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sinsirellaxx · 2 months

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Forgotten hero, friend and love

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Requested on AO3: Hey :😀 i habe two requests if you dont mind!

(I suck at writing plus english is not my first language)

Both are Sebastian x F!Reader with HE

First one is with a healed Anne (Solomons death ever happened) and Sebastian (and Ominis, slightly) is too focused on Anne that he kind of forget the friendship and his crush on Reader. Reader is hurt and distance herself from them. Ominis notice this and want all of them to be a quadruplets. Plus Ominis is the best wingman for the two morons 😆

A/N: This is kinda sad at the beginning. 🥲

She was happy – she truly was. It had been their mission ever since they met each other after all … but she had not expected to feel this empty, this used after succeeding. After successfully helping her best friend and first love save his twin sister. Anne was lovely – she truly was, don’t get Y/N wrong. She was elated that she could finally come back to school and join her twin and their best friend in tackling all kinds of Hogwarts related stuff. She vividly remembered the way Sebastian’s eyes had lit up before he was overcome by his emotions, running to hug his twin before lifting her up to twirl her. Y/N remembered the way their uncle had tried to hide his tearful face as he apologized for not believing Sebastian.

After this and the threat of Ranrok finally being gone – the girl had expected everything to be better, now that Sebastian’s mood had obviously improved by a million and herself did not have to worry about saving the school anymore.

They were four instead of three people now at school – and she definitely did not expect to feel this lonely. The teenage girl felt like she had been replaced – although she obviously had been a replacement for Anne … and now that she was back, there was no space for her. At least that’s how she felt as she stared at the entrance to the undercroft – her eyes blinking away the tears that were fighting their way up, trying to prove that she was more hurt by the changes than she refused to accept.

Sebastian had stood her up.

Again.

As the first tear successfully rolled down the corner of her eye, her bottom lip started wobbling.

As the first sob made its way up her throat, she slid down the wall, hugging her legs to her chest as she hid her face from the world.

As the first hour passed, she gave up completely and sat in the dark in silence.

The next day she glared at the mirror, visibly offended by the treacherous way her eyes had swollen up slightly over the night. There was a brief moment of panic as she thought about an excuse, about what she was going to tell her friends – but she highly doubted they’d notice, so her shoulders relaxed as she got ready for the day.

And just as expected: the trio hadn’t noticed – not that Ominis could even if he wanted to. Even though she knew that Sebastian forgot, there was still a slight sliver of hope that he would apologize for standing her up for the fifth time in three weeks – he didn’t. She knew he wouldn’t, but her heart still broke into a million pieces, leaving a trail behind as she followed the trio to the Great Hall.

Her eyes lifted briefly as she stared at their backs, her eyes stopping at Ominis – he had always been so sensitive to other people’s feelings. But now, even he did not notice – or care to notice that Y/N was drifting away. Y/N understood, he had known Anne for so long and the Sallows were like family to him. She could never be that.

As they sat down to eat, Y/N didn’t bother lifting her head to look at her friends, knowing that they were invested in talking to Anne about everything that she had missed and everything that they’d do together. She pushed her food from one side to the other on her plate until she let the fork slip from her fingers and onto the table with a small clinking sound. Heaving a sigh, she pushed herself up and away from the table as she clumsily climbed over the bench, sluggishly walking away and out of the Great Hall. There was no one calling after her as she left.

Sat in Divination she was glad she wouldn’t have to see any of the trio. Leaning back in her seat she stared at the cup in front of her.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” At the soft voice of her dear friend Natsai she looked up and was met by warm yet worried eyes.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” She softly repeated her question, her left hand reaching out to softly hold one of her’s. “You look like you have been crying.”

At the last question, Y/N had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from bursting into tears right in front of everyone. The only thing she could manage as a reply was a short nod and blinking eyes. Natsai did not look convinced, yet she did not want to pressure her best friend into answering if she did not feel comfortable in doing so. She gave the sad girl another – hopefully – reassuring squeeze before letting her hand go.

At dinner, before she could move to her table, Garreth Weasley stood in front of her, with a wide smile on his face.

“Want to sit with us? We haven’t really talked in a while – and I kinda missed it.” He asked as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. The word ‘you’ left unspoken, as it was what he really wanted to say.

“Only if you want to, that is!” He quickly added as he saw the hesitation on Y/N’s face.

With a small smile the girl nodded as she let herself be pulled to the Gryffindor table, her wrist warm from the way he had wrapped his big hand around her small wrist.

As she sat down next to a smiling Natsai she briefly forgot about her heartbreak. It felt nice to be a part of a group again, she thought as she laughed at a joke Garreth told.

Days had passed and Y/N hadn’t sat at the Slytherin table ever since the day she had been asked to join her Gryffindor friends. Ominis had been the first one to notice her absence and he immediately felt guilt settle in his stomach at the realization of having completely neglected their dear friend. He walked up to Sebastian’s bed before going to sleep and asked him if he had talked to Y/N in the last few days.

Sebastian frowned as he sat up in his bed. “Not really … honestly. I think I haven’t really talked to her in weeks.” His eyes suddenly widened. “Merlin, I haven’t even been to the f*cking study-dates that we had agreed upon!” He shrieked as he jumped up from his bed.

“We have been completely shutting her out of the group, you realize that right?” Ominis spoke calmly with a raised brow.

Sebastian groaned as he paced their dorm, his hands in his hair as he thought of all the times, he had stood her up without her even saying anything. He remembers the first two times he had forgotten – she had lightly scolded him for having her wait the whole night before she had finally given up. Sebastian had told Y/N then, that he would make it up to her only to forget about it again.

And after that Y/N had not said anything anymore. Sebastian felt like throwing up – how could he neglect the one person he actually fell in love with – the one person, who helped him save his sister without really knowing him or her. She had done everything, faced so many obstacles and dangerous situations just to help him.

“Yeah, you f*cked up big time, Sebastian. But not just you … I wasn’t exactly a good friend either.” Ominis mumbled as he hung his head.

“B-But, where has she been the last few days? She hasn’t been sitting with us at all – right?” The brunette questioned as he let himself fall on his bed.

“She’s been spending more time with Garreth.” Ominis knew that Y/N had been spending more time with all her other friends but he chose to only mention his name, because he knew that mentioning Garreth’s name would ring all the alarm bells in his stupid friend’s head.

“What? With Garreth?!” Sebastian sputtered, the nausea returning tenfold at the mention of his name. He was aware of the crush the ginger-haired boy had on Y/N. “I need to see her.” He jumped up, angrily marching towards the door only to be stopped by Ominis’ firm hand on his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ominis asked, his voice not hiding his annoyance.

“I’m going to Y/N’s dorm.”

“And then?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ll talk to her. Why would she spend so much time with that Weasley?!”

Something snapped in Ominis as he hit the back of his friend’s head. “Are you for real, Sebastian? That’s the only thing you’re worried about right now?” The blonde scoffed. “You’ve been basically ignoring Y/N for the past few weeks, after everything she has done for you – for us – and you are just worried about her being close with Garreth Weasley?” He cocked his brow in disbelief at the male twin’s audacity.

“What are you going to say if you walk to her right now? Aree you going to say: ‘Hey, Y/N. I know I’ve been ignoring you for the past few weeks but – why are you talking to Garreth?’? Don’t be ridiculous, Sebastian.”

“You’re right.” The brunette mumbled as the initial anger melted away. He let himself fall on his bed face first, his voice muffled as he spoke. “What am I going to do?”

“Beg for forgiveness – I don’t know.” Ominis shrugged his shoulders as he thought of a way to save their friendship and Sebastian’s possible future relationship. “You’ll have to think of something.”

Y/N waved her friends goodbye as she walked towards her dorm. It was finally Friday, which meant she – and almost everyone else – could sleep in. The closer she got to the Slytherin common room, the tenser she grew – she hoped she wouldn’t see any of her Slytherin friends.

The common room was weirdly empty – just a few lone students reading or playing card games together. Her shoulders relaxed as she walked up the stairs to her dorm room, her brows furrowing as she noticed a letter lying right in front of her door. Bending down to take the letter into her hand, she turned it around to see who it was addressed to, her eyes widening as she saw her name written clumsily onto the envelope. Turning it around she opened it and pulled out the folded paper.

Please meet me at the undercroft. I’ll be waiting.

S.S.

Y/N clenched her jaw as all kinds of emotions rushed through her, her eyes scanning over the few words again and again. She felt sadness, bitter, petty, curious but most importantly: she felt angry. Sebastian had completely forgotten about her and now he suddenly wanted to see her and asked her to come to him.

Y/N stared at the offending paper for another two minutes as she contemplated about her decision. She had been stood up several times, so why should she go because he asked one time? But if she ignored his request, she’d surely regret it, curious as she was … and a small part of her heart roared as she read his initials. Yearning to talk to him again. With a huff she folded the letter and stuffed it into her pocket before she turned to walk towards the undercroft.

Her curiosity always won.

Walking through the entrance there were many things that Y/N had expected – she had expected Sebastian to impatiently pace the room, with weird scripts in his hands that he wanted to show her. She had also expected the room to be empty with no Sebastian in sight. What she did not expect, however, were a trail of rose petals and lit candles leading up to a nicely decorated small table with snacks and drinks – and more roses.

The young girl’s mouth fell open as she took in the sight, coming to a halt as her eyes moved up to Sebastian’s figure standing behind the table with a tense smile on his face. The brunette was obviously nervous as his eyes carefully scanned over Y/N’s features.

“Hey …” Sebastian finally broke the silence – way too impatient to wait for Y/N to say something first. His nerves wouldn’t let him be patient.

“Before you say anything … I want to apologize; I am so sorry for neglecting you – the one person that has helped me through everything. You, who has saved my sister. You put so much trust in me, even though you barely knew me. You were always there for us – for me. And yet I managed to make you feel invisible. I probably made you feel like I used you too …” Sebastian paused for a second, catching his breath as he walked around the table and towards you.

“I know I don’t deserve it – I am a complete twat for all of this – but please. I’m so, so sorry. I need you – I don’t think I’ll ever not need you anymore. Please forgive me. I promise to always put you first.” Sebastian begged, tears welling up in his eyes as he stared into your equally watery eyes. “Because I love you – I know it didn’t look like it the past few weeks – but I really do. I love you. I have loved you ever since you beat my ass in our very first duel.”

At that a giggle forced its way out of Y/N’s lips, her cheeks growing hotter as the male continued.

“You are – you are just amazing. Please … please forgive me, Y/N.” Sebastian whispered as he lifted his hands to wipe the tears that had found their way down her flushed cheeks, before moving to cup them lovingly.

“Sebastian … I honestly don’t know what to say. You truly hurt me and when I got your note, a big part of me didn’t want to come. I didn’t think I’d be ready to see you. I’m still so angry and hurt.” Y/N spoke carefully, her eyes taking note of the way Sebastian’s jaw tensed. “And it is true that you probably don’t deserve it … but I love you too, Sebastian.” She finished as she averted her eyes – and if she had not, she would have seen the way the male’s eyes lit up in excitement, the way the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a beaming smile – his brain too focused on the fact that his crush reciprocated his feelings.

“So … do you forgive me?” Sebastian asked hopeful.

“I guess I will … in time. But it’ll cost you.” Y/N teased as she lifted her gaze, lifting her eyebrow jokingly at him.

“Anything you want. I’ll do anything!” Sebastian rushed out as his thumbs stroked over her cheeks.

“Start with a kiss, then.”

A/N: Idk why, but this oneshot started off as rather depressing. Hope you still liked it! I also felt like I rushed through most bits but honestly, this could be a whole chaptered fic in my opinion.

Would you have forgiven Sebastian? 👀

Hope you liked it!

#hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x reader #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #garreth weasley #natsai onai #hogwarts legacy imagine #slytherin boys

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walkingintheheartbreaksatellite · 10 months

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You & I

Ya’ll can thank this fit and @erggggggggg for this. Fluffiness ahead. You may or may not need tissues.

Contains- Social Anxiety, Dadrry, JUST PURE FLUFF

Summary- Y/N has never been a big people person. Harry loves that about her. But he also wants her to enjoy one of those most important times of their life. On the night of their wedding rehearsal, her anxiety gets the best of her, until her future husband brings her out of her shell.

>>>———————->

“Love, please, she’ll be just fine with my mum.”

I shake my head, tears threatening to spill as I hug my baby girl close to me.

“She’s- she’ll freak out. You know how she’s been lately. She’ll have a fit and I just want everything to go okay… It’s just better if I hold her.”

Harry lets out a small sigh and shakes his head. He plucks Poppy from my arms and carries her to Anne, who happily takes the giggly two year old in her arms. He comes back over to me and takes my hand, dragging me outside the reception hall.

He leads me over to the side wall over looking the green forest and he sits down, placing me in his lap as he holds me close and tight.

“Talk to me love. What’s going on inside your pretty head?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaky as I lean into his chest.

“I’m just- I’m not good with talking to people. I know this is part of getting married but I’m nervous…”

Harry lets out a small laugh and he hugs me tighter as he begins to rock me back and forth in his arms.

“Y/N, everyone attending is our closest friends and family. They love you! You have nothing to be nervous about.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head against his chest.

“Harry, you literally invited Elton John and Stevie Nicks. People I can hardly let out a word to because I’m so nervous.”

He chuckles again and stands up, placing me on the ground before he takes my hand as he begins to lead me through the small garden.

“But you know who else is there? Our friends. You know.. Niall, Sarah, Mitch, all people who adore you. Your mum, who obviously loves you to death. My mum who most likely loves you more then she does me and Gem… Tonight is just our rehearsal. Tomorrow is the big day. And you? Will be just fine.”

I give him a small smile and I squeeze his hand before wrapping my arms around his as he gazes into my eyes. He pecks my lips softly, my lip gloss slightly coating his lips as he rests his forehead against mine.

“All those people? They’re here for us. To celebrate us with those we love dearly. Be yourself. This is our day. You & I, right?”

He pecks my lips once more and I smile.

“Always. Thank you Harry… For everything. You’ve made me so.. So happy…You and our daughter… You’re my entire world. I don’t know where I’d be without you…”

He smiles and hugs me tight before placing a kiss on my forehead.

“I should be thanking you, my love. You have made me the happiest man in the world. You are the love of my life and I’m grateful I met you.”

He holds me for a moment, swaying with me as we enjoy the silence, until our little moment is interrupted.

“Well, well, well. Escaping from your own rehearsal dinner? Poppy, tell mummy and daddy to hurry up.”

We turn around to see Gemma and Anne, who’s still holding a happy Poppy, wiggling her legs. Anne sets her down and she runs to us, her little dress bouncing a little as she giggles. Harry lets me go and bends down a little to catch her in his arms. She squeals as he hoists her up and holds her close.

“Poppy, what do we say to mumma, do you remember?”

She nods with a little giggle and reaches out to me, grabbing my cheeks. She looks into my eyes and I smile as I stare into her eyes, practically a carbon copy of Harry’s.

“Happy mama, happy daddy, happy Poppy! Mama happy?”

I smile and take her from Harry’s arms, kissing her little cheeks.

“Mama’s very happy, baby.”

She smiles and looks at Harry.

“Daddy happy?”

Harry smiles and nods before he kisses her cheek.

“Very happy,bug. Is Poppy happy?”

She nods with a big smile and we laugh. She wiggles in my arms and I set her down. She takes my hand in hers and Harry’s in her other hand, squeezing tight with her little hands.

“I wove mama and daddy.”

Harry and I share a look and we smile, and I fight to hold back my tears.

“We love you too baby.”

Poppy giggles and looks up at me.

“Inside? We go inside mama?”

Harry and I share one more look before I nod. I smooth out my dress before squeezing onto Poppy’s hand and we head inside together. Harry gives me a reassuring smile and we hand Poppy off to Anne.

The rehearsal goes smoothly, lots of smiles and laughs coming from our closest friends and family. We tuck Poppy in to bed, with her plead for kisses from both mama and daddy and a story before bed.

I start to feel better, and though Harry pouts about sleeping separately for the night, he gives me one final kiss with the promise of tomorrow being the start of forever.

>>>——————->

Please let me know what you guys thought!!! I may be open to writing more of this!!!

Master list

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@be-with-me-so-happily @swiftmendeshoran

@babyiamperfectforyou @freedomfireflies

@violetsandfluff @fruitmans @fruitmansrecs @strwbrrydaydreams @erggggggggg

@kaminokatiee @harrysmimi @rafaaoli @kimmi-kat

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #dadrry #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot

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sunshinesteviee · 6 months

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Can I request some reader and Steve on Halloween after their babies have gone to bed and the two parents enjoying their alone time on the couch watching movies and going through their kids candy

UGH my heart!! sorry it’s so late on halloween, but i hope you enjoy anyways 💛 dad!steve & mom!reader; wc 904

You’re sitting on the couch, feet kicked up in the coffee table, going through a bag of candy by the time Steve finally re-emerges from your middle child’s bedroom. You hear the shuffle of his feet against the hardwood floor that creaks in certain well-worn areas, and your head shoots up, grinning at the sight of your sleepy husband. His hair is floppy and falling into his face, a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and he’s wearing sweatpants and an old shirt that reveals a bit of tan skin when he stretches and then cards his hands through his hair. He yawns as he makes his way over to you, shaking his head as if to try to wake himself up, “Molly finally fell asleep.”

“Took long enough,” you snort. He’d been in her room for nearly half an hour.

“She just kept talking and talking, no matter how much I tried to get her to go to sleep. She didn’t say it, but I think she was scared she’d have bad dreams,” Steve shakes his head again, this time fondly as he drops onto the couch next to you.

“Our sweet girl,” you frown, leaning into your husband’s side, “Too delicate for even Halloween, huh?” Molly’s your sensitive child, always emotional and in tune with what everyone else is feeling, always takes things to heart.

“Well, to be fair, that asshole a few blocks over did scare them. I get scaring some kids, but did Winnie the Pooh, a fairy princess, and Raggedy Ann look like they wanted to be scared?” Steve’s still annoyed, you can tell, even though he’d yelled at the twenty-something jerk who had made his babies cry.

“She was just surprised, she’ll be okay,” you comfort Steve, the palm of your hand landing on his thigh as he grumbles and pouts, not unlike your kids do. “Will you be okay? Or do we need to cancel our yearly Halloween movie marathon and candy stealing?”

He perks up at that and presses a kiss to your temple, “No, no, we definitely can’t cancel that.” For as long as you’ve been with Steve, Halloween night was reserved for a scary movie marathon for the two of you, and sometimes a couple of friends. And once you had kids old enough to trick-or-treat, you’d started rummaging through their haul, taking what you wanted for yourselves. They never noticed, and they never ate all of their candy, anyway.

You squeeze Steve’s knee, cheek smushed into Steve’s shoulder as you move in closer, “Okay, good. Woulda been real upset to have to miss out on that. What should we watch first?”

Steve lets you choose first, so you’re quick to get up and put on Hocus Pocus. It’s definitely not Steve’s first pick, but it’s not a bad choice. You quickly rejoin Steve on the couch, sitting next to him closer than necessary, though he doesn’t mind at all, and you throw a blanket over your laps. He makes a big show of pretending to yawn, like boys would do in high school, stretching his arms over his head before casually resting the one closest to you over your shoulders. It makes you burst into giggles, both slightly flustered, and endeared to your husband’s ridiculous antics. The fact that he still makes you feel like this, even after all your years together, doesn’t escape you, and you snuggle into his side, pressing your cheek to his chest, “You’ve still got the moves, Harrington.”

You can feel his laugh under your cheek, his chest heaving with it as he says, “What can I say? Still gotta impress my girl.”

“It’s working,” you reply, resting your hand over his heart.

Silence falls over the two of you as the movie begins to play, until Steve’s foot nudges one of the kids’ bag of candy on the table that you’d previously been digging through. He shoots up, eyes wide as he grabs the three bags of candy, dropping them in your laps, “We almost forgot the most important part. What do you want? If you say something gross like almond joy, I’m divorcing you.”

“Steve, I literally saw you eat a handful of candy corn earlier. A literal handful.”

“Candy corn is a must on Halloween!” Steve gasps a bit too loudly, indignant, and totally forgetting that you have three kids who just went to sleep.

You quickly slap a hand over his mouth, covering your own laughter, “Shh! Don’t wake the kids!”

Eyes wide, Steve realizes what he’s done, and you both wait with bated breath, desperately hoping you don’t hear any tiny feet in the hallway. When a minute passes without any doors creaking open, you turn your attention back to your husband, who is in the middle of licking the palm of your hand to get it off of his mouth.

You nearly shriek but manage to hold it in, working your hand against Steve’s sweatshirt, “Ugh. Disgusting.”

“You love me,” he says, so confidently, so assuredly, you couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to (and you definitely don’t want to).

“Yeah, I do, Stevie. You can make it up to me with a kiss and a peanut butter cup, though.”

Steve picks out a pumpkin shaped peanut butter cup and presents it to you, his free hand cupping your jaw for a soft peck on the lips, “That I can do.”

#steve harrington #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #sunshinesteviee writes #sunshinesteviee #anon #em answers

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bitchinbarzal · 9 months

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growing gigi | dad!luca au

week 13 — june 2023

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Luca calls out from the hotel room as you vomit once again in the toilet.

