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whizzing-fizzbee · 2 months ago

Note

Okie I sent you a request earlier today about a possible fic around MC ‘coaching’ Seb (lol). But I thought of another one. Same vibe between the two (besties that just wanna love and fuck each other) and same setting, just them two, maybe they’re a little tipsy or more open for some reason. in conversation she reveals that she’s convinced she can’t cum. No other guy has ever managed and neither has she. She enjoys sex but just doesn’t think THAT will ever happen. And Seb just blurts out that he bet he could. Smug bastard. It becomes a whole thing, she’s like you’re insane, but is convinced… and he does.

Also shared with Applin by the way. You two are just amazing!

Oh hey there. 😏 Buckle up because we've got another multi-part series here. Enjoy Part I of two.

Just Once

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, language); all characters are 18+ Words: ~5,800 Tags: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, mutual pining, smut, sexual exploration

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“Happy birthday, darling.”

You stifled an amused snort as Sebastian Sallow presented you with a poorly wrapped package. The faded brown paper was clinging for dear life and a green bow had been slapped precariously on top. It was clearly a glass bottle of something Professor Weasley would love to confiscate. You narrowed your eyes at it.

“This isn’t one of Garreth’s concoctions, is it?” you asked warily.

“Nope, nothing but pure, 100% firewhiskey,” Sebastian quipped. He plucked the package from your hand and unwrapped it. You watched him uncork the bottle and take a long swig. “See? No poison or wayward potions here.”

“Did you just buy me that so I’d share it with you?” you mused. Sebastian shrugged and took another drink before returning the bottle to your hand.

“Nothing wrong with a birthday gift that benefits us both,” he offered. You rolled your eyes and took a drink. The liquid burned all the way down, blooming spiced heat through your throat. It was a welcome distraction.

You hated your birthday. Orphaned since birth, you hadn’t received many annual celebrations. Some years, you forgot about it entirely. It wasn’t until your sixteenth birthday, the first one you’d spent at Hogwarts, that anyone cared to celebrate with you. You were always grateful for your friends for that.

Still, turning eighteen twisted a knot in your gut. You were an official adult now, meaning you’d be expected to live like one. Your Hogwarts days were trickling to an end, with graduation just weeks away. You’d already lined up a job as an auror in training with the Ministry of Magic. You were set to move to London and share a flat with Imelda Reyes. Your plans were all set in place. Adulthood was just around the corner, and on paper, you were prepared. But inside, terror twisted in your chest and turned your stomach.

You drank until the bottle’s neck was empty.

“Thanks for this,” you said, raising the bottle toward Sebastian. He offered you his signature lopsided grin.

“Not every day my best friend turns eighteen,” he said.

“Don’t remind me,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh, come on, it’s not so bad,” Sebastian said. “I turned eighteen last month and haven’t turned into a stuffy adult yet.”

“That’s because you spent your eighteenth birthday piss drunk until you ended up in bed with Violet McDowell.”

“Best birthday I ever had.”

You snorted and took another swig.

“Speaking of piss-drunk debauchery, where’s that boyfriend of yours?” Sebastian asked.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you groaned. It felt like the firewhiskey was already surging to your brain, though talking about your love life – or lack thereof – was enough to make you feel drunk and disheveled.

“Fine, fine. Where’s that bloke you’ve been messing around with?” Sebastian continued.

“He’s spending the weekend with his family.”

“And he’s missing your birthday?” Sebastian tutted.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Sebastian,” you repeated, your tone edging with warning. “I don’t expect him to celebrate my birthday. We’re just friends.”

“Friends,” Sebastian repeated. “Right.”

“What’s wrong with that?” you demanded with narrowed eyes. You wanted to claw the smirk off his face. Or kiss it.

“Nothing,” Sebastian shrugged innocently. “Just thought Northcott would try a little harder to lock you down now that you’re an adult and all.”

“What on Earth does that have to do with anything?” you snorted.

“We’re all graduating soon. People are starting to pair off,” Sebastian explained. “Everyone else is starting to think of marriage and families and the future.”

“Oh? Who are you proposing marriage to then?”

“Professor Garlick.”

You snorted into the whiskey bottle. “You wish.”

“That I do.” Sebastian sighed longingly for dramatic effect.

“But really,” you continued. “Who are you courting for forever? Haven’t seen you with anyone since that time I saw you and Charlotte stumbling out of Sharp’s potions cupboard.”

“I said everyone else is starting to pair off,” Sebastian noted. “Not me.”

“Oh, think you’re too good for everyone at Hogwarts?”

“Not at all. To the contrary, I think my reputation has tainted my chances with any ladies here at Hogwarts.”

“And whose fault is that?” you teased.

“Not deflecting any blame,” Sebastian said simply. “I just don’t think any of Hogwarts’ eligible bachelorettes are interested in someone with my track record.”

It was true, Sebastian had developed a reputation for being rather… experienced. Or as Ominis Gaunt put it, Sebastian had “dipped his quill in far too many inkwells.” But it wasn’t because Sebastian wanted to run through every girl at Hogwarts. You’d watched him stumble and fumble his way through attempts at relationships with honest intent. He was simply too messy for most people.

It took a special kind of patience and understanding to maintain any kind of relationship with Sebastian Sallow, be it friendship or something more. The thing about Sebastian was he didn’t always get things right, but he was always sincere. You knew that about him. In fact, you knew most things about him. But Sebastian had never looked at you with the same kind of lust and intrigue he’d looked at other girls. You were his best friend and confidant, the keeper of his deepest secrets, not his deepest desires.

You’d accepted that ages ago, but every now and then, you couldn’t help but eye your best friend with a wistful kind of melancholy. Just once, you wished he’d see you as a woman rather than an anchor. Sure, you loved being his safe space, but you also wanted him to feel the dirty draw of sinful desire when he looked at you. Just once.

“Well, maybe someday the great Sebastian Sallow will find a woman willing to tolerate his antics,” you finally teased. Sebastian plucked the whiskey bottle from your fingers and took a drink.

“Maybe someday,” he said simply. Silence settled between you, a cozy kind of quiet that often indicated you were both mulling over some thought you were reluctant to share. It was rare – you and Sebastian spilled nearly every thought that came to mind – but sometimes you enjoyed the intrigue of withholding from him.

“Can you imagine us, married?” you wondered aloud. “I mean, not to each other, of course, but in general- to other people.”

Your face flushed and you cursed yourself for being stupid enough to bring up the topic of marriage in the presence of Sebastian when alcohol was currently coursing through your system.

Sebastian grinned at you. “What, don’t think I’d be husband material?” he quipped.

“I think I’d end up hexing you before we even reached the altar,” you shot back.

“Oh, interesting. I’d love to honeymoon while covered in bruises and boils.”

“Keep talking and maybe you will.”

“Yeah? And where would you like to honeymoon, dear?”

“Someplace warm and romantic.”

“How whimsy. Tell Northcott to pack swimwear.”

You elbowed Sebastian in the side in annoyance. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Ow! Alright, fine. He’s not your boyfriend. No need for violence.”

“No need to be so daft.”

“Merlin, adulthood makes you awfully mean,” Sebastian whined. You scowled at him and he chuckled. “I suppose it’s my own fault for giving you firewhiskey.”

“You trying to get me drunk?”

“I don’t need to try.”

“Touche.” You raised the bottle again and chugged until your cheeks burned. The boathouse fell quiet again, the sound of the lake’s surface gently lapping against the docks as a pair of boats bobbed in the water.

“Didn’t you have plans tonight?” you finally asked. “I thought most everyone was going to the Three Broomsticks.”

“They were,” Sebastian sighed. “And I was supposed to bring you there as a surprise.”

“Surprise?”

“Poppy and Imelda wanted to surprise you with a cake or something.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed pretty intent on staying here,” Sebastian shrugged. “But I’m sure everyone’s still there if you want to head into the village.”

“No.” You shook your head. The liquor had seeped into your bloodstream and the notion of walking, or even standing, seemed overwhelming. Truthfully, you had no interest in singing or cake. You were happiest sitting in quiet seclusion with Sebastian. “You can blame me when Imelda inevitably tries to take your head off. Tell her the truth – I drank too much and didn’t make it outside the castle.”

“Whatever you say, birthday girl.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you continued. “Didn’t you have plans tonight?”

Sebastian shrugged a shoulder. “Not really. It’s your birthday. My only plan was you.”

“Oh. I thought I overheard Nerida saying the two of you were meeting up.”

“Nerida says a lot of things,” Sebastian muttered. You watched him take a long drink from the bottle.

“Oh, come on. She’s not so bad,” you giggled. “If you can get past the fascination with merpeople, she’s pretty nice.”

“Fascination?” Sebastian snorted. “It’s much worse than that. She once tried to hook up with me near the far window in the Common Room, said it would feel like she’s underwater. Normally that might be kind of hot, but she clearly wanted to do some kind of merperson roleplay.”

You choked on your latest sip of firewhiskey and began to laugh until you hiccuped. It was a deep, belly laugh that echoed through the boathouse.

“Merlin,” you giggled. “Did she want you to talk dirty to her in Mermish too?”

“It’s not funny,” Sebastian chided, though you could hear the laughter in his voice.

“Oh, Sebastian!” you teased in a breathy, suggestive tone. “Pin my fins down!”

You erupted with another bout of uncontrollable laughter, so loud Sebastian finally had to clamp a hand over your mouth.

“Someone’s going to hear you!” he hissed. You pried his hand away and rolled your eyes.

“Who? No one comes down here at night. Unless Nerida’s trying to get you in the water for a rendezvous.” You snorted at your own joke, the firewhiskey making it difficult to keep any composure. “Though from what I remember after helping her during fifth year, she’s not much of a swimmer. Hope you can keep her afloat. Maybe there’s a useful spell for that. Or maybe she’d let you fuck her on the beach over there.”

Sebastian shot you a deadpan stare as you grinned at him. “Messing around with her in the showers was bad enough,” he said. “She likes the water ice cold.”

You cackled at the confession. It was the only way to reduce the sting of Sebastian fooling around with other girls. “Stop it,” you wheezed, tears welling in your eyes. “You really are her magic merman.”

“Not after that,” Sebastian muttered. “I’d rather not catch pneumonia during sex.”

“Aww, where’s the fun in that, Seb?” you teased. “Too sensitive for a cold shower?”

“More like too sane.”

“Poor Nerida,” you cooed in a taunting tone. “All she wants is a merman to make her happy.”

“Yeah well, it’s not going to be me.”

“It’s not nice to kink shame, Sebastian.”

“You’re the one laughing!”

Your banter sent you into another fit of drunken giggles, leaving you laughing so hard you slumped against Sebastian for support. He shook his head at you, his eyes glinting with fond amusement.

“I suppose it’s fair,” you continued once you caught your breath. “Awfully hard to enjoy any nude activities when you’re numb to the bone. I personally can’t tolerate a shower that’s anything short of damn near scalding.”

“Should’ve guessed a demon from the depths of Hell likes her water hot,” Sebastian muttered, drawing a glare from you.

“I find it relaxing!”

“Whatever gets you off, darling.”

Perhaps it was the irony of his words. Perhaps – or most certainly – it was the alcohol. Something sent you into your worst fit of giggles yet, laughing controllably until you were flat on your back on the stone floor.

Sebastian blinked downward at you when the outburst finally subsided.

“Nothing gets me off,” you snorted. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

“What on Earth does that mean?” he asked.

“You know what I mean,” you babbled on, still on your back as your gaze met his from the floor. “Like, I can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That. Get off.”

Sebastian stilled. He clearly thought he knew what you were implying, but was afraid to make any assumptions. Sure, the two of you talked about sex, but not like this.

“And by get off, you mean…” he led, hoping you’d finish the sentence.

“During sex,” you said stupidly. “I can’t get off.”

“You can’t… finish?” Sebastian finally managed.

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Sebastian pressed. Had you not been so intoxicated, you might have noticed how alarmed he looked by your revelation.

“I don’t know,” you answered simply. “I just can’t. It physically doesn’t happen.”

“You mean ever? Or recently?”

“Ever. Never ever.”

“Never? What about… you know, when you’re on your own?”

“Nope.” You shook your head and winced as it rocked against the cold, hard ground.

“So let me get this straight,” Sebastian said, straightening in his seated position on the ground, his long legs outstretched. “You’re trying to tell me that you’ve never had an orgasm?”

“Nope.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

“Because that’s mental!”

“It’s true!”

“But you… you’ve been with… people.”

“I’m aware of my sexual history, Seb.”

“But… but none of those blokes have… you know…”

“They do. But I don’t. It’s okay, really,” you rattled on. “I just assume my body is incapable or something. Like some kind of defect. But I still enjoy sex.”

Clearly your inhibitions were spent. You’d never have revealed your secret so readily had you been sober. In the morning, you’d be mortified at yourself for revealing such details to Sebastian of all people.

“But what’s the point?” Sebastian blurted out incredulously. You blinked upward at him, utterly confused why he appeared so offended that you were incapable of a climax.

“It’s not a big deal!” you insisted. “Sex can still be fun and enjoyable. It still feels good.”

“But don’t you want to know how it feels to… you know?”

“Well, obviously!” you snorted. “Of course, I would. But if I can’t do it myself – and believe me, I’ve tried – then I can’t expect anyone else to be able to do it either. It’s no one’s fault. The blokes I’ve been with have certainly tried. It just doesn’t work.”

Sebastian’s brain stuttered. He was stunned that you’d never known how it felt to fall apart in such a blissful manner, but he was also furious that any man would allow you to believe it was impossible.

“They must not have tried hard enough,” Sebastian said.

“They have, really,” you said, sitting up on your elbows as you eyed him with amusement. “It’s really no big deal, Seb. No need to get worked up about it.”

“It’s unacceptable!”

You couldn’t help but snort at his insulted demeanor. “Seb, relax,” you laughed. “It’s just an unfortunate fact of life. I can’t get off and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I bet I could do it.”

“Huh?!” You sat up so fast, your head spun.

“I could do it,” Sebastian repeated so boldly, you began to wonder if someone had placed him under the Imperius Curse. “I could make you… you know.” He swallowed. “I could make you orgasm.”

The boathouse’s cool air no longer felt refreshing against your flushed face. It became heavy and oppressive, suffocating as you searched for something to say.

Instead, you threw your head back and laughed this time, deflecting the need for words. After all, Sebastian had merely been joking, right? And the polite thing to do was to laugh when someone made a joke. Nevermind the fact your head was reeling from the mere thought of Sebastian offering to touch you.

But Sebastian had been quite serious, though he decided to drop the subject the moment you began laughing. He’d play along and pretend it had all been in jest. After all, you were too busy laughing to notice the way his eyes shifted nervously to the ground.

You were also too busy laughing to notice the arrival of Professor Weasley, who promptly scolded you for drinking on school grounds and gave you detention.

—

The following morning, you found yourself spectacularly hungover and embarrassed. You could deal with the first of those dilemmas with some pastries and a pepper-up potion, but the second one could only be resolved by flinging yourself into a stampede of wild hippogriffs.

Instead, you sulked around your dorm room in hopes of avoiding Sebastian until you couldn’t stand the confines of the small space anymore. You slunk into the Slytherin Common Room, where you spotted Sebastian and Ominis chatting in the chairs by the fireplace.

You swore under your breath and scurried toward the exit.

“Oi!”

You swore even louder at the sound of Imelda calling after you. You stopped in your tracks and sighed, turning to face her as she approached.

“Professor Weasley was looking for you,” she said. “Told me to let you know you and Sallow have detention tomorrow evening.”

