his hair. 

“Where’s your friend from earlier? She was really pretty. You both really seem to be hitting it off earlier.” Keeping your tone neutral, looking down at where your fingers are now pulling at a loose thread on the tablecloth, preparing yourself for how his response is definitely going to wreck you. 

His hand settles next to yours, his fingers nervously tapping onto the hard surface. 

“Actually, I have no clue who she was— didn’t even ask for her name, didn’t want to know it either. Sure, she was pretty and maybe in different circumstances I might have been interested in her… She was pissed though when I turned her down, I actually had to tell her to leave.”

“Really— Why?” Your attention drawn back up to where he’s still studying you, his brown eyes locked with yours, now etched in a glistening golden light from the setting sun. 

He lifted his shoulders in a gentle shrug, taking a deep breath as he looked at you, “She just isn’t who I’m interested in.” 

When you think back to when you were growing up, constantly daydreaming about what it would feel like the moment you realized you were in love, and if it would feel as good to have that same feeling reciprocated back to you, by someone who wholeheartedly felt the same way. 

You decide that this is that moment, and it’s even better than you imagined it would be. 

Dieter’s eyes drift over to the table, his hand slowly inching closer to yours, the light brush of his fingers over the top of your hand is electric, your breath catching as he begins to intertwine his fingers with yours. 

His thumb, tender as it slowly smooths over the ridges of your hand, glancing back to you to make sure that there’s no sign of discomfort in your face— you squeeze your fingers, a silent ‘I’m more than okay with this’. 

A breeze picks up, his hair tousling around as it blows through where you both are standing. You lift your free hand to swipe the hanging curls out of his face, your fingers taking liberty to rake through his downy hair, each curl bouncing back into place. 

“What’s your type then?” It’s menacing the way his husky voice cuts through the steady silence, encouraging you to share with him. 

“Hmm…Tall, funny, sweet, driven, pretty— like really fucking pretty. Also has to answer to Uncle Dude in the presence of a sweet little 6 year old. Know of anyone who might fit that description?”

He nods along as you list off each quality, his eyes lighting up at mentioning good-looking. 

“That’s quite the list.” He quips, your breathy laugh prompting a lopsided grin from him. “So— pretty, huh?”

“Yeah— really fucking pretty.” Your words are drawn out in a sincere manner, noting the way his eyes crinkle a little at the compliment. 

Dieter’s hand nestles at the base of your neck, drawing your body closer to him. His touch potent and satisfying, as he commits to memory the way your skin feels beneath his fingertips, gliding them down your bare spine leaving goosebumps in their wake— his gaze never leaving yours. 

“You’re interested in someone?” The answer seems obvious, but you want to hear it from him. 

“Poppy, you gotta know it’s you—“ He utters earnestly with both of his hands now cupping your cheeks, watching the way your lips part as he leans in closer. “I lo— like you so fucking much Poppy, you’re the only one I’m interested in.”

The way he started to say that he loves you, it feels like you might float away, anchoring your hands on his wrists. Everything tingles in your stomach, he’s so close, his breath fanning over your lips. Your lashes flutter as he slowly angles your face, his nose brushing against yours. 

It’s a whirlwind of energy drifting between both of you, building intensity with each passing second, the finality of the moment bound to be explosive. 

Tiny hairs of his mustache grazing the underside of your nose. The top of his lip begins to settle over yours, it’s pillowy weight slowly meeting your—

*RING RING RING*

“Fuck!” The word vibrates across your upper lip at the vexing sound of Dieter’s phone ringing, offensively interrupting the flow of your almost kiss and urging him to answer it. 

“I swear, if that’s Diem—“ A picture of Diem and Wren lights up the phone screen, his thumb swiping across to accept the call, he stands to his full height as he presses the device to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?… Okay… Yeah…Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute then… Love you too, bye.” Dieter ends the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket. 

The entire phone conversation, his focus remains on you. His free hand never leaves the side of your face, thumb stoking across the warmed apple of your cheek—Your hand still holding on to him, the cadence of his heart-rate is rapid against your palm. 