“Lu, I’m fine please just go see Adam and I’ll be down when-“ you cut yourself off throwing up into the toilet again “When I’m done”

“Babe I really don’t want to leave you, we should take you to a doctor”

You sighed, standing up and flushing away the remnants of your lunch before grabbing your toothbrush and headed out to face your very worried boyfriend.

“This is Adam’s draft, we’re not going to the doctor! C’mon let’s get down there” as you went to grab your clutch you knocked your suitcase by accident and tampons fell out onto the floor.

As you crouched down to pick them up you paused, gasping lightly.

“What is it?” Luca asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

“I think I might be pregnant?” You say, standing up with a tampon in hand. He’s wide eyed and looking at you but before either of you can say anything Adam is banging on the door calling you both out.

You spent the night of the draft with the question pondering in your mind

were you pregnant?

That thought however had to be pushed to the back of your mind when Adam’s name got called out on the stage.

After the pictures, the interviews and party you finally made it back to your hotel room. You threw yourself onto the bed almost immediately and heard the door shut firmly behind you.

“We have to talk about this” Luca says and you sit up.

“Lu I’m tired please-“

“You might be pregnant y/n how can you sleep?”

You groan “because it’s been a long night Luca, if I’m pregnant I’ll still be pregnant in the morning”

He conceded and got into bed, the silence didn’t last very long when in the darkness of your room he mumbles “there’s a gas station-“

“Let go then” you whine, giving in and pulling on his hoodie to leave the hotel.

The two of you looked out of place at the gas station in your pyjamas but the cashier who you’re sure was younger than you didn’t seem to care much.

With the test in hand you went immediately into the bathroom when you got back to your room.

Luca stood outside listening for any indication of an answer from inside the bathroom. When you finally stepped out with the test in hand he asked

“So?”

“I’m pregnant”

week 18 — july 2023

“Did you feel that?” Luca asks from his position on your belly.

“What?”

“That!” He points at your belly again “The baby is moving!”

Before you can correct him you feel it and stop

“Oh my god!” You can’t see it but you can feel it and it’s such a strange out of body experience.

After the fun had calmed you both resumed your spots to watch the movie and Luca mumbled “It’s so weird to think there’s a person in there… our person”

You hummed “Our baby, Lu”

week 20 — august 2023

You’d returned back to Ann Arbor for school. The car ride from Toronto wasn’t your finest moment with the limited stopping places on the 401 and you now being half way through pregnancy.

They weren’t a good mix.

Back in Michigan now you had gone to see your doctor, having to pass over all of your paperwork from your doctor in Toronto.

During the appointment your doctor sent you over to the place you would be having your appointments from now on to meet with your OBGYN.

At the appointment your doctor suggested an ultrasound just to make sure everything was ok. It felt weird doing this alone but it was always nice to see the baby.

“Babygirl is doing just fine in there, all measuring up to scale”

You stutter “I’m sorry did you just say girl?”

The doctors eyes go wide “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t know you didn’t know!”

“No, it’s ok I’m just… wow”

Back home somehow your house had become the social gathering spot as you fought your way in through the bodies of the team to find Luca.

“y/n!” Johnny pulled you into a hug from the side “I’ve missed you!”

You chuckle “Yeah, missed you too J. You seen Luca?”

“Yeah he’s upstairs moving boxes in, we offered to help but he said we couldn’t… think it’s your lady stuff”

You laugh “never change drus! Can you guys move our couch in from the van out front?”

A collective agreement came as they trudged out of the house. As soon as the coast was clear you took your jacket off, feeling a little too hot.

“Luca?” You called out, walking through the hallway.

“In here!” He shouts back from the spare room.

When you walk in you find him sitting on the floor with the moving box open, filled with clothes his mom had bought you guys for the baby.

“They think you’re up here with my lady stuff because you wouldn’t let them help” you chuckle and he shrugs “I didn’t want them to see before we told them, Johnny’s still pissed we won’t let him move into Adam’s old room”

The room in question was the room you were currently standing in, the one that soon enough would be filled with stuffed animals and little hockey memorabilia you were sure Luca would want her to have.

“How was the appointment?” He asks, still raking through the box.

You smile “Good, um they told me something while I was there”

He looks alerted “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong” You crouch down and put your hand on his chest “They told me, it’s a girl”

“Oh my god!” He screams, and you try a shush him but you’re too late you can hear footsteps barging up the stairs before the door whips open.

“What’s wrong?! Why are you shouting?” You turn to face the boys in the doorway and laugh

“Well this isn’t how we wanted to tell you but we’re having a baby!” You announce, showing off your bump.

They begin piling in to congratulate and hug you before Luca shouts

“And it’s a girl!”

week 31 — october 2023

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Babe I’m good, go! Have fun! Me and babygirl will be here for you when you get home”

You lay on the couch, accompanied by a family size bag of candy and Netflix. Luca was attending a Halloween party on campus and you were just so big and so exhausted to even pretend you were happy at a party.

“I can stay-“ “Luca go! You won’t be out partying when she gets here so use your time wisely”

He nods and pulls his jacket on, leaning down to kiss you

“I love you”

then he kisses the bump

“I love you also, he good for mom”

You laugh at him in ‘dad mode’

“Your girls love you back, now go!”

Throughout the night you checked social media, looking closely in the stories for Luca to see if he really was having a good time.

You spotted him in the back of some stories, mainly looking at his phone which you assumed was all the times he had called you to check in.

By the time he’s stumbled back through the door of your house you’d fallen asleep on the couch watching re-runs of some show.

He came in confused why the light was still on and when his eyes landed on you, he softened “oh babe”

You’d been having a hard time sleeping lately and he knew that so he opted not to wake you but instead make you more comfortable, bringing in a blanket and a pillow before changing and situating himself next to you.

His hand rubbed over the bump soothingly and he mumbled “Hi babygirl, were you good for mommy?”

week 37 — december 2023

Your house was currently looking like a bombsite after you were packing for winter break and realised you’d be coming back with a baby and said baby had no bedroom.

So you enlisted the help of every member of the team to help put together baby girls nursery.

Half of them were painting and the other half were attempting to assemble furniture.

You’d been instructed to go and get lunch, that was all. So you went out and bought the boys all some lunch.

When you got back you heard them all arguing upstairs and waddled up to investigate.

Everyone was standing in the middle of the nursery, now painted and the crib was assembled. They were all holding up story books

“No this one is better are you insane? Humpty Dumpty do you want her traumatised?”

You looked at your boyfriend “What’s going on?”

He chuckled “they all brought babygirl books, for her story corner and now they’re arguing which is best”

Now they saw you were home, Dylan and Seamus ran over to you

“y/n which is she going to like more Goodnight moon or i might be little?”

You bit your lip to suppress your laugh “She’s one spoilt little girl”

week 40 — december 2023

Adam was in town playing the leafs so you guys headed downtown to watch the game.

Adam had asked you come down pre-game and when asking why he fist bumped your belly and said “me and my bestie have to do our pre-game” as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

After the game, Adam and some of the boys home town friends had asked Luca if they could take him out for his birthday in the morning to which you said

“I’m opting out of this one, I’m going to bed but you enjoy!”

Luca stared at you worriedly before you said “It’s your twenty-first birthday, go celebrate! I love you, I’ll see you in the morning”

They’d gotten a booth in the club and Luca was living it up. So much so, he’d abandoned his phone on the table and missed the numerous missed calls from you, your mom, his mom and his dad.

When it came time for the club closing Adam picked up Luca’s phone and his heart dropped, he called his mom back while looking for his brother.

“Adam where is he?!”

“Mom he’s- what’s going on?”

“The baby is coming”

“We’ll be there”

Adam finally found Luca outside the bar waiting for their Uber he passed him his phone

“We gotta go”

“Where?”

“The hospital, y/n’s in the hospital”

It says if those words alone sobered him up “She’s? The baby? What?”

Adam didn’t explain, just pushing Luca into the Uber and instructing them of the change in destination.

At the hospital you were stressing “He’s coming right?”

Your mom stroked your hair “He’ll be here baby, he wouldn’t let you down”

You whined, not believing her words the longer this went on.

Then finally he barges into the room “I’m here! Is she here?”

“You’re late!” You shout, mid contraction

“I know, I’m sorry I’m so sorry”

Your families left you be, hand in hand waiting for the nurse to come in and check you.

“This is really happening, eh?” He asks and you smile through the pain

“She’s really coming, our baby” Luca could sense the unease in your voice, squeezing your hand tighter.

“Hey, look at me” he instructs and you do, eyes filled with tears “Your gonna be the best mom ever ok? Our little girl is so lucky you’ve been ready for this since we were teenagers, I’m the one who should be scared! I don’t know how to be a dad but I know with you by my side there’s nothing we can’t do”

“Gigi’s so lucky”

You smirked softly “Gigi, huh?”

You’d been arguing about names for months. Luca stood firm on Carson but you liked Giada.

He nods “Gigi, our girl”

She arrived a little after six, kicking and screaming until she was lay on your chest then she went silent.

You were both sobbing just at the sight of her “Hi Gigi, hi baby”

After a nap and breakfast you sat up in bed watching your two favourite people just staring at one another

“Happy Birthday, Lu… your gift is back at the house”

He shakes his head “I got my best gift right here, happy birthday Gigi”

1 year — december 2024

“…happy birthday to gigi, happy birthday to you!” Everyone sang and the one year old giggled as they finished and you help her blow out her candles.

Both you and Luca press a kiss to each cheek “Happy Birthday G”

Luca looks over at you with a smile “Best year of our lives”

#Gigi’s world

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hecatemoon87 · 1 year

Text

Makeup Sex with Eddie Brock

Warnings ⚠️ SMUT

Minors DNI

"Wait, come on! I'm sorry, okay?" Eddie said, following you down the stairs of his apartment complex.

You round on him, seething with rage. "No! How many times have I told you to stop texting Anne?"

"Look. Baby, we're just friends, honest!" He said, tripping over the last step.

Why is he so God damn adorable? It's hard to stay mad at him.

"Eddie, you almost married this woman. You can't just get rid of your feelings for her. You are texting her because you can't let go!"

Eddie looked nervously around and waved awkwardly to one of his neighbors, "Hey, how are you, Mrs. Lawrence?" You can tell he's embarrassed.

"Goodbye, Eddie," you said, leaving him a worried mess on the landing.

After you left, Eddie walks back to his apartment, goes straight to his room, and falls face first into the mattress. "Why am I such an idiot!" He groans into the bed.

*this is your fault, again. You have a perfectly good girl friend, why are you texting another woman* said Venom.

"What? You're the one who misses Annie, you traitor! That last text was from you!"

*I missed her. Annie isn't my ex-fiance, the rules are not the same* Venom said.

"Oh, shut up! She doesn't understand that! Ugh, I gotta make this right, or I'll lose her!" Eddie said, grabbing his phone and texting you frantically.

You ignore his texts. You're at a bar, having a drink to calm down. It's around eight pm and you and Eddie were supposed to have a date.

But you saw his phone receive a text, and you just so happened to catch who the message was from, Anne.

You certainly lost your cool, but what the hell? Weren't you enough for him?

You spend an hour out, taking in a few drinks to calm your nerves. Finally, you check your phone.

16 missed calls and 20 texts. Good lord, Eddie.

You check your voice messages: you have 9 voice messages.

Your curiosity allows you to listen to the first message.

"Hey, it's Eddie...uh, I'm sorry. That wasn't cool, I know. But it's Venom, he likes Annie. I'm trying to explain to him it's not okay...look, please call me? You are the only girl for me. I promise, just call me,m"

He sounded so sad, it broke your heart. Fine. You'd go back to his apartment.

He opens the door to find you on the other side.

"Thank God, okay, hear me out..." he tried to say. But you pushed him back inside, closing the door and locking it behind you.

"Bedroom, now please," you said, sauntering back. Eddie follows willingly.

He watches you undress, then perch yourself on the end of the bed, naked.

"Say you're sorry with that tongue of yours," you said seductively.

Eddie smiled and, in turn, removed his clothing and got between your legs. He kissed your inner thighs, then glided his tongue over to your mound.

He gave you a pleasant lick, then hooked his arms under your legs, pulling your bottom right on the edge of the mattress, burying his tongue into your core.

You rake your fingers through his hair, making sexy sounds, letting him know he's doing a good job.

Eddie is an eager boy. He always wants to please you. But sometimes he's a stupid boy who makes poor decisions.

You gently pull his head back, looking him in the eyes. He gives you his puppy dog eyes and says softly, "I'm sorry, baby."

"I know, but you've been a bad boy, so you're going to do what I tell you, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, like a good little boy.

"Good, now finish your dinner," you said, leaning back again and spreading your legs a little wider. He gave you a grin, and you giggle before he dives back in.

He obeys and cleans you up nice. He licks and sucks and brings you gushing forth over his tongue.

After your moans come to a silence, you sit up and push him down to the rug on the floor. He is hard as a rock, and you tease him with your tongue. He moans, and then you kiss his well toned abdomen.

"Fuck, baby. You gonna blow me?" He whined, sliding his fingers through your silky hair.

"Mhmmm," you purred against his base, then kiss upwards on his shaft, nipping his bell.

"Oh, god. Please, baby, don't tease me too much," he whimpered.

"But you've been bad," you said, low and sultry.

"Yeah. I have, really bad, teach Daddy a lesson," he said breathlessly.

You smile and straddle him, sinking your heat down on his erection. Eddie closed his eyes and moaned, grabbing hold of your hips.

"You like my pussy, baby? You enjoyed your meal, huh, daddy?" You purred as you began sinking up and down on him.

"Fucking delicious, I'll eat you any time," he said, bucking his hips.

You laugh softly, then close your eyes, enjoying his thick cock dividing your core.

You ride him slow, making him buck his hips from time to time, wanting to pound you harder. "No," you tell him firmly, as you sink down on him hard, pinning him to the floor.

You lean forward, slipping your fingers into his hands, and pushing them to the floor as well.

You slowly rotate your hips, and he groans with pleasure.

"Stop misbehaving, or you don't get to cum," you said, looking down at him.

"Huh, you serious?" He said, laughing nervously.

"Yes, and don't test me on what happens if you cum before I allow it," you said, kissing him deeply, shoving your tongue into his mouth, pressing the back of his head into the floor. Eddie moaned into your mouth as you pinched his nipples and clenched your cunt around him hard.

"Okay, okay, okay! Fuck, I almost came," he said, turning his head to the side.

You giggled, enjoying him wiggling below you.

"Poor baby, ask me permission to cum," you said, sitting back up, and rocking your hips again, thoroughly pleasuring yourself with his big cock.

"Please, can I cum?" He said.

"Oh, you can beg sexier than that, Eddie," you teased.

"Fuck. Yeah, yeah, sure. Uh, please mistress? Let your naughty fuck toy cum?"

"Mmmmm, sluty, you're a sluty fuck toy, baby," you said, clenching again.

Eddie whimpered out a sexy little groan and corrected himself, "Sluty! Fuck, yeah. I'm a sluty little fuck toy, mama. Let me cum, please?"

His voice was strained, she knew he was at his limit, so she rode him, letting him cum.

Afterward, both showered and dressed in your pajamas, Eddie was rubbing your feet on the couch while you watched TV.

"That was fucking amazing sex. Maybe I should piss you off more," he said, grinning.

"Watch it pal. Any more shenanigans from you and I'll have to peg your sweet little ass," you said.

Eddie's eyes widened, "Um, okay. I'll be on my best behavior then," he said, nodding with commitment.

"Good boy," you said, winking.

#tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fan fic #facepuller #tom hardy smut #eddie brock #eddie brock smut

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cherri-balms · 3 months

Text

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — PROLOGUE

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ ၊|• 0:00

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A/N﹕YAY I FINALLY FINISHED THE PROLOGUE FOR MY FIRST SERIES!

This is the first full fledged fanfic I have written in a long time, I hope anyone who finds this finds it enjoyable, I had a fun time writing this prologue chapter and I currently have around a 10-12 chapter vision for this series as it stands, but if this proves to be something you guys like I will be happy to extend the series! I do plan to create a tag list, if you would like to be added shoot me a DM and I will add you to the list! As always any replies will be made through our main acc @caravan-mad!

This prologue pretty much gives most if not all the information about the reader aside from important plot details. I wanted the reader's demon form and time period to be as ambiguous as possible and limit the use of Y/N, the reader in this story has allegories to butterflies.

Not all chapters will have warnings nor does this one, however the full fic will contain dark content and will be under the dead dove do not eat tag.

Some content will include but are not limited to: Unhealthy relationship dynamics, N.SFW, Unrequited love, Yandere themes, Dubcon, and pretty much any tag youd find listed in Hazbin Hotel tbh

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bored at work performing repetitive choreography and pleasing faceless demons, you find yourself reminiscing on life, death, and limbo.

♫ envy baby ~ ♫

“Lights clear? Sounds clear?”

“We’ve been fucking over this Steven! We’ll know it’s clear when they finally stop tuning our shit-”

“Anne chill, we still have six minutes till airing. Don’t waste all your energy on the roadie.”

“That crowd doesn’t seem to be getting any quieter does it…” The little imp’s observations were now only being met by eyerolls and silent treatment by the two drummer girls as the completed instruments silenced in countdown.

Lights crew above, sounds crew from behind, and effects team surround. The way every single backstage member of your cast would run and scurry around you to get their various tasks done always made you think of little mice, rats even, so worked up making sure everything was in perfect position before those curtains had a chance to stop separating you, from them.

It was cute enough to make you laugh as though you were still a highschool girl.

“Broadcasting live in 60 seconds!” Dark blue scene lighting begins to fade your entire surrounding to a pitch black, and among doing so freezes your little mice into statues all around. Only the tiniest crack in the fabric ahead illuminated the space with a sharp vertical line down the curves of the figure that stands as the adorning center piece of this particular attraction. Roaring bass brings about a quake to the stage beneath your feet, queuing time for you to give your puppies a treat.

“Awwwe~ Did we leave you waiting long?” The volume of pure passionate devotion always rang to your ears louder than any electrical speaker could achieve.

The wave of the new future adorned in electrical inventions was something you’ve always been prepared to face; why even in the faint blur of the overworld it was all the grown ups could ever yap enough of! No, that wasn’t where that bitter taste came from.

In the full truth of things, you just never knew you’d stick around long enough to bear full witness to its infection of mankind.

Oh come on. Who are we kidding right now?

“Hi. I wanna people save, all right? ”

You’ve never been more liberated.

“You’re in m-my way!!”

Your eyes have but a second to adjust to the flood of bright neon before life hits play once again. The choreography you, and and the other 4 devils fanned out beside you have programmed into your bodies for the past months flow across the stage with ease. among the camera men you can make out the mass of waving pen lights stirred ablaze after the long anticipation, oh how you love they always use the color dearest to your heart…

“The tightrope falls, broken by others”

Once you felt the rushing high of the stage the first time around tolerance for it subsided immediately after. You’ve seen the looks on those poor saps down in the front row, each one hyper fixated on every movement you make wishing they could be you, or be up here with you.

And of course, you all flash them bright smiles, longing gazes and praise them with verses of purity more fitting for the angelic souls looming up above. Customer service is the utmost desired, as they say!

“What a lady, she’s gonna jump

towards the light and shatter humiliatingly”

Actually, can you even remember when your first performance was? How old were you even? All of this came from a cheap shot of gaining a few quick pennies back in the day. Landing yourself a handsome and rich husband with the filth you wore on your back was the first childhood dream you found dead on arrival, but what you were cursed in status you were blessed with the cuteness that made kittens hiss in envy. To say you had “the voice of a goddess” would mayhaps be a bit too presumptuous, but who were you to refute the compliment when it came your way?

Well, maybe trying to parse through finding the day your career debuted or took off was a fool's errand, but the moment it ended certainly still remains as a burned film stuck to your mind. You stopped caring about the “Oh woes me~ what did I do to deserve this~” a long time ago. Still, the punishment you received in death far exceeded what you ever did to earn in your eyes, more so than your sentencing of eternal damnation.

“High and without care I’m lonely, lonely”

Right on que, as always every time you reach exactly 32 seconds into your first song the intrusive memory flashes the same images of the past over your current reality it almost feels as if you were stuck suffering that fate again each time.

You wish there was more to say on the matter of your demise, but there’s only a brief two second window between staring down some heckling loud mouth making a scene in the crowd and a bomb beneath the stage going off before your soul is falling down under the earth’s crust as a blazing comet onto the asphalt below.

And two days before your 21st birthday too are you serious?! UN-Fucking believable!

“From their idle words, the clown becomes a prisoner”

The only thing you wanted to do was scream in the immense burning agony you were suffering until the whole world knew the kind of pain you were in, but each time you cried not even a croak could get past your scorched throat

Even after the blazes subsided and your charred cocoon was all that was left behind, the inferno decided your vocal chords were going to be its payment.

…. That was it?

This was your payout…

And after all that work…

“It’s the same love as always, no way I’d have regrets”

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe what became of the following weeks, months, you haven’t a clue. The construct of night and day seemed to mean jack in the bizzare wonderland of maddness holding you, only so much telling what shade of putrid red in the sky was darker than the same shade of fucking red from two hours ago! What a productive way to spend your newfound endless time!