“Fabulous,” you muttered. Imelda eyed you with a smirk.

“What’d you two do this time? Does it have anything to do with you bailing on your own birthday?” she asked.

“Got a little too drunk in the boathouse,” you answered. Imelda rolled her eyes.

“You do know you could have done that at the Three Boomsticks without the detention?”

“Ah, but then she wouldn’t have been able to spend some quality time with her best friend.” Sebastian appeared beside you and draped an arm around your shoulders. You inhaled sharply as his fingers played with your hair.

Imelda shook her head and returned to her chess match.

“Come with me to the Undercroft,” Sebastian said in your ear.

“Seb, I need to study-”

“It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“So, in the nearly three years I’ve known you, you’ve never wasted a Saturday with studying. Now let’s go.”

You sighed and followed him quietly to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower, your arms folded cautiously across your chest. Sebastian turned around to frown at you when he noticed your silence.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Alright. Just a little hungover.”

“Need a pepper-up?”

“I drank one. Just still a little groggy, is all.”

As you continued toward the entrance to the Undercroft, he didn’t address the revelation you’d made last night. You prayed he’d been too drunk to remember.

That prayer was short-lived as you stepped into the Undercroft.

A large mirror was now leaning against the far wall and the sofa you’d conjured your fifth year had been moved in front of it.

“Sebastian…” you started slowly as you eyed the changed room. He didn’t respond. Instead, he led you toward the sofa, where he stood and lingered, his hands stuffed in his pockets. That was when you noticed the tension in his jaw.

He was nervous, you realized, and you couldn’t help but suspect it had to do with the confession you’d made the previous night.

“Sebastian,” you repeated as you stood behind the sofa, gazing at your own reflection in the mirror. “What is this?”

“I thought about what you said,” Sebastian said in one breath. “That thing you confided. And I meant what I said. I want to help.”

Oh, fuck.

“Seb, that’s… this… you don’t…” You began to wonder if your heart had ascended into your throat. “You don’t need to do that.”

“But would you let me?”

“Huh?”

“Do you… would you let me? Would you let me try?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? I mean, you don’t have to do anything in return. I’d never ask that of you.”

“Oh.”

“Look,” Sebastian sighed as he dragged a hand through his hair. His eyes were very decisively avoiding yours. “I just think… you deserve to know how it feels. And I genuinely think I could help you.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at him. “Awfully confident of you to assume that,” you mused.

“Awfully disheartening of you to assume I can’t.”

“I didn’t say that,” you said. “It’s just that it’s never happened before.”

“That’s because you’ve never been with me.”

A flush crept up the back of your neck and you felt faint. But even a situation as awkward as this couldn’t keep you from matching Sebastian blow-for-blow.

“And you always leave every girl you’ve been with completely satisfied?” you challenged. Sebastian smirked at you.

“No one’s ever filed any complaints. If anything, they become repeat customers.” He chuckled when you shot him a look of disgust. “Only joking, darling.”

But you were out of smart words and quick retorts. Now, your head was reeling with the decision you faced. You could say no and leave the Undercroft, and likely the remnants of your friendship with Sebastian. Or you could agree. And at the very least, you’d learn how it’d feel to finally be touched by him, just once. At best, he’d live up to his word and show you the glimpse of heaven you never thought your eyes would meet. Just once.

“Alright, fine,” you finally agreed. “If you’re so sure of yourself, let’s see that magic touch.” You couldn’t believe you’d just agreed to something so reckless and bold

Sebastian blinked. He hadn’t necessarily assumed you’d say no, but he’d been trying to censor his expectations – and hope.

“A-alright, good,” he said with a nod. He gestured toward the sofa and cleared his throat. “I figured maybe this could help.”

“A mirror?” you asked warily.

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s confidence hitched as reality ensnared itself in his head. The two of you were about to do something far more intimate than he ever could have envisioned. Of course, he certainly had pictured you in all states of undress, folded beneath him, perched on top of him, and every position in-between. But those were all fantasies, preserved for the quiet sanctity of Sebastian’s mind.

Now, he’d talked himself atop a pedestal and had to prove himself. But this was more than a notch in his belt and another girl to impress. This was you.

But Sebastian was just as stubborn and just as determined as you. And, like you, he always fought tooth and nail to keep his word. Especially when it came to matters that concerned you.

He studied you for a moment, your spine far straighter than usual and your cheeks flushed. You blinked back at him with wide eyes that made his trousers tighten. He felt like a predator waiting to sink his teeth into his prey.

Once he’d gathered the confidence to convince his legs to work, Sebastian moved toward the sofa and sat smack-dab in the center of it. His arms were draped across the back, his knees parted, while his eyes met yours in the mirror’s reflection. He'd never looked more alluring — or more intimidating.

“Come sit.” It took a fleeting moment for you to understand he didn’t mean for you to lounge next to him. He wanted you to sit between his legs.

“O-okay,” you breathed. You moved at a glacial pace, terrified to appear too eager, eyes locked on the floor, before you stood above Sebastian. When you finally met his gaze, he licked his lips. The ache between your thighs blazed.

“I was thinking,” Sebastian continued as he spun you around so you were looking at yourself in the mirror. He peeked around you to see your reflection as he spoke. “I’ve noticed you’re a visual learner. You always master spells and potion brews as soon as you see them in action. So I thought maybe it’d help you to see yourself. Maybe if you can see what… you like, it’ll make it easier for you to… fully enjoy it.”

“Oh.”

Sebastian reached a hand toward you and you inhaled sharply. He paused, his outstretched hand lingering near your waist. “May I?” he asked. You nodded, unsure your tongue could craft a coherent response.

Sebastian’s hand rested on your waist, his fingers dragging across the fabric that covered the top of your thigh as his hand drifted downward. It snaked lower and lower until his fingers found the hem of your skirt. As his hand disappeared beneath it, cotton filled your mouth.

You could feel both of his hands retreat upward, grazing your thighs until he could feel the seam of your panties. You swallowed a whimper.

“Can I take these off?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” you rasped. The pads of his calloused fingertips felt rough against your skin as they tugged at the waistband of your panties and slid them downward. You watched your reflection as your panties pooled at your feet and your thigh muscles twitched.

Sebastian removed his hands from beneath the hem of your skirt and cleared his throat. “Sit,” he murmured.

Your racing heart threatened to crack your ribs inside your chest as you willed your knees to bend. You lowered yourself cautiously until you were seated between Sebastian’s thighs. But you sat at the very edge of the sofa, terrified to move any closer, and certain the ringing in your ears would leave you deaf.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. His breath was hot against the nape of your neck as he hooked an arm around your waist to tug you closer. Your breath hitched when the warmth of his body met yours. His chest pressed against your back. “Alright?”

You nodded in response, terrified to look him in the eye via your reflections. Instead, you stared at the floor as Sebastian began inching the hem of your skirt upward until it was bunched around your torso, exposing everything you had to offer.

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian breathed against your neck.

When you finally gathered the courage to look in the mirror, you were certain you had tripped and fallen face-first into one of those dreams that you never dared to speak of. There you were, splayed out in the most obscene pose imaginable with Sebastian peering over your shoulder at your sacred pink flesh. You’d never seen something so sinful, and you’d certainly never thought you’d be front and center in such a scene.

Sebastian stared back at you with dark, heavy eyes that might have petrified you had he been anyone else. You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his breaths much more labored than usual.

You could also feel something that was most certainly not his wand pressing into the small of your back. Arousal seeped from your entrance. You squeezed your eyes shut to steady yourself.

But a hand roamed to your chest and your eyes shot open as Sebastian unbuttoned the top half of your blouse.

“Can I… touch you?” he said in your ear. Another nod in response.

Sebastian’s left hand disappeared inside your blouse and you swallowed a moan as his fingers grazed your right nipple. He cupped your breast fully until you had to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the pressure between them.

“Hey now,” Sebastian purred, his free hand reaching to pry your knees apart again. “You’re supposed to be watching.”

You bit back the urge to scold him for not doing more, to beg him to touch you in all the ways you’d only envisioned when left to your own thoughts in private. But Sebastian sensed your waning patience. His hand drifted up your leg and you watched the fingers of his reflection trace the crease of your thigh. The slickness pooling at your entrance was a dizzying paradox to the heat that scalded your nerve endings.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you rasped with much more gusto than you’d intended. Your resolve had withered and you weren’t above begging Sebastian to do something, anything to put a stop to your suffering.

“Just… tell me if you want me to stop,” Sebastian said. And before you could beg him to continue, his index and middle fingers skimmed your folds. They met your clit and pressed until a whimper finally escaped your throat.

Sebastian’s fingers swiped gently until you were digging your nails into the tops of your own thighs. The delicious friction was enough to make you wonder if Sebastian really would live up to the hype he’d created for himself. Other boys were good, but this was Sebastian.

As his fingers inched closer to your entrance, you whined and bucked your hips.

“So that’s where you like it,” Sebastian murmured in your ear. “See?”

You hummed in agreement and watched as Sebastian’s fingers pressed more before they finally sank inside of you. You moaned as they disappeared, then reappeared, dipping into your core until you could hear them parting your walls.

You clenched yourself tighter around them, begging them to show you what they could do, while you watched, half-lidded, in awe at the erotic scene that had unfolded. Sebastian’s brow was furrowed in concentration, a vision you would have found endearing had you not been on the cusp of unraveling in his arms. Instead, you merely marveled at the masterpiece framed in the mirror before you; your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Sebastian's thighs flanked your sides. Now wasn't the time for sentimental discoveries, but you couldn't help but notice how perfectly you fit in front of him.

When Sebastian’s fingers pulled against your front wall, his other hand thumbed your nipple. You gasped at the dual sensations and Sebastian smirked at your reflection. “See? You like that, don’t you?”

When he pulled his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of pressure and the sight of your own arousal clinging to him. He groaned at his coated fingers and returned them to your clit. They pressed and prodded until you moaned again. “Right there,” Sebastian said as he ensured your eyes were still watching in the mirror. "See? This is the spot that drives you wild, isn't it?"

More and more pressure, scraping and swiping against that spot you liked; your eyes clinging to the reflection of your swollen cunt as Sebastian’s fingers danced against your flesh, his other hand squeezing your breast.

"Sebastian, please," you begged.

It all felt far too good to be true.

“I’m going to try something,” Sebastian said in your ear. “It’s going to feel like a lot of pressure. I’ll stop if it gets to be too much, but if you can, try to relax your body, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sebastian’s middle finger sank inside of you and his hand jerked upward in quick, sharp motions, the heel of his palm dabbing against your clit. You heaved a resounding moan and your eyes finally clamped shut.

Something was happening within your core. You’d felt it before, scraped its surface, but never pierced the barrier. It was a low simmer turned scalding, reaching a rolling boil that begged to breach its confines.

“Relax,” you heard Sebastian command. You exhaled violently, willing the tension and air to vacate your body as your eyes squeezed tighter and your chest caved. And when it did, the mounting pressure in your walls released. You cried out in surprise, stunned at the dizzying pleasure that pulsed through your core as your back arched and thighs quivered. It shocked your body until you were so sensitive, you were gritting your teeth.

Sebastian’s hand didn’t stop until you did, and when your high finally subsided, you slumped into spineless submission, still whimpering at the foreign feeling between your legs.

When your eyes finally dared to glance toward the mirror, you caught a glimpse of your fucked out reflection, hair plastered to your crimson face while Sebastian stared at you in awe.

You wanted to praise him, worship him at an altar of the utmost holiness; crawl on your knees atop a bed of nails just to prove your gratitude and worth; declare your unwavering devotion to him, a god among mere mortals.

Your religion was Sebastian Sallow and you were the ultimate disciple.

“I…” You didn’t know why you were bothering to try for words. Nothing you said could restore your dignity – not that you wanted it back. Not after that feeling; that precious jolt of new euphoria. Sebastian had earned his rightful place as God in your eyes.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked, still eyeing you in the mirror.

You wished you could fire off some sort of witty response. That was your best defense when left in a vulnerable state, and you’d never felt more vulnerable than in this moment. Hell, you were still slumped against Sebastian with your skirt hiked around your waist while his hand lingered against your soaked entrance.

The comedown from your climax felt like the worst celebration ever – a birthday party held in a funeral parlor. Your nerves lingered with elation but your brain filled with panic, especially as you realized Sebastian’s hard cock was still pressed into your lower back.

You reached behind your own back for it and heard him hiss when your fingers curled around its outline, still straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“Not tonight, darling,” he said, wrapping his own fingers around your wrist to stop you.

“But-”

“No. Remember our deal?”

“That was hardly a deal,” you said, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Your knees had fallen shut and the front of your blouse was askew, making it difficult for you to take yourself seriously. “It was more of a declaration on your behalf.”

“And it seems my declaration was correct, was it not?”

“Obviously, it was,” you admitted. You were in no state to claim otherwise. Not when you were still panting, your cunt still twitching from the aftermath of your first orgasm that came at the literal hands of Sebastian Sallow.

Sebastian’s reflection flashed you a proud smirk. You knew he'd likely hold this above you forever. What you didn't know was how eager he was to relieve himself at the memory of you falling apart for the first time around his fingers. He couldn't believe he'd been the one to achieve that honor.

"Then perhaps you can make it up to me some other time,” he said.

“Some other time? You plan on doing this again?” you challenged as you began to button your blouse.

Finally, that vulnerability you’d been feeling coursed its way into Sebastian. He swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Only if it interests you,” he said, feigning nonchalance with a shrug. “You know, if you still find those other sorry blokes are unable to leave you satisfied.”

"I suppose you're pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you?" you murmured.

"Not nearly as pleased as you, it seems."

You wanted to roll your eyes at him or call him a rude name, but how could you possibly aim any harsh words at the man who had just introduced you to utopia?

Not wanting to appear too eager to linger between his legs, you begrudgingly rose to your feet to adjust your skirt and panties. Sebastian remained seated and you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the tent in his trousers, which you noted looked much more impressive than Eric Northcott’s. You decided there would absolutely be a next time.

#mdni #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow smut #whizzing fizzbee fanfic #whizzing fizzbee requests

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westside-rot · 4 months ago

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Therapy Hours

Pairing: husband!terry richmond x black fem!reader

Words: 3.7k words

Summary: Terry seeks comfort from the only person who can give it to him.

Notes: Minors DNI. Smut, oral: fem receiving (0ver-stimulation) and cursing. Light by my standards lol. I had to force myself to stop revising this so please forgive any errors. I'll find em eventually and fix it. 😭 In the future I plan on alternating between fluff and smut so the next one should be fluffy/angsty.

Here's a visual of the position used. Not quite the same but close enough 👀: *nsfw pic link* *link #2*

Also please don't repost this on any other sites. Reblogs/comments/likes make me happy.

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov

Something isn’t right. You look over to the side and discover the space occupied by your husband is empty. He was there a moment ago, proud and silent in his admiration for you while you sat mesmerized by the view. This picnic was the culmination of a month-long struggle to find balance with work and each other. All you cared about was reconnecting with him in a garden straight out of a fairytale for as long as possible, forever if you had it your way. Now he was nowhere to be found.

You rationalize his absence by assuming he must’ve forgotten something in the car. Likely an item you’d noticed earlier and convinced yourself not to purchase. Satisfied with your answer you lay back on your thick cotton blanket face to the infinite stretch of blue, uninterrupted by clouds with your arms and legs stretched out in opposite directions as far they'll comfortably reach. That’s when you notice the dress you’d been wearing has somehow vanished as well. You don’t bother pursuing logic this time. It’s beautiful outside and warmed to the ideal temperature for sunbathing. Now you’re a part of that beauty, perfectly made and carefree.

