Sebastian pulled gently on his backpack straps as he walked through the halls as he moved towards Blaine’s last class of the day. He wasn’t nervous. He couldn’t be nervous. He was Sebastian fucking Smythe. But what school production would want a Danny Zuko with a burnt face? He leaned against the wall, getting lost in his own thoughts for a moment as kids passed by him.
Maks sighed when he stood before the front door of their New Jersey home, his parents told him that he needed to go home and fix whatever their issues were. He ran his fingers through his dark locks then fished into his pocket for his phone, he read his wife's text then unlocked the front door and walked in. He closed the door and locked it behind him then made his way upstairs to their master bedroom. "Hey." He greeted Peta softly. He walked closer to her and placed a soft kiss onto her lips.
Kennedy’s body collapsed against his, though from her current position, she knew she’d have to move to lay down. She had one leg on either side of him, her hips flesh against his. She rocked back slightly and inhaled sharply, unable to stop the small noise that escaped her lips. Her hand found as solid a surface as it could on the bed and she maneuvered herself off of his lap. “I deserve…all the…fucking things…” She wasn’t even quite sure what she was after, but she fucking loved the rush that came from being the one who called the shots every now and then.
As she leaned against the headboard, she turned to look at Drew. No matter if he was covered head to toe, dress socks and jacket, at the office, or in nothing at all, like he was now, he was handsome. His jaw was strong; his eyes, soft, for her, at least. His lips were warm; his skin, smooth. She craved his touch when she wasn’t near him and couldn’t get close enough when she was. But on top of all of that, there was an emotional tether that she couldn’t quite shake, a piece of her, that seemed to be getting bigger and bigger with each day that passed, that was connected to the emotional piece of her heart.
Kennedy’s smile was soft, though it conveyed everything. She was happy. The way they interacted, despite having to keep it quiet around the office, was good for her, for them. They were, for all intents and purposes, a unit, though most definitely not dating. But that didn’t exactly matter to Kennedy when she was the only one he was going out to dinner with and the only one he was bringing home at the end of the night.
The night before, Jesse had felt on top of the world. Jon had always been the guy to either admire or beat around here and Jesse wasn’t one for admiring other dudes. No, he’d always wanted to dethrone Jon and take his place, and he’d done that. That was why he’d been confident enough to strut around his conquest in nothing but a tight little jockstrap, framing his bouncing cheeks with every confident step he took. Of course, he should’ve thought ahead; he should’ve known Jon still wouldn’t be broken down after that hard, brutal fuck, and now he was in a dilemma, with the frat president’s body pressed up against him from behind, while Jesse looked at the mirror ahead of him, giving him a good view of what Jon was up to.
“Back the fuck up, man. Hands off the merchandise unless you’re gonna get on your knees like a good little bitch, alright? I ain’t got time for a faggot joking around with me.”
It wasn’t something he’d expected to happen so soon, but who was Evander Carrow to complain that the other Death Eaters finally managed to do something right without him leading the way. A break out of ten death eaters from Azkaban wasn’t an easy task to pull off, yet somehow they managed it. When he was at the safe house, he had requested one thing if he’d been freed: a Polyjuice potion so he could pass for that fucking traitor, Flint. Once he’d taken it and the one Death Eater who had been trailing Tristan’s schedule told him it was a time he wouldn’t be expected to be around, he apparated back to his house and smirk with pride when he was able to get past whatever Wards his ex-husband had attempted to put up to keep others out. As he strolled into his house, he tried to think where Lysander may be and he settled for one of the rooms he’d usually be doing his pointless sketches. He smirked as he found him and snaked his arms around him. “Hey you.” He said, semi-hating himself for even having to act like he was Flint. The second Tristan actually showed his face, his wand was ready to kill that pathetic excuse for a Pureblood. Getting him locked up was one thing, stealing his husband was a completely other story.