Every aspect of this place made you absolutely sick, enough so to have you still praying you just were drugged and having the worst trip of your fucking life, but the horror in maddness is the consistency that lies between the lines. You’re certain that damned illuminated “WELCOME TO HELL!” sign and the stranger you befriended in the mirror was that line that made you finally cave.

“Hey, it's a amazing.”

Honestly, you couldn’t say what specifically led you into the epiphany you had, all of a sudden one day you heard a sudden snapping sound in your conscience, and like that everything made sense to you. Why your life was snuffed before you could emerge from your cocoon, why your makers deemed this your new home, and why that bomb taking your life just wasn’t enough to deem your afterlife a hell.

There was a certain liberation that came with hell that you were never going to get being the glowing little diamond you were in human society, through terrorism, cannibalism and bloodshed one thing would remain a constant throughout devil society. No one would ever give a damn about anything.

Hell became your fucking playground by the time your first extermination came around, and keeping on the move while broke as shit was a cakewalk this time around, but your first encounter with an overlord after catching your foot in the grave in the casino humbled your inflating ego. Chaos for society did not necessarily mean chaos without hierarchy, and going without a voice to call your own put you at an extreme disadvantage.

“LA-LA-LA!”

The crescendo of the opener is right around the corner, for the leading front and center of your group your vocals and choreography had primarily remained reserved for backup. The primary color of lights among the crowd made the obvious clear with who the majority of these demons were here to see, your manager was aware of this more than anyone else.

Your fans tended to be aware of this for a majority of your shows, your parts in particular tended to stand out even as mere background vocals.

“I’m ready for this this lover baby!

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand.

Truly, this this lover’s crazy!

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

Sinners rejoice once the solo everyone was edging towards drops with the bass of the loudspeakers and the flares of the strobes above. The pitches your vocals were now capable of hitting and the frequency you were able to synthesize between notes wasn’t just inhuman, it was impossible for any singer whose notes carried on oxygen.

Your manager always made it a note in the writing room or when creating your setlists that overfeeding wolves with delicious treats would dull the taste over time, your solo singles often did well enough to prove this didn’t need to always be the case, but whenever it came to the business decisions you always put your full trust in him. Where you are standing right now is more than enough proof in your eyes that he knew exactly where and when to move his pawns, and in doing so he turned you into a valiant queen.

“Ah! I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love

I love you too much, on a count of one and two

Lie-lie loving you, such words

and doing such things, you’re in m-my way!”

Survival was of the least of your concerns after so much time had passed, but survival was all you could find yourself able to do in your forced retirement. Where you yearn for character in sound you were able to temporarily find when turning to radio, but living vicariously only quenches so much before greed starts cozying up within.

Plausible excuses for your laziness were wearing thinner by the day, even the last sane smolder of human morality trying to keep itself sparked wanted nothing more than to argue you weren’t supposed to be living to the fullest in hell, but the mute silence in your throat was beginning to phase your memory of the voice your inner conscience called its own too, and you'd sooner go mad trying than wither away again a fucking waste.

“Here comes the love maniac who never misses,

Stack up all the whining,

Fall in a high-fi love lie-ai-a!”

Overlords were still beings that had you nauseous upon first glance, your first meeting of one of these overlords had you vowing to never end up in the claws of one again, should you find yourself in a deal you can’t unbind yourself out of. Pride stuck thick to the roof of your mouth and there was nothing more you wanted to do than stick to your morals and prove use on your own, but reality had pelted you with stones throughout your entire afterlife.

You were going to need to write out a loan before you’d find yourself with any ounce of power to call your own, not like you didn’t have options for whom to choose! Even so, you needed to keep a steady head and an even sharper nose. In your ponderance you'd come to realize there was only really one option for you to go to this whole time. Maybe that gambling kitty taught you a valuable lesson on staking bets in the long run.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

A bet on the future was what you were going to stake it all on.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

Everything about how the world operated changed so rapidly from the days walking in the sunlight to your eternal party in the redlight, the wave of the future had finally hit with the promise for a solution to everyones problems. There couldn’t have been any better timing, if technology was going to be the way of the future, who's to say you couldn’t prove what was achievable? Like that, you had your sales pitch. The hardest part on your end was complete.

“Hey, it's a amazing.

LA-LA-LA!”

“So you were a singer in life and lost your voice in death, and just what the fuck made you think I was the man to go to for this?” Those were the magic words you were waiting for, with his composure shaken it wasn’t long before he was the one asking the questions and allowing the ball to move into your court. Your fingers dance on the illuminated tablet laying on the table once again before you flip it over toward his direction.

~Have your inventions not made it to that level of advancement yet?

Hook, line, and sinker. You had a hunch a passive aggressive challenge toward the ego would be what ultimately won you over with any overlord you chose, but the speed in which he stood from his desk and held out his hand, it felt almost too easy.

“If it’s a new voice you wish to invest in, consider your stocks opened, Monarch!” Finally…

“I’m ready for this this lover baby!

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand.”

“Now for what you have to offer me,” You don’t care. “I hope you weren’t planning on extorting me out of a generous gift and then making the big bucks with it, hm?” These overlords just love to hear themselves go on.

“Truly, this this lover’s crazy!

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

“I suppose I could just issue a royalty for your voice, after all you wouldn’t be making a sound without my tech. Lucky for you, I’ve been having fleeting thoughts of entering the music industry. So why not invest in each other instead~”

“Ah I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love

I love you too much, on a count of one and two”

Being owned by an overlord in the end wasn’t so bad, or maybe this is the fated “stockholm syndrome” everyone seems to be crying about these days. Either way, the biggest price you had to pay in the end was just having someone else do all the “business” part in show business.

Naive maybe, but rosey eyed you weren't. For all that he’s done you still fail to see how your end of the deal has in any way repaid what’s given, which can only lead to one thing down the line. You were going to have to give him your everything.

… Yet, how could you find yourself ungrateful to someone who fulfilled your afterlife dream and still continued to provide for you?

“Lie-lie loving you, such words and even such things, they’re in m-my way!”

The audience went absolutely ballistic at the final group pose signifying the end of your opening set, some of the really hardcore fans in the front row you swore passed out the second eye contact was made.

Yet when you turn your chin upward to the VIP section after performing your tricks so well, all you’re met with is a turned back and a schmoozed up producer instead of a tasty bone.

“Thank each and every one of you for coming to see us tonight!!” No, you only wanted him to come out to see you.

Only you.

Hey, Vox?

Can you just turn your stupid flat head this way?

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x reader #Vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox smut #vox x reader smut #hazbin hotel vees #the vees #Hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #mdni #🍓My one and only!#🕊Dead dove do not eat!#💔I’ll leave you be…#next next!

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drysdaleknieslee · 2 months

Text

Wipe Out Pt. 3

Hiii! I'm sorry for this LATE update but you guys wanted more Luke and Lia and I hope I delivered. I hope this isn't too short but I wanted to make it as sweet as possible.

Enjoy!

Wipe Out Part 3

These past four weeks have been the best yet most chaotic weeks of my life. Our team is undefeated now and UMICH’s men’s hockey is on a heater except for five losses. Me and Luke have gotten closer despite us both having taxing schedules. I’ve been getting close with the other guys as well and their chaotic personalities.

I’m currently sitting in the library with Ollie to my left and Kayleigh to my right. Farah, Mark’s girlfriend, sits in front of me as we all stare at this stats homework as if it was a different language.

“I hope the person that decided that stats was needed in the world has a warm pillow on both sides.” Mumbles Ollie as her head is face down on the table.

“Let’s take a break,” said Farah yawning, “it does no good staring at the same problem if we’re tired.”

We all mumble a agreement as I rub my eyelids. I understand the material but boy is it vexing.

“Me and Farah will go get lunch from Tropical Smoothie, you guys want anything?” I opt for a standard strawberry kiwi smoothie and Ollie asks for a sandwich and a chocolate peanut butter smoothie.

After the girls leave it’s me and Ollie, and she’s got a devious grin on her face. “Go ahead and spit it out Ollie.” She’s the nosiest girl I know.

“How’s everything with you and Luke by the way? Anything planned after mid terms?”

I hadn’t thought about that. Me and Luke have just been in the talking stage. He still seemed interested…I hope.

“Judging from the silence I’d say nothing about it has come up?”

“No…should I ask?”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

I take my phone out and open me and Luke’s chat. I don’t think he has practice today…

@Lia.li.23: hey…do you have plans after mid-terms?

It takes no time for those little text bubbles to show up.

@L.hughes_06: Me and the guys were planning on renting a lake house. The girlfriends are coming too. I was gonna ask you about it in class tomorrow.

@L.hughes_06: Ollie mentioned it didn’t she? 🙄

I cut my eyes towards Ollie to see that same devious grin on her face. She mentioned it on purpose. I rolled my eyes and smiled when phone buzzed again.

@L.hughes_06: Do you want to go? If you don’t already have plans…

@Lia.li.23: I’d love to! I don’t have any plans.

@L.hughes_06: great! Let me send you the information for the house.

He sends me the address of the Air BnB. It’s close near Ann Arbor and it’s a cozy little cabin but big enough to hold ten college kids. I hope there are enough rooms…

Luke’s POV

I was nervous about telling Lia about the lake house because we’ve been talking for a while but I’m too chicken to ask her on an actual date. And me thinking about her isn’t gonna get this econ homework done. Midterms aren’t making it any better either.

Duke and Luca are in the kitchen supposed to be making a “midterm break snack” but now I realize their using that as a ploy not to work. Only real people working is me, Rutger, and Ethan.

“Those assholes left us here to suffer” grumbled Rutger.

I’m not even staring at my computer as now I’m thinking about Lia being at the lake house and how I can possibly ask her out. She’s been to almost every one of our games as we have almost been to all of hers. But just meeting at sporting events and class doesn’t count as moving forward in a relationship. If that’s even what you call it…

“You’re not thinking about Econ my friend” said Ethan, breaking my train of thought.

“I wanna ask Leah on a date, but I’m not sure how to…”

Rutger and Ethan give each other a confused and dumbfounded look before looking at me like I had three heads. “You two gonna say something or keep looking at me like I’m stupid?”

“You’ve never asked a girl out before?”

My face heats up in embarrassment as I had to admit I’m the least experienced in the dating department.

“…No…”

“WHAT?!”

Luca and Duke finally come barreling out of the kitchen with bewildered looks on their faces.

“YOU’VE NEVER ASKED A GIRL OUT?!” I wonder how quietly and quickly I can get rid of my roommates to end the misery I caused myself.

“Next he’ll say he’s a virgin.” Said Rutger.

The room goes silent as they all stare at me. They expect me to say I’ve seen some action. I’m already on the verge of slamming my head into my laptop and having to admit this will be the 13th reason.

“Oh my god.”

“Luke, dude, your…actually a virgin?”

“I’ve done it before you?” said Luca grinning.

“That was with my sister you ass, and I told you not to bring that up around me!” said Rutger now looking disgusted on top of pissed.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll help out. The one’s with girlfriends at least” says, shooting daggers at Duke and Luca as he says it.

“I just want to be able to spend time with her outside of school stuff. Get to know her more and show that I’m serious about this.”

They all stare at me again, this time with more tenderness. They see their friend who’s so hopelessly in love it hurts. I like Lia. A lot. Since the moment I met her. Eyes big and full of wonder and fear as she has to move to a whole new state for school. And after talking to her for weeks and seeing her dedication to her sport as much as he is to hockey, he wants nothing more than to show her he’s serious.

Hours later, they finally finish studying and they advise a plan for Luke and Lia’s date.

Lia’s POV

Volleyball practice was early this morning to prepare for our last game before midterms and break. To say I’m sore is an understatement.

I walk into my econ class to spot the three stooges, Ethan, Rutger, and Luke, all in the fourth row. I always sat in front of them as they wouldn’t let me sit anywhere else. I notice something is up though, as Ethan and Rutger sit with two big Cheshire cat grins on their faces. That at 9:00 in the morning was abnormal for them.

“You’re not high are you?” I ask as I place my bag down and sit with some difficulty.

“I wish” said Rutger, “but no. Just happy for today.”

That was cryptic. I look at Luke and he grins at me before giving me a small wave.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You doing ok there?”

I winced before I fully sat down. “Coach had us do an early practice” I whispered at the professor came in.

I was able to focus through most of the lecture when I couldn’t hear the three stooges behind me giggling and fussing behind me.

After the midterm started the rest was smooth sailing. Only two more to go today and then, it’ll be break time.

After the exam, whoever finished could leave. Luke finished before me and before he passed me he whispered ‘wait for me’ before dropping off his test and walking out the door. I finished a few minutes later and got up to drop my test off before leaving the classroom. I walk outside and Luke is waiting for me, scrolling on his phone while leaning against a pillar.

“Are we gonna wait for Ethan and Rutger?”

He looks up at me at the sound of my voice and chuckles lightly. “Nah, those two are gonna take forever to finish.”

I laughed lightly and then there was silence for a second. Just half a beat of us trying to see who was gonna talk first.

“You mind walking with me for a sec? I know your legs are probably sore so we can either sit here…or I can carry you?”

I look at him surprised. “You can’t carry me Luke I’m too heavy!”

“I’m stronger than I look Lia” he said with that crooked smile. He waits for me to decide. I really don’t want to burden him, but my legs are killing me. I won’t turn down chivalry.

“Fine but tell me if you need to rest and I can walk the rest of the way.”

He just laughs lightly before getting on one knee in front of me to get on. He doesn’t have a bag with him as it’s just exams today. I hesitantly grab onto his shoulders as he moves to grab my legs before hoisting me up.

“I have my bag too Luke so please- “

“Lia, you’re not heavy. With or without your bag. Where’s your next exam at?”

You turn your head to hide your blush before mumbling, “the history building.”

He starts heading towards the history building at good pace. I’m tall but being this high feels weird. I look around the campus trying to distract myself from focusing on the felling of Luke’s hold on my legs.

It was a comfortable silence. Luke kept his firm hold on me and I held his shoulders. They were previously around his neck but he jolted me and I nearly choked him.

“Can I ask you something?” he said breaking the silence.

“Of course.”

“When is your last exam?”

“Friday. I have one before the game and them I’m free.” I was currently Wednesday. I had two exams today, one tomorrow, and the last one being stats.

“After the game, do you want to go somewhere with me?”

Oh my god he’s gonna ask me out!

I can feel him getting nervous waiting for my answer.

“I’d love that. Where do you have in mind?”

He can’t rub his neck like he usually does so he opts for stroking my leg. It’s throwing off my train of thought.

“There’s a rink, uhm, that me and my brothers usually go to when we visit her, and I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me and I teach you how to skate like me mom taught me and my brothers- “

“Luke. Breathe. I’d really like that.”

He sighs of relief, and I notice the back of his neck turning red. After the trek, we make it to the history building for my last exam of the day.

“We’ll go after the game. Dress warmly.”

I hop down from his back, and he goes to stretch as if his back was killing him. He gives me a cheeky grin before I punch him in the arm, and he actually winces with a ‘oww’.

“Don’t make you upset. Noted.”

“Bye Luke, thanks for the lift.”

“Your welcome Lia.” The way he said it while looking at me like that, he seemed like he didn’t want to leave. And frankly, I don’t want him to either. He stands with me until the professor shows to start the exam and I have to shoo him away before he misses his own exam.

It was hard for me to think about past historic events when I keep thinking about Luke’s hand on my leg and the look of longing he had before he left my classroom.

I have a date with Luke Hughes.

#luke hughes #luke x lia #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader

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absolutelyhugh3s · 8 months

Text

forever and ever | lf63

hey yall!! this is my first tumblr post so pls be nice

also it’s loosely based on the song how you get the girl by tswizzle bc she’s mother

for reference: y/n is your name y/h/c is your hair color y/n/n is your nickname

word count: 1.03k

warnings: slight cursing

(not my gif)

stand there like a ghost shaking come the rain, rain

it was a cold february night in ann arbor, michigan. y/n sat on her bed, calmly studying for a biology test she had the next morning. all while listening to the pouring rain outside her dorm window.

her roommate was out on a date with her boyfriend, leaving y/n alone for the night. she shut her biology textbook as she heard a knock on her door.

she got up from her bed, bare feet padding softly across the tiled floor.

she opens the door to find the absolute last person she expected to see.

“luca?” she said in pure confusion.

there he stood, clad in grey sweatpants and a dri-fit tee, drenched and shaking. the boy ran a hand through his hair as a small puddle began to pool beneath his feet.

she’ll open up the door and say, are you insane, -ane?

“what do you think you’re doing! are you insane?” she whisper-yelled, afraid of waking up her neighbors.

“yeah, probably” the older boy chuckled. she grabbed luca’s wrist, gently pulling him into her dorm. once he was inside, the y/h/c girl closed her door.

she immediately went to her closet grabbing a sweatshirt and sweatpants for the boy. “thank you” he mumbled as y/n placed the clothes in his arms.

say it's been a long six months and you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

the fantilli boy emerged from the bathroom dressed in the dry clothes as y/n went back to studying.

“i came here for a reason, you know” he said breaking the silence. “why is that?” y/n asked pointedly, being diverted from her studying once again.

“it’s been a long six months, and the have been the hardest six months of my life” luca began. six months ago, y/n made the decision to end her two year relationship with the defenseman.

“luca you not listening to me” y/n cried “i get hockey is something you’re really passionate about and it requires dedication but the same goes for a relationship!” at this point, she had tears streaming out of her eyes.

luca had cancelled their weekly date night for the third week in a row, because he had hockey. y/n was gutted. the girl had a very rough day and all she wanted to do was spend time with her boyfriend.

“y/n this is my dream we’re dealing with! my dream to play in the nhl! and the only way i can do that is if i get better! this isn’t high school anymore y/n! this is my future and i can’t be slacking off” the boy raised his voice slightly.

“if i don’t get better than organizations won’t want me, and if they don’t want me what good is any of this” he said dejectedly, motioning to his dorm where the couple currently stood.

“luca don’t you think i know that!” y/n exclaimed. “all i ask is that you put at least a small amount of effort into our relationship” she cried.

“i am y/n!” luca yells. “but clearly my efforts aren’t enough” he says aggravated. “you know what luca…” y/n begins, “you don’t have to do anything anymore. go have fun with your team, because this” she motions between the two of them “is over.”

with tears in her eyes, y/n left the room of her now ex-boyfriend. luca followed her out calling her name, but she didn’t turn around. as much as it hurt, she knew it was for the better.

“yeah it has, hasn’t it” y/n reminiscing their relationship. “i gave my all to hockey and i should’ve given my all to you too” he sighed.

“i didn’t know what i wanted and i was scared” he continued “but i know now” luca walked towards the girl taking her soft hands in his.

and then you say i want you for worse or for better i would wait for ever and ever broke your heart, i'll put it back together i would wait for ever and ever

“i want you, y/n/n” he said looking deep into y/n’s eyes. “i want you to be by my side after big wins and big losses too. i know i broke your heart y/n” luca trails off as a tear slowly falls down his face.

“letting you go was the biggest mistake i think i’ve ever made. and i will wait for however long you want me to if it means i get to have you in my life again” y/n wipes the tears from his eyes and pulls the taller boy into a hug.

with her arms around his neck and his around her waist, the boy breaks down. “i still love you y/n” luca sobs, burying his face into the crook of the shorter girls neck.

“i love you too lu” y/n says, wiping the few tears that managed to escape from her eyes.

luca tightens his grip on y/n, afraid that if he were to let go, she would disappear.

“im so sorry. i was such a dick to you y/n. you never deserved that” he cries, sobs wracking through his body.

y/n loosens her grip on him, cupping his face in her hands. tears flood his hazel eyes and wet the palms of her hands.

“regardless of what you do, i will always love you lu, no matter what” she says looking lovingly into his eyes. she then pulled him into a passionate and love filled kiss.

“even if i kill someone?” the blonde boy says, pulling away. “it depends on who you kill, but i would most likely still love you” y/n giggles.

“i’m willing to give us another shot if you are” y/n says once their giggles die down. luca nods excitedly with a cheshire cat size smile on his face, playfully tackling y/n onto her bed.

while rolling around, luca peppers kisses on the girls face, eager to have her back. “i missed my girl” he said holding onto her tightly.

“i missed you too lu” she said with a smile. “i’ll love you forever and ever” he says mirroring the smile on his girlfriends face

“forever and ever?”

“forever and ever.”

#luca fantilli imagine #luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli blurb #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich blurbs

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 years

Text

“i can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” | Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

12 years ago, Elvis chose his career over you. What happens when he shows up at your door asking for a second chance?

a/n: this is entirely based on a dialogue prompt I saw from @twelvegods: “I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” apparently it was a really good prompt because it inspired all 8,735 words of this lol. I I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it <3 Thank you all again so so so much for 500 followers!!

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: a couple swear words, lots of angst in the first half, Y/N has trust issues oops, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

“I’m gonna marry you someday.”

That’s what Elvis Presley had said to you when he was just 20 years old and his career was starting to take off, thanks in large part (as Elvis said) to the Colonel. And you, being the young girl in love that you were, believed him.