The sun’s warmth penetrates your brown skin and you relax into a gratified acceptance with your eyes closed and a smile on your face. A breeze grazes your skin. You part your legs to it exploration. It's subtle at first then harder as it sweeps up your legs and fixates on your intimate parts. You moan as your hips begin to move in a sensual dance interrupted by something you can’t name. Then you realize the golden reddish hue behind your eyelids is gone. It's dark, darker than it should be for the time of day. You find it impossible to care with so much pleasure running through your system. It doesn’t matter who or what is responsible for your predicament. They can keep you so long as they promise never to stop.

The unknown force answers with more delicious suction. It draws your body into a tight arch and pulls the breath from your lungs. Breathing is pointless where you’re headed. While your brain can’t fathom the destination, it doesn’t get in the way of supplication once you're finally pushed over the edge.

"Terry..." You moan the name forever present in your heart and mind. His location is still unknown, you trust him to always find you.

"I’m here love." The voice is muffled. You recognize its owner the second you hear it. The pleasurable void you’ve fallen into rematerializes as soft sheets against your back. Everything else gradually comes into focus, your husband's massive hands anchored on your waist, the prick of his facial hair as his tongue and lips move along your slick folds made warm by each labored breath he takes. Your eyes reset themselves forward as you attempt to reorient your place in the real world, a simple task made difficult by his unwillingness to pull his tongue from your drenched hole. Delirious but still guided by habit you manage to catch sight of the alarm clock on your nightstand. 3:00am.

"Shit…We have to be up in a few more hours--" Your hands act in contradiction to your words, pulling him in closer by the neck to keep him on the right spot. "Baby..."

"I know." He flattens his tongue against your clit and latches on. You realize he's responding to the urgency in your voice and not the truth you’re attempting to speak.

Where your first orgasm was tempered by your dream, the second attacks your senses at full force. His strong capable hands absorb the shock as they hold you in place. It's several minutes before your thrashing subsides to gentle undulations from the heavy breaths passing through your body. His fingers knead the flesh around your waistline. Even though his lips are still dangerously close to your pussy you feel more like the wife he’s attempting to soothe and less like the midnight snack you've been made into. You melt among the pillows with your eyes closed one hand loosely cradling the back of his head, the other bent and draped across your face as he makes out with your inner thighs. It takes you a while to recover your voice, a little longer to remember what you intended to say next.

"What’s wrong papa? Did your regret for not playing with me earlier finally wake you up?”

He doesn’t speak right away. The answer reaches you in the silence long before his words give confirmation.

"I’d take regret over these dreams I keep having. They’re getting worse."

Six months ago, Terry nearly lost his life attempting to protect his cousin. His outer wounds have healed up nicely. It's the scars left on his soul that provoke your bloodlust. If you had your way those piece of shit cops would’ve received their karma long before the worst happened. Mike would be alive. The man you love, a man accustomed to sleeping peacefully by your side every night wouldn’t be routinely attacked by demons you couldn’t see.

Most nights you’re promoted to the role of big spoon. You hate the circumstances, but it settles the panic in your heart to hold your mountain of a man in your arms and grant him the protection he’s given you over the years. Tonight, he's found a different way to cope, a method worth keeping in your toolbelt even if it means resembling a zombie for the rest of the day.

"Baby I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up." You reach down to massage his ears with both thumbs before attempting to bring him to eye level. He resists by nuzzling his face in your thigh.

"Technically I did wake you up." He mumbles, filtering kisses between increasingly labored breaths. The path his lips are taking force you into a conundrum. Press the issue or trust his methods. Brains weren’t meant to work this hard at this hour. It’s cruel and unfair when you realize Terry isn’t weighted down by the same predicament. Every time his breath passes over your sensitive lips you feel your logic slipping further away. He’s giving you a reason to forget and move on. You’re also his wife. The one person on this shitty planet he can always rely on, the only person crazy enough to sacrifice a third orgasm so close after the second to protect his heart from the lie he was attempting to maintain.

You find a compromise in the minute that passes, maybe two. It’s hard to separate the details when he’s making every attempt to bury his face in your pussy. You struggle to be assertive. It’s the desperation in your voice when you say his name that eventually gets him to lift his head.

The room is dark, the moonlight casts a glow across the top half of his face just enough to see his eyes. He reminds you of a sad puppy being chastised for something they don’t understand. The expression breaks your heart and makes you smile as you stroke his jawline, your upturned lips on full display to match his sad look.

“I need to make sure you’re okay and not telling me what you think I need to hear. We deal with this together. Not apart.”

He nods and turns his face into your hand to kiss your palm. There's an uncomfortable silence in the room, but you remain patient, resisting the urge to pry the answer from his now visibly tense body.

“I dreamed I lost you.” His delayed response is both a relief and heartbreaking as the previous dreams he’s shared replay in your mind. All include some variation of him being imprisoned. None include a happy ending for him or for Mike. Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, you mimic his vice like hold once he buries his face in your stomach.

Regret mixes with the anger you were already struggling to contain. It fills the room, ensnaring you in contradictory thoughts. Sit on his face to make you both feel better or do what Terry refused to and murder the men responsible for making him feel anything less than a hero, for desecrating the space in his heart reserved for the people he loved. You could only really be mad at yourself for pressing the issue. Orgasms were a far better reward than listening to the gruesome details of your presumed demise. Given what he's been through your mind takes you to the worse possible options. You’re prepared to listen but aren’t sure how you'll get back to sleep afterward this.

"Nothing is going to happen to me." You soothe him with more kisses and tender reassurances. He answers with a tighter grip like he’s expecting something to challenge your words.

"We fought about everything…” He starts. You prepare for the story to get progressively worse. “One day you show up with some random ass light skinned fucker with a crooked hairline. I’m thinking he’s the new gardener only to find out you’re leaving me for him. You kicked me out. Had me sleeping in a tent in the backyard while some bum ass bitch wore my clothes and fucked my wife. Losing you is one thing. Losing you to a leprechaun who can’t grow a proper beard is bullshit."

You were anticipating having your throat slashed or a hole torn in your chest by a monster you couldn’t outrun. This was somehow worse because Terry was dead serious yet nothing he said warranted a serious response.

"Ok, first of all, you’re light skinned too."

Clearly you were being tested and failing miserably. You'd taken a deep breath in the hopes of drawing something positive and meaningful into your thoughts. All you managed to do was bring up a past hilarious debate about him being caramel and not chocolate like he proclaimed himself to be. Terry’s head shot up like someone had lit a fire underneath him. You can feel him staring you down and instantly crack under the pressure.

"Be serious woman."

The poor man is clearly traumatized. You bite down on your cheek for his sake before giving him a direct view of your face, wide eyed and filled with doctored innocence that crumbles by the second. “I’m trying!” You fuss. “But you’re being awfully specific about this man's appearance."

"I saw the fucker clear as day like I’ve seen him before…I’m taking you to work. Might even stay just to be safe."

The conviction in his voice tells you not to brush off his words. You can imagine him now posted up in your office surveying the area. He wouldn’t hover or say much, his domineering presence and chiseled muscles on full display would guarantee no woman within a 30-mile radius was productive. You would be at the top of the list. Unlike half the women in your office you had zero decorum in your husband’s presence. The last thing you needed were your colleagues gossiping about you getting fucked in your office.

"My dear sweet husband aren’t you being a little unreasonable?” Posing the question in a song doesn’t have the desired effect. It merely gives him a reason to frown harder.

"Hell no. I’m not taking anything for granted anymore, especially when it pertains to you. Far as I’m concerned this was a message from God to protect my home.”

There’s plenty to laugh at. Even less to challenge. You were looking at your answered prayer, a literal message from God to prove men like Terry weren’t a fantasy. This one was real and more than you could’ve hoped for. In honor of that gift you smile and nod in agreement and prepare to be followed everywhere.

“I can’t say you’re wrong. I can tell you no one at work fits the description.” He ponders while you stroke his neck. He isn’t silent for long.

“He could be a new security guard or the person delivering the mail."

"Mhm, I could forgive the wrinkles in a UPS uniform. Something about those brown shorts makes me feral. I’m getting wet thinking em." The laugh you’ve been holding sputters from you, putting tears in your eyes.

Terry sucks his teeth and gestures to raise up completely. He doesn’t get far when you throw your arms around his neck. He grunts but lets you have your way. "It's not funny."

"You’re right baby. It's not. Dream me is a dumb ass bitch. I’d never leave you, especially not for an obviously unattractive man with tiny feet and a crooked hair line. You’re so pretty daddy. No one with sense would ever look anywhere else." You lean forward to coax a smile from him with a kiss. You feel his jaw loosen and his fingers grip up your ass. "I love you."

All the humor in your voice is gone, replaced with an unmistakable sincerity that eases Terry back to the calm levelheaded man he's always been. "You’re taking the necessary steps to heal. It's not something you'll ever forget but you’re going to be okay. We both are. The fact we can laugh about any of this is progress. Now I’ll promise to keep my sidepiece out the house you pay bills in if you promise not to stalk me from the parking lot."

He chuckles. "Promise."

It's nearly 4am. In two more hours you'll have to be up for work. Hardly enough time for a decent rest but your body will hate you if you don’t try to get back to sleep. You kiss your husband one last time and gently lay a hand on his chest to pull away only to be met with resistance.

"Wait. I still need to prove it to myself."

"Prove what baby?"

“That you won’t give up on me. That I won’t lose you." He speaks against your lips, his voice moving through you like the low rumble before a storm. It stirs up the lust cast aside for his benefit. You feel it in your belly and everywhere his tongue has been. The energy in the room changes with the dark look in his eyes. He drinks you in saying nothing and everything with his calculated gaze. Awareness pricks at your skin off the strength of his possession moves. Then his hands are on you, lowering your arms from around his neck to your sides. He seizes your waist and hums as if contemplating something. Before you can ask the question, you lose the words in the swift rearrangement on to your stomach. You gasp from the shock while the rest of you uses all your energy to push against the sturdy fingers holding your wrists down. Freedom isn’t your goal. You resist solely to reinforce his dominance and feed your desire to test his nature. You want him to stake his claim and issue a warning to anyone daring to look in your direction even if the rival in question is a phantom conjured up by his subconscious.

Handcuffs aren’t an option for obvious reasons. You wonder if binding your hands together with rope will achieve the same shuddering response to being cloaked with his weight. You’re completely helpless and content to stay right where you are, one with mattress, one with him.

"Say you'll never leave me." His warm breath passes over your ear before his teeth sink down on flesh.

"I'll never leave you." You whisper back, moaning appreciatively when he kisses down the column of your neck down between your shoulder blades. His hands aren’t pinning you down anymore, but you try your best not to move as his tongue traces a warm and agonizingly slow line down your spine to your ass.

"I’ve never taken a life. I will if it means keeping you safe…You belong to me " Terry had taken down an entire police force without sending anyone to hell where they belonged. It was comical to think a man she never met; a man who didn’t exist could provoke him to use lethal force. The unexpected sting of teeth clamping down on your backside jolts you out of your musing. He's fully awake now, unfettered by slumber and past traumas. He doesn’t need to be gentle or ask for permission. The pain from that discovery offers an indescribable contribution to the pleasure you’ve experienced thus far. You can’t distinguish the two anymore the harder he bites.

"Yes." It's an reiteration and an apology for earlier all wrapped up in jarring acceptance. This isn’t the man you fell asleep next to hours ago. You aren’t the same either. His influence has unlocked a part of your brain that craves the pain and the pleasure it brings. If branding you with his teeth will bring him peace you want that too.

You moan and arch toward your captor’s mouth. He answers the invitation with a growl, yanking you on to your knees, driving your face into the comforter to deepen the arch in your back. You’re already spread obscenely open. He spreads you further with his thumbs and stops moving. He’s probably smiling in that subtle way you catch when he thinks no one’s watching. This isn’t quite the same. He's taunting you with proximity, close enough to feel the heat from his breath, far enough away to create an ache only he could soothe.

"Please." He's reduced you to this, folded in half and shameless in your attempts to reach his mouth. When he does finally lick his way inside everything else in the world melts away.

He's merciful but also deliberate in the way flattens the wide breadth of his tongue along the length of you, slurping you up like ripe fruit he intends to savor. All you can do is shudder and mewl as he groans into your slick heat, rubbing his face in it, masking himself with your scent. The message isn’t for you. It's for him. You hope it soothes the disquiet in his heart the way it's cleared out the baggage in your mind. All thoughts lead back to him, the thorough way he draws tight circles over your clit and the depths he reaches as he simulates the way he would fuck you if he had the willpower to trade places with his tongue.

He makes himself comfortable, stretching out his legs alongside your writhing body. His ankles provide a stable anchor for trembling hands. Then they’re caging you in, limiting your range of movement.

The sheets absorb your screams as you cum without warning and no sign it’ll end any time soon. You push toward his face at the same rate you pull away. Escape isn’t the goal. It's the only proper response to sensory overload. Indescribably good and too much to handle all at once. Terry is right there with you, latched on and undeterred by your frenetic movements, grunting indecipherable praise despite the pressure your thighs have placed on his ears. At this rate you’re going to claw the sheets to shreds or beat a hole in the mattress. Then he's putting his entire body into it, crossing his ankles behind your head to lock you in place.

Weeks ago, you expressed an interest in learning Jiu-Jistu. You expected detailed commentary while you observed from the sidelines or watched a video. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first lesson or any lesson. You weren’t even sure if this was a legit move or something he’d improvised. The absurdity of it doesn’t register correctly in your mind. Instead you’re grateful, grateful for his strength, for his persistence, for his ability to find healing through forced orgasms even it’s obvious he’s lost his mind in the process. Unlike the dream version you take your vows seriously. You accept Terry at his best and his worst, through nightmares and a demonic possession.

Panic opens your mind to a ridiculous thought. He's going to kill you. The irrational part of your brain is convinced you won’t survive another orgasm. You can’t bring yourself to resist the rapid strumming on your clit and the spike in pleasure it produces. You’d gladly give your life for it. Leave earth with a smile on your lips and a memory worth immortalizing in the afterlife. To call your bluff Terry brings his thumb from your fluttering hole to the soft flesh of your ass. He prolongs the suspense with teasing swipes around the rim then very slowly pushes through your defenses when he feels you’re ready for it. Something in your brain malfunctions. You start to whine like a caught animal. They’re the kind of sounds you’d find embarrassing if you weren’t in the presence of a grown ass man.

The last thing you hear before you explode is Terry’s deep voice in your ear. "Good girl."

When you return to consciousness, you’re still face down with a damp spot under your cheek and under your pelvis. Terry is stretched across your back crooning in your ear about how proud he is of you, how beautiful you are, how in love with you he is. His touch is equally soothing as he trails down your forearms to interlock your fingers. You haven’t stopped trembling. It’s worse in your legs. Even the slightest movement revives the memory of where his tongue has been. You find comfort in the fetal position anyway. Terry is right there to reinforce the hold, cradling you with his entire body so he doesn’t lose you in the subspace you’ve drifted off to. When the consequence of his overindulgence subsides to a light shudder you feel his coiled lips at your temple.

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“Maybe.” He drawls, the pride evident in his voice. “You’re still shaking baby. Are you good? Did I hurt you?

“Of course you didn’t. I’m a little floaty but I kinda want you to break me again--just to make sure I like it.” You offer a lazy smile and reach back to scratch his cheek. "What about you? Are you finally convinced I won’t run off with your ugly ass replacement?”