“Diem?” 

“Yeah, she said Wren wanted to go home. She has to stay for another hour or two, make sure things close out here before she can head home.” He explains, zero annoyance detected in his face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m perfect.” You say  softly, an airy smile spreading across your face. “What do we do now?”

Dieter takes in your question, so many answers floating around in his mind, but none of them feel sufficient enough at this moment, wanting to properly share everything he’s been feeling without being rushed or interrupted. 

He leans back into your space, his lips pressing a chaste kiss between your brows before resting his forehead against yours. 

“We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Next

[wonipeun]

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༉‧₊˚ enhypen's favorite types of kisses !

pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!reader | genre: fluffy fluff!! warnings: lots of kisses!!! (again, lmk if there's more!)

a/n: omg, still can't believe all the support the first post has received, thank you so much to all of you who have liked, reblogged or just read and enjoyed it! i hope you like this one as well! (please let me know if there are any spelling mistakes!)

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이희승 · lee heeseung ‧₊˚

nape kisses. heeseung loves to kiss you with all his heart, but at the same time he is a bit shy… that's why if he catches you cleaning the dishes or doing something in the kitchen be sure he will approach you from behind, wrap his arms around your waist and leave a little kiss on the back of your neck, this way you won't be able to see his flustered smile!

he will most likely then lean his head on your shoulder and ask you if you need help with anything so you won't notice how nervous he is!!

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박종성 · park jongseong ೀ

hand kisses. park jay the most romantic wbk!!! your hands are almost always intertwined, so jay often takes the opportunity to leave a kiss on the back of your hand at random times, whether it's watching a movie at home or walking together in the park.

the same thing happens when you have dinner together in a restaurant: you are talking about any subject while resting your hand on his on the table, his thumb caressing your fingers. his gaze is fixed on you while you talk to him when suddenly he brings your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on your knuckles without breaking eye contact for a single moment.

and then he dares to ask "what's wrong?" when you stop talking looking at him all smitten!!!

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심재윤 · sim jaeyun ˖ ࣪ ⭑

neck kisses. okay listen, there's a reason for this. you and jake have a lot of cuddle sessions, like- you spend the day cuddling until it's gotten to a point where it's hard to see you two apart. that's why, somehow, you always end up hiding your head in the crook of his neck and leaving little pecks on his soft skin.

and he? he loves it. the feel of your lips on his neck always sends shivers all over his body (in the best possible way). it happens so often, but it always manages to make him all shy and a bit flushed!

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박성훈 · park sunghoon ⊹ ࣪

pecks. simple kisses that always manage to make him nervous! sunghoon would never say it out loud, but he loves to be kissed by you. when you leave short kisses on his lips, cheeks or literally anywhere he feels in heaven! try to leave a peck on his lips after making eye contact for a few seconds… it will be the end of him!

there are even times that if you kiss him repeatedly, the moment you stop he'll look at you with that "why are you stopping?" puppy eyes, although he'll probably say something more like "are you so in love with me that you need to kiss me that much?" (this guy istg-).

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김선우 · kim sunoo ౨ৎㅤ۫ ㅤ֪

all of them. he just wants you to kiss him, no matter where, how or when. you make eye contact from across the room? sunoo is already on his way to kiss you because- how dare you to look at him and not kiss him? he really doesn't care much about the type of kiss as long as your lips are on him!

although it is true that he has a weakness for sudden kisses on the tip of his nose. especially because you always do it without warning, leaving him all giggly and embarrassed "y/nnnnn, don't do this to me, my heart can't take it!" (a little cringey but it's ok bc it's sunoo).

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양정원 · yang jungwon ׅ ࣪ ✧

cheek kisses. especially the ones you give when you want to thank him for something. jungwon is a very kind person, especially because he knows that the moment he does something for you you will reward him with his favorite kisses! (or he hopes so, because otherwise i assure you that he will stare at you for several seconds like "where's my kiss?")

usually you are the one who gives him this kind of kisses, although there are times when he stares at you and simply cannot control his impulses so he ends up leaving a small kiss on your cheek, smiling at you with that eye smile of his, fonding over you.