What a fool you were.

You managed to stay together for another year before the Colonel, his claws digging into Elvis’s heart and soul to bleed all the green he could out of him, managed to convince him that appearing single would be what was best for his career— he had to let all those screaming girls believe they had a chance with him, after all.

“Baby please,” Elvis pleaded, “this is for my career. I promise it won’t be for long. We’ll get back together, you’ll see.”

You shook your head, “No, Elvis. I’m not gonna sit around waiting for you like some damsel in distress. If you want me, keep me. But otherwise…”

You paused, waiting for him to say something. Begging, pleading, praying he would say something, that you had managed to change his mind.

When he said nothing, you exploded.

You had screamed and cried, and he had screamed and cried, and you had taken your things that had made their way into his room in Graceland and stormed out of his life for good, only pausing to give him one final sincere “I love you” before you walked out the door.

The last image you had of him (that wasn’t on a tv screen or poster) was of him standing in the foyer in Graceland, tears streaming down his face, refusing to chase after you.

You hoped that time would eventually heal your wounded heart, but apparently whoever said time heals all wounds was a fucking idiot because it was now just over a decade later and you were still as in love with Elvis Presley as you had been when you were one of the only girls in the world who knew his name.

He, evidently, didn’t feel the same.

That much was clear, at least, based on the way he was still overly flirtatious with his audience in his shows, not to mention the rumors about relationships with his movie co-stars. In his shows, before he went off to Germany, he had taken to stepping down into the audience and kissing practically every woman in the room. That alone cleared any remaining doubts from your mind that he still thought about you in any capacity, despite that little voice in the back of your head that still held out some futile, desperate hope.

You’re about to curl up on the couch with some tea and your copy of Anne of Green Gables — exactly what you need on a rainy day like today — when someone knocks on your door.

“You expecting anyone, Y/N?” your friend Annie calls from the hall. You had been living with her for about 5 years down in Louisiana, after the memories in Memphis had become too much, and you loved it.

“Nope,” You call back, wondering who on earth would be knocking on doors in this weather. “If it’s one of those door-to-door salesmen, slam it in his face again.” You suggest with a laugh.

“Will do,” comes her reply, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

You turn you attention back to your book as the door opens, and nearly spill your tea all over yourself as you hear a sultry drawl you hadn’t heard in person in over a decade.

“Hi Annie… is Y/N here?”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re sure Annie is as stunned as you are, then:

“Maybe,” she replies curtly, “What do ya want?”

Annie knew the whole story of you and Elvis, and she had sworn that she’d never let you get hurt like that ever again.

“Please, Annie, I just wanna talk to her.”

“And why should I let you? You’ve got a lotta nerve comin’ here after what you did—“

You’re not sure what prompts you to set your book and mug down and sigh “Annie, just let him in,” but you’re just as surprised as Annie is that you did.

She reluctantly steps aside to let him in, eyeing him warily the entire time.

Your eyes drink him in; this is the first time you’re seeing him in person in over 12 years, and your mind automatically catalogs the differences since you last saw him. He’s tanned, with a few more freckles, a result of the California sun, no doubt, and tinted glasses hide his eyes. His burgundy suit is soaked, and his hair, which was no doubt carefully styled before, now flops onto his forehead, dripping into his eyes.

He takes off his sunglasses, revealing tired blue eyes. From the way his eyes track along your body, he was drinking you in the same way you had done him.

There’s a beat of silence, then his eyes finally meet yours.

“Hi,” he says softly.

You maintain a straight face, unwilling to be taken in so easily.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice cold. You want nothing more than to rush into his arms, but you remind yourself: he chose his career over you, and never looked back.

“I fired the Colonel,” he blurts, after several moments of trying to figure out what to say.

“About time,” you snort, dropping your serious demeanor for a split second, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“I made a mistake, Y/N. A lotta mistakes, really, but letting you go was the biggest one I ever made in my life. I missed you so, so much, and I—“

You cut him off, “Elvis, cut the shit. You made it very clear you moved on from me.”

“Y/N, I never stopped thinkin’ about you, I promise.”

“Sure, and was that before or after you kissed every girl in the audience at the end of every damn show?”

“Y/N, I—“ he starts, frustrated, then takes a deep breath. He starts again, calmer, softer, “I know how that looks. But I… I can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending they’re you.” He looks earnestly into your eyes.

You feel your cracked heart melt just a little at his words, and yet…

“I don’t…” you sigh, “I don’t believe you. You put your career before me over a decade ago, and I tried to move on, but I couldn’t when I was seeing your face and hearing your voice everywhere, and it hurt like hell. And now you walk back in here, tell me you just made a mistake, and… what? Expect me to take you back just like that?”

“Please, Y/N,” he says, an echo of his plea back when he broke your heart for the first time, “I know I messed up bad, but… it’s you. It’s always been you, with those girls in the audience, even with Ann-Margret… I was always thinkin’ about you. And I’m willin’ to do whatever I have to to fix this. Anything. I mean it.”

And you can see the conviction in his eyes, like he’s that little boy again who believed he was Captain Marvel Jr. and could fly his family out of poverty to the Rock of Eternity. You know in your bones that he’d buy you the moon if it meant he could love you again.

But you’d made the mistake of believing his promises before.

“Elvis, I don’t know if I can trust you. How do I know you won’t drop me when your next manager thinks that’d be ‘what’s best for your career’?”

He winces as you throw the Colonel’s words from all those years ago back in his face. “I know I ruined any kind of trust you had in me that day, and I can’t tell you enough how goddamn sorry I am, Y/N. But I’m not askin’ for you to forgive me right now, I just want a chance to try and fix this. That’s all, I swear.”

He waits as you process his words, practically holding his breath as you think of how to reply.

“I’ll think about it,” you say softly.

He nods. “That’s all I’m askin’ for, sw— Y/N,” he fumbles to avoid using the old pet name for you.

“I think you should go now,” you say, your voice cold again to hide how the almost-pet name brought a storm of feelings rushing back..

“Right, um..” he fumbles around in his pocket, producing a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled on it, “Gimme a call, if you want? I’ve gotta head back to Memphis in a couple days, that’ll probably be the easiest way to reach me if you, uh, decide anything.”

“Okay,” you nod, glancing at it quickly before stuffing it in your pocket. The number was for Graceland’s house phone; a number you’d never forgotten for a second, not that you’d be telling Elvis that.

“Well, um… bye Y/N, Annie,” he nods as he moves past your roommate towards the door. He pauses, hesitating for a moment before turning back to you. “You look good, Y/N,” he says softly before heading back out into the downpour.

The “you, too” you whisper in reply is lost in the sound of rain hitting the pavement outside.

The enormity of everything that had just transpired suddenly hits you and you fall back onto the couch, tears welling up in your eyes.

Annie rushes over, concerned. You look up as she fusses over you.

“Was that… did that actually just happen?”

Annie nods, “Yeah, it did, honey. I can scarcely believe it myself.”

“Did I do the right thing?” You wring your hands, suddenly second-guessing every decision you made during the interaction with Elvis.

“I know I’ve always said that I’d punch him in his smug face if he ever showed up here after what he did to you,” Annie says, “But I see the way you look at him when he shows up on the TV, and that ain’t the look of someone who’s just angry at an ex. You’re still in love with him, honey, I know it, and I feel like a fresh start is what both of you need. I don’t mean to overstep,” she drawls, “But if I can give you some advice: just start over as friends. Don’t jump back into a relationship right away. Try to make it organic. A clean slate.”

“A clean slate,” you echo, processing her words.

You mull over what to do for a few days, worst and best-case scenarios swirling around your brain, and eventually dial Graceland. Your foot taps anxiously as you lean against the wall by the phone, listening to it ring.

“Hullo?” A raspy voice comes over the receiver.

“Hi, Elvis,” you say, trying your best to sound casual, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey,” he stammers, sounding less like the confident King of Rock and Roll superstar and more like the shy little kid you’d grown up with, “Uh, how are you?”

“I’m alright.” You reply, “Look, I did some thinking about what you said and, well… I’ve got a couple questions before I decide anything.”

“Sure, yeah, what is it?”

“Well, first of all… why now?”

“Huh?”

You sigh, “It’s been over 10 years, Elvis. What made you come back now? What made you fire the Colonel after all this time?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t very happy with the movies the Colonel was signing me up for. And then he planned this whole silly special for NBC…” he sighs, “I’ve been lost ever since I lost Mama— before that, even, when I lost—“ he cuts himself off with an awkward cough, “uh, anyway; he wasn’t helping. And I finally realized that he didn’t really care what I wanted to do. It was all about profit for him,” he says quietly. He goes on to explain hiring Binder and Bones to help with the special, to “find himself” again, and the realization he’d had that he hadn’t truly felt like himself since he’d left you.

“Hm,” is your only response at first, trying to shove down the warmth growing in your chest. “Well, um… thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome. I want you to know, Y/N… you can trust me. I know I ruined that back then, but I’d really like a chance to try and rebuild it with you if I can.”

“I think I’d like that, too.” You say after a moment of silence. “Look, Elvis, I… I don’t think it would be a good idea, if we’re gonna do this, to pick up right where we left off. We need a… a clean slate. So what if we started over as friends?” You fidget with the phone cord as you await his reply.

There are several moments of silence, and you're wondering if something happened with the call before his raspy drawl comes over the phone once more.

“I’d love to be your friend again, Y/N.”

A wave of relief floods your body, and you smile. You think for a moment before speaking again, saying hesitantly, “I’m coming up to visit for Mama’s birthday next weekend, and… maybe we could see each other then? That would be a ‘friend’ thing to do, right?”

“Yeah, I’d… I’d really like that.”

“Great, well,” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, “I’ll just give you a call when I’m back home and we can figure everything out then?”

“Whatever works for you is fine with me,” he assures you, “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“Me, too,” you say softly, allowing a tiny bit of the warmth you felt earlier to creep back. “I’ll see you next weekend, then.”

“See you then,” he says and with a click, the phone is back to humming a dial tone.

You’re buzzing with anticipation for the next week, not only excited to see your family but also to see Elvis.

“Y/N!” Your mother rushes out as you pull into the driveway of your family’s Memphis home, “My baby’s home!”

“Happy birthday, Mama,” you smile as she rushes up to give you a hug, squeezing you tight.

“Thank you, darlin’. Come inside, honey, come in!” she insists, grabbing your suitcase from you despite your protests.

“Honey!” she calls to your father as she leads you into your childhood home, “Look who’s finally decided to come for a visit!”

“Mama, I was just here for Easter,” you remind her as you head to the living room to greet your father. “Hi Daddy,” you smile as he pulls you in for a hug.

“Good to see you, sweetheart,” he says, “Louisiana treatin’ you well?”

You nod, “Mhm. Everyone’s real nice, and Annie’s always lookin’ out for me.”

You fill your parents in on life in Louisiana, and in return they (your mother, mostly) regale you with all the Memphis gossip you’ve missed. Apparently the young couple next door had a baby recently, another young couple in town just got married, and oh yes, Elvis came back fr—

“Mary Ann, you know I don’t like talkin’ about that boy!” your father exclaims, cutting your mother off.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do, Walter,” your mother retorts, “It’s not as if we can pretend he doesn’t exist, not when he’s such a big part of this town…”

As you listen to your parents bicker, you decide that now might as well be as good a time as any to bring up your new friendship.

“Actually, Mama,” you interrupt their bickering, “I’m gonna try and meet up with Elvis while I’m in town this weekend…”

Your father’s expression flickers between confusion and anger at your words, while your mother’s morphs into one of delight.

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful!” She exclaims, “Though I admit, I thought you’d’ve at least called to tell us you got back together—“

“Mama!” You cut her off, heat flooding your face, “We’re not back together, I promise,” you add with a glance over to your father. “He showed up at our place last week, we had a talk, and we’re gonna try to be friends again.”

“Well I’m glad to see the two of you are startin’ over, honey,” your mother says with a smile

“I still don’t trust that boy,” your father grumbles. “Just… be careful, alright?”

You nod, “Of course, you know I always am, Daddy.”

”When were you two planning on meeting up?” your mother asks.

You shrug, “We haven’t figured out the details yet. I was gonna call him today to sort everything out.”

”Well you should invite him over for dinner while you’re in town.” your mother suggests, with just a hint of a mischievous sparkle in her eye, ignoring your father’s clear alarm at the suggestion.

You groan. “Mama, no, he really doesn’t need to come for dinner—“

”Y/N L/N, inviting a friend over for dinner is a polite thing to do,” your mother scolds, “and in this house we are always…?”

“Polite and respectful,” you mumble, repeating the words that had been drilled into you in childhood.

She nods, satisfied. ”It’s settled then. You two will have your little meetup and then he can come over for dinner that night, or the next if it suits him.”

”Yes, Mama,” you say, resigned. “I’ll go call him now.”

You make your way over to the kitchen, dialing the number you’ve had memorized for over 12 years.

“Hello?” The same raspy voice comes over the receiver.

”Hey, it’s um, it’s me. Y/N.”

”Oh, hey. Um, how are ya?”

”I’m alright. I’m back in town now, and Mama’s bein’… well, Mama, so you can imagine.” you say with a soft laugh.

”Oh, I can imagine,” he agrees, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “How was the drive up?”

The two of you make small talk for a bit, slowly easing back into being a part of each other’s lives, and eventually you remember the reason you called. “Oh, yeah, by the way; I was calling to see if there was a day or time that worked for you as far as meeting up this weekend?”

”Oh, yeah.” You can hear some rustling on his end, and you assume he’s checking his schedule. “I’m actually free this afternoon around 1 if that works? Or tomorrow?”

You weren’t prepared to see him quite so soon, but you suppose now is better than putting it off until tomorrow. “This afternoon is perfect. You still like that diner on Beale Street, right?”

He hums an affirmative, and you smile, “Great, I’ll meet you there at 1, then.”

”I’ll see you then,” and the line clicks back to a dial tone.

You head back to the living room, entering to see your parents doing a wonderfully poor job of pretending as though they weren’t listening to your conversation. You roll your eyes.

”I assume you already heard, but Elvis and I are meeting for lunch at 1, just as friends, Mama,” you say pointedly, noting the beam on your mother’s face. “I’ll ask him about dinner then.”

Your father harrumphs, but mainly keeps silent, a firm frown on his face.

”That’s wonderful, honey,” your mother beams, “You’ve gotta get goin’ pretty soon then, huh?”

“Huh?” You glance over at the clock on the mantle and sure enough, it’s already 15 past noon and you still haven’t changed out of the outfit you wore for the 6-hour drive up to Memphis. You grab your suitcase and race to make yourself presentable, managing to change into a dress that seems nice enough for a lunch outing (but not too fancy), fix your windswept hair, and reapply your makeup in a cool 30 minutes before racing out the door.

Before you can make it out to the porch, though, your father stops you, calling your name as you’re about to step out the door. You turn, “Yes, Daddy?”

He has a solemn look on his face. “Just… be careful, darlin’. You know me, I hold grudges like no one else, and I admit I still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you all those years ago. If you let him in, and he hurts you again somehow I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You step back into the room and envelop him in a hug. “Thank you for looking out for me, Daddy. I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m not the same girl I was when I met him.” You add with a sad smile.

He squeezes your hand comfortingly, “I know you’ll be smart. If he does anything, you come right to me and I’ll sort him out, alright?” You nod and, satisfied, he kindly shoos you out the door with a soft “Go on, have fun.”

You pull up to the diner to find that Elvis is already there, if the deep purple Cadillac parked nearby is any indication.

He waves from a booth near the back as you enter, his bodyguards seated at a table nearby. You slide into the seat across from him, pushing down the butterflies that threaten to stir. It might’ve been a bad idea to choose the place you went on your first date, you realize belatedly, but too late now.

“How are you?” he asks with a casual smile.

“Pretty good,” you reply, “My parents have been updating me on all the Memphis gossip I’ve missed since I was away, very exciting stuff,” you say sarcastically. “Mama says hi, by the way.”

“Tell her I say hi back,” he grins.

“Will do. Uh, how are you?” You say, trying to fall back into the rhythm of talking to him.

“I’m alright. There’s this big thing I’m gonna be workin’ on soon, I’m pretty excited for it.”

“Oh, big thing?” You ask, your interest piqued.

“It’s a…” he pauses, looking around, “no one really knows about it yet, so you gotta promise not to tell anyone, alright?”

You nod, and he continues, leaning in to whisper, “You remember that special I told you about, the one that Steve and Bones are helpin’ me with? It’s gonna be a TV special for NBC. A Christmas show, kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well, it’ll have a couple of Christmas songs, but I really want it to be about finding myself again. Gettin’ back to the real Elvis.”

“Sounds exciting,” you reply, a genuine smile coming across your face at how excited he seems.

A starstruck waitress comes to take your order, and the conversation continues.

“So,” Elvis says, “how are you doin’ in Louisiana?”

“I actually really like it there,” you reply, smiling. “Annie’s great, obviously, and I found a job at a bookstore that I really love, things are goin’ pretty well. I do have the occasional grumpy customer, but that’s just how it is.” You finish with a shrug.

“Grumpy customer? Sounds like you’ve got some stories to tell,” he says, sounding genuinely interested, and you can’t help but launch into the story of a man who was sure that Stranger in a Strange Land was in the nonfiction section no matter how many times you tried to lead him over to science fiction.

You finally fall back into a rhythm of friendly conversation, trading stories for over an hour before you finally bring up what your mother had asked.

“Oh by the way,” you say, sipping your milkshake, “Mama wanted me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night.”

Elvis nearly chokes on the fry he’s just taken a bite of. “Sorry, what?”

“I told my parents that we were meeting up and she was adamant that I at the very least invite you to come over for dinner tomorrow— you know how she is about politeness—“ you explain, “but I promise, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I completely understand, I’d be more than happy to make up an excuse for you.”

“And refuse an invitation from Mrs. L/N? It’s like you want her to kill me,” he jokes. “I’d be more than happy to come,” he says, in a more sincere tone. “Besides, friends come over for dinner right?”

“Of course,” you say, trying to reassure yourself as much as him, “and Mama’s very excited to see you, so be prepared for that.”

“I always am,” he replies with a smile.

You arrange for him to come over at 7 the next night, and the rest of lunch goes smoothly until the check arrives, which starts off a round of bickering between the two of you about who should pay.

“Please let me get this, I want this to be a start to making it up to you,” Elvis argues.

“I appreciate it but I’m perfectly capable of paying for lunch, thank you very much,” you retort, and this goes on for several minutes before the two of you eventually agree to split the check.

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” Elvis says as you exit the diner, his bodyguards dutifully on alert as they follow you out.

“You, too.” You say. “I…” I didn’t realize just how much I missed you, is what you want to say, but instead, you go with “I had a good time.”

His face lights up as if those 5 little words were all he needed to brighten his day. He steps towards the Cadillac, throwing a friendly wave to you as he calls “See you tomorrow!”

You wave back, and you don’t realize how happy you are until your cheeks start to ache from smiling on the drive home.

The next day, your mother is practically frantic, bustling around the house making sure everything is perfect for when Elvis gets here.

“Mama, it’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever been here! And we’re just friends, please try to remember that.”

“Alright, alright, I know, honey. I just think it’s nice that you two are spending time together again, that’s—“

The doorbell rings, and your mother jumps into action, plucking microscopic bits of lint from your dress before hurrying to the door and opening it with a polite smile.

Elvis stands on your porch, bearing a polite smile and a bouquet of lilacs. “Hello, Mrs. L/N.”

“Hello, Elvis!” Your mother beams, “It’s wonderful to see you again. And you brought Y/N flowers, how sweet!” She looks pointedly at you.

Elvis lets out a nervous laugh as he steps into the house, “Actually, Mrs. L/N, these are for you. A birthday gift.” He holds out the bouquet to her with a shy smile, looking remarkably like the shy boy he had been back in ‘51 when you first became friends.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you dear. Wasn’t that kind of him, Walter?”

“Very kind,” your father grumbles in a tone that makes it seem as though Elvis had brought a pile of mud as a gift. He nods a greeting, “Hello, Elvis. California’s treatin’ you well, I hear.”

“Uh, yes, sir, it is. Thank you.” he replies.

When your father doesn’t respond, Elvis turns his attention to you. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you reply, resisting the urge to fuss with your dress.

The awkward silence that follows is broken as your mother ushers everyone to the dining room, arranged so she and your father are at the heads of the table while you and Elvis are sitting across from one another.

The meal begins, and the conversation that follows is strained but polite, with your mother eagerly asking questions about life in California and Hollywood and Elvis answering modestly then turning the conversation back to your family, remaining the picture of a Southern gentleman. The conversation remains polite apart from your father’s not-so-subtle grumbling about Elvis running off the California, and just when you think it can’t get any worse, he decides to bring up the rumors of Elvis’s womanizing.

“So, Elvis,” your father says casually, though his eyes remain calculating, “what’s all this I hear about you and… what’s that actress’s name, Ann-Margret? Or have you moved on to someone new by now?”

You feel your face flush, and you’re sure the mortification shows on your face as you hiss for your father to stop, please.