His laughter sounds like music. You wonder how he can find the joy in anything with his stiff dick left unattended and drooling precum on your backside. It’s all you can think about now.

"I am."

"Good because it’s never going to happen. I’m also not going to work today. I can’t function like this." Despite your predicament you use the distraction to your advantage and raise your thigh to accommodate him. A little maneuvering slots the tip between your lips but doesn't quite make it inside. You whimper and try again.

“No. You’ve had enough sweetheart.” You’re more than a little disappointed when he pushes your legs shut.

“I can keep going. Let me take care of you.”

“You have taken care of me baby.” A kiss is all it takes to end your pouting. Like a greedy brat, you twist around to claim another, then one more to sample your flavor on his lips. His dick stirs against you, it doesn’t persuade him to be anything less than noble. “I plan on keeping you in this bed all day. Get some rest. I’ll have you later.”

Terry’s demeanor remains unchanged as he realigns your back to his chest and slips is muscled leg over your restless ones. He’s given you a preview, a reminder, and a warning. You aren’t sure how well you’ll sleep knowing what you know but you snuggle up to his arm tucked beneath the pillow.

“I love you.”

Those three words calm the restlessness in your heart and get you to shut your eyes.

"I love you too handsome. Try not to dream about me."

#Rosegold fics #terry richmond fic #x black reader #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond smut #fanfiction

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void-occupation · 11 months ago

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Some Lee!Alastor Headcanons to Fuel My Brain

The lee!alastor tag has been painfully empty for the last few days, so I've decided to contribute a few headcanons of mine for you all to see and consider as you wish. Feel free to add on to this post with headcanons/rants/fics/whatever of your own if you want, I was just personally experiencing withdrawal symptoms and needed to fuel my addiction lol

(These are tickle headcanons for those unfamiliar with the terminology. If that isn't your thing, just scroll right on by)

First thing's first. Something I think everyone is sleeping on? Scalp massagers. Specifically the wire ones. I personally think those things are ticklish as fuck, and I'm far from the only one. The majority of us have come to the agreement that Alastor's ears are also ticklish as fuck. Just take a moment with me and imagine the potential:

Someone (probably Angel, or Lucifer) gets a scalp massager and is going around trying it on other hotel residents when they aren't paying attention. It's just for fun, and they're getting the typical reactions (jumping away, super startled, or just completely Unphased). Then, they manage to catch Alastor by surprise and do it to him, but instead of the typical reaction, Alastor startles before bursting out into staticky giggles. Alastor has no clue WHY it tickles so much, but it does, and he's practically paralyzed in a weird half-curled position as whoever has the massager just keeps running it over is head over and over. He can't try to escape, he can only giggle and babble out nonsense words, especially when the ends rub up against his ears which only makes it MORE ticklish, which he didn't think was possible. After the other demon shows mercy (and somehow isn't immediately slaughtered) Alastor develops a healthy fear of the massager, and grows incredibly anxious with anticipation and adorably flustered any time someone brings one out

Speaking of massagers brings me to my second headcanon. This man CANNOT get a massage or he will absolutely die. People who are tense can be more ticklish as a result, and since Alastor is already incredibly ticklish, having tense muscles makes this 100x worse. I have really tense shoulders, and any massage there immediately makes me hysterical, and I imagine Alastor would be the same. If he was comfortable enough to do so, he would be the kind of person to absolutely die if he were to get a full-body massage because it would tickle so damn much - even through the pain that comes with massages. Rosie likes to pretend to massage his shoulders and neck just so she can tell him to stop squirming and giggling so much because she's trying to help him

Another quick headcanon. I like to imagine that he's mostly covered in fur, and while it isn't terribly long in most places, it can still get tangled after a shower, or after being smothered by his clothes all day, so he has to brush it regularly. This is an absolute nightmare for him. Even when he's brushing his own fur, he has to stop every few seconds because he starts laughing too much in certain areas, like over his sides or belly for example. No matter how often he does it, he never gets used to the feeling, and it only gets worse if someone else (usually Rosie) does it for him. At least if he does it himself, he can stop once he starts laughing. It makes it take a long time, but it's less flustering. If Rosie (or Satan forbid someone else for whatever reason) brushes his fur, she usually tries to get a much done at once as she can, so she usually keeps going until he's begging for a break. Also, she thinks it's absolutely adorable, so she'll keep brushing areas that make him squeal long after all the tangles have been removed

Last one for now is that he can feel the static from people's phones. If he's close to someone when their phone rings, he can usually feel the static of it crawling teasingly over his skin. It usually isn't a big deal, but if someone is being bombarded by calls that they keep ignoring (let's say Valentino obsessively calling Angel Dust), the static quickly becomes overwhelming and he'll beg the person to answer their phone or turn it off, if straight up bashing it against the nearest wall isn't an option. It doesn't tickle a particular area, more of an all-encompassing tickle over his entire body. If he gets to the point of begging them to answer, it's usually because he can't hold his laughter and squirming anymore and is trying not to make a fool of himself. He feigns annoyance so people don't find out the real reason he wants the calls to stop. The secret comes out when Angel absolutely refused to answer Valentino one day, but didn't want to turn off his phone because he was in the middle of doing something on it, and Alastor finally broke and curled up where he sat, giggling hysterically and begging Angel to turn his phone off

That's all I have for now, I hope you enjoyed these headcanons. If you decide you like them enough to incorporate them into anything you write/draw, tag me!!! I'd move to see it. Also, as mentioned earlier, feel free to add onto this as you wish, I'd love to see how you all make these headcanons your own

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #lee!alastor #alastor headcanons #ticklish!alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel tickle #ler!rosie #I love this deer man #even if I don't have fluff ready after the absolutely soul crushing fics I've posted recently #I can at least post some fluffy headcanons to make up for the brutal angst lol

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voidcat · 17 days ago

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Also hello this was long overdue but lol anyways

I’m either super active or not at all, w ER rotation coming to an end and exhaustion as well as near future stress sitting in, I feel my brain is practically empty so I will try to take some time off here. I’m still technically on hiatus so there’s that too… my queue should be running for a week and once in a while I might come, make some post and disappear (aka treat it like twitter w/o checking the dash) BUT IF U POST NEW WORKS AND/OR SS THINGS PLSSS TAG ME ON THEM I’d loooove to see what u got cooking and rb/queue and also yell in your replies !!!

Take care folks ily all, stay hydrated and rmr to eat !!!! 🫶🫶🫶 love yaaaaa

#danyl talks #also I had some ask game and tag game stuff saved so I’ll do and queue those as well occasionally #so I’m not dead but like imagine I’m in a forest and there’s a rllllllly bad signal <- happened to me once….

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willalove75 · 2 years ago

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The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc

WHAT DAY IS IT?! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY?! WOOHOO!!! I hope you all join me as I enter the final year of my 20s! And since one of my love languages is gift-giving, I am giving you all a present today! I debated on releasing this earlier this summer but I wanted to get a few chapters done before I did - and get a little further into Alcina's New Maid before I started putting out chapters. But ANM will still be updated weekly! Fear not! (And I know chapter 16 is late, I didn't get to finish it yesterday so I will finish it either today or tomorrow I promise!) Ideally, I would love to update this fic weekly as well but I just don't know if that is realistic so I am aiming for a bi-weekly or monthly update for this. Might be a little more frequently, might not. So I apologize in advance for irregular updates for this until I can get myself on a reasonable writing schedule! I do have a couple of chapters done already but I want to try and have a few chapters lined up as they're released. Unlike ANM where I literally brain-dump each chapter each week (usually done in a single day) and post it after I read it over a couple of times. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this fic since it's been rotting my brain for MONTHS and I literally have not been able to stop thinking about it and coming up with ideas/expanding on my ideas literally every fucking day for the last like, 4 months? LOL

Summary: It's been a tough few years for you. After a tragedy that left you to raise your three year old, Emma, as a single parent, you're finally starting to get back on your feet. Recently hired as a marketing & social media strategist for Dimitrescu Estate, a new chapter of your life is just beginning.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, flirty

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: I know I have so many other requests I should be doing but once again my mind has been plagued by this story I came up with and I need to get it out of my headddd.

Also, this is a blended oc/reader fic. Using "you" has become so engrained into my writing it's almost impossible to not add it (as opposed to writing she/her), but I will be giving the oc a name and describing her! Ik that's not everyone's cup of tea so I apologize in advance but I hope you enjoy it regardless! It'll be written in a similar fashion as Safety and Dimitrescu Books for those of you who are wondering what that will be like and/or read those (fucking amazing and wonderful) fics!

You take in the beautiful field around you, the crystal blue sky, the tall grass blowing in the breeze. Even though you have no idea where you are, it's warm and you have a fullness in your heart you haven't felt in a long time. In the distance you spot a familiar figure.

"It can't be-" you begin to say.

The figure continues to walk in your direction, but doesn't seem to get any closer. You begin to take a few steps forward, your legs feel like lead, slowing your movements. You try to run but you can't - desperate to get closer to the figure. You try and cry out to them but there's no sound when you scream. Using all of your power to move forward, each step becomes more difficult than the last. The figure walking towards you stops and stands still. With tears in your eyes you try and cry out again, and just like last time, there's no sound. The figure begins to move forward again. This time it finally seems like it's coming closer. Their face covered by shadow. You take step after step, using all of your strength to make your way to the figure. You're almost close enough to make out their face as tears stain your cheeks.

You're jolted awake by your alarm clock. Groaning, you reach over to the nightstand to shut it off. Looking down at your pillow you see teardrops scattered across it. Wiping your eyes you realize you were crying in your sleep again. You look up at the clock. 6am. You put your head back down and turn to the other side, reaching your arm across the empty side of the bed. Gently grabbing the pillow next to you, you take a deep, grounding breath and finally get up.

You exit your room and quietly open the other bedroom door. Inside is your three year old daughter, Emma, fast asleep in her toddler bed. Closing the door you make your way into the bathroom and turn the shower on. Pulling your hair out of it's messy ponytail you begin to undresses. Catching a glance of yourself in the mirror, the darkness hides most of what you see. Unless Emma is with you, every shower you've taken for the last two years has been in the dark. You had grown tired of looking into the mirror and seeing the dark circles under your eyes, noticing that you had lost weight - just looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a shell of your former self. Even though you feel like you've been able to reclaim a lot of yourself in the last year, you always have a feeling of emptiness looming in your chest.

After showering you check the baby monitor, noticing Emma is beginning to stir, you quickly get dressed and walk into the bedroom. You make you way over to the toddler bed and sit on the edge, running your fingers through the little girls wild curls.

"Good morning my love." You quietly say.

The little girl turns her head and looks up at you, a sleepy smile crosses her face.

"Good morning mommy." She says with a yawn.

"Come on baby, lets get you up." You say, reaching down to pick up the girl, who sits up and reaches for you.

Lifting Emma out of the bed, she cuddles into your neck. You hold the back of her head and take a deep breath in, the empty ache in your chest eases some. After entering the kitchen you put the girl in her booster seat at the table and begin making breakfast for the both of you.

After breakfast you clean up the kitchen and get Emma dressed and put her in the playpen in the living room with her toys while you finish getting yourself ready.

You finish packing up the diaper bag and throwing a few of Emma's toys into another bag. After grabbing the rest of your own things you take Emma out of the playpen and head downstairs.

"Good morning Margie." You say.

"Oh Katie! Good morning!"

A small, elderly woman gets up from the kitchen table and walks up to the two of you.

"Good morning Margie!" Emma says.

"And good morning to you too princess." She says, squeezing the baby's chubby cheeks. "You want coffee hon?"

"No thanks, I'll grab something on my way, I don't want to be late."

"Oh right! Today's the first day of that new job, how are you feeling?"

"I'm excited, I'm looking forward to working in my field again."

"That's great but you know that's not what I meant." She says flatly. "How are you feeling?"

Knowing what she means you look down for a moment and then back up at Margie.

"I'm okay, I'm hanging in there." Margie gives you a look. "I mean, barely, but I'm hanging in there. I'm terrified to leave her." You say looking at Emma as your eyes begin to gloss over. "But I know it's what I have to do, and I really do miss working, I need some sort of normalcy back in my life."

Margie brings her hand to your face and wipes away the stray tear that fell.

"You're gonna do great kid. Knock 'em dead." She says with a smile and pats Katie's cheek.

"Thanks Marge."

With Emma and your things in tow you head to the car, putting Emma in her car seat and dropping your bags in the front passenger seat. When you pull out of the driveway you beep and wave at Marge who's waving from the front door and head off.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Emma says.

"Yes baby, what is it?"

"I want Baby Shark!"

You groan a little, it's just barely 8am and you haven't had coffee, Baby Shark may actually make you snap right now.

"Mommy pleaseeeee!" Emma whines.

"Okay fine."

Her whining is so much worse than Baby Shark, so you oblige. The music starts and Emma starts laughing and clapping her hands and sings along. You do your best to drown it out with your thoughts.

"Mommy! Sing Mommy shark!"

Looking at the girl through the rearview mirror you smile.

"Okay, okay." You say. "Mommy shark do do do do do do, Mommy shark do do do do do do Mommy shark!"

Emma squeals with happiness, you can listen to her laugh all day. It's one of the few things that's been able to get you through the last couple of years.

Pulling up to your in-laws house, you grab the diaper bag, Emma's toys and Emma and head to the front door.

"Nana!!!" Emma squeals when your mother-in-law opens the door.

"Good morning my baby!" She says as she picks Emma up and squeezes her. "Good morning Katie." She hugs you and kisses you on the cheek.

"Morning mom." You say and hug her back. "Thank you so much for watching her, really."

"Of course, I'd do anything for my grandbaby!" She says putting Emma down so she can go play. "Come in, sit."

"I can only stay for a minute, I gotta grab coffee on my way."

"Oh nonsense, I'll make you some and send you with one of our travel mugs, don't waste your money."

Her kindness makes you smile. Not only does your mother-in-law make the best coffee you've ever had, her warmth is always something that's comforted you. After you take a seat at the kitchen table you hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Who's in my house?!" You hear a voice playfully yell.

Emma's squealing laugh rings through the house as you hear footsteps walk towards the direction she ran off in. Your mother-in-law puts a cup of coffee down in front of you and the smell is to die for.

"Thanks mom." You say with a smile.

"Good morning sunshine!" Looking over you see your father-in-law with Emma in his arms.

"Morning dad." You say as he kisses you on the cheek.

"Oh coffee? Michelle can you make me a cup?" He asks, looking over at his wife.

"Of course."

"So Katie, you excited for your first day at the new job?" He asks.

"I am, a little nervous, but I'm excited to start working again."

"Yeah it's about time." He says playfully.

"Richard." Michelle hisses as she puts his coffee down in front of him.

"I'm only joking!"

Michelle rolls her eyes at him and sits down at the table. "So which vineyard are you working at again?"

"Dimitrescu Estate."

"Oh right, I've been there a few times, it's a nice place. Very pretty, and they have great wine." She says.

"What are you doing there?" Richard asks.

"Marketing and social media, pretty much the same thing I did at the last place."

"That's right."

Looking down at your watch you realize the time.

"Crap I have to go or I'm gonna be late." You say, getting up.

Michelle gets up, grabs your coffee cup and pours it into a travel mug, pops the top onto it and hands it to you.

"There you go sweetheart."

"Thanks mom." You say, hugging her.

"Okay love, mommy has to go, have fun with Nana and Pop!" You place a kiss on Emma's head and the baby's face scrunches, signaling she's about to wail.

"Hey Emma? Wanna go to the park with me?" Richard asks.