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にしむら りき · nishimura riki ♡  

forehead kisses. very rare kisses in your relationship but that you both love more than anything else! they usually happen when one of you is feeling down… it's like your personal way of comforting each other. although they also happen in a playful way, when you literally grab his head and plant a kiss on his forehead, making him laugh at the aggressive way you had of doing such a sweet thing.

ni-ki loves it when you kiss his forehead because despite his 6 feet height it always makes him feel small, completely loved and cared by you!!! (although you will never hear him say it out loud… /sigh).

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ㅤㅤㅤ©wonipeun 2022 | ㅤall rights reserved.

[salty-croissants]

m a y b e a bullfrog (or ray I don’t mind) with a FtM partner ? :3

Thank you for the request !

I gotta say I was a bit nervous about this one , this is the first ever FtM reader I’ve ever written … I really hope I got it right :,I

Details : use of FtM reader ( he/him pronouns are used ) ;

established relationships ;

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

Okay , so three words : supportive frog boyfriend .

Bullfrog is the biggest sweetheart and he is going to support any decision you make regarding your identity . 

He is going to love you no matter what , nothing is ever going to change that ❤️

If your hair ever gets too long for your comfort , Bullfrog will be more than happy to help you with it since I think he’d be pretty good at those aesthetic related things …

Plus it’s just very relaxing to feel his gentle touch on your head as he takes care of you …

< Thanks sweetie, I really appreciate it ~

 I would’ve cut it myself , but you remember how it went last time , haha … > 

 < No need to thank me mon amour : you can always count on me . >

He definitely takes your preferences with pronouns and names very seriously , and if someone were to make you uncomfortable by not respecting them or saying something bad to you in general Bullfrog will definitely react accordingly : he may not be in favor of vengeance , but he won’t allow anyone to make his beloved upset , and he can be very … 

Persuasive . 

< Alright sir … I need you to listen to me , because I will not repeat myself .

Unless you start treating my y/n with the respect he deserves I’m afraid I can’t let you be near him . > 

< Hah , and why would I be scared of … of …

Is that a … knife … ? > 

< Oui , and I assure you it would be quite a shame to … go down this path . 

I hope I’ve made myself clear . > 

< Haha , yep ! Yeah , we’re clear , crystal clear !! > 

Rayman 🧡

Rayman is just so proud of you for finding an identity that fits with who you want to be , and much like Bullfrog he is incredibly supportive of any choice you make .

I also believe that since he spent his whole life being cast out for who he was and what he looked like , he would definitely shower you with love and compliments to let you know that he accepts and loves the person that you’ve become . 

< y/n … ? Have I told you how beautiful you are today ? > 

< Hehe , you did , three times I think … but I won’t mind if you tell me again ~ > 

< I just can’t help it , darling … when I look at you , I just can’t believe I got so lucky , y’know ? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me … I really mean that . > 

< Aw Ray … I love you so much ~ > 

If you need to use binders ? Rayman is going to make sure that you have the most comfortable ones he can find , discussing all the details with you to get something that works the best for you : 

he just can’t stand the idea of his y/n hurting in any way , shape or form , and he wants to do his best to actively help you somehow . 

< You okay honey ? Does it feel alright ? > 

< Mhm , yeah ! Thanks again for helping me pick it Ray , this one fits so well ! > 

Despite his very friendly and cheerful demeanor around other people , if somebody ever were to say something mean spirited about you … 

Boy , he’s going to be pissed .

< Uh , excuse me … ? What was that about my partner ? 

How about you leave him the hell alone ? > 

Rayman is definitely very protective of you , and he’ll do anything to keep you safe , even if it means risking to damage his reputation as Eden’s voice …

You’re far more important to him than any of those things after all .

Ramon 🖤

Remember what I said about Rayman being protective of you ? 

Well , now this man will go absolutely feral if anyone dares to even remotely touch you or say something bad to you .