“Oh well sir, that’s really all just the tabloids tryin’ to get their stuff to sell, there’s no truth to that at all, I promise. Ann-Margret is a good friend of mine now, though.” Elvis answers politely, unfazed as your mother quietly scolds your father.

“Walter, quit it, you’re scarin’ the boy!”

“Well good, he should be scared after what he did to my little girl!”

“Dad!” you exclaim, mortified, “We talked about this! We’re friends now, you promised you’d be polite!”

“No, it’s alright, Y/N,” Elvis assures you, briefly breaking eye contact with your father to glance over at you, “He’s just lookin’ out for you like any father would, and I respect you for that, sir.”

Your father grunts a reply, and the conversation picks up again, still polite but even more strained than before.

Elvis remains as polite as ever, even offering to take care of the dishes — “Oh I can get those plates for ya, don’t you worry Mrs. L/N” — and despite your determination for a clean slate, your mind betrays you, reminding you of how shy and overly polite he was the first few times he was over for dinner, especially after the two of you first got together. Sure, he’s gotten a little more confident, which you’ll admit is kind of attractive, but— NO.

You firmly cut off that train of thought, no matter how badly that little voice in the back of your head (the one that practically melted at the sight of him at your door with a bouquet, reminiscent of your first date) wants to keep on track. Just friends, clean slate, you remind yourself.

After the dishes are done, your mother prepares coffee for everyone and the four of you head to the living room. At one point, Elvis gets up to get a refill, and your father follows him.

Your father approaches Elvis once it’s clear that neither you nor your mother will be getting up, and corners him.

“Now Elvis, I’m gonna try to be polite, because my daughter’s told me you two are tryin’ to be friends and I respect her wishes, but I don’t trust you after what you did to her. And if I get even a hint that you’re playin’ with her feelings, well… I’m afraid that won’t end well for ya, son.”

Elvis nods quickly, “Sir I promise you, I have no intentions of playing with your daughter’s feelings. She’s very dear to me, and I swear I’d do anything to make sure she’s happy.” He says, conviction clear in his eyes.

Your father eyes Elvis for several long moments and, apparently satisfied, returns to the living room with more coffee for you and your mother.

Elvis takes a breath to compose himself — he’s forgotten how scary your father could be when he wanted to — and exits the kitchen, re-entering as you’re laughing at some comment your mother made.

You turn as he enters with a wide smile on your face, and he’s suddenly slammed back to a time where you looked at him like that every time he entered a room— when you looked at him as though he’d hung the moon and stars just for you.

Fighting the urge to rush over and kiss you senseless — that’s not something a friend would do, he reminds himself — he moves to sit in the armchair across from you, turning his attention to whatever neighbor your mother is gossiping about tonight.

The night eventually winds to a close and Elvis thanks your parents profusely for “a wonderful meal and even better company.”

Your mother waves off the compliment modestly, “Oh it was nothin’ darling. We’ll be glad to have you back anytime. Y/N, why don’t you walk our guest out while we take care of these last few things?” she says, gesturing to the coffee mugs still sitting out.

Elvis gives one last wave to your parents, wishing them well, before stepping out to the porch with you.

“Well, my parents loved you,” you tease as the two of you make your way to the pink Cadillac looking more than slightly out of place in your modest gravel driveway.

He lets out a shy laugh, “They haven’t changed a bit, that’s for sure. Your daddy’s still as protective as ever.” His tone softens as he continues, “It was nice seein’ them again. ‘Specially your mama. She’s always been better to me than I deserve.”

Acting on impulse, you lean over and squeeze his hand as you remember his own mama isn’t waiting for him at home anymore. “You’re welcome over anytime. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” he replies in a near whisper. Your hand stays clasped with his, the warmth of him tempting you closer, and his gaze drifts slowly down to your lips before the two of you snap back to yourselves and create a respectable two feet of distance between you.

“Uh, anyway,” you attempt to continue the conversation, refusing to acknowledge that moment of… whatever that was, “Are you gonna be here for a while longer?”

He shakes his head, “I’m actually gonna be leaving for California again tomorrow.” he says almost apologetically, adding with a nod to the house, “But I’ll still be able to call ya for a bit, right?”

A frown crosses your face as you remember: “I’m actually headin’ back to Louisiana tomorrow. But,” you brighten, “I can give you my number for down there if you want?”

“I’d love that,” Elvis smiles.

You rummage around in your pockets for anything you can scribble on, producing some long-forgotten shopping list and a small pen. You scrawl your phone number down and hand it to him, determinedly not noticing the sparks you feel as your fingers brush.

“I’ll call ya every night,” he says as he stuffs it in his pocket, “I’ll need ya to keep me updated on all the Louisiana gossip, hm?”

A sad smile crosses your face at the memory of the last time he’d made a promise like that. Despite all your talk of a clean slate, you can’t help but remind him, “Let’s not make promises you can’t keep, Elvis.”

You give him one last wave, wish him goodnight, and walk back inside, his pleas of “What? No, Y/N, this ain’t gonna be like that!” falling on deaf ears.

You put on a brave face for your parents the next day, joking about what a coincidence it was that both you and Elvis happened to be leaving town on the same day, but behind closed doors, you’re unable to block the memories of the last time he had promised he’d call you every night: when he went along with the Colonel on Hank Snow’s tour.

1955

“I’ll be back in time for prom, darlin’, I promise,” Elvis reassures you over the phone. “I’ll bring you a corsage, we’ll have a great time.”

“Okay,” you reply, “I’m sorry, I know I must sound silly, but I’m just really lookin’ forward to going with you.”

“That’s not silly,” he assures you with a soft laugh, “I’m lookin’ forward to it, t—“ he cuts off, and you can barely make out what sounds like a knock on the door on his end of the line. “That’ll be Scotty again, no doubt.” he groans good-naturedly. There’s some shuffling as he makes his way over, yanking the door open with a “Scotty, how many times do I have to tell ya—“

“Elvis?” you say, concerned at how he cuts off mid-sentence, “Is everything alright?”

There’s a moment of silence, after which he stammers out a response.

“I, uh… I gotta go, I’ll call ya back, darlin’, alright?”

He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before hanging up, but in the split second before it goes to a dial tone you can just make out a woman’s sultry voice over the receiver.

1968 - Present Day

He had still called after that, but not as frequently; certainly not every day like he promised. And while you forgave what happened on tour, you had never quite forgotten what him being away for a stretch of time could mean.

Still. Clean slate. Maybe this time could be different, you reasoned, though you were barely convincing yourself at this point.

You head back to Louisiana, promising your parents you’ll visit again soon and that you’ll give them a call as soon as you get home. You stumble through the door of your little house, exhausted after the 6-hour drive. Annie rushes over to hug you.

“Hey honey! Good to have ya home,” she grins, taking your suitcase from you, “I’ve got lunch for ya, you go sit down. I’ll put this in your room. And then I wanna hear all about how that li’l meetup went,” she adds with a wink, gently shoving you towards the kitchen while she heads down the hall.

You smile as you enter the kitchen to see a little card with the words “Welcome Home” in Annie’s signature scrawl next to a plate on the counter. You take a bite of the sandwich waiting for you — grilled cheese, Annie’s specialty — and finally allow yourself to relax. At that moment, Annie slides in with a mischievous grin, plopping herself down on the stool next to you.

“So…” she leads, a sparkle in her eye. “How was it?”

“It was good,” you reply, purposefully misinterpreting her question, “We took Mama out for dinner and I made her a cake—”

Annie cuts you off with a playful swat to your arm, “Not that! Elvis,” she says, dragging out the ‘s’ longer than necessary.

You roll your eyes, “Fine! It was… fine. We met up for lunch at this old diner we used to go to, we talked… Mama had me invite him over for dinner, and he brought flowers for her” you say pointedly, noticing the gleam in her eyes. “It went well, all things considered. Daddy did have some things to say, he still hasn’t quite forgiven him for what he did, but Elvis was a real gentleman the whole time. He actually went back to California today, filming somethin’ for TV, but he said he wants to keep in touch.”

“That’s great, honey!” Annie squeals, “I’m glad y’all are doin’ well.”

You give a weak smile in return. “Yeah, he said he’s gonna call every day, but…”

“Oh…” Annie’s eyes soften in understanding, recalling what you had told her about your relationship before. “Y/N, I know it might be scary, but what if it’s different this time? What if he actually keeps his promise? He’s said he wants to work on trust with you again, right? This is the perfect opportunity for him to prove to you that he’s worth trusting. And if he doesn’t,” she adds in a lighter tone, “I’ll fly out to California and sock him right in his pretty face myself.”

“I know you will,” you laugh, “but you’re right, I’ll—“

You’re cut off as the phone rings, and you lock eyes with Annie. It can’t be him already, can it? No, it’s probably your parents calling to make sure you made it home safely, you reason as you move to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N,” the heavy drawl surprises you, and you nearly miss what Elvis says next, “I’m glad I caught you, I was callin’ a bit ago and got quite a tellin’ off from Annie sayin’ that you weren’t there yet.”

At that you turn to glare at Annie, who only gives you a smug, mischievous smirk in return.

“Yeah, I just got in maybe twenty minutes ago,” you reply, the shock slowly fading into a kind of warmth as his voice washes over you.

“How was the drive?”

“Long,” you say with a laugh, “I’m glad to be home now. How’s California?”

“‘S alright,” he replies, “I just got back from finalizing some stuff with Steve for filming tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” you recall your conversation from a few days ago, “The Christmas special, right? Or,” you correct yourself, “the not-entirely-Christmas special.”

“Exactly,” he laughs, “I’m actually pretty excited about it.”

“That’s good,” you smile, “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says sincerely. “But anyway, enough about me. How are you?”

“Well, Annie had one of her famous grilled cheeses waiting for me when I got here so I’d say we’re off to a pretty good start. Tomorrow’s an inventory day at work, though, not nearly as exciting as filming a special for NBC.”

He sucks in a breath in sympathy, “I remember you never liked those days. Good luck with that,” he says, “and I’ll tell ya what: I’ll make sure to tell you all about the boring parts of filming so ya don’t get too jealous, how ‘bout that?” he teases

“Sounds perfect,” you laugh.

You don’t even notice the time flying by as the conversation continues, the two of you talking about everything and nothing, and you fall into a rhythm of talking for hours every night. Slowly, the nagging fear you feel that today’s the day he won’t call starts to fade, and you look forward to your nightly chats where you fill him in on any interesting customers and he tells you about the goofs he made that day during filming.

“I’m not kiddin’, I legitimately forgot the words!” he laughs.

Your only reply is to laugh even harder at the image of him surrounded by cameras forgetting the words to Heartbreak Hotel.

“Alright, come on, it ain’t that funny,” he says in a mock-hurt tone.

“Oh, I promise it is,” you say, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye, “I might need you to send me a copy or whatever of these goofs, I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.”

“I’ll see if I can arrange that for ya…” he replies, his voice trailing off as he seemingly turns away from the receiver for some reason.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just someone at the door,” he assures you, “Gimme one second.”

There’s some shuffling as he makes his way to the door, and your surprise at the thought of him carrying the phone with him across the room turns into a sinking feeling in your stomach as you hear the squeak of a door open and the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice. Your heart sinks as the memory of that day on his tour starts to play again in your mind, a cacophony of not again, I knew this would happen, I shouldn’t have trusted him filling your ears.

“-N? Y/N, you there?” You slowly blink back to reality as Elvis calls your name over the receiver, “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply hesitantly as he dives into an explanation about some crazy fan sneaking past security to his room. He pauses, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice.

“Y/N… you can talk to me, you know that, right? What’s wrong?” he says softly, and he sounds so genuine you want to cry.

“It’s… it’s silly…” you reply, embarrassed at the thought of telling him that that memory from all this years ago still haunts you.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d really like to know if I can help,” he replies patiently.

You sigh, and launch into an explanation of that night back in ‘55. “You just hung up on me, and the last thing I heard was some woman’s voice, and I didn’t realize how much that hurt me until I started worrying about who you were with whenever you were gone for a long time.” You explain softly, nervously fiddling with the phone cord.

“So just now, when you heard that girl at my door…” he sighs, realization dawning on him, “that brought all that back, didn’t it? I’m sorry, Y/N.” He says, and the sincerity of his words does bring tears to your eyes this time.

“I’m alright, I promise,” you reassure him, “surprised you turned her down,” you tease, wanting to move on.

“I don’t do that kinda thing anymore,” he laughs, picking up on your attempt to move to another topic, “besides, why would I stop to talk to some stranger who thinks they know everything about me when I could talk to you?”

Your heart flutters at the compliment, and you hope he can’t tell how much you’re blushing over the phone, “Aw, you’re sweet.”

There’s a moment of silence; not an awkward one, but comfortable, like the two of you don’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s company, even if it’s just on the phone. The moment is cut short, however, as Elvis speaks up again.

“I was thinkin’— and you’re free to say no, of course— well, Steve’s organizing this screening of the special before it airs. Right now it’s just Steve, Bones, Dad, Jerry, and me, but I’d like you to be there, too. Maybe get an opinion from someone who’s not family or paid to be nice to me.” He jokes.

“I’d love to,” you reply, “I’ll have to see if I can get off work, but if I can I’ll absolutely be there. And don’t worry, I’ll be brutally honest about the whole thing,” you add teasingly.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He laughs, “I’ll call once Steve has the day arranged and hopefully you can make it.”

The date Steve apparently figures out is November 19, two weeks before the special is actually set to air. Elvis relays to you that he’s arranged to do the screening at Graceland, and luckily you manage to convince your boss to give you both that day and the following day off for the long drive. Your parents are delighted to see you, of course, and you just barely miss the knowing smile on your mother’s face as you gush about how well your friendship with Elvis is going. Your father has warmed up to him the slightest bit, it seems, since your visit back in June, if the fact that he doesn’t scowl at every mention of Elvis’s name is any indication.

You take a deep breath as you pull up to Graceland. You force down the surfacing memories from the last time you were here, when Elvis officially put his career before you. Clean. Slate. you forcefully remind yourself as you step up to the front door.

The door swings open barely half a second after you ring the doorbell, and you find Elvis standing there, a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey.”

There’s a moment where the two of you simply stare at each other before he blinks, as if coming back to his senses, and steps aside to let you in. “Come on in, lemme introduce you to everybody,” he says, leading you to a room with not one, not two, but three TVs mounted into the wall, as one of his household staff comes to take your coat. 4 spaces on the immense couch taking up most of the space in the room are taken, one by his father and three others by people you don’t recognize. “This is Jerry, my manager,” Elvis says, gesturing to a man in a brown suit who looked to be in his late-20s with shaggy blondish hair, “and Steve and Bones, the masterminds behind this whole thing,” he introduces the two men sitting beside Jerry with a smile, one with neat brown hair and an ascot tied around his neck, the other with dark curly hair and round glasses. The three men give you various waves and smiles.

“And of course you know my dad,” Elvis finishes, gesturing to where he’s sitting next to Bones.

“Of course, hi Mr. Presley,” you say with a smile, coming over to shake his hand.

“Good to see you again, Y/N, how’ve ya been?” he asks as you take a seat next to him.

You’re hyperaware of Elvis sitting next to you as you make small talk with everyone, carefully leaning so that there’s a bit of distance between the two of you. As the screening begins, your attention is torn between the performance onscreen and real-life Elvis making jokes in your ear about “this is actually the take right after that goof I told you about—“ Your senses are full of him: the scent of his cologne, his arm brushing against yours, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he whispers to you, and it takes more and more of your energy to actually focus on the TVs in front of you.

About half an hour into the special, you excuse yourself and wander out to the hall, needing a break from the proximity. You don’t realize Elvis followed you out until his hand gently wraps around your wrist, making you jump.

“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were alright” he explains, releasing you.

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “just… needed a break.”

“It was that bad?” he jokes, “Damn, I’ll have to let Steve know.”

You shake your head, “No, no, it’s not that, it’s…” You hesitate, unsure if you should say what the real reason is. Your friendship is going so well, you’re not sure how he’ll react if you admit that your feelings for him were back in full force, that in truth they never really left.

“What is it?” he asks, concern in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, deciding it’s now or never.

“I’m in love with you. I never really stopped being in love with you, if I’m being honest. But being with you these past few months, being your friend again… I’ve loved it. I’ve loved talking with you on the phone for hours about everything and nothing, seeing you talk with my parents like nothing’s changed, and I… I wanna try again. For real this time.” You bite your lip, nervously gauging his reaction.

“You— you mean that?” Elvis asks softly, eyes wide.

“Yes,” you reply, “I mean it.”

“Y/N, I’d… I’d love that. I promise,” he says sincerely, “I’ll do it right this time. I’ll be the man you deserve.” He steps closer, his lips now just a breath away from yours. “Can I—“ his eyes flick from looking into yours down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you right now.” he breathes.

You nod your consent, and he swoops down to capture your lips with his, one hand cupping your cheek while the other grips your waist, pulling you close. Your arms wind around his neck up into his hair, mussing the carefully styled locks as you savor the feeling of his lips velvet-soft against yours. He walks you backward until you’re pressed against the wall, his lips never leaving yours as his body presses against you. Eventually the need for air gets the better of you, and he reluctantly pulls away, keeping his forehead and nose pressed to yours as if he can’t bear to be any farther away. His blue eyes lock with yours as you catch your breath.

“I missed you so much,” he breathes, lips brushing against yours, and the amount of love clear in those 5 little words brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you, too,” you reply softly, a smile spreading across your face.

The two of you stay like that for a while, pressed against the wall of the hallway, before Elvis mumbles “As much as I’d love to just stay here with you forever, we should probably get back before they notice we’re gone.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh sheepishly as you remember the reason you were there in the first place.

The two of you slip back into the TV room, your absence seemingly having gone unnoticed, and assume the spaces you had occupied before you left, with one small difference: your hand is intertwined with his throughout the rest of the screening.

Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @anangelwhodidntfall @austin-butlers-gf @butlersluvbot @killerqueenfan @kittenlittle24 @beauvibaby @kingelviscreole @justjacesstuff @sweetheartlizzie07 @coldonexx @londonalozzy @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @djconde58 @mirandastuckinthe80s @luke-my-skywalker @tubble-wubble @apparently-sunshine @kisseskae @whotfatemywaffles @gyomei-tiddies @friedwangsss @shynovelist @sassy-ahsoka-tano @she-is-juniper

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfiction #elvis (2022)#elvis 2022 #elvis biopic #elvis baz luhrmann #my writing #ickkspty #i can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you

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netherfeildren · 1 year

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FEAR OF GOD : Chapter II : Although a monster [Joel] could be charming in company

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Content Warnings: Angst, possessive behavior, unprotected sex (there are no condoms in the apocalypse, only vibes), oral sex (f!receiving), squirting, brief non-graphic descriptions of medical procedures / illness, brief discussion of avoiding meals (no reference to any sort of ED), stupid! Joel ™️

Summary: Joel gets a little stupid and a little jealous.

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: I wanted to mention that that I've altered the timeline a smidge to benefit my own whims. So the Joel we find here is about 50-51 and our reader is in her mid to late 20's (cw: age gap 🤓) Everything else in the timeline is the same up until Joel and Ellie return to Jackson.

Another thing, I hella make shit up in this chapter. I talk about a surgical device and there’s discussions of like mechanical/electrical engineering? which I know fuck all about. So if it reads as nonsense I sincerely apologize. There’s a fair bit of character/world building in this ch. so I hope you all can bear with me for a smidge. There is the gift of porn at the end though >:)

Chapter title is from Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red (my favorite book in the whole world which everyone should read). Art is Intimacy by Angelica Alzona

Word count: a whopping 9.6k (I'm so sorry 😭)

Read on AO3

CHAPTER II: Although a monster [Joel] could be charming in company

What it looked like?

Like fucking the forest for once birdless, beastless.

Like measuring the distance between all that’s lost

and everything else that, even now, waved at

hard enough sometimes,

will sometimes wave back.

But it felt like swallowing the sea–

being forced to, ships and all.

Then a silence as vast as it was particular.

The like holding a mirror up to Apollo

and expecting his face there, when Apollo’s always been

faceless, obviously, being a god.

And the hand still holding the mirror up anyway.

And the face not showing.

-Carl Phillips, Star Map with Action Figures

“I mean, yeah, I’d fuckin’ like to think so. I’m not sure. She told me –”

“Ellie, you’re overthinking the hell out of it.”

“I am not,” she grumbles.

“You’re a dumbass,” you deadpan.

That riles her up. “Me?! You!”

“What’ve I done? It’s pretty obvious what’s happening here – Dina wants you to ask her out – you’re too chicken shit to step up.”

“Okay, genius. Y’don’t know what you’re talking about, first of all.” The sass on this girl, honestly. The two of you sit together at the picnic tables that’d been set out in the town center for the monthly barbecue. “You think you’re so damn smart. Well lemme just ask you this, what’s going on with Joel? You two’ve been weird as fuck lately.” That shuts you up quick.

“Don’t even start with that. The answer is nothing.”

She gives you that knowing look of hers, but let’s it go. Silently says: I know this hurts, so I won’t push. Out loud: “You started it, motherfucker.” You yank on her bangs, and she swats you away. “Maybe I should call you a fatherfucker instead,” she cackles.

“Oh my god, I actually hate you.” You try and swat her back, yank on her bangs again.