Her face lights up at the word "park", meltdown averted.

"YES!" She screams.

"Thank you." You whisper to Richard and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you so much for looking after her." You say as you head towards the door.

"We'll take her any day of the week!" Richard says.

"Love you honey." Michelle says.

"Love you guys too!"

"Good luck!" Richard calls out after her.

Once you're out the door Michelle swats Richard with a dishtowel.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"'About time?' Really Richard?" She scolds him.

"What? I was kidding, she knows I was!"

Michelle rolls her eyes at him and leaves the kitchen.

You jump into your car and plug in the address of the vineyard. You had been there a few years ago when you went to the wineries with your friends; hopping to and from the various establishments in the area, but that was it. Your first interview was over the phone, the second one, a Zoom interview, you couldn't even see your new boss' face because her webcam was broken. All you were able to hear was the woman's voice. It had a silky tone - sultry, even - if you were being honest. Aside from that, you knew nothing about her, you really weren't even sure if the woman you spoke with was the owner or just an employee.

Pulling up to the vineyard you put your car in park. You pull your necklace out of your shirt and hold onto it, your fingers tracing the outline of the heart shape. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, you drop the necklace back down under your shirt. You grab your bags and head inside.

The memories of the time you and your friends were here come flooding back as you walk in. You admire the ornate style of the room - it's just as pretty as it was when you were here last. As you look around you spot a beautiful grand piano tucked away in the corner and you take note of the jazz music softly playing over the speakers.

"Sorry, we don't open until 11." A slightly aggravated voice says.

You look over and see a young girl cleaning the bar, looking at you, visibly annoyed. She can't be older than 20, dark brown, almost black hair. She's wearing a tight black t-shirt with various silver necklaces dangling from her neck.

"Oh, I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist."

The girls demeanor softens, but not much.

"MOM!!" She yells towards the back. "MOM!!!"

A blond girl runs out from the kitchen area.

"Cassandra shut it, mom's on the phone!"

The dark haired girl, Cassandra, rolls her eyes.

"Can you take her to go see mom?" She asks the blond, nodding towards you.

"Nope, sorry, I have to go, I have class in a little bit."

"Bela pleaseeeee." Cassandra whines.

"No Cass, I'm leaving, bye!" The blond disappears into the kitchen again and Cassandra rolls her eyes.

"Follow me."

She leads you to the back of the winery where the offices are. There aren't many offices, but in each one there's someone diligently working.

Cassandra stops at the door furthest away and throws it open.

"Mom!"

The woman behind the desk snaps her attention up to her daughter with intensity in her eyes. Her phone pressed against her ear. She holds a finger up to Cassandra signaling for her to wait, but never breaks eye contact with her.

The woman is beautiful. Jet black hair with near perfect curls that fall just under her jawline. Gorgeous grey-blue eyes, full lips painted with the perfect shade of crimson red. She's wearing a white button down, the first few buttons undone - just enough to show off her large chest but covered up enough to still be professional. The sleeves are neatly rolled to her elbows, you also take note of her perfectly manicured nails, painted black. She's wearing layered, elegant gold necklaces that accentuate her neckline. She has a few rings and a matching bracelet on to pull the look together.

"Am nevoie de transport până săptămâna viitoare. . . Nu, abia așteaptă. . . Trebuie să plec. . . La revedere."

(I need the shipment by next week. . . No, it can't wait. . . I have to go. . . Goodbye.)

She places the phone into its cradle and her eyes snap back to Cassandra.

"What have I told you about yelling across the building?" Her voice is stern, matching the intensity in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I-"

"Were you dying?"

"What?"

Her question surprised and confused you too.

"Were you dying?"

"No?"

"Was one of your sisters dying or gravely injured?"

"No."

"Was there any emergency whatsoever?"

Cassandra sighs. "No."

"Then there is no reason for you to be screaming across my tasting room. Understood?"

"Yes mom." She says, hanging her head.

"Now what is it that you needed?" The woman's tone softens.

"The new girl is here. The social media whatever?"

The woman groans, putting her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"Cassandra. You act like that in front of our new employee?" She grumbles. "Go, finish your morning tasks." She says, waving the girl off.

Cassandra lets out an exaggerated "UGH" accompanied by a dramatic eye roll and begins to walk away.

"Și dacă nu remediați această atitudine, vă voi trimite înapoi în România." She calls after her.

(And if you don't fix that attitude I will ship you back to Romania.)

"Sorry mom." Cassandra looks at her mom who raised eyebrow at her.

The woman nods her away.

"I apologize for that, she can be quite difficult sometimes." She says as her eyes follow her daughter while she walks away. When Cassandra is out of view her eyes snap to you.

"Oh, it's no worry at all." You say with a soft smile.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Please, take a seat." She gestures to the chair in front of her desk.

The woman reaches her hand out across her desk as you sit.

"Alcina Dimitrescu, owner and operator of Dimitrescu Estate."

Your hand meets hers for a firm handshake. "Katie Moore, it's great to finally meet you as well."

"Is Katie short for anything?" She asks.

"Uh, yeah, Kathleen." You say.

"Kathleen, what a beautiful name. Do you prefer Katie over Kathleen?"

"Oh it doesn't really matter to me. I'll respond to both."

"Wonderful. Well then Kathleen, welcome. We'll go over the job responsibilities. I'll have you fill out some paperwork and then I'll show you around the facility."

"Sounds good."

Alcina goes over what the job requirements are, what she expects of you, where the person who was in your position had left off, the usual.

"And you will get a company laptop, you can leave it here, take it home, doesn't matter much to me. As long as it's well taken care of." She picks up the phone and presses a few numbers on t he keypad and you hear the intercom go off.

"Cassandra, my office please." She hangs the phone up and looks back at you. "Cassandra has set up your laptop, if there's anything else you need, any programs you use that aren't installed, she can take care of that for you."

Cassandra walks into the office, seemingly in a better mood than earlier.

"What's up mom?"

"Can you please bring me Kathleen's laptop."

"On it." She says and walks away.

"Now for the paperwork. I'll have you fill out these and then I'll take down some of your information." She says as she hands you a W2 and some other new employee paperwork.

She hands you a pen and you begin to fill out the paperwork on her desk as she turns her attention back to her computer.

"Here you go mom." Cassandra says, handing her mom a laptop box.

"Thank you draga. Almost done with your morning tasks?"

"Yup, just gotta put out the spill trays and then I'm done."

"Excellent, thank you draga mea."

Cassandra leaves as you finish filling out the paperwork. You trade her the paperwork for the laptop box and place it on the chair next to you.

"Okay, now I just need some of your information."

She takes down your address, phone number, birthdate, etc.

"And who is your emergency contact? God forbid something were to happen."

"Uh, Jake-" You stop yourself, shaking your head as you feel your heart sink. "Sorry, uh," Alcina looks at you over her reading glasses. "It'll be my mom, I guess, Deborah Wilson."

Alcina takes down your moms information and places her glasses on her desk.

"Excellent, now that that's out of the way, I will show you the facility. You can leave your things here."

Alcina pushes her chair away from her desk and stands up, you're taken back at how tall she is. She's damn near 7 feet tall. Alcina is easily a foot taller than you. With your work heels you're 5'4" on a good day. In her heels, Alcina is easily 6'5"-6'6".

You take notice of Alcina's full outfit - and her body. Her black stilettos, high waisted, wide legged dress pants accentuate her long legs. A thick belt with a black belt buckle that frames her waist, showing off her round hips. Her ensemble is reminiscent of the 1940s-1950s, but with a modern twist. It's obvious she has a great sense of style.

Alcina walks effortlessly through the halls in her stilettos as she shows you around the facility. She tells you what each room is, what its purpose is for and tells you a little bit of history of the place. She explains that there are a few other buildings on the property where the grapes are sent to and where the wine is made and bottled, but that this is the main building. Alcina takes you through the kitchen and into the vineyard a bit to show the different grapes that are put into making the wine.

Next on the tour, she brings you down into the wine cellar. You were expecting a dreary basement, but you're surprised when you see a beautiful wine cellar. It looks like something out of a movie.

Wine racks line the walls from floor to ceiling, housing hundreds - maybe even a thousand - bottles of wine. The stone archway along with the wooden accents and shelves give the room a rustic yet elegant feel. There's a gorgeous wooden table in the center with four chairs. The set looks like it's custom made.

As you look around the room you see Alcina walk over to one of the racks. She moves a wine barrel to the side like it weighed nothing.

"Even if that thing is empty, it still has to weigh a ton." You think to yourself.

Alcina examines the rack and carefully pulls a bottle off of it.

"And this, this is what started it all." She says, handing you the bottle.

As you examine the bottle you note the beautiful gold and red details around it. It looks expensive. The label on the front reads:

"Sanguis Virginis."

"Precisely, Romanian for Maiden's Blood." Alcina says with a smile as she takes the bottle and returns it to its place.

You don't even realize the confused expression on your face until you hear Alcina chuckle at it.

"Obviously, not made with real blood. My ancestors originate from Romania, my great-grandfather it was I believe who first began making Sanguis Virginis, well over a hundred years ago at his vineyard in Romania. Eventually the business was passed down to me, however I decided to take it in a bit of a different direction. Since I was already established here in the US when I acquired the business, I purchased this property and turned it into what it is today. We've expanded our collection and now we make over 25 different wine. And I import other things such as ciders and beers from both Romania and local breweries for our customers to enjoy. No longer do we just make and sell the wine to distributers."

Alcina looks around the wine cellar with pride, you can see the passion for her family's business in her eyes.

"Any questions?"

"No, I think you covered everything. It's beautiful down here."

"Why thank you. The cellar is my personal favorite room on the entire property."

"I can see why, it's stunning."

You take in the rest of your surroundings. The warm wood absorbs the lighting, giving the room a soft yet bright glow. It's a large cellar but somehow it still feels cozy.

"Alright, lets head back upstairs, shall we? We should be opening in a few minutes and I like to do a once-over to make sure everything is in place." Alcina says.

"Sounds good."

Alcina leads you out of the wine cellar and back up to the tasting room. Cassandra and another bartender are behind the bar, drying glasses and putting them away. Alcina swipes her finger across the piano, inspects it, and nods in approval. You notice her glace at the piano again, looking at it with adoration.

"Do you play?" You ask.

"Lifetimes ago." She says with a smile. "But I wasn't very good."

"Mom what are you talking about?" Cassandra says from the bar. "You're one of the best piano players I've ever heard."

"Thank you draga." She says, smiling at her daughter.

After her inspection is complete she walks to the front doors and opens them, pulling the doorstop down with the bottom of her heel. She flips the "closed" sign over to "open" and makes her way to the massive floor to ceiling windows that line the wall across from the bar. She unlocks each window and pushes on the side of the frame to open them, making sure each window is open at the same angle.

"She's so anal retentive when she opens." Cassandra says, half complaining and half just saying it out loud.

"I can hear you." Alcina says from across the room.

Cassandra rolls her eyes and continues to put the glasses away.

Making her way over the the double glass doors leading to the outside patio, Alcina props them open allowing a cool summer breeze through the tasting room.

She gives the room another once-over. When she's satisfied she nods to herself again and looks at Cassandra.

"Everything looks wonderful. If you need me, you know where to find me. Kathleen," She says, turning to you. "lets finish getting you set up."

Alcina leads you back to her office. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and a sudden chill runs up your spine. Quickly taking it out, you see a text from Michelle. Your heart begins to race as you open the message. A sigh of relief is released when you realize it's just some photos of Emma, covered in flour, helping Michelle make cookies.

"Everything alright?" Alcina says.

Focused on opening the text message, you didn't even realize that you stopped following Alcina.

"Oh, yes, sorry." You say as you catch up with her. "Just my mother-in-law, she's watching my daughter today and was giving me an update."

"You have a daughter?" Alcina asks, a little surprised as they walk into her office.

"Yeah, Emma, she's about 3 and a half." You say, sitting back down.

Alcina glances down at your hands, taking notice of an absent wedding ring on your left ring finger. She also notices a ring that looks like it could be a wedding band on your right ring finger.

"How sweet. It's a fun age. Although from my experience with the girls, it's the terrible three's that are the hardest. Two was an easy age."

"I wholeheartedly agree with that. She's wonderful but likes to get herself into all kinds of things. Luckily, besides her insatiable curiosity for things that can hurt her, she's a really good kid."

Alcina laughs, pulling a smile across your face.

"Children are wonderful, until they become teenagers that is. That's when the real fun begins." She says sarcastically.

"Oh, I could only imagine. It makes me cringe as a parent now when I think of all of the things I said and did when I was a teenager."

"Oh, so you were a bad kid?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

A light blush creeps across your cheeks. "I wouldn't say I was a bad kid. At least I wasn't worse than your average teenager."

Alcina gives you a smirk, the corner of her lip curled into a half smile.

"Is she flirting with me?" The thought flashes across your mind but you quickly dismiss it. This is your new boss, Alcina's just being nice, it's your first day here. There's no way she's flirting with you right now.

"So, I will show you to your office and let you get yourself settled." Alcina says.

Grabbing your bag and the laptop box, Alcina leads you to the room closest to her office and flicks the lights on.

It's a modest little office, on the left you see an L shaped desk in the corner against the glass window facing the hallway. On top sits two monitors, a desk chair and a small desk lamp. To the right is a small empty bookshelf. The office isn't anything fancy, but it's yours, and you're surprisingly excited about it.

"Please feel free to decorate it how you see fit." Alcina says, checking her watch. "I have a meeting in a few minutes, but I'll stop by again this afternoon to check and see how things are going. Cassandra should have left you a list of our social media logins." She says, walking over to the desk and picking up a sheet of paper. "Here it is. Take a look at them and when I get back I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you think they're doing and of course, what could be improved." She says, handing you the paper. "You did mention on your resume photography skills, yes?"

"Yes, and some videography and video editing skills as well."

"Excellent. The channels were being run by my eldest, Bela. But since she's has an internship beginning soon she no longer has the time. And since our last marketing director left, things have been in a bit of a disarray. Hopefully it won't be too overwhelming." She says, trying to gauge your reaction.

"I'm always up for a good challenge." You say with a smile.

Alcina gives a nod of approval and spins around on her heel to leave.

"I must be off. I'll be back in a little while to check in, if there's anything you need please seek out Cassandra. If she's doing what she's supposed to, you'll find her behind the bar in the tasting room."

"Sounds good, thank you."

"And Kathleen," Alcina says, turning back towards you. "Welcome to Dimitrescu Estate."