You’re precious to him beyond any measure or logic , and this means that Ramon will often be quite careless about himself if it means keeping you safe …

< Ram , what was that ?? Those guys could’ve killed you ! > 

< It’s fine … I’m … okay . > 

< No you aren’t , you’re bleeding . 

I can handle those kinds of comments , I’ve dealt with them before , you know that … 

I don’t want you to throw yourself at dangerous situations for me , isn’t that what you always tell me not to do ? > 

< That’s different … hiss - > 

< Careful , don’t move around too much … that’s a deep cut , we need to patch it up right away . > 

< … thanks y/n … sorry about that . I just - when I heard them call you those terrible names , I couldn’t just … >

< It’s okay sweetie , just take it easy … I’ll take care of you , now and always . > 

Sometimes you like to surprise Ramon by wearing his clothes ( even though they’re often a bit small ) , especially his coat , and the way he smiles while staring at you never fails to make your heart skip a beat …

You really are the only reason for happiness he has left . 

< Heh … what are you doing ? > 

< Well it was getting a bit cold , and your coat was right there , soo … I thought I’d try it on for a little while ~

I can take it off if you want though - > 

< No no , you can keep it … looks good on you , love ~ > 

Overall , Ramon will do all he can to make you see how much he cares about you and that he really can’t live without you in his life :

expect lots of physical affection , which also includes gentle caresses and kisses on your scars ( only if you’re okay with it of course ) … anything he can do to make you feel appreciated ? He’ll do it .

< God , you’re so pretty , y/n … I wish we could stay like this forever … > 

[amberbeach]

'THE RED RANGER'

gif belongs to me

Jason searched the school for you while the other Rangers headed to face off against Rita's latest monster. You were heading down the stairs when he found you and you knew instantly from his expression of regret that another date was about to be cancelled. That made it four in a row.

You listened as he claimed to have another emergency, and promising to make it up to you, and as you watched the man you love lie, you felt your anger reach a boiling point and your heart shatter.

"Don't bother." You walked by him and Jason called out to you as you headed down the hallway, sighing when you ignored him. Alpha warned him that the others were struggling without him and he knew he had to choose, and in that split second he chose his friends, hoping he hadn't ruined his chances with you.

Little did he know that you had plans of your own. You followed him out of school to the park where the other Rangers were fighting. Your eyes widened when you saw him help the four Rangers defeat the Putties. You clutched your camera tightly, snapping pictures of the Rangers as they fought to defeat the Putties.

You had supported him during competitions so you knew when his mind was distracted and when two Putties advanced behind him, you called out to him, "Jason, look out!"

He turned, finding you standing with your camera. He took down the Putties and looked at where you stood frozen, "Run, Y/N! Run!"

You hesitated as you watched him take down another Putty and swallowed thickly when he promised to explain later, taking out his morpher. You knew from the look in his eyes that you would only serve as a distraction and the last thing you wanted was for him to get hurt. So you left, looking over your shoulder just in time to catch him morphing into the Red Ranger. You stumbled but kept on running. You had no destination in mind, however, when you realized it was best to stay away from your house, you headed to Ernie's and when he saw how frazzled you were, he brought you a shake on the house.

Almost an hour later Jason entered with his friends and you knew from their expression that they knew, you found out about their secret. Jason approached you, a tentative smile on his lips as he said, "I can explain everything, if you want me too."

You left Ernie's and walked around Angel Grove, having no particular destination in mind as he told you the story about how he and his four friends became Power Rangers and the secret they vowed to keep to Zordon. You listened intently, not asking questions and allowing him to speak freely.

You stopped walking when he took your hands, assuring you that from this moment forth he would always confide in you, never lie about 'emergencies' and you saw the fear in his eyes - his belief that you would reject him and end your relationship.

You closed your eyes, squeezing his hands as you met his gaze, "Just promise me one thing."

"Anything." He agreed instantly.

"Always come back to me."

Jason smiled, a weight lifted from his shoulders, his hands rising to your cheek, "I promise. I love you. And I will never lie to you again. From here on out, complete transparency."