“What’re you two schemin’ about?” Joel’s voice comes from behind you.

“Speak’a the devil,” she says under her breath, starting to gather up her empty plate.“Nothing–” She shoots up, and brushes past, “Gotta go. We’ll talk later,” not even sparing him a glance. You look between the two of them wishing there was anything you could do to help them bridge this cold distance between them. She turns before walking off, gives you the finger behind his back.

“Ellie, hold on a sec,” you call after her, but she’s off.

“It’s fine,” Joel says. “Leave it.”

“I’m sorry,” shielding your eyes from the bright sun, you look up into his serious face.

He shakes his head. “Nothin’ for you to be sorry about. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with you.” And that stings. Off-handedly as it’s said, it stings that he thinks their rift doesn’t affect you, make you hurt for the two of them.

How could he ever think that after everything he’d told you about Sarah – a night that’d made you feel closer to him than ever before, while you two lay in bed, still damp and trembling – that you’d not worry about his relationship now with Ellie? Who you knew he loved like a daughter, even if he was incapable of saying it out loud. How could he think it had nothing to do with you now? After what he’d told you about himself in the aftermath of Sarah. That moment, his confession, could sustain you for a lifetime of this push and pull if necessary. With trust like that, what else mattered? Very little, you thought.

“You get everything done you needed to?” he threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck, and bends to press a soft kiss to your temple.

You sigh, basking in this small tenderness he offers you after his casual hurt. “Yeah, we finished.” Sometimes you wonder if there’s something wrong with you, taking all this in stride. Luxuriating in his offerings of tenderness and vulnerability one second, swallowing the way he casually brushes you off another. Surely there must be something wrong with you. Especially because, when it comes down to it, you don’t really care as much as you think you should .

“How’d it go?” You’d had to debride some areas from Mr. Schwartz’s diabetic foot this morning – super fun for the both of you . The foot was famous in Jackson. A great source of shrieks and giggles when the old man decided to pull it out in front of the kids as his so-called ‘party trick’. We all gotta bring something fun to the table, honey, he’d tell you when you tried to put on your false tone of admonishment with him.

“Long – I had to take more than I’d initially thought I’d need to.”

“He alright?”

“Resting now… Just means it’ll be harder for him later on – take longer to recover, as best he can, in any case. And ideally, what he really needs is a boot – which we have – one… but it’s not in great condition. I don’t even know if it’ll fit him – or a wheelchair, and both of them are being used right now. So, seems my only other option is to order him into bed until I can figure something else out. And of course Connie’s all, this is on you, honey. I trust your judgment, honey. ” You deepen your tone and scrunch your brow trying to inflect Connie’s baritone. “As if that’s helpful.”

He grips your chin, forcing you to take a breath, brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, and your eyes flutter shut, pressing a tiny kiss to the pad of his thumb. He hums a little, and you catch the flare of heat in his eyes. “You’ll worry yourself half to death, little bird. Take a breath.” You huff a small laugh. He was right about that, worry was heavy on your mind recently. About lots of different things.

“I fixed you a plate,” you divert.

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. Thank you.” He swings his long leg over the bench to sit astride it, legs open to pull you between his thighs.

“S’alright. I was getting Connie’s anyway.” He digs in, and you card your fingers through his thick hair – overly long now, it brushes the collar of his shirt in the back, you’ll need to cut it for him soon – and watch the thick column of his throat ripple as he swallows. You press your thighs together – the sun is so strong today. You think it might be making you a little delirious.

“You’re not eating.” It isn’t a question, posed more like an admonishment, paired with the severe crook of his brow.

“Nah, I’m alright. Can’t have anything just yet after staring at that foot all morning,” you joke.

“You telling me you’re not as entertained by it as the kids are?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Shocking, I know.”

He turns to give you an assessing glance now, “You sure you’re alright?”

“Just tired.” You lay your head in the cool, dark crook of his neck, breathe him in. “Birdie …” voice laced with concern – he tries to gently tug you back by your ponytail, but you burrow in further – press your lips to the pulsing vein in his neck. “I’m fine, Joel. Just tired, really.” He huffs. Grouchy man.

“Hi, honey,” Connie shuffles up to the table. “Joel–” he nods, “You two alright ? That go a long time with Mr. Shwartz?” he asks.

You’re grateful for the distraction from Joel’s fifth degree. “It was fine. Our handy dandy Bovie is so good.” You’d done your best recently to fashion an electrocautery device, like the ones they’d used before in surgery. The two of you had gathered the different parts over time and much voracious scavenging, to put the system together. “You’ve gotta try it next. We should be real proud of that.”

“You should be proud. You’ve got a nice mechanical mind in you, as well. You know, Joel, the body is just a machine of flesh and blood.” Connie turns his blue eyes, gone slightly milky now, on Joel, ready to impart his slice of wisdom – part lecture, part proud tirade for your benefit, as the younger man continues to work through his plate of barbecue. “She looks at the two the same way; it’s very impressive.”

Joel finishes chewing: “Our girl is nothin’ if not impressive,” he says, giving you an impish little smirk. You pinch the inside of his thigh over the thick denim, not imparting nearly enough punishment as you’d like to.

“Shut up,” you grouch at him. “Anyways, the lines were pretty sharp, the cauterization clean. A bit slow, though. I felt a bit held back – but not too bad, considering.”

“Considering…” Connie muses. He starts to eat as well, and the sight of the slick, sauce covered meat is slightly revolting. The sun is way too hot with the change of season into fall just on the cusp, and after staring at poor Mr. Schwartz’s mangled foot all day… “I’m thinking with a little more juice it’ll be perfect. We just have to find a way to feed it more power without frying the whole system.”

“Yes… it’s delicate,” he says slowly.”You should ask Noah for advice.” Joel is silent beside you, but you feel the tensing of his thigh beneath your palm at the mention of Noah’s name. “He’s always been very keen to help us in any way we need.”

“Oh, has he?” Joel drawls, in that monotone he loves to use when cutting people down. He can’t fucking stand Noah; it’s quite funny to you, actually. You nudge his knee with your own, still cradled between his spread legs, and drag your nails slowly up and down his thigh, only responding with a non-committal hum. He shifts his jaw in that way he’s wont to do when he’s especially aggravated, cocks his eyebrow at you. You give him a tiny little mocking tilt of your head. You’re sure he can see the laughter at his expense in your eyes.

“Yes,” Connie continues, completely oblivious to the silent conversation going on between the two of you, “He’s very adept at anything electrical or mechanical. Although, you are, as well, Joel. Perhaps you could advise us too. Any help would be greatly appreciated.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but I can take a look. Offer what I can.”

You change the subject: “Teddy’s been in again this week.” One of the single mother’s in Jackson, Susanna’s son, Teddy, had been continuously ill the past few months. Coming down with different, seemingly unrelated afflictions on and off. His mother was beside herself with worry, and you and Connie were reaching your limits on what you could do to help him. Much less actually provide a clear answer as to a diagnosis.

“Yes, I spoke to his mother last night. Some sort of ague again, undoubtedly.”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately. Connie loved to condemn undiagnosable patients with ‘the ague’. “Connie, the ague is absolutely not a valid form of diagnosis,” you laugh. That launches him into a tirade about the conundrum the boys posed to the both of you these past few weeks. And ague is a perfectly valid explanation, honey. Neither of you are certain what’s causing his bouts of illness. Though you’re reluctantly leaning towards something that won’t pose anything good for any of you; you’re trying to remain optimistic, but the uncertainty is taking a toll on the both of you, as well as his mother.

As Connie goes on, there’s a hazy buzz rumbling around in your brain. Your temples throb, and you press the tender spot into the hard mass of Joel’s shoulder. He’s finished eating now, and you nuzzle into him, breathe in the warm scent of his skin and sweat, grip the hard swell of his bicep – the thick muscle has the most inappropriate arousal pooling low in your belly, but your stomach churns at the same time, and the sun is so damn bright. Too many opposing sensations going on within you all at once, you’re sure you’re on the verge of sun poisoning – dramatic – and it’s making you needy. Infecting you with ideas of crawling into his lap and having him cradle you. He stiffens beneath your attentions suddenly. The soothing large palm he’d been dragging up and down your spine goes still, pausing with his fingertips tucked just below the waistband of your jeans – as if he’s just now realizing how openly affectionate the two of you are being – his muscles go rigid at your display, and then that’s it. He’s pulling away.

Your gut twists again, your head is really spinning now – you straighten in your seat, scoot back and out of the cradle of his thighs, as far as the bench allows you. Always fucking pulling away. He’s stiff and uncomfortable, but at your retreat he clicks his tongue at you, frowns a little, and you want to snap at his subtle admonishment – you started it, what are you frowning at me for?

Connie is still going on about Teddy. “You sure you’re alright, dear?” he interrupts himself. “You look a bit peaky.”

“I’m fine.” You stand abruptly, “I’ve got to head back, actually.” Joel turns to reach for you, but you step back and away from his fingers. The heat is definitely making you grouchy, sick; you’re not acting yourself. “I promised Mr. Schwartz I’d be back to check on him within the hour.” You don’t want to look at Joel anymore – you’re used to his sudden bouts of tension – discomfort – but something is setting you on edge today.

“You should eat something before you go, honey,” Connie says – looking up at you with concern.

“I had something before I came. I’m okay.” You turn to look at Joel now, as the lie passes your lips, a provocation held in your eyes and tone.

He frowns, “You said –”

“I’ll see you two later.”

“Birdie –” But you’ve turned from him before he can continue, walking away quickly. Your head is spinning, gut cramping and turning over on itself. The sun feels like it’s two feet away from you, bearing down on the crown of your head, and you know you’re about to be sick. Always fucking pulling away, always. It embarrasses you a little that you still chafe at it, the back of your eyes pinching and saliva pooling heavy on your tongue. You know the way he is.

You make it back to the clinic just in time to vomit behind the bushes on the side of the house.

Jesus.

Susanna brings Teddy into the clinic late in the evening. You’ve just finished writing up your operative note for the ‘famous foot’ (Mr. Schwartz’s words, not yours) when she flies in, frantic, with the listless child in her arms. She tells you he’d been lethargic and without an appetite all day, but she’d chalked it up to fatigue and melancholy from being ill and bedridden so often, recently. His fever had crept up out of nowhere, and now Teddy was almost unconscious, burning hot and delirious – words slurring, eyes glassy.

It’d been hours since then. Teddy was now resting quietly with cool compresses and ice bags tucked under his arms and against his neck which seemed to be helping. Susanna had retired to the back of the house to rest for a bit, and you now sat between Mr. Schwartz and the boy, quietly reading over a text both you and Connie had already gone over multiple times – hoping to find anything that’d inspire an explanation. Most concerningly of all, you’d noticed a smattering of purple-yellowish, sickly looking bruises along Teddy’s spine. It pushed you in the direction your mind had previously taken concerning what could potentially be the cause of all of this. And even though it was the first you’d seen of any bruising on him, it didn’t reassure you at all.

“Joel’s here,” Nancy, the nurse that worked with you and Connie, says quietly from the doorway. You stand from your bedside vigil, sighing. It’s late, and you don’t want to do this now. A little embarrassed from your earlier fit. A lot tired from the long day and throwing up and the heat.

“Can you come out and get me in two minutes, please? Interrupt us.”

She gives you an assessing look. “Sure.”

You walk out to the office to find him leaning against your cluttered desk, bulging arms crossed against his chest, straining the sleeves of his button down. There’s a far off look in his eyes, scowl marring his brow, but when he looks up at you all the tightness in his countenance seems to melt away at the sight of you. “You alright?” His gaze is assessing – sweeping up and down your frame, taking everything in like always. The man sees entirely too much.

“I’m fine. I need to stay here tonight, though.” You jerk your thumb back towards the exam room. “They need me.”

“You said you were tired.”

“It passed – just the sun.” He looks at you like he doesn’t really believe you.

“About earlier—”

“It’s fine, Joel.” You feel too tired, too strung out, to give him an out by pretending to ignore that he’d hurt you, pissed you off. Let it be what it was – you had a sick child to care for – couldn’t think about all the distance that would seemingly exist forever between the two of you, not right now, at least.

“You lied about eating.”

Oh, now he wanted to be fucking honest. You roll your eyes at him, watch his jaw clench. “What?” Tone bratty and antagonistic, “No I didn’t – you misunderstood.”

“You told me you didn’t want to eat, and then you told Connie, not fifteen minutes later, that you’d already eaten.”

“Well then I misspoke – that’s not what I meant.” You turn away from him towards the desk, busy your hands with the papers littered across its surface to avoid his eyes. You feel like fighting – like baring your teeth at him, and you hate it. You don’t want to fight with him, ever. You want, need, things to be okay between the two of you. “Why are we arguing about this? I have to get back.” The bite in your voice startles you for a second, and your hands pause their shuffling. Turning back to face him, wide eyed and shocked at the way you practically spit the words at him, but, fuck it, you decide to just go with it.

He doesn’t let you, though – doesn’t take your bait. You watch the muscle in his jaw feather rapidly as he grinds his teeth, fists curled into knots at his sides like he’s trying to restrain himself from throttling you – and you think you’d kind of like him to do it. You’ve gotta be PMSing or something because where is all this sudden desire for violence coming from? You definitely need to sleep soon.

He exhales a slow breath through his nose. “Not try’na argue, baby… just figure out what’s wrong.” Your heart twists painfully, the back of your eyes pinching and hot, and you will not cry right now. His words make you even more angry because if he cares so much about such seemingly small things like this, why can’t he just let everything else fall into place between you as well?

Nancy pops her head through the open door, calling your name, “Need you when you’ve got a second.”

“Be right there, Nance.” You throw her a grateful look.

Turning back to Joel you rub your forehead, trying to press the ache that’s taking root in your brain out with your fingertips. “Nothing… nothing’s wrong. I’m just…” you sigh, suddenly very sad, very tired. You take in his weathered face, his brow pulled down into a scowl anyone who knew him less would take for anger, but you see it for what it is: concern, discomfort, frustration at the tension that’s held constant between the two of you all day. The both of you pulling away and then yanking each other back. You can see he wants to move past this, avoid whatever fight is brewing – too much for him to handle. You know he hates it when you’re angry and annoyed with him, and doesn’t that have to mean something? Please, please it must mean something more. But you’re too tired for this now, your body overwrought from its brief bout of sickness earlier, from your long day. You’d like to go to bed with him and not wake up for a year. Lay on his chest and feel the movement of his breathing rock you to sleep, count the spaces between his ribs, make a home for yourself within them. A great jealousy for his heart, the organ itself, writhes in you, that it gets to live inside him. You’re feeling melancholy and exhausted and overly emotional . Sad that even when he’s the source of your turmoil, your hurt, he’s still the only one you want to go to for comfort. You clear your throat, “I’m fine, Joel. Really.” You try and give him a small smile. “I was in a mood earlier, but I’m okay now.”

“I need us to be okay, Birdie. I– I know…” he looks away, hisses through his teeth in frustration. “I know I don’t always act like it, but–”

You hold up a hand to stop him. You don’t want to, can’t, listen to him try and make excuses. Explain to you things you’ve always understood about what this thing is between the two of you. “We don’t need to do this. I promise everything’s fine. I need to get back.” You step forward to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, to appease the both of you, but also if only because you can’t help but touch him when he’s near, hands snaking up his belly and chest to fist in the collar of his shirt. He hums low in his throat and grips the back of your neck, other hand low on your back to press you to him, and everything inside you goes liquid hot and wanting, just at the feel of him, the scent of him.

“Try and rest.” He breathes you in at the crown of your head, and you nod against his chest.

“I will. Don’t worry.” But you know he’ll do that anyways, and that alone is a comfort.

Connie meanders in about midnight, nocturnal creature that he is, to check on you all. You’d pulled the armchair from the office into the corner of the infirmary while you read in the corner. An all night vigil wasn’t exactly necessary – Teddy’s fever had broken about an hour ago, his vitals were stable, and Mr. Schwartz had been snoring the night away for hours. Nancy lived on the second floor of the house, and was always near and available if necessary, but you were peaceful here. Tucked away in your corner with your book and a throw draped over your folded knees. The anxiety you’d carried heavy in your belly all day had dissipated. Thoughts of Joel settled now, compared to the frenzied hysterical swarm they’d been all day. Sometimes this need for him scared you. That your mood, your physical self, could so easily be altered by him, by his own mood, his words, his touch. The tether he held you by was so strong, it felt unbreakable, permanent. It scared you to think what would become of you if one day he decided to break it.

Connie passes a hand over the boy’s forehead, murmuring to himself as he examines him, pops his stethoscope in to take a listen. His movements are slow and practiced, methodical. You’d always loved watching him work. You’ve passed so far into the realms of exhaustion, you’re a little delirious now, your mind and vision hazy, and you rest your head against the wingback and watch. “He’s settled now. Vitals are steady.” You hum in agreement.

He turns to look at you then, his gaze contemplative as he takes a seat on the bench along the end of the bed directly in front of you. His tired groan makes you smile a little, old man. The fondness for him squeezes your heart. He has something to say, you can tell. “I know your father was an exacting man,” he starts. You nod, still quiet. You know that now is a time for listening. “I think of him often. I know I never met him, but he wanders into my mind quite frequently. I think of the things you’ve told me about him, about your mother and sister–” When you’d first become close, it’d been hard for you to speak of your family, of Beth and her death, but eventually you’d forced yourself to. For no other reason than that the thought of you being the only person left in the world that remembered their names, that knew their stories, wrought a grief in you so profound, it was impossible to keep it all inside. You were scared if you didn’t share, if you carried all that alone, you’d lose yourself in their memories forever. “I think that after all that, after living their deaths in such a gruesome way, it could have been very easy for you to lose yourself in all that. Do you agree?” Another small tilt of your chin. The precision with which he’d always read you, understood you, was the greatest comfort in the world. That sometimes it wasn’t even necessary to tell him out loud what it was you were feeling or needed for him to pick up on it.

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” you finally say.

“No…” his eyes take on the thoughtful look he gets, the one that makes you wish you could read his mind sometimes, read the wonderings of that brilliant mind like one of your textbooks. “Instead, you became a splendid and thoughtful physician. A seemingly impossible thing, no? Now, with the state of the world for you to have pieced together a vocation such as this…” his milky blue eyes glint with humor, pride, “Well, it’s all very impressive, my dear.”

“Thank you,” you acknowledge.

“And even more impressive, considering the fact, that had you been given a choice in the matter, you would never have chosen this for yourself… had the world been different, normal.” And there it is again, that keen sense of knowing.

“Yes.” There is nothing more to say. It is, after all, your most painful, most honest, most shameful truth. Painful, not in the sense that you carried any regret now, when you cared for your patients, when you put the knowledge your father and Connie had given you into practice. But painful in the sense that it chafed at your skin, that desire for other . That small seed that had the great potential of growth within you, to spread like ivy around a house, and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, until all you were left with were thoughts of what could have been.

“But like I said… your father was an exacting man, and this is what he chose for you. And then, perhaps, even I played a part in that same theft of choice from you.” You try to interrupt him then, to vehemently deny it, but he continues unheeded. “You got here and you seemed to be a sort of benediction to me. A vessel for all the knowledge I could impart on you. A shepherd I could leave this flock to.” He slips his glasses off the bridge of his nose and wipes them slowly with the hem of his sweater. “I know you’ll take good care of them when I’m no longer here. That they could not have ended up in better, more caring hands.” You hate when he talks about his dying, fills you with a premonitory dread you don’t know how you’ll cope with when it becomes actuality. “But alas, you did what was set upon you, took it all in stride.” He pauses, as if contemplating what he’s about to say next, and you know the point of all this has arrived. You even know where it is he’s going with this.

“I say all this, my dear, not to dredge up old painful memories, or reminders of what could have been… But because I would not like to see your choices taken from you once again.” And there it is. He levels his gaze at you, quiet for several moments, and it’s like he is here in the room with you now, his presence, his unsaid name heavy and poignant.

“Joel’s a good man, honey, but he’s a hurt man. Hurt in a way I don’t think even you could cure.”

Your instinct to defend him is immediate. “He’s not— he’s not a hurt man.” You shake your head, brow furrowed, “He’s been hurt before, but it doesn’t define him, Connie. It’s not the sole contributor to who he is.” And that’s true, you know it is. Believe it to your very core. You, who knows Joel better than few others, you know the pains of his past don’t define him. Perhaps before, they did. A pain so acute it molded him into a creature focused only on survival, or perhaps, he let it get the better of him at times. But he is so much more than all that. Has the strength and the will to set it aside when he so chooses to. Ellie being the perfect example of that.

Choices, choices, those were the things that defined a person.

“Isn’t it? You can’t live off the potential you see in someone forever.”

“I hate it when you say that.” You sit up, let your feet drop to the floor, and lean forward to stress your point. “What are we all, if not vessels of untapped potential? We’re all just walking around with the possibility of something more inside of us. Of course, of course I value the potential I see in him! I know he has the possibility of so, so much inside of him – that’s what makes me… That’s why I –” You cut yourself off before you can make that confession, a choked sound leaving your throat. You look out the nearby window at the dark street, press your thumb hard into the center of your forehead, will the tension and frustration out of the skin and bone.