#willalove75 #resident evil alcina #alcina x female reader #re8 alcina #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x oc #alcina dimitrescu x original character #lady dimitrescuxreader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #lady dimitrescu x oc #lady dimitrescu x original character #re8 fanfiction #re8 #re8 village

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straykits · 2 years ago

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[ waltz for two / bang chan ]

ie. three times chan really wanted to tell you he loves you and the one time he does. (reverting to this style of fic bc i actually really like it lol) a/n: title has one (1) maybe two (2) things to do with the actual fic. three if you squint. point is, it's not important. chose it bc it was the second first thing to come to mind // in the wise words of ao3, please see the end of the work for more notes. w/c: 2.3k tags: friends to lovers (maybe??? idk u choose ur own interpretation ig), lots fluff, small angst and comfort c/w: mild (?) descriptions/implications of dissociation and negative thoughts; mentions of alcohol oki enjoy the piece my dudes <3

one;

your name rings out into the still of chan’s apartment, the question mark hovering in the hall where he stood. he wouldn’t have even known you were here, if not for your shoes by the door.

the apartment is cold, the evening air having found a home in the empty space. there's no sign of you on the couch, or in the kitchen. the balcony is empty too - a favourite place for the both of you during the sunset hours when the city is painted in hues of red and gold. it was well past sunset now, the city instead bathed in evening’s blues.

if you weren’t in these places, then that leaves one more - because there was no way you were in the laundry or in the bathroom, right?

chan makes his way to his bedroom, feet padding across the floor with only the soft shuffle of socks against the laminated surface indicating his presence. he drops his backpack on the dining table as he passes by it, being careful as to not make too much noise..

the bedroom door is slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of the dark bedroom inside. he pushes the door open gently and your name leaves his lips with hope on its tail.

even in the dark room, he could tell it was you on his bed.

you’re asleep with a hand under your chin, another between your legs. why you had fallen asleep atop the covers instead of under, he didn’t really know.

he sits on the floor by the head of the bed and for a moment, all he can do is watch you. he rests his elbow on the mattress and his head on his arm, and watches. the careful, rhythmic rise and fall of your body. the way your lashes flutter just that much whilst your eyes dart behind your eyelids.

how long, he muses, could he keep doing this before it got weird? better to wake you now than have you wake and find him staring at you.

he pats your arm; once, twice. you only let out a low moan. your brows furrow ad body curls up more. a breath of laughter escapes him, and he tries again to wake you. this time, he reaches for your arm, rubbing gentle circles into your inner wrist.

“y/n,” he whispers. “y/n, i’m home. have you had dinner yet?”

the large inhale you take lets him know that you’re awake. he pulls his hand back, leans back altogether - no need to be so close, after all.

you raise the hand under your chin to rub your eyes, scratch your cheek - it's endearing, so endearing.

i love you, he thinks, and the thought is as new to him as the way you blink wearily as your eyes adjust to the dark. it’s as new to him as the way you let out a tired groan, pulling your whole body into a ball - and that’s to say it’s not new at all, because after so many years of friendship, he knew your habits and the things you do when you wake up. after so many years of friendship, the thought had taken residency in his brain the way the evening air had in his apartment, or the way the sun’s golden rays had across the cityscape.

“chan?” you stifle a yawn behind your hand and just when he thinks you’re about to get up, you close your eyes again, a tired smile falling on your lips as you snuggle back into his pillow. “welcome home.”

two;

he finds you on your couch, gazing at the coffee table without really seeing.

he knows that dazed look on you, knows that slight furrow of the brows and the tightness of your hands. he knows that you know he’s here from the way your head cocks towards the sound of his footsteps, the sound of your name. your eyes stay unseeing.

the sofa dips and you sway towards him when he takes a seat on the couch, facing you. you welcome the movement and the way it breaks your daze. chan extends an arm as you let your body continue to fall, and then he’s holding you against him.

“you okay?” a silly question, but it was a start.

the silence that surrounds the two of you is filled only by the static of the fridge in the kitchen, it’s electric buzz audible despite the distance. he can feel you take deep breaths, feel every exhale warm his chest.

“sorry, chan, i don’t think we can do movie night today.”

he shrugs, holds you tighter. what does it matter if plans change?

“you don’t need to stay. i’ll be okay later, but i- i don’t want you to stay here for no reason.”

he lets out a chuckle. “no, i’ll stay. of course i’ll stay.”

because i love you, he thinks, but the words are caught in his throat and something about the situation made him think that no, this wasn’t the time to confess his feelings, even if he meant well and wanted to help you with those words.

he knows that sometimes it’s not always a matter of making you feel better. sometimes it’s just a matter of being there for you, and sometimes that will be enough.

for however long he loves you, he’ll be there for you.

“when you’re ready, and if you want to, we can talk about what’s going on.”

“it’s just the same-”

“even if it’s just the same things as before.”

his heart is heavy with the pain of seeing you like this. his heart is heavy with the love he carries for you. his heart is heavy with his inability to make it all go away with a click of his fingers - if only it was that easy. one could wish, he supposes, but not all wishes can be fulfilled.

it’s not the first time he’s seen you like this, and it probably won’t be the last, but he’s okay with that. he wishes it was the last, of course, but chan knows that change takes time and he knows that loving you means loving all the versions of you, not just the versions that make him smile, or the ones that reassure him, or the ones that make him laugh (though he loves these ones immensely, too).

loving you means being on your side when your own brain is your biggest enemy. loving you means standing his ground about the fact that you are lovable and you are important and you do matter, even when you can’t stop thinking that you aren’t. loving you means being atlas, sometimes, and carrying the weight of your world for you so that you don’t need to do it alone.

for however long he loves you, he’ll make sure you’re not carrying your burdens alone.

three;

after-dinner walks with you are one of the things chan cherishes the most. the kiss of evening on his cheeks, your presence by his side as the two of you walk down streets lit by the yellow lights from the restaurants, the way you occasionally brush each other.

on this particular friday night, after a well-deserved dinner and a glass or two of wine, you’d decided to go on a stroll through the city and god was chan was glad he’d agreed to the aimless stroll.

if he were to recount this evening to someone else, they would probably be surprised that he hadn’t noticed the music until you’d pointed it out. following the sound, you’d found a small circle of people surrounding a performer- a guitarist, open case at their feet, mic stand raised to their height, and fingers playing the chords to a familiar song as they sang. a ring of fairy lights surrounded them, adding a wistfully magical atmosphere to the cold evening.

people were smiling, waving their phones with their flashlights on, and in the middle of the circle, people were dancing. children and adults, friends and lovers. it was a beautiful scene, but not quite as beautiful as your face lighting up as you pull him into the middle as well.

you’re pulling his hands out of his pocket and he thought he would mind the cold but it’s not so bad when your hands are in his and you’re smiling up at him. he’s being pulled along by your eyes your lips, the gentle swaying from side to side that he quickly matches. it’s magical, it’s blissful, its euphoric. he’s laughing at the enjoyment in your eyes, at the way you cheer when the busker finishes one song and moves onto another - one, two, three; one, two, three.

you’re holding onto each other’s elbows - not exactly the most intimate thing, or nearly the most romantic, but you’re rocking side to side together and there’s nowhere else that chan would rather be on this friday night, because-

because god he loves you so much - its all he can think about as the final chords of the outro play, as adlibs rise like adrenaline in chan’s veins because he wants to kiss you so bad right now and he doesn’t even care that there are people around but- but he does care what you think and maybe this isn’t the way to do it.

so as the song comes to a close, chan pulls you in and he might be smothering you with his jacket but he doesn’t care - if he looks at you any longer, his feelings would physically manifest and he doesn't know what he would do if that were to happen.

“chan?” your voice is muffled against his puffer, confusion and laughter softened against his chest.

“your face looked cold.” it’s a half truth to cover up the bigger lie.

“well,” you mumble, “it’s a good thing you’re warm.”

when you wrap your arms around him, the crowd applauds - at the two of you or at the performer, he doesn’t know.

and to be quite honest, he doesn’t care.

one;

you’d both fallen asleep with the curtains half opened - it had been too dark outside, too late in the night, the weariness of the day’s fun too heavy, that neither of you had realised the curtains weren’t fully closed.

not that it was a major problem, being three floors up, but it did make for an early rise.

chan finds his face closer to yours than he would have liked, though he confess the sight wasn’t too bad a thing to wake up to.

in the past, perhaps, he would have had no reservations, no worries about being so close to you in bed - but years of friendship had matured like wine, had left an aftertaste in his mouth that he was still trying to figure out if he enjoyed or not, if he wanted more or not.

no, he knew he wanted more, and that was what scared him. what if a bit more was actually too much? he didn’t know his limits, not with something like this. he didn’t know your limits. it was risky, was like drinking for the first time - the consequences didn’t quite hit until they hit. he could have a sip, have three, five, could be enjoying it all until suddenly it was too late-

rustling sheets pull him back to the present.

“chan?”

he’s reminded of an evening long past, as you rub your eyes. your gazes meet, but the fragility of tension is barely present this many years into the friendship.

“what are you thinking about, so early in the morning?”

a rhetorical question, perhaps, but the sunlight dancing on the wall behind you and the warmth under the covers and the innocent curiosity in your eyes pulls the words out of him.

“that i love you,” he says.

it’s… not as cathartic as he thought it would be but it’s enough.

it brings the dancing sunlight and gentle rise and fall of your body to a standstill. it brings the ticking clocks in his room and the saturday morning traffic outside his apartment to a mute. it brings his heart’s bpm from an andante to a moderato, an allegretto; he can hear it in his ears, feel it in his chest. the disjointment between his internal and external world almost sends his mind into momentary panic.

but you smile an angel’s smile, and he doesn’t quite understand what it means yet but he knows it’ll be alright.

“i know.”

for a moment, he thinks that those two words were all you had to say in reply. his mind dances on the line between friends and more (whatever that is, at this point) and whilst he can’t deny the existence of the slight disappointment in him, he’s grateful that nothing has changed.

until- until things do change.

“me too.” you pull the blankets up to your chin, curl up closer to him like you had so long ago when you were both younger with neither questioning the relationship. “i love you too.”

in some other universe, he might have disregarded your words as nothing more than ones of friendship - you both knew you loved each other as friends do, as you always had. but in this universe, he grasps onto the way you’ve practically buried your head into his chest. he grasps onto the warmth of your body, so early in the morning, so close to his. he grasps onto the slight shake in your voice, the way you had breathed out the words like a confession.

“okay,” he whispers into the crown of your head, arms almost shaking in disbelief as they settle around your body and draw you closer. “okay.”

—

a/n: scene 3 is inspired by this!! also, anyways, i havent written anything outside of academic work and evening star in so long that im surprised this even... ended up finished LMAO but ye i hope this was an okay read, if not enjoyable! gentle reminder that interactions of any kind will make my heart soar <3

#stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #stray kids drabbles #bang chan drabbles #i once again do not remember what to tag works

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biscuitsngravie · 2 years ago

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fics for december

i dont do events and stuff like that, so pls dont think this is a kinkmas thing. this is just my lineup for december. lmk if you wanna be tagged. tbh?? im gonna upload all of these mfs on the same day LMAO. with the possible exception of the two nurse geto ones since that's a collab with @yasminessims <3

the last one (getou x stripper reader) is a long fic, so at MOST it'll get started in december, but def aint finna be done lol

levi x reader: Ssshhh🤫

your needy ass couldnt wait til you got home, so now he has to fuck you in an empty room. be quiet. or else

shanks x reader: gangsta fairytale

hc style even tho i got carried away. mafia au. i aint go much to say, this was just brain worms

sukuna x reader: what that mouth do?

this is just like...pure horny. we're doing true form sukuna, we're doing double cocks, we're doing mouths everywhere and anywhere, and you know we puttin tummy mouth to work! (this is the one that won the poll)

SatoSugu: just like that...

*tag is correct for positions. this one is a surprise.

Nurse Geto x Gojo: ails that plague the healthy

gojo gets hurt and the nurse who triages him is hot. unbelievably so. all of a sudden he's the "clumsiest" bastard alive. this one is a collab with @yasminessims and we're doing a fem and masc version!

getou x stripper!reader — carousels and wishing wells: a tale of poles, pussy, and power

i dont even have the braincells to describe this one. ur a stripper. he's a client. need i say more? i wanna bring a *slightly* more realistic approach to this one (having been the child of actual sex workers sfhsklf) hence why it's gonna be long as fuck lol

i have time to finish all of these in december tbh, but if i need more time ill just upload all of them in january. i dont feel like posting more than once, so if anything ill just save them in my drafts. that way i can add anyone who wants to be tagged accordingly. i'll let yall know when i have a date. tbh i really wanna finish them this month cause i wanna finish my book in january before i start the next one in august😭

if you wanna be tagged in anything in particular or in all of them lmk. ill reblog this regularly

#levi x reader #levi smut #shanks x reader #shanks smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #satosugu #goge #sugusato #gego #geto x read #geto smut #satsosugu smut #sugusato smut #jordussy #jordussy speaks

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goodlucktai · 10 months ago

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tagged by @bobtheacorn like...... 3 weeks ago 😭 my bad

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

283

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,353,670

which seems.......excessive

3. What fandoms do you write for?

actively, one piece and tmnt, but that is ruled by the demons in my brain that control the hyperfixation machine.

fandoms ive posted 3 or more fics for:

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends Good Omens Final Fantasy XV Undertale Mumintroll | Moomins Series Harry Potter Young Justice 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia 陈情令 | The Untamed King Falls AM Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rise of the Guardians Voltron: Legendary Defender

4. Top five fics by kudos?

Exclusivity - 11,116

walk straight through hell with a smile - 9,152

Inanition - 9,039

there is thunder in our hearts - 8,161

trouble is a friend of mine - 7,842

5. Do you respond to comments?

i do try to but i can't always :'( and i feel terrible if i manage to reply to most and then forget someone and only realize it months later. but i read every single comment and i appreciate them more than i have words for

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i tend to veer away from angst, but off the top of my head....

where the good men go or if i go i'm going on fire

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

99% of my fics have a happy ending because thats my BRAND but i suppose give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around or the weekend we were in love OR put your empty hands in mine

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not often, but i recently had someone who REALLY disliked the way things change because i 'villainized' raph. which is definitely news to me, since raphael is the love of my life

9. Do you write smut?

nope

10. Craziest crossover?

i wrote a tmnt/one piece crossover once ? but now that we are actually getting a tmnt/naruto idw run it doesnt feel that weird to me anymore

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

only once if i'm remembering right ?? it was a long time ago and wattpad related, which is a site that i dont really understand and therefore tend to avoid

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes ! i'll often have people request to translate my stories and it blows me away every time

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Devil took your hand was written by myself and @moogsthewriter

14. All time favourite ship?

ineffable husbands, wangxian, or leosagi

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

how much time do you have 😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

i want to say characterization and narrative voice. i'm also pretty good at maintaining a throughline, even if it sometimes gets a little wobbly

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

conflict ! i hate it ! i will avoid writing it at all costs ! i also tend to struggle with writing fight scenes, especially when there are several characters involved :') staging any kind of choreography is my opp

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i try not to but if it feels unavoidable i google the heck out of it

19. First fandom you wrote in?

honestly it was either digimon (which also inspired my og penname) or xiaolin showdown lol

20. Favourite fic you've written?

i'm stealing bob's idea and going top 5:

there is thunder in our hearts - this story came together so easily for me, like i knew exactly how i wanted to tell it from start to finish

the only hoax i believe in - a kfam fic in my top 5s why yes and i'll tell you why. because i poured so much of myself into this fic that they could probably read it at my funeral instead of a eulogy

traveling so far to get there - after party au raph and mikey continue to take up so much real estate in my brain and for what

now the darkness comes alive - this one is more recent but im so happy with the way it turned out :')

if we could stay all day in the sun - it was a lot of fun reimagining one of my favorite fairy tales and doing a bunch of unnecessary research for this story i will stand by it until the day i die !!

i'm tagging @mykimouser, @owletstarlet, @portgas-d-aroace, @mad4turtles, @camsthisky, @remedyturtles, @pickledcarrotsandradish, @swordsmans, @mangogreent, and anyone else who wants to !

#blah #my writing

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crimson-calligraphyx · 2 years ago

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Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475

A/N: sexual content. Sorry the chapter is lengthy lol.

Even though I was glad that Noah convinced me to see the guys last night, getting up this morning absolutely sucked. I stayed up much longer than I should have, and I was exceptionally fatigued rolling out of bed because of it, but it was worth it. It had been a long time since I've laughed as hard as I had.