You smiled softly, "I love you too."

He leaned in to kiss you passionately, wrapping his arms around your as he deepened the kiss, and you placed your hands on his cheeks, smiling against his lips.

That day you made an oath to always be truthful, honest, and always stand by one another no matter what the future had in store. Your love will always persevere.

[thoughtsforsoob]

txt - how their help their academically burnt out s/o

a/n: welcome back! this one is extremely self indulgent bc yeah. also, this is for whoever is struggling in school rn or whoever has struggled in school in the past. I wish I could confidently tell you it gets better (I’m sure it will) but I don’t feel that way at the moment. So, without further ado, enjoy this writing! Requests are also open!

warnings: discussion of depression, burnout, etc… other than that, comfort all around. Lmk if I missed something :)

yeonjun

takes such good care of you during these times. he physically had to pry you off of your desk chair for you to even listen to him. "babe! listen to me and get up off that chair! you need a break this instant!" he immediately prepares a warm bath for the both of you to enjoy, you in the tub and him on the side, helping you wash your hair and keeping you company. After, he takes your towel out of the dryer and brings it so you can dry off and he helps you do skin care and anything else you have in your routine. the best way he knows how to help is with acts of service and not as many words.

soobin

he only finds out you’re burnt out during a midnight conversation. He’s asking about school and you casually mention how you feel burnt out and like you just wanna call it quits. he was stunned by how casual you spoke of wanting to leave school behind because he always listened attentively when you spoke about how much school meant to you and how much you wanted your degree. he immediately sits up and the tone switches to something more serious. “are you sure? let’s talk about this. i just want to make sure your making the decision that’s going to make you happy.”

beomgyu

he knows that this is not the time to act silly. his usually unserious personality does a 180 when he realizes the state you’re in. at your desk, sobbing into your hands, papers and notebooks scattered about the desk and your laptop open to your current assignment. he keeps calm and walks up to you, place a gentle hand on your back. “My dear? What’s the matter?” If you allow him to, he’ll hold you throughout your whole crying session. He just wants to comfort you and help you figure out where to go from your current position. he hates to see his s/o suffer this way.

taehyun

so understanding. I feel like he is the type that if he sees you with your hands all tangled up in your hair pulling at your roots, he would gently hold your wrists before you can pull anymore and kiss your hands. "come on, my love. let's take a break? talk this out? ill make you some milk tea (or whatever your favorite drink is :)." he understands the stress of having so much pressure on your shoulder so he just does what he would want you to do for him (which you always do!) he helps you figure out the best course of action to go about dealing with burn out. if you need a break from school next semester, he won't fight you because he knows you need it. Supports you no matter what.

heuning kai

the pout on this boy's face when he finds out is unreal. he always assures you you can go up to him at any time to ask for a hug and that's exactly what you did. your face was red and puffy from crying about your last assignment and how burnt out you felt. he shows his little pout and holds you as close as possible to his chest. "my love. wanna go cuddle for a while?" please agree because this is the best way he knows how to help you. he knows he'll probably ever understand what you're going through, so he tries his best to be as sympathetic as possible.

[smileyerim]

in hell there’s heaven

He’s full of too many emotions he doesn’t know how to name, so he screams. To the owls hooting in the trees, to the moon, to God if He was listening. For the first time ever in his 25 years of living, Jaehyun has to come to terms with his emotions.

inspired by solo by frank ocean

pairing: jeong jaehyun x reader

genre: angst

length: 1k

warnings: adults smoking weed, mentions of cheating

If Jaehyun could do anything in the world right now, he would go back to 3 days ago, slap himself in the face, and call you. He wants that more than he’s ever wanted anything in your relationship, but he didn’t do that.

3 days ago Jaehyun cheated on you. 3 hours ago the guilt hit him so hard he wanted to cry, an emotion he wasn’t particularly comfortable with expressing in front of you, when you told him you were so happy he was yours. Because, yes, that’s technically true, but 2 days and 21 hours ago Jaehyun was kissing the neck of another woman, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and entering into her with far too much ease.