“I know… I know,” he says gently, offering you his hands, palms up – a sign of concession. “But it’s not enough to hang all your hopes and dreams on just that. I want more for you than just that . I want you to have choices. To be able to have what you truly want, what you truly need. I would not like to know that something unfulfilling has been forced upon you once again by the circumstances of this world.” And he says it so sadly, with a look of such tenderness in his eyes, it makes embarrassment burn hot and red in your cheeks. The back of your eyes pinch. What must they all think of me when they see us together? The part that perhaps does, or should, make you the most embarrassed, is that you don’t really care at all. Not in any substantial way that would make a real difference, make you act differently. “I’m not unfulfilled, Connie. I love what we do here,” you say softly.

“I know that, I know. But still…I just–”

You rest your aching head in your cupped palms, bent elbows propped on your knees. You’re so fucking tired. “Connie, please, I know…” you whisper. “Just, please, no more tonight… I’m exhausted. You can tell me all this another time – tomorrow. Just no more tonight.”

“Alright, alright, dear. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to give you grief.” He stands, comes towards you to rest a gentle palm on your shoulder.

“I know… and you’re not… It’s me.”

“I only want good things for you, darling girl.” You press your hand over his on your shoulder, give a short nod.

“Go home – you need rest. Nancy will stay with them.”

“I can sit for a few more hours. Teddy likes to know I’m here.”

“No, no,” his voice takes on that stern fatherly tone he likes to whip you into shape with sometimes. “Enough for tonight. They’ll both be fine. You’ll see them tomorrow.”

You scrunch your nose at him, “Bossy.” But you stand to go, draping the blanket over the back of the chair. He pulls you in for a hug then, envelops you in the comfort and steadiness he’s always offered you, from the very start. He always smells faintly of peppermint and mothballs and old paper. “It’ll all work itself out, my dear. You’ll find a way. You always do. I’m not worried about that.”

Joel watches you leave the clinic from his spot in the shadows across the road. He’s been posted here, obstinate and pissed off with himself, for hours. Especially because he’s certain this must be a new low for him, sulking in the dark, watching for you like a creep. But he just wanted to be close to you. He knows you lied to put him off earlier. Your conversation had left him unsatisfied, restless. He knows you’re pulling away because he’s pulling away. Because he’s putting you off, and he tells himself he’ll give you space, tells himself that’s what’s best, but knows it’s a lie as he thinks it.

The thing is, despite his obstinance, Joel was not a man who lacked self awareness. He was, in fact, very good at recognizing a thing within himself, and yet still able to make a conscious decision to feign ignorance towards it to the outside world. This set up worked well for him – sometimes … on occasion… But this was different, and he knew it. Feigning ignorance would not work between the two of you for much longer. You were getting tired and sad and frustrated with him and he could see it and hated himself for being the cause of it. And if he was being honest with himself, which in this moment, he was trying to be, he was getting tired of it too, tired of himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in this position with a woman. On the verge of … something. Something he couldn’t confess, even to himself, yet. But to allow himself that, to allow himself the simple act of even admitting what he knew was the truth of his feelings for you – there was a part of him, a very broken part that had not been used in a long, long time, that couldn’t even imagine it. To allow himself that sort of vulnerability. To allow himself the truth of there existing another person in this world, in what this world had become, a partner – a woman he cared for, needed . It was too vulnerable, too precious a thing to allow himself. Perhaps before, perhaps in a world not overrun by death and disease and violence – by loss.

But what did that even look like anymore? A world bereft of monstrousness? Wiped clean of the beasts that had overtaken it, human or infected. Could Joel even remember such a thing – even imagine it, if only in his dreams? He couldn’t even discern which of the two was worse anymore. Part of him knew it didn’t really matter. Not in the end. It was all conjecture when it came down to losing your life – losing the person you loved. Whether it was fungus or a bullet – dead was dead.

Sometimes he didn't even feel like a person anymore. Just this thing that existed at the periphery of the world. In the moments when he pushed you away, when he turned from the loving look in your face, forced himself to brush off your words and your affection, to hold you at arms length – to protect the vulnerable, scarred mass of his heart – those were the moments in which he was most like a creature, least like a man.

He thought of a world where he felt safe enough to go to the woman he loved, his Birdie, hold you in his arms and say: here is everything I have for you, I’m begging you, please take it .

Such a world didn’t exist in Joel’s mind. Couldn’t fit. He’d been stripped of the ability. To have something so vulnerable and new. A type of fragile he’d not held since his twelve year old daughter lay bleeding and broken in his arms, and have the ability to say I am strong enough to endure the possible loss of this. I need you this badly. So badly I am willing to risk even my own heart.

It looked like trying to swallow the sea.

He follows you home in the darkness.

“You get that fixed alright?” Joel’s voice barks from the mouth of the garage. You startle, your knee slamming into the underside of the workbench. Deciding to follow through on Connie’s suggestion from yesterday, you’d come to see Noah, knocking on his door bright and early this morning, Bovie clutched in your hands. He’d been more than happy to give it a look for you. The two of you had been sitting here for about an hour now, and in that time you’d seen Joel’s form stalk by at least three times, from out of the corner of your eye. Absurd man that he was, you knew he’d been psyching himself up to barge in here and interrupt the two of you. Seemed he’d brought his attitude with him.

“Jesus, man–” Noah’s hand grips your smarting knee, rubbing it gently, “We didn’t hear you come up.” Joel’s left eye twitches at the we, his gaze zeroed in on the hand on your knee, his teeth bared in the perpetuation of a ridiculous growl as he takes a threatening step forward. You lift your brows at him – all your fire and fight from yesterday put to rest now after some much needed sleep. He cocks his brow back at you, shifts his jaw side to side in annoyance.

“Absorbed in your work?” he drawls sardonically.

“We’ve made some good progress actually! Come see,” Noah says, completely missing Joel’s mocking tone, the poor thing. He gives your knee another gentle pat, and you think you might just see steam come out of Joel’s ears. He steps up behind you, chest pressed close to your back and passes a hand over your hair, presses a kiss to the crown of your head. This fucking guy. Now he feels like getting handsy. You scrunch your nose at him, turning back to face Noah and the Bovie, your shoulder pressing into Joel’s belly. Noah takes in your positions, the possessive hand now curled around your neck – looks back down at the knee he’d just grabbed and then back to Joel’s broad intimidating form and scowling face. You see a slow swallow move through his throat. As he starts to explain the changes the two of you had made to the electrocautery generator, you consider the differences between the two of them. The contrast is stark. Noah isn’t small by any means, average height, a nice build – but there’s something about Joel. Some sort of warning in the air around him, in the space he takes up in a room, that makes him larger than life – something that says don’t fuck with me or mine. Heat pools low in your belly and you press your thighs together tightly. Fucked up, you’re fucked up – you try to brush his hand off your neck – suddenly feeling overwhelmed, your skin overly sensitized. “Quit –” he says low in your ear and you almost whimper. He’s jealous, and it’s turning you on. There’s definitely something wrong with you.

You try to shake him off again,“ Let go.”

“No.” His voice is steel. Noah is heedlessly going on about the Bovie, about how it only took a slight rewiring from the generator into the hand-piece without overwhelming the system; giving it the little bump of power it was missing. Joel’s thumb brushes a slow, warning path up and down your neck. Down, down, to the top notch of your vertebrae, slowly kneading the fine muscles surrounding the prominence of your bone and then up and pushing into the base of your skull. His hands are warm and dry – the rough calluses abrading your sensitive skin. You feel the flush in your cheeks traveling down over your chest, the tips of your breasts tightening to painful points. You see Joel’s eyes flicker down, taking you in, and he gives a contemplative hum low in his throat.

“I’m so glad you let me help,” Noah says with a warm smile. He’s sweet and so genuine and as you take him in, how completely unaware he is of the silent struggle going on between you and Joel right in front of him, you’re struck by how easy loving a man like that would be. And how unfulfilling for a woman like you. What is it about some people, that they can’t appreciate a good thing unless it hurts a little?

“Connie and I are real grateful that you could help. You let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” Joel gives him a short nod as you leave.

And then, soft and threatening into the shell of your ear as the two of you walk away from the nice, sweet, uncomplicated boy: we’re goin’ home, and I’m gonna lick that cunt until you’re cryin’, little bird.

Your steps speed up, trying to outrun the clutch of his hands on your skin, trying to escape – even if just a little.

You never stood a chance of that.

He follows, menacingly on your heels, as you dart into your house. A rabbit trying to outrun the big bad wolf. You make for the stairs and you feel the tips of his fingers ghost lightly in the ends of your long hair, one foot on the first step, but then his finger is catching in your belt loop, yanking you hard into his chest. Your back thumps against him with a small oof and then his hands are skating along your curves, big palms squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples through the cotton of your t-shirt..

“Bad Birdie, try’na run from me.” He nuzzles, gentle, gentle into the nape of your neck, the line of your hair, presses his mouth to the top notch of your spine. You feel his hot, wet tongue slide over the jut of your vertebrae, small peppered kisses to your nape and your entire body flushes hot – arousal pulling low and tight in your belly. Your clit throbs in time with his panting breath in your ear. His soft mouth is totally at odds with the tension he’s holding himself with right now, the harsh way he presses his fingers into the skin of your hips.

You can feel the thick length of him pressing into your ass; he’s hard as stone and throbbing – turned on by the chase. You moan, deep and wanton, slick pooling in your panties, ready for him now , just at the feel of his hands on you. “You want it, baby?”

“Y– yes,” you stutter, pressing yourself harder into him.

“Want me to fuck that needy little cunt?”

His voice is so deep you feel it vibrate through his chest and into your back, down, down your body all the way to the tips of your toes. “Please, Joel,” you whimper. You try to turn in his arms, but he clicks his tongue at you, wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist, half dragging, half carrying you up the stairs to your bedroom.

“I always give my Birdie what she needs, don’t I?”

“Settle now. Stay still so I can eat you how I like.” He hitches his hands higher up the backs of your thighs, beneath your knees – spreads you further apart, up and back to press into your breasts, making more space for the broad valley of his naked shoulders. He’d gotten you naked and into bed, quick as a viper. His desperation, evident in the wild look in his eyes. He was unsettled, either by the tension between the two of you yesterday or you around another man, but he was trying to prove some unspoken point to the two of you in the ferocity of his grip on your skin.

He settles his face deep into your sex now and eats. “Who’s all this wet for, huh? Were you thinkin’ about me while that boy tried to get in your good graces?”

“It’s too much. Please, please, please,” you sob. Tears making a slow, steady journey back into your hairline, dripping into your ears. You yank hard on his hair, try to direct his movements. You can’t tell if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“Want me to stop?” He laps at your clit.

“I– I dont– I don’t know–” It felt like he’d been at this for hours. “I–”

“It’s okay.” Soft, whispered kisses to the puffy lips of your sex, your slippery inner thighs. You’re so wet, and you’d have burns from his beard and bruises from his teeth tomorrow. “I know, I know you’re just a little bird,” his teeth sharp and mean to the softest part of you, then the broad flat of his tongue to soothe – a sharp, quick suck to your swollen clit. His volley between rough and tender on your vulnerable sex setting you further on edge than anything else he was doing. “But you can take it for me.You can be so, so good for me. My good girl.”

Your cunt pulls tight – throbs like a wound. Hurts in a way you’re desperate for. You love him, you love him, you love him. Goddamn the things he does to you, makes you feel. You need him so much and he gives it all to you exactly in the way that’s the most perfect, just for you. You feel fucking delirious, on the brink of insanity.

He pushes two thick fingers into you, cunt spasming and clinging. He scissors the digits inside of you, stretches your hole. The squelch is lewd and obscene and messy. You can feel your cheeks burning red and hot, and you throw an arm over your eyes as you feel your slick leak down between your ass to pool on the sheets beneath you – hiding yourself from your own obscenity.

“Pussy s’fuckin’ good, baby. Tastes like candy.” He pulls out his fingers, slaps your cunt, twice, quick and sharp. The sound you let out shames you, high pitched and whining. “Fuckin’ red ‘nd gaping for me. God, Birdie –” he moans so deep it makes your heart race, brings his mouth back to you – licks a broad stripe from hole to clit with the flat of his tongue. His mouth latches to the aching swollen bud and sucks. “You need me so much dont you? Fuckin’ come in my mouth – wanna taste it.” And he’s right, he’s right, you do, you need him so much. In that instant, you feel so grateful that he knows it.

Your back arches, everything liquid within you pooling low in your pelvis, pulling tight, and it feels like the world is about to end around you; a catastrophe even greater than anything the cordyceps could have ever wrought. This is what he brings out of you with his mouth and his fingers and his words, and you gush onto his face. He almost fucking whines at the splash of your orgasm on his tongue – slurping down everything you have to give him, you feel your wetness cover his face and beard. This is what you give to each other.

He gentles his fingers and tongue. Letting your orgasm coast along into echoes and throbs. You try to push him away with your foot on the thick mass of his shoulder, on the brink of overstimulation, but quick as a viper, he circles his entire large palm around the fine bones of your ankle and squeezes. Quit – presses a tiny kiss to the protrusion of your bone there.

“ Mine,” he growls. “Mine, no one touches you but me–” His hands open you wider for him, fileting you for his eyes only. You feel hot and flush, your skin tight, to the point of bursting, like an overripe plum in the sun. Skin fragile and thin, insides viscous, ready to spill your flesh for him, blood burning hot as it churns in your veins. “Not fuckin’ done yet, Birdie. Not done with this perfect pussy.” Tears make a slow path down your temples, your fingers tangled in his hair, wanting to hurt– just a little. Like the delicious hurt of holding him within yourself. The way it feels like an old aching bruise inside of you when he stuffs you full of his cock. And then he’s up, up, up – quick as a whip – his fingers shoving into the tangle of your hair at the nape of your neck, captured in a tight fist like prey in a snare, and he’s shoving your own taste deep into you with his tongue. The kiss, open and savage – he’s fucking your mouth like he was just fucking your pussy. Your heart pushes against the bones of your chest, and you desperately clutch at his shoulders for some sort of countenance. He unmoors you . You have been unmoored by this man. And you want – need – more.

He kneels between your open legs, thick thighs anchoring you wider and fists his cock, the head gleaming and painfully red. He pulls your thighs over his own thicker ones, and presses the fat tip hard to your sensitive clit, making you jolt and whimper pathetically. “Cock drunk, that’s what you are.” All you can do is nod dumbly, eyes glassy and wet. His voice is so deep. He drags the head down to your entrance, presses just a little, only the fat tip held inside you. He fucks you short and shallow like that, his hips moving in tiny, slow jerks.

“Please,” you sigh, your eyes fluttering shut at the subtle pressure, at the promise of what’s about to come, “Please, Joel.”

“Please what? Please what?” he mocks, just a little mean, and then he’s surging inside in one brutal thrust. Fucking into you without warning and he’s huge — almost too much to take, even after your orgasms. “Fucking tight,” he grits out. He hoists you up, arms wrapped around your waist and starts fucking up and into you, hard. Not giving you a moment to adjust. Letting go of the restraint he’d held while he ate you out. Cock battering into something deep and sensitive inside you, all you can do is take it. Let him have you as he pleases.

He can feel your slick pooling at the base of his cock and sliding down his balls. He wraps his hand around the fine bones of your jaw, “Who’s pussy is this?” he growls over the wet slap, “Wanna hear it out loud.”

Yours, yours, yours.

Your face is flushed and sweaty, cheeks red as an apple, eyes glazed, dark, wet lashes clumped together. The fucked out look in your eyes doing more for him than anything else. This is what he does to you, only him . He picks up the pace of his hips, fucks you harder, harder and your tits bounce against his chest. He slaps one of them gently, appreciating the soft jiggle it gives, the small gasp you let out. His other hand snakes low on your tummy and presses down into your pelvis so he can feel the battering of his cock inside of your cunt and shit he’s gonna come soon. Gonna come with his hand feeling himself fuck you from the outside. “Too much, too much, Joel ,” you whine. “Oh god, I– I’m gonna–” You’re soaked, sweat and slick sliding between your two bodies, and clutching him hot and tight as a fist. He can’t get deep enough, can’t give it to you hard enough. He never wants to stop, will never be able to stop.

“You’re taking my cock so good, so fucking good. Jesus fuck, I can’t, I can’t–” He slates his mouth over your open panting one, licks into the sweet, red gleam of you. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he drags his teeth along your full bottom lip, lets it go with a little wet pop. You moan, head falling back on your neck, beyond words. He bends his head, hand wrapped around the fullness of your tit to bring it to his mouth, bites gently down on the tight, aching bud, laves his tongue around it and sucks it into his mouth. Then he’s pushing you back, letting you fall and bounce onto the mattress, legs splayed. When he pulls out abruptly you whimper – he can’t let himself come yet, not yet, just a little more – and he leaves a hot trail of open mouth kisses down your neck, over your shoulder, sucking the peak of your breast into his mouth again, over the swell of your belly, until he’s between your thighs again and bends his head to devour your slick. His tongue licking deep inside where his cock just was. He’s frantic. There’s no reason to the sense of urgency he feels, the urgency he’s taking you with right now. It’s something subconscious – something primal telling him to mark you, lay his claim.

He can’t stop taking and taking, always taking.

He pulls up again from between your legs, the abruptness of his movements confusing you, leaving you to deliriously allow him to do with you what he will. “Taste us,” he says as he licks into your mouth, fucking his aching cock back into your spent cunt, so fucking tight always. “One more, baby. Gimme one more, lemme feel you milk me.” And like his own personal little marionette on a string, you do. Pussy fluttering and then pulling tight, a little furl of a knot, squeezing his own orgasm out of him. He feels his balls pull up tight and he’s painting you inside, teeth latched tightly to the delicate muscle that connects your neck and shoulder. The sound from your throat is high and keening, supplicant. He licks the hurt he’s just left. Grinds his spitting cock deep, right into the mouth of your womb.

Mine, mine, fucking mine. It is a mantra of reassurance for the both of you.

He cradles you in his embrace afterwards, his body wrapped around you as if he were a vine grown from your very heart. He sighs, the sound deep from his chest, and you want to tell yourself you can hear a yearning desperate enough to match your own in the cadence of it. His head drops to your shoulder, nuzzles the vulnerable space beneath your jaw, now riddled with his bites and bruises. You know you’ll enjoy inspecting them in the mirror tomorrow, feeling the warm pull of your belly at the reminder. And the moment is so achingly tender, even more intimate in a way, than your sex. The feel of him surrounding you, soft and quiet. Your eyes feel hot, pinching threateningly.

“I have to go,” he murmurs, spent cock still buried inside of you. He presses kisses to your hair, your lips, over your closed eyelids. He can’t stop, God, he’s tried – is trying – but he can’t go, can’t part from you. Fighting is so fucking hard when you’ve got no will behind it. When what you’re trying to fight against is the thing you’ve wanted more than anything else in your whole life, and the only thing standing in your way is yourself, your own inadequacy. Perhaps he could endure the agony, the filth of life, the loss, the loss, the loss, with you held in his arms like this.

His patrol shift started almost an hour ago. The guys were going to ream the hell out of him, he’d been here with you for hours, and still, still he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pull himself away. His lack of will, lack of restraint, of self control – his body and heart’s inability to do what his mind told him to, makes him so angry. At himself, and maybe – not at you, never you – but perhaps, at what you represented. All he wanted but couldn’t let himself have in full. He needed to go. He had responsibilities. He had truths to confess to himself.

He was in love with you. He was. He was.

Joel was an obstinate man, but he did not lack self awareness. Now was the moment for this truth, if only confessed to himself. So, angry, and in love with you, and tremendously sorry, he turns away. Pulls out of your tight wet clutch with a wince, your breathy gasp making his cock twitch slightly, even so soon after he’s just come. You roll over, burrow into the pillows, and he grips the swell of your ass, pulls you apart to feast on the sight of his come leaking out of you. Obscene. Wet and messy and swollen, marked by his spend. He wants to bend for a taste but knows if he does, he won’t stop, will be likely to start all over again. “I gotta go, Birdie. M’already late.” He bends to nip a gentle bite to your ass cheek, one small last taste, then the press of a kiss. He hopes you can feel all he cannot say with that touch. The soft sound of acquiescence you hum as you burrow further into the sheets has his teeth clenching as he reaches for his clothes, heart turning over in his chest. He’s sure every sound out of you has a direct connection to his cock at this point.

He won’t shower, won’t wash your drying come from his body. He’ll take you with him, wear you on his skin. Anyways, what did it matter, really, when he already wore you on his heart, his soul? What was one more conquering of his self? Perhaps this was, ultimately, what swallowing the sea looked like.

Chapter III

Netherfeildren Masterlist

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #FOG fic

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fablefics · 1 year

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Dancing on Air | Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: very mild angst between Sebastian and reader, arguing that gets a bit physical, mostly fluff

A/N - I did my best to leave the house ambiguous so it’s easier to mold to your MC. Pretty sure I am not new to this concept (Seb at the Yule Ball) but I wanted to write more fluffy shit. Also if you’re curious, the song I was imagining was Would That I by Hozier so if you want a soundtrack for the end of this fic there you go.