I really need it, and it made me realize how much I missed them. It's been what? Two or three months? And they still welcomed me in with open arms, Folio especially, literally picking me up and spinning me around.

That dumbass. I swear his goal in life is to give Noah a brain aneurysm, always getting a rise out of him from his actions, even though it was all in good fun.

I chuckled to myself at the thought as I continued making my way around the bakery, tallying what items were in stock and making notes of what needed to be ordered. Both the flour and sugar were getting low, and I dreaded lifting each 50 lb bag to refill the bins, but it had to be done. With a huff, I put my checklist on the counter and squatted down, positioning the bag in a way it would be easiest for me to lift.

"Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?" "Jesus fucking Christ!" I about jumped out of my skin hearing Noah's disapproving voice cut through the silence. Straightening up, I placed a hand over my erratic heart and turned to see him standing there with his arms folded over his chest. "No, it's your husband, Noah," he deadpans. I rolled my eyes. "Ha ha, very funny," I puffed out a breath, combing a hand through my bangs. "Seriously though, what are you doing here?"

A smirk breaks through his unusual scowl as he uncrosses his arms and closes the gap between us. "Stopping you from doing what you're not supposed to be doing," he scolds playfully before squatting and lifting the bag of flour with ease. "You know you're not supposed to lift more than 20 pounds, Liv." "It was only for a second—" "I don't care," he laughs incredulously. "Doc said no heavy lifting, so no heavy lifting. Where's this going?" I sighed, motioning my hand towards the bin behind him. "You probably shouldn't be either," I grumbled.

He lays the bag over the bin, shooting me a pointed look. I put my hands up in surrender, knowing the next words out of his mouth were going to be something about how he's not carrying a tiny human, and stepped around him to retrieve a knife. I hand it over to him and he quickly cuts open the bag and empties the contents, crumpling it before tossing it in the trash. He then moves onto the next bag.

"Thank you," I say once he's finished. "I'm sorry, I'm just used to doing this by myself." He gives me a light smile, brushing my bangs back before kissing my forehead. "I know, love, I know. But you gotta let me help you, especially now." I slip my arms around his torso and look up at him with a bashful smile, a blush crawling over my cheeks. "I know. I didn't want to bother you, with your breathing and all." He shakes his head, disregarding me. "Don't. I know my limits, and I'm more than happy to help." He cups my cheek, delicately running his thumb across my still-flushed skin. "Let's finish this up and head back home to relax." "I'm here until noon, though."

He places both hands on my hips and scrunches his mouth to the side, mulling over my statement. "Okay, so we finish this, you finish your shift, and I'll have lunch ready for you. Anything you want. Then we'll relax. How's that sound?" His thumb slides under my shirt and delicately rubs against my side, causing me to wriggle in his grasp from the sensation. "Sounds like a date," I giggled. His dark eyes glistened, crinkling in the outer corners as he smiles at my words, and my heart flutters at the sight. "It's a date," he reiterates, giving my hips a light squeeze. I stand on my toes and give him a quick kiss before returning to the task on hand, trying to fight the warmth swirling in my stomach and the giddy smile from spreading across my face.

Though I hadn't been expecting his help today, I was more than grateful for it as he took care of the freezer, which also involved some heavy lifting. However, my heart sank with concern when he emerged from the walk-in; he was having a full-blown coughing fit, having to brace himself over the 3-base sink. And as usual, he insisted he was fine, but with a heavy eye roll I forced him to sit down and catch his breath while I brewed him a cup of tea.

He took the steaming cup with a sheepish smile, holding it up to his nose and breathing deep. "Thanks, love," he exhales, taking a hesitant sip. He winces when he burns his tongue, swallowing harshly. "Watch out, it's hot," I tease with a wink. "Why don't you head on home after you finish that? We're about done with inventory, and Juliana and Holly will be here any minute now to set up shop." "You sure you don't need anything else from me?" he questions, running a comforting hand down my arm and taking hold of my hand with a squeeze. I squeezed his hand in return with a polite shake of my head, just as the girls make their way in.

"Morning, Liv!" Jules chimes, stopping short when she sees I'm not alone. "Oh, and good morning to you, too, Noah." She grins and puts her belongings on a hook, walking by us to preheat the oven. "Wasn't expecting to see you here. How've you been?" "Not so bad, just helping Liv with inventory. She's a little sluggish this morning," he muses, winking at me, which earns him a light smack on his shoulder from me. "How are you? And Holly?" He leans forward to peer behind me.

Holly quietly greets us, hanging her things up and slipping her apron on, immediately engaging into work mode.

"Don't mind her, she's not a morning person, as ironic as it is for someone who works at a bakery. Especially on inventory day," Juliana murmurs when Noah quirks an eyebrow. "Anyway, I'm good. Keeping busy here." She pulls the muffin trays from under the oven, setting them on the counter with a loud clatter. "You wanna help with some baking?" she jokes. "I already did," Noah says quiet enough so that only I could hear, wagging his brows at me before glancing down at my belly. He snickers when I once again hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Actually, he was just leaving," I answered for him, pulling him to his feet. "But I haven't finished my tea," he feigns a whine, only to laugh when I shot daggers at him. "Alright, alright, I'm going. I'll see you at home for lunch. Be good." My cheeks burn hot, hoping they wouldn't question what he meant by 'be good'. "Noah," I hiss his name, beginning to push him towards the exit. "That's enough out of you." He snorts, finally walking towards the back door with me in tow. "What? I just want you to have a good day, that's all." There's a tone in his voice, and I know he's trying not to laugh.

I fold my arms over my chest when we're out of sight, glowering at him, unamused. "Not funny. You know I don't want anyone to know yet." "Relax, they're not gonna know you're pregnant just because I told you to be good," he rolls his eyes. "Anyways," he sighs, "I'll see you at home. Relax and try to have a good day, okay?" I mutter a quick 'okay', and he flashes me a small smile after kissing me goodbye.

When I returned to the kitchen, Juliana was working away at getting the muffins baked, pouring the batter that Holly had prepared into the tins. She glances up at me when she senses my presence and smirks—my stomach churns uncomfortably. She knows.

She doesn't say anything though, just carries on with baking, that devious curl never leaving her lips, and I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. I shake my head at myself and take a deep breath, picking up the checklist, hoping to settle my nerves by distracting myself with finishing inventory.

"It's nice to see you happy," Juliana says as I hear her open the oven doors, the whoosh of the fans blowing out a gust of heat. "Hm?" I quirk a brow, peeling my eyes away from my list. My heart jumps to my throat when I see that smug grin on her face again. "I said it's nice to see you happy. It's been a while since I've seen you smile like that." She states, placing one of the muffin tins on a rack. I furrow my brows. "Like what?" "He teases you and you get flustered, then you have this goofy smile on your face that I know you're trying to hide. It's cute; you guys are cute."

Scarlet crosses over my cheeks once again and I breathe out a quick 'Oh'—that's what that smirk was about earlier.

"Like that," she laughs, putting the last muffin tin in and shutting the oven doors. I hadn't even noticed I had been grinning at her words. "Yeah, well..." Clearing my throat, I avert my eyes to my checklist with a bashful chuckle. "Honestly, things weren't great between me and Noah for a while there, and I thought I lost him." I admit, having never told the girls why I hadn't been quite myself the last few months. "Recently, things have been getting better, and as silly as it sounds, I feel like I'm crushing on my husband all over again." "It's not silly, Liv." She turns to me after setting the timer on the oven, a genuine smile on her face. "It's a good thing. Whatever you thought you had lost was never really lost, it just got a little buried. You just had to do some digging, is all."

There's a warmth that swirls in my stomach, and spreads to my chest as I think about how much things have turned around as of late; how much effort Noah has put into mending what had been damaged.

I pushed him away, and I was the reason he developed that godforsaken disease, yet he still came running to my side when I needed him—after a fucking month of not speaking to one another. He was suffering, barely able to breathe, but he still did what he could to support me no matter how hard it was for him.

Coming to my appointments, running to the store to get me necessities when I asked him not to, showing up here at the bakery to make sure I wasn't doing anything over strenuous, and helping me because he knew that I would.

Now, every time I lay eyes on him, there's this pang of remorse knowing what I've been putting him through—but it always gets swarmed and consumed by the butterflies coming to life inside of me as soon as I see that grin on his face. His dark irises seem to light up with adoration as he smiles down at me, and I swear there's a surge of electricity between us whenever he places a gentle hand on me.

This was how it was when this all began; we're so close to getting back to what we were—I can almost taste it.

Rushing through the front door due to the unexpected rain, I cursed at myself for not having at least a hooded jacket for my walk home from the bakery. That, and never thinking to check the damn weather before going into work.

With a huff, I placed my belongings down just as Noah makes his way around the corner to meet me at the entryway. "What happened to you?" he chuckles, turning to head down the hall and returning with a towel. "I didn't know it was supposed to rain," I whined, starting to walk towards our bedroom and stopping when I took note of the living room.

The sectional was set up in a way where we could comfortably lie down with the back and armrests bordering us, a large blanket fanned out over the cushions. The lights were set low, the LEDs casting an amber glow against the far wall behind the TV—which was displaying a view of a sunrise at the beach, turquoise waves slowly rolling over the sand and back.

Noah drapes the towel over my shoulders and I turn towards him as he wraps it over the front of me. I take hold of it and clutch it to my chest, smiling up at him. "What is all this?" He shrugs, fighting back a proud smile while rubbing my upper arms to spread some warmth across my chilled skin. "Well, I wanted to take you down to the beach but as you can see, it's raining." He humors with a light laugh, and I roll my eyes. "So, I did what I could to bring the beach to you."

My heart swells at the thoughtfulness, tears immediately springing to my eyes. "You're too much," I say as my lips tremble, and he doesn't waste a second to stop them by kissing me. I melt into him, warmth radiating through my whole body as our lips sync together, practically leaving me breathless. We break apart slightly, our mouths open, both of us breathing in to get an ample amount of air before crashing together again.

I can taste the salt from my tears against his lips while his hand cups my cheek, brushing them away with his thumb. He smiles into our kiss, a chuckle vibrating against my lips. "Stop crying," he whispers. I giggle and pull away, sniffling while wiping the remaining tears away. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting this." "All I did was move the couch and put a YouTube video of the ocean up," he laughs. "It's really not all that much." "Maybe to you, but you know the sunrise holds a special meaning to me."

He brandishes a gentle smile, eyelids hooded as he stares down at me with candor heavy in his eyes. "I know," he runs a hand down the length of my damp hair. "Let's get you changed into some dry clothes and have some lunch. I had sushi delivered right before you got home—" "I can't have sushi, Noah," I frowned. "Raw sushi. I did a little research; everything I got is cooked and low in mercury content." I sighed, grinning. "You are the best."

I trotted to our bedroom and stripped of my damp clothes, draping them over the side of the tub to dry, and stepped into some sweats and one of Noah's hoodies. Knowing my hair would dry in a frizzy mess, I quickly blow-dried it before meeting him back in the living room where he set the sushi and an arrangement of snacks out on the coffee table.

We each grabbed a plate and a pair of chopsticks, choosing what we wanted before settling onto the sectional, sitting with our legs folded in. There was a comfortable silence between us as we ate, the only sounds being the gentle waves and the occasional call of a seagull playing through the surround sound.

I finished my plate first and put it off to the side, resting my head against Noah's shoulder with a smile of contentment. He finishes his food shortly after and wrapped his arm over my shoulders, hugging me close to him. We instinctively unfold our legs and lay back; my head was now on his chest, my leg and arm draped over his body as I snuggled up close to the heat radiating from him.

My eyes flutter shut as he rubs my shoulder, and I couldn't help the grin from spreading across my face. I haven't felt so comfortable, so peaceful and at home, so...complete in far too long, and I owed it all to Noah.

As I laid here in his arms, listening to the calming sounds of the ocean and his deep breathing, I was brought back to the very first time I saw the sunrise. Hues of pink, orange, and yellow erupting from the horizon of cobalt, cascading skyward into baby blue. So beautiful, so mesmerizing, and I knew it would be devastating if I couldn't witness it anymore.

I picked my head up from Noah's shoulder, gazing at the peaceful expression on his face—eyes closed, his lips curled in the tiniest smile as he ever-so-slightly moved his head side to side, most likely to a tune in his head. His expression changes, turning to that of surprise when the next three words flew out of my mouth: "I love you."

He slowly opens his eyes, chocolate irises locking with my blues while his lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. He reaches out and delicately trails his fingertips down my face and to my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. He still doesn't say anything, just caresses my face as if he expected me to dissolve into thin air at any second.

"What?" I whispered, my stomach churning anxiously. He shakes his head lightly, and my nerves melt away when I watched a smile break across his face. "I just... I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that again." "Oh," I mumbled with shame, dropping my gaze from him. He shifts so he's on his side now, and picks my head up by my chin. "I love you too, Olivia." I can see the tears glossing over his eyes, but he blinks them away and crashes his lips to mine. "So much," he says against them, never fully breaking our kiss.

Desire quickly flares inside of me; he suddenly wasn't close enough. I fist his shirt and roll onto my back, pulling him down with me as one of my legs settle over his hip. Our teeth clack together, and he pulls away slightly to laugh. "Guess these pregnancy hormones give you super strength, huh?" I breathed out a laugh. "I guess so. Now shut up and kiss me." He shakes his head with a snort, "Yes, ma'am."

I lace my fingers into his hair as we reconnect, holding him close to me, and in that moment, I'm flooded in all the ways I missed him. I felt starved. As if he could sense it, his tongue lashes out, gliding against my bottom lip, and I meet his with mine—tongues twisting and turning, relishing the familiarity of each other that we both had been longing for.

He ground his hips into me, and I can feel his growing erection through my sweats, pressing against my inner thigh. Heat begins to pool low within me, just thinking about the way his cock would feel gradually filling me, stretching me in the way my body so desperately needed.

More. I needed more.

He groans when I give his hair a light tug and roll my hips up towards him, wanting to satisfy the dull ache between my legs. I do it again when he doesn't quite get the hint; this time he moves, and a chill runs down my spine when his lips reach my jaw, the stubble that he had growing in rubbing against my skin. He peppers my neck with feather-light kisses, his teeth grazing along the way, and stopping to nip right below my ear. His breath cascades across my neck in a quiet laugh when he hears the mewl I let out.

"Is this what you want, love?" His voice was so low, I almost moaned simply from the seduction laced in his tone. "Yes," I whispered, clawing my nails against his scalp once more. He hums, slipping his large hand underneath the hoodie I was wearing and trailing his fingertips up my side. My skin prickles and my nipples harden just before he palms my breast, rolling his thumb over the pert bud. "No bra?" "They're sore; figured I'd be staying in, so why wear one?" "Makes sense," he concurs, running the tip of his nose up the side of my neck and to my jaw, promptly giving me a quick kiss. "Maybe I can help with that?"

His dark eyes glimmer with lust, and there's a smirk spreading across his lips that makes my core throb, wishing his face were between my legs instead. All I do is nod, both of us shifting to remove my top. He throws it behind the couch before he cups my breasts with hesitancy, delicately kneading the tender area, waiting to see if I'll stop him. I allow him to massage them for a brief moment, but he stops when he senses my discomfort. They were just too sore right now.

He whispers an apology, laying gentle kisses on the swell of my breasts before making his way down my belly. My stomach swirls with arousal and my chest heaves, anticipating his touch; all I could do was stare down at him as he halts at my waistband, peering up at me with hunger. His fingers grasp the top of my sweats, eyes begging me for access as he reluctantly waits for the go-ahead.