So 3 minutes ago he decided to tell you about his infidelity. Jaehyun never believed the “eyes are the window to the soul” bullshit until that exact moment when he saw in your eyes your heart breaking.

“I-I need a minute.” You say, walking away. You did that a lot. Insecurity built up from relationships past left you uneasy with the idea of expressing anger towards a partner. Even when you and Jaehyun fought you always conceded first, letting him win even if you were still hurt. Jaehyun knew this, and he always tried his hardest not to take advantage of it and you, always letting you know you had the space to be upset.

He didn’t say that this time, though. He knew he didn’t need to, that damn look in your eyes communicated it enough.

3 seconds of sitting alone on the couch, eyes glued to his shut bedroom door that you just locked yourself into to think, Jaehyun decides he can’t sit with these feelings.

So he doesn’t, in a manner that is just so him, he decides on taking the fresh pre-roll he bought from the dispensary earlier to share with you out to the balcony alone.

The old and derelict lawn chair squeaked concerningly as he sat down, but he doesn’t care. He takes the white lighter he bought himself as a bad luck charm out of his pocket and the joint up to his lips, flicking the lighter and burning his eyes at the flame. He takes a few puffs in, not inhaling, just to start the sweet burn. He blows softly on the cherry end to prevent it from canoeing before taking his first real drag, eyebrows scowling at the peppery taste. He hates this strain, but it was the only one that seemed to calm your anxiety, like truly mellow you out. So he sacrificed.

Jaehyun was famous at ignoring his emotions, bottling them up until they burst. No matter what he was truly feeling, he always expressed anger when he exploded. He lost a lot of relationships because of that, but you stayed, you always did. It takes a lot out of him to admit to himself that earlier today when he felt so upset he wanted to cry, he scared himself. Jaehyun doesn’t care about many things enough to want to cry over them, but suddenly at the prospect of hurting you his tear ducts sprung to life again. He thought they had shriveled up and died.

That’s one of the many things he guesses he gained from you, emotional freedom, assurance that he isn’t a waste of space and time, unconditional support in his dreams, and the gift of what he suspects is the love of his life.

He guesses that’s all gone now.

He’s torn away from his thoughts when the screen door to the balcony opens and you step out to join him. There’s a second chair out here but you don’t sit, standing and staring at your bare feet. He wants to tell you to go back inside and put on shoes before the ants bite you, but it feels like the wrong time so he doesn’t.

He chooses to just stare at you, your hair partially blocking your face as you look down still. He’s pretty stoned at this point, halfway through the joint.

He doesn’t know what to do, and time feels so very slow so he offers you the joint by moving his hand below your line of sight. He doesn’t imagine there’s a way you’ll say no to it, you know the scent. You must know it’s your favorite. You must know he bought it for you.

Unbeknownst to him, though, nothing can calm the anxiety you have right now.

“Jaehyun, I can’t do this.” You finally look at him, and the look in your eyes, those damn eyes and that damn look break his heart again. He doesn’t show it though, just pursing his lips and letting a frown settle.

“I-I can’t be with you anymore.”

He watches the tear roll down your cheek. He wants to scoff, but his heart is too broken. An unmistakable feeling of emptiness and regret fills him, a stinging pain that he tries to swallow down stays burning behind his sternum.

He’s broken. Fully, entirely, all encompassingly broken.

“Are you going to say anything?” You say.

And no, he wasn’t particularly planning on it. What is there to say? He fucked up, he knew it right after it happened and even a small part of him during it too, but there’s no going back.

He knows that not one word he could say that would convince you that he loves you more than he loves the freedom to do whatever he wants.

Now, though, he’s questioning which is a bigger priority to him.

You shake your head and scoff at him before turning, opening the screen door and leaving for the last time.

He’s full of too many emotions he doesn’t know how to name, so he screams. To the owls hooting in the trees, to the moon, to God if He was listening.

For the first time ever in his 25 years of living, Jaehyun had to come to terms with his emotions.

He fucking hated it, and he still loves you. That was the worst part.

part 2 here <3