It is the winter of your seventh year and the Yule Ball is fast approaching. You weren’t sure if you were going to go. Maybe if someone would ask you, you would agree, but it seemed sad to go alone.

Ominis already had a date to the ball. He had asked Violet McDowell a few days ago and she had agreed to go with him. Ominis had never really talked about Violet, but she was a nice enough girl. It seemed like he had just asked her so he didn’t have to go alone, and he knew that you would not agree to go with him. Not because you didn’t love Ominis, but because you were waiting for a certain freckled someone to ask you. That certain someone was currently sitting across the table from you and Ominis, staring deeply at his bowl of pumpkin soup as if he was trying to read it like tea leaves.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him.

“Potions homework,” Sebastian lied, he always bit his lip after he lied.

“Sharp didn’t give homework today,” Ominis pointed out, the two of them had potions together.

“Right,” Sebastian nodded absentmindedly.

“So what are you actually thinking about?” You asked again.

“Nothing,” Sebastian lied again.

“Liar,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Thinking about how sad and lonely you’ll be at the Yule Ball if you don’t man up and ask someone?” Ominis piped up.

Both you and Sebastian turned a bright shade of red that you were glad Ominis couldn’t see. You had been asked by Garreth, Leander, and Amit, but had rejected all three of them. It was no secret that you had your heart set on one particular date, and would accept nobody else. Out of the three it was hardest to say no to Amit, the boy had a heart of gold and you still felt like you owed him after you dragged him into a goblin mine where he was almost killed. He had been understanding when you rejected him and even said that he hoped you would find the right partner. You watched Sebastian lift the spoon to his mouth and a drop of soup rolled down his chin. Attractive.

“Maybe I don’t want to go to some stupid ball,” Sebastian wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe, “Considered that?”

“What else are you going to do on a Friday night?” You scoffed.

“With the rest of the school preoccupied at the ball,” Sebastian took a swig of his apple cider, “It would be a perfect time to sneak into the restricted section.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis sighed, “Take one night off.”

Sebastian clenched his fist and glared at Ominis, “Anne doesn’t get any nights off, why should I?”

Sebastian had been very single minded in his search for a cure since Anne had left Feldcroft, and him, behind. You fully believed he would blow off the Yule Ball in order to keep looking, and you felt kind of stupid for ever thinking he would change his mind and ask you. You grabbed an apple from the center of the table and took a bite, wondering if Amit would take you back now. Ominis seemed tense next to you. You knew how he felt about Sebastian’s hopeless search for a cure.

“I think I’m going to go with Amit,” you finally said to break the awkward silence.

“Thakkar?” Sebastian nearly spat out his cider, “Why?”

“He asked me,” you responded simply, “And he’s kind.”

Sebastian wasn’t unkind but he was often selfish, a trait that seemed common in ambitious Slytherins. He would put himself, and his search for a cure, above most things. You stared at him as you said those last words, trying to gauge his reaction. His jaw clenched and he stared back at you, but he didn’t let anything else show on his face. If you had gotten to him, he wasn’t going to let you know.

“Well,” Ominis smiled in your direction, “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Will you wear blue to match him or are you each wearing your own house colors?”

“I hadn’t thought of it,” you took another bite of your apple, not breaking eye contact with Sebastian, “I guess I’ll have to go to Gladrag’s this weekend. I’m sure Natty will be excited, she keeps asking me to go dress shopping with her but I didn’t have a date so I didn’t want to go.”

Sebastian broke eye contact with you to stare behind you, in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. His face was still neutral. You finished your apple and set the core on your empty plate. The Great Hall was beginning to clear out. You turned to look around the Great Hall, trying to find Amit amongst the sea of students. You hoped he would take you back, it would be embarrassing if he didn’t after you told the boys you were going with him. You couldn’t find him in the crowd and decided you would go to the Astronomy Tower later.

“I’m going back to the common room,” Ominis declared as he got up from the table.

You and Sebastian said goodbye but neither of you got up. The Great Hall was practically empty, only a few other students were milling about. Sebastian was finishing up his soup and part of you wanted to leave him there, alone, because apparently he would rather be alone than with you. You decided to stay, and wait for him to finish. Even after he was cruel to you, you couldn’t find it in your heart to be cruel back. You wondered if he was actually being intentionally cruel or if it was just Sebastian being Sebastian, only worrying about himself.

“I’m going to the Undercroft,” Sebastian pushed his plate away from him, “Do you want to come with?”

You could probably spare an hour before you went to find Amit, “I guess.”

The walk to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower was uncomfortably silent. It was very rare that he would go more than a few minutes without making a snarky comment. Maybe you did get to him with your comment about Amit. You walked a few steps behind him. His shoulders were broader than they used to be, and the stubborn baby fat on his cheeks had finally started to go away, he looked like a man. You stared daggers into the back of his head, still upset with him.

He stopped at the entrance to the Undercroft and motioned for you to go in first. You rolled your eyes at his attempt at being a gentleman but went in anyway. The Undercroft was perpetually freezing. You didn’t know how Sebastian could handle sleeping down here as often as he did. During your sixth year, the two of you had turned the Undercroft into a home away from home of sorts after you realized the charms that prevented you from conjuring things around the school were not in place in the Undercroft. There was a seating area in the back of the room, with two large couches that Sebastian often slept on. Ominis had been down there a few times after he rejoined your group but he didn’t seem very comfortable there, it reminded him too much of Sebastian’s betrayal.

Sebastian threw himself onto one of the couches. You watched him, still annoyed, before asking, “Do you want to duel?”

Sebastian looked up at you, “You look pissed so, no. I would prefer to keep my bones intact.”

“I’m not pissed,” you sighed and sat on the other couch.

“And you say I’m the liar,” Sebastian put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, “What did I do this time?”

You wanted to slap him, he never recognized his own stupidity, “You didn’t do anything I shouldn’t have expected.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His eyes were still closed.

“It means you’re an asshole, Sebastian,” you stood up and walked to the other side of the room, “But I didn’t think you were a coward.”

“Fuck you,” Sebastian immediately got off the couch, his wand already in his hand.

He casted confringo at you, you blocked it. You casted glacius back, he dodged out of the way at the last possible moment before casting stupefy back at you. You blocked it but just barely, it made you stumble backwards, giving him the perfect chance to cast levioso, followed quickly by depulso. You flew against the far wall and landed on the ground with a loud thud. The wind was knocked out of your lungs and you laid there for a moment feeling sorry for yourself. You could hear Sebastian walking towards you and then he appeared over you.

His face was flushed with anger, “What the fuck did I do to you?”

“You threw me against a wall and probably broke my back,” you groaned as you sat up.

“If I broke your back you wouldn’t have been able to sit up.”

Instead of helping you up Sebastian put his hand on your shoulder and pushed you back to the ground. You fell back, the pain that was radiating through your body got even worse. Sebastian was usually a jerk but this was not like him. He had never purposefully hurt you before, at least not physically. You stared up at him, he stared back at you, his eyes were dark and angry.

“I should have gone to the common room with Ominis,” you wanted to scream at him for being so stupid.

“You should have.”

Sebastian walked away, back towards the couches and allowed you to sit up. You sat there, still in shock from his sudden violent streak. You stared at him from across the room, refusing to move toward him or away from him. You felt like you were frozen to the ground. Sebastian sat back down on the couch and leaned forward, his elbows rested on his knees. He put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“Sebastian,” you weren’t sure what to say but knew that you needed to be the one to start the conversation, “I’m not going to the ball with Amit.”

You never really wanted to go with Amit. Even if Sebastian never asked you, you would rather spend a night in the Restricted Section with him than at the ball with anyone else. Sebastian was staring at you as if you were speaking another language. He may have grown up since fifth year, but like most men, he was still a bit hopeless when it came to understanding the minds of women.

“Okay?” Sebastian lifted his head out of his hands and cocked his head to the side, “I don’t care if you do.”

“Merlin’s beard, Sebastian,” you threw your head back and stared at the ceiling, “Are you really this dense?”

“Do you want me to kick your ass again?” Sebastian snapped.

“I’m not going with Amit because I wanted to go with you, you jackass.”

The Undercroft was filled with silence. You could practically hear the gears turning in Sebastian’s head as he processed what you were telling him. He was staring right at you but you could tell that he was not looking at you.

“Oh,” was the only thing Sebastian managed to say.

“Oh,” you replied mockingly.

“Watch it,” his eyes snapped to yours, “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Because I wanted you to want to go with me,” you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “I didn’t want to have to ask you.”

“Well I didn’t want to have to ask you either,” Sebastian responded shortly.

“What?”

“What if you said no,” Sebastian sighed and stood up, “Or worse, what if you said yes?”

“It would have been bad if I said yes?” You laughed in a way that was meant to cover your hurt feelings but it didn’t work.

Sebastian walked over to you, holding out his hand to help you up this time. You took it, a bit unsure but he pulled you up gently, “If you said yes, and we went together, what if you ended up not having a good time or what if I stepped on your feet?”

You stared up at him, his chin was covered in stubble that covered some of his freckles, “Are you kidding?”

He back away from you and threw his hands up in exasperation, “No!”

You started laughing, a real laugh this time, “You didn’t ask me to the ball because you thought you might step on my feet?”

“Or you might say no!” Sebastian looked back and you and started laughing too, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Why would I say no to you?”

“You said no to everyone else,” Sebastian sighed, “I figured you were waiting for someone special.”

“I was waiting for someone special,” you smiled at him, “You.”

Sebastian smiled down at you. You took a step towards him, wanting to close the distance but not wanting to push him after what he did earlier. He stared at you, and his eyes started to travel down to your lips. You bit your lip, waiting for him to make a move. It happened all at once. Sebastian took another step towards you and slipped his hand behind your neck, pulling your head towards his. His lips were soft and tasted like apple cider. His other hand reached down to your waist, pulling your body as close to his as he could. It was a deep kiss, and all you wanted was to take it further. You started pulling anxiously at his robe, trying to pull it off of him. He broke the kiss and grabbed your hand.

“Patience, darling,” Sebastian kissed the back of your hand, “At least buy me dinner first.”

“We just had dinner,” you pulled your hand away and went back for his robe.

“You have a point,” Sebastian laughed and let you finish taking off his robe.

He kissed you again, more desperate this time. You let yourself relax into and before you knew it you found yourselves stumbling to the couch and collapsing into it, never breaking the kiss. You fell first, with Sebastian on top of you, he put his hand next to your head so he didn’t completely crush you as he fell. His body was warm on top of you. He finally broke the kiss and stared down at you, his eyes were wide. He carefully got off of you and pulled you into a seated position. He just wanted to stare at you, he was intoxicated by your beauty. He had this goofy smile on his face that made him look like a lovesick puppy.

“You have to ask me properly,” you smiled at him.

“What?”

“The Yule Ball,” you replied, “I’m not going with you until you ask me.”

Sebastian laughed and placed a small kiss on your cheek, “Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of being my date to the Yule Ball?”

“Sebastian Sallow, there is nothing that would make me happier,” you kissed his lips gently.

“Oh, really?” Sebastian broke the kiss and then moved down to your neck, kissing and nibbling gently on your soft skin, “Nothing?”

You laughed as he continued kissing your neck and leaving small hickeys all over your collarbone. Your own robe had been cast aside and Sebastian began fumbling awkwardly with the buttons of your vest. You gently took his hands, not wanting to take it too far right away. You pulled him up and left him standing there awkwardly as you went over to the old gramophone in the corner of the room. You waved your wand and a gentle ballad began to fill the silence of the Undercroft. You spun around gracefully and held out a hand to Sebastian.

“Care to practice?” You laughed, “Don’t want you stepping on my toes during the Yule Ball.”

Sebastian walked over to you and placed one hand in your outstretched hand and the other on your waist. He pulled you close to him, spinning you around as if you weighed nothing, “You’re not going to let me live that one down are you?”

“Never,” you smiled up at him.

He leaned in to kiss you again as you both continued to sway to the music.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x reader #fablefics

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sebsallowapologist · 10 months

Text

The Older Sallow

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Rated: 18+

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death/murder, at first this was going to be a fun little Sebastian jealousy fit but then it got angsty, oops,

Sebastian’s older brother comes back to reconnect with his brother after the death of their Uncle Solomon. Sebastian tries to make peace but it seems his brother can’t help but flirt with his girlfriend.

(Older Sallow brother inspired by this from @deathlysallows - the whole post is seriously amazing.)

When Sebastian was young he used to worship the ground his brother walked on. Six years older than him and Anne, Henry was everything Sebastian wanted to be, until their parents died.

Before they passed Sebastian had worshipped the ground Henry walked on. He was cool, knew how to talk to girls, and was one hell of a quidditch player. But after the Professors died, and the kids were moved into Solomon’s home in Feldcroft Henry become more distant. Never coming home from school for the holidays. Spending summer breaks working with friends - always an excuse to not come home. Henry dropped out of school his sixth year, and after that wouldn't even respond to Sebastian or Anne’s owls. Suddenly Sebastian was invisible. He felt like he’d lost his parents and his brother in one swoop.

He was 10 when Sebastian stopped hearing from his brother, until one morning at his sixth year, a letter was dropped off next to his plate one autumn morning.

The name above the return address in the upper left corner made him freeze.

H. Sallow.

“Right Sebastian?” His girlfriend asks. “Sebastian?”

“I’m sorry darling, what was that?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of the cream envelope in his hands. “I said it’s quite cold today - are you alright?”

“Yeah uh- I just remembered that I left my charms book in my room. I’ll meet you there, yeah?” He says, hopping up from his seat and giving her a quick peck.

Ominis furrows his eyebrows. “Sebastian?”

“I’ll see you there!” Sebastian reiterates, waving behind him as he walks out of the great hall.

He makes it down the hallway and ducks behind a statue, ripping the letter open now that he has a semblance of privacy.

Baz-

I’m going to be in Hogsmeade next week, I have to visit for work and I thought we should get together. Catch up as brothers and all. I’ll be staying at the Hog’s Head Inn.

Let’s meet on Friday for a drink. Anne tells me you have quite the pretty girlfriend, she’s of course welcome as well.

-H

Anne? Henry had been in contact with Anne?

Sebastian stuffs his note in the inside pocket of his robe and turns, making his way to class before his head starts to spin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Later that night Sebastian and MC are relaxing in the Slytherin Common room, MC resting most of her body on Sebastian’s as she reads from her novel, and he thumbs through his ancient runes notes.

“My brother send me a letter.” He brings up quietly, breaking the peaceful silence. MC’s head shoots up to look at her boyfriend, locking eyes with the brunet. “Brother? You have a brother?”

“I do. Henry, he’s six older than me.”

“How do I not know you have a brother?”

Sebastian shrugs, trying to wave off the history he has with his older sibling. He never liked talking about his brother, keeping his mind from wandering on where he was, or if he was alright. Ominis was the only one he’s ever really spoken to about Henry. He rarely even brought up the subject with Anne.

“He moved out a while ago, we’ve grown apart.” He says casually. “But he’s uh- spoken to Anne and I want to see if, maybe, he says something that could help us be... normal again.”

“That’s great, Seb.” She smiles, patting him on the chest. “It’ll be nice to talk to family.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, not really believing the chat will be all that nice. “Would you come with me? It’s at Hog’s Head on Friday.”

MC grabs his hand and squeezes, “I’d love to go with you.”

Sebastian squeezes her hand back, kissing her knuckles before he returns to his notes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

On Friday MC follows her boyfriend into the run down pub in the Hog’s Head Inn, scanning the room for whoever could be Sebastian’s mystery brother. She spent the last week trying to wrap her head around the fact that he boyfriend had a while sibling she didn’t know about. She knew how much Sebastian missed his sister, maybe reconnecting with an estranged brother could help heal that hole in his heart a bit.

MC was thrown. The man in front of her looked just like Sebastian, but he was just.. older. More mature, he was just Sebastian but... filled out. Well cared for stubble graced the man’s chin, making him look just the right amount of rugged. Familiar warm brown eyes met hers and a smile made the freckles on his cheeks dance. He was dressed well, keeping up with the most up to date fashion trends, wearing nothing that would be sold in Hogsmeade.

“Sebastian!” The man says standing up from his seat at a table next to the big window. Sebastian drop’s MC’s hand to hug his brother, clapping his hand on the man’s back.

It’s like all the nerves had melted off of Sebastian as they hugged, like the time wore on both of them.

They pull apart and his brother turns his eyes on MC. “Merlin, Anne was right she really is a beauty.” MC blushes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Anne’s very sweet.”

“Henry. Henry Sallow.” the man says, pulling MC into a hug. “Oh!” She says, surprised at the contact with the borderline stranger. He’s practically holding her up in his arms, her toes were the only part of her touching the ground anymore.

She chokes out her name as an introduction and Sebastian puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder, signaling him it was time to let go. He lets MC down, but his hand lingers on her lower back. Despite the warm greeting, Sebastian has the urge to cut his brother’s hand off at the wrist.

“Sit! Sit! I have some fire whiskeys coming for us.” Henry says, sitting back down in his chair. He turns his attention toward MC, angling his body to face her. “So tell me about yourself, you’re a Slytherin?”

“Uhm.” MC says, she wasn’t expecting to be the one in the line of questioning. Looking at Sebastian she tries to catch his eyes, but he’s looking off at the wall, studying a picture like it’s his favorite book. An intensity in his eyes she’d never quite seen before.

“Yes, I’m a Slytherin. It’s how I met Sebastian. It’s so nice you reached out so you two can connect.” She smiles, trying to kick the conversation onto the reason they’re all here. Sebastian looks back at his brother, waiting for him to say something.

“I was a Gryffindor back in the day. I was actually quite shocked when Anne and Sebastian were both Slytherin. They must take after our parents more that I.”

“Ah. Okay.” MC says, sitting back in her chair. Okay, Handsome? Yes. Smart? Maybe not. She feel’s Sebastian’s leg bouncing under the table and she puts a hand on his knee.

The contact snaps Sebastian out of whatever disassociation he was swimming in and he locks eyes with his brother. “Why are you here, Henry?”

“I told you, I’m here for work.”

“No. Why are you here as in why are you here, inviting me for a drink like we haven’t seen each other in six years!”

“A man can’t want to catch up with his only brother? You’ve grown!”

“Be serious, Henry. You don’t disappear for six years and then talk to me like nothing’s happened.” Any good feelings had ended at that hug.

Henry’s face fell, no longer trying to be charming about any of this. He leans his forearms on the table. “Anne told me what happened last spring, what happened to Solomon.”

Sebastian jumped back in his seat like Henry had slapped him.

“No. No.” Henry says, putting his hand on Sebastian’s forearm. “I just- Anne found me looking for family. She’s alright? I have her staying with me in London.”

“London?” MC can practically see Sebastian’s wheels start turning on how he’s going to get to London to see his sister.

“I think you did the right thing.” Henry tells him, and Sebastian stills. He pulls his arm away from Henry’s embrace.

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian asks and MC coughs, catching the waitress come around with the fire whiskey. “Sh!” She says and the boys stop, sitting up straight in their seats.

As soon as the drinks are down the two of them take the small glass in their hand and knock back the drink, putting the glasses back down on the table at the same time. Merlin, as tense as this all was it was like seeing the same man six years apart.

“Anne is upset now, but she’ll get over it. You know how dramatic she always was.” Henry says, shaking his head with a smile on his face like he was recalling a lifetimes worth of memories with Anne.

“How are you so unserious about this?” MC whispers, sitting back in her chair and taking her fire whiskey in one go as well.

Henry opens his mouth but Sebastian’s cutting him off. “Are you bloody kidding me? I did- what I did was horrible. I have nightmares about it, I feel- so much guilt and it’s nothing to you?”

“I’m just not surprised. You know how Solomon was.” Henry says defensively.

“And don’t tell me Anne is being dramatic, she has every right to hate me.” Sebastian’s hands were shaking. “You show up here, after not talking to me for ages, flirt with my girlfriend, and then tell me the thing thats been keeping me up at night isn’t a big deal?”

“Sebastian.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Sebastian spits, standing up at the table and turning on his heel, grabbing MC’s hand in the process.

“I’m your brother!” Henry shouts.

“I don’t have a brother.” Sebastian answers, his voice unwavering.

His holds onto her hand tightly, walking them quickly out of the Inn and to the nearest Floo Flame, taking them both to the room of requirement in silence.

Once they’re there MC just stares at her boyfriend. She doesn’t know what to say, she can’t even tell how he’s feeling, he’s looking behind her, his hands in fists at his side. “Sometimes.” MC mutters. “It just helps me to scream-”

She can’t even finish her sentence before Sebastian is letting out an earth shattering scream. She clamps her hands over her ears and waits for him to be done before wrapping her arms around his middle.

“I’m sorry your brother is a prick.” She mumbles into his sweater.

“Me too.” He sighs, resting his cheek on the top of her head. They’re quite for a few moments. “Did I see you looking all Doe eyed at him?”

MC blushes. “No.”

“Liar.” he mumbles.

“Well, I just thought that maybe you could grow one of those little beards?” She mumbles and Sebastian chuckles.

“Even if he’s handsome he’s a right git.” She tells him, and gets on her tip toes to give him a kiss.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #Sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #Hogwarts legacy fic

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