I lift my hips and assist him with shimmying my bottoms down my legs; he takes his time removing them, palming my right thigh with a firm squeeze. He continues caressing down my leg with both his hands and lips before doing the same to my left. "No panties either?" he muses while still holding my leg and places a kiss to the inside of my ankle. I bite my lip with a giggle, shaking my head 'no'. "Just the way I like it," he winks, beginning to trail his lips up my calf.

The further up my leg he went, the more he lowered himself against the couch until he was nearly flat, face level with the apex of my thighs. I see the hunger in his eyes when they flicker to my slick folds and back up, a smirk tugging at his mouth. He doesn't break eye contact as he slowly lowers his face down and teases me by kissing over my mound, up and across to each hip bone, and settling his mouth against my tiny bump.

"You're so beautiful, in every way,” he whispers, kissing my belly again. "Every bit of you. Your smile, your laugh." Kiss. "Your bubbly personality." Kiss. "Your soft skin, your growing bump." Kiss. "The way you say my name. The sounds you make." Kiss. "And even the way you taste," he licks his lips, and I clench around nothing, dying for him to touch me. "Noah," I breathed out. "Please." "Mmm, like that," he hums, placing his hands on the back of my thighs, holding me to him as he finally reaches where I needed him to be.

I take a sharp breath in when he licks a stripe through my folds, my hips bucking forward when his tongue lands on my clit. He hums—I can’t tell if it was in amusement of my reactions, or a groan of satisfaction as he damn near devours me like this was his last meal on earth—and the vibration coasts through my core, forcing a moan out of me.

I fist his hair; his fingertips dig into my thighs as he groans again, his tongue methodically running through my folds. He was so meticulous with his actions, knowing the way my body would respond to each and every flick of his tongue, and he had me chasing that high. My hips roll towards his face, and he takes my clit into his mouth, my stomach tightening as he sucks.

My senses are so heightened, I come undone within seconds, stars shooting behind my eyelids as I squeeze them shut and moan out his name. My body trembles and my back arches, my nails dig deeper into his scalp as his tongue relentlessly pulls me through my climax.

“Wow, I didn’t even need to use my fingers,” he muses with a smirk plastered on his face, his lips glistening with my slick. I try to think of a witty comeback, but I can’t. All I can do is shake my head at him, focusing on coming back down to earth, and trying to regain the breath he knocked out of me.

He clambers on top of me, and my hands instinctively find their way under the back of his shirt as he plants his mouth on mine in a heated kiss—I can taste myself when I take hold of his bottom lip with my teeth. He moans and I chuckle, now scratching my nails down his toned back.

“Christ, Olivia,” he mumbles, pulling away to look down at me; his breathing is labored, his lips now plump. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.” “I don’t?” I quirked an eyebrow, digging my nails further into his back. His muscles flex under my fingertips, and I giggle when he bites back a groan as his dick twitches against my leg. He shakes his head incredulously, his dark bangs shifting and blanketing his face. “Maybe you do.” “Maybe I do,” I shrug, watching his eyes grow dark with desire. “I want to fuck you so badly, Olivia,” he growls. “Then do it,” I say, removing my hands from under his shirt.

He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, and tosses it to the floor. I watch his chest heave as his hands clumsily unfasten his belt and unzip his fly—was he nervous, or overly eager? He slowly pulls his jeans down, along with his boxers, and his cock springs loose, slapping against his belly. He takes hold of himself, gliding his hand up his shaft, and I swear my mouth watered when I saw the precum glistening as he rolled his palm over the tip, spreading it back down his length.

Christ, Olivia. What has gotten into you?

He settles himself between my legs but hesitates, his eyes searching mine as he places a delicate hand on my cheek. He swallows harshly, “I don’t… am I going to hurt you or—” I giggled at his concern. “You’re not gonna hurt me or the baby, I promise,” I reassured him, combing his bangs back with my hand and giving his head a light scratch. “Are you sure?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure. The baby’s not gonna come out with a dent in its head from your dick, Noah,” I chuckled. “What if—” “So help me God, Noah, if you don’t put your dick in me in the next ten seconds, you’re gonna have a dent in your head.” I hooked my leg over his hip, hoping to urge him on. He shakes his head and laughs lightly. “So assertive.”

In one swift movement, he slowly enters me, and we both moan out in unison. He rests his forehead against my collarbone, a staggering breath caressing my skin as he rolls his hips away. “Fuck,” he sighs, “I almost forgot how good you feel.” My hands smooth up his back, one hand tangling into his hair, and he picks his head up to look at me with a sheepish grin. “Me too,” I breathed a laugh, pushing my hips towards him. “Keep going. Please.” “As you wish.” He ruts his hips into me, an impish smile on his face. He was still hesitant; I could tell with each attentive thrust into me, and as good as it felt, I needed more.

My heel presses into the small of his back, and I began to run my nails against his tattooed skin. His eyes flutter shut, a light moan slipping past his lips as he continued his languid pace. “Noah,” he looks at me when I say his name. “Don’t hold back. Show me what you forgot, show me how much you missed me.” He chuckles, and it’s like a switch flipped inside of his head, his eyes burning into mine with a sudden darkness. “Fuck, Olivia. You’re really going to be the death of me.”

I don’t have time to say anything or even laugh; his lips are on mine in an instant, his hips snapping into mine with fervor. My fingers tighten, digging into him further as a moan escapes me, and he takes that to his advantage, shoving his tongue in my mouth. Our kiss was sloppy, influenced by desire, hunger, need. But I didn’t care, everything in this moment felt so right, so satisfying as his cock hit me in all the right ways. My body was buzzing with euphoria as I drank him in and savored the feeling of him encasing me, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He suddenly pulls away from me, and I whimper from the emptiness. With a growl, he sits up and repositions me with my legs resting on his shoulders. I cry out when he thrusts back into me, hitting me at a different angle that would undeniably tip me over the edge. My back arches when there’s pressure on my clit—it took me a second to realize his thumb was rubbing against me.

Sweat was beading across his forehead as his eyes locked with mine, and the fire burning behind his irises was my downfall. My walls clenched around his length, and I swear I was levitating as my chest rose under his control, my body quaking while he coaxed the orgasm out of me.

My legs slip off his shoulders, and once again he repositions me so that I’m on his lap. He holds me close to him, his large hand supporting me at the small of my back as he continues to thrust deep inside of me. I can’t move; my head lols back and I feel his lips against my throat, peppering sloppy kisses until he bites down below my jaw. His moan vibrates down my jugular, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he pants through his nose.

He gently lies me back down against the couch, his body collapsing on top of mine while he slips out of me. We're panting together in fucked out bliss and my hands find his hair again, raking my fingers through his sweat stained locks. He hums, pressing a kiss on my collarbone before rolling off me. He scoops me on top of him, my leg settling over his torso and my hand lands on his cheek. I run my thumb over his flushed skin and he once again hums and presses a kiss into my hair.

“Did we just have sex on the beach?” I mumbled, a tiny grin on my face. He snorts, and I know he’s shaking his head at me without having to look at him. “If that’s what you want to believe, then sure, love.” I giggled, picking my head up to look at him. He looks at me with adoration, a tired smile gracing his lips as he ran his hand through my hair. “You’re cute. Lie back down, let’s take a nap. It’s been a long morning.” I do as he says after giving him a kiss, settling against his chest.

His chest rising and falling slowly relaxes me, and I notice one thing as his steady heartbeat begins to lull me to sleep: he wasn’t wheezing. Not even in the slightest.

|Chapter 20|

#fanfic #fan fiction #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #fanfic writing #romance #fantasy #quandary #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fan fiction

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steviewashere · 1 year ago

Text

20 Questions For Writers!

I was tagged by the awesome @puppy-steve thank you <3 I like to talk a lot, so this is kind of long-winded and I'm so sorry.

How many works do you have on AO3?

I currently have 95, which is a lot! But also, I have too many ideas.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

I'm currently at 436,999. Again, I'm insane and have a lot of ideas and things just get away from me lol.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things! I've written Steddie, Platonic Stobin, Stommy, and a couple Platonic Stancy, and Ronance once. I honestly don't see myself writing for another fandom in the near future. I've thought about maybe doing some for Baldur's Gate 3 with Bloodweave or Tav/Astarion, but we'll see.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Words Like a Bullet, Wounding My Soul

Rusted Silver Spoons and Empty Pockets

I Want You to Love Me, No Obligations, No Strings Attached

Love, Rest Your Head

I Am Vulnerable and I Am Wanting

(People love Steve angst, which I do too, so this list makes a lot of sense.)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, I typically do! Unless it's one that I just am not sure how to respond to. But I tend to respond within the first two to three days the comment is left—unless I'm down for the count due to chronic illness.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Okay, my answer is Death Embraces You as I Kiss Your Skin because both Steve and Eddie die in the end (not really spoilers). And it's just very melancholy, gross, and world-ending. But if you had to ask the people who read and comment a lot on my works, I've heard that Love, Rest Your Head is the one people are upset and mad about the most, lol.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

A lot of them do end up having happy endings, so it really depends the flavor of angst leading to that happy ending that you're in the mood for. But, my personal choice would be Balls in Laundry Baskets: An Apology or Everything and More (though the series that work belongs to does not have the best of endings, oops. But every work in the series is standalone).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have only received hate once on a fic, surprisingly. They commented, I responded, and then a few weeks later I deleted the thread entirely. But I've received hate on here for some of my Steve headcanons. And I've received hate on Twitter for writing Trans Stevie Harrington. So...Sort of.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, I do. Though, not a lot. I've mainly written emotional/tender/gentle sex. I've done a T4T Steddie fic that's smut with some plot called Be My Lover. Take Care of Me (Sodomy) is physical fighting that leads to rough sex that turns emotional and tender (read tags, obvs). And, I don't really post about it on here because it's the kind of stuff that gets hate (because it's a kink that is usually hated on a lot already), but my weight gain kink fic Indulgence and Discovery is a mixed bag. (If you read that last one, just know it's don't like, don't read. And I don't wanna hear you complain about it.)

10. Do you write crossovers?

I don't currently. And I'm not all that familiar with them, as I don't usually read them. But I'd like to do something, maybe, that involves Steddie x Doctor Who or Steddie x Star Wars. The logistics just don't work all that well in my brain.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, thank goodness. But if it does happen and I'm unaware, I'm hoping someone will reach out to me.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I'm open to it! If somebody wants to translate my work, they just gotta reach out and ask. Honestly, that would be kind of cool.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No I have not. And I don't know if it's something I'd like to do. I'm not a hard person to work with, but sometimes I am kind of hard headed. (Big old character flaw.) So I tend to get argumentative really easy. And I don't want to scare people off just because I'm being an ass.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Steddie, of course. But I've also been a big fan of Steve Harrington/Tommy Hagan (Stommy), Astarion/Gale (Bloodweave, Baldur's Gate 3), and Markus/North (Norkus, Detroit Become Human). And I've recently liked the idea of Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker (Dinluke, The Mandalorian).

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you will?

Probably my first ever trans Stevie Harrington work, My Girl, Your Girl. I just lost interest with the work over time. But I'm thinking of doing one more chapter and calling it finished. And We Share This Life is one I'm thinking of orphaning. It's just such a big boy project that I am just over with at this point. I don't even want to link them because I don't want to get y'alls hopes up.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think dialogue is a current strength of mine. May be from experience writing speeches and monologues for public speaking and theater classes. But that's a big one for me. And then I've been told numerous times I'm great at writing very human, realistic, disgusting crying scenes. Which is great because I do that frequently. (Cry, that is.)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing action. Not like bullets flying, explosions going off action. I mean just the simple act of kissing or hugging or being in a space. And also writing smut. I've never had sex and sex isn't all that interesting or necessary to me, so all of my smut feels kind of stiff. Except for my work in Indulgence and Discovery—that one in particular is written when I'm in the mood, it's written from personal fantasy/desire. So it flows just a little better than my other smut works, but still. Not great at it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I only know two languages, English (which is my first and is what I'm fluent in), and American Sign Language (which I'm intermediate to fluent in). Obviously, I write English dialogue. But I've written sign language in fic before, it tends to write like this: 'WHISPER OKAY?' (an example taken from Words Like a Bullet, Wounding My Soul). And I'm moderately good at writing ASL grammar, as this is how I've seen it written and been taught to write it. So as long as the language is something I know or am fluent in, I'm good to go.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stranger Things and it'll most likely be the only fandom I write for.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hard question. I have quite a few that I like, so I'll give my top five. Just because I'm indecisive.

The Bow on a Gift (Steddie)

Lighthouse (Platonic Stobin)

My Boy (Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson)

Be My Lover (T4T Steddie)

In it For the Long Haul (And Then Some) (Pre-Steddie/Steddie)

I don't know how many to tag for this:

@ataliagold @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @hotluncheddie @sidekick-hero

@touretticeddiemunson

And anybody else because I have a brain the size of a pea <3

#20 questions for fic writers #questions game #fic author #stranger things #steddie

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blackjackkent · 1 year ago

Note

"Why? Because of what you are." or "We tried, and we failed." for hector for the lyric prompts?

(TY for the prompt! Sorry it took me this long to respond lol. I hope you see this since I can’t tag you. D:

I'm not sure if you are the same anon-friend who said they were tickled by Hector's previous interactions with the Emperor, but if so, well… this one is definitely not funny, but it is about the Emperor! And it’s long! And feelsy! So there’s that. :P

I'm going to go ahead and set this within Hector's liveblog and directly after this post specifically, because I am still emotional about it; originally my intention was to let him vent and expend some frustration but this definitely ended up going in a very different direction. The game doesn't give us an opportunity for a followup conversation with Karlach until morning, which leads me to believe she straight up just doesn't come back to camp that night and Hector lies alone in their tent, staring at the ceiling for hours in a sort of emotionally fragile haze before finally drifting off into restless dreams…)

PROMPT: 70 Lyric Prompts - “Why? Because of what you are.”

-----

Hector knows where he is without opening his eyes. The air within the Astral Prism is still, but there is something undefinable about it that feels different, some scent or taste or even the texture of the atmosphere on his skin. Foreign. Strange. Wrong.

He shudders. He doesn't want to look around. He doesn't want to see anyone right now, not really; after the conversation with Karlach over Gortash's dead body, he feels like something ripped into his chest and removed his heart. He barely even spoke to anyone when they returned to camp, just spent hours bashing his fists desperately into the training dummy beside Lae'zel's empty tent and then collapsed into his bedroll as if there was any relief to be found in sleep.

But he wants least of all to see the Emperor, and that is what he knows he will see if he looks around - the mind flayer's beady lavender stare and twitching tentacles and implacable agenda of transformation and destruction.

“Go away,” he mutters hoarsely, and does not open his eyes.

“We must speak,” the creature rumbles. “Gortash is dead. Our plan must move forward.”

Hector's eyes squeeze tighter shut and he rolls onto his side away from the illithid voice, curling into himself. “There is no our plan,” he growls. “There is your plan and my plan. And I want no part of yours tonight.”

“Yet you will hear it, nevertheless, because you must,” the Emperor continues implacably. There is the soft, almost imperceptible sound of shifting fabric, of the illithid levitating along the ground. “With Gortash dead, you will mean to face down Orin. The battle ahead will try your abilities to the utmost. You must reconsider the use of the Astral Tadpole if you are to--”

“No.”

“Why will you not simply--”

“Why?” Hector answers flatly. “Because of what you are. Because of what you want me to become. I want no part of it, I never have, and we are not having this conversation tonight.”

“It is not a question of wanting. It is a question of what must be.” The mind flayer pauses, then continues implacably, “Karlach's death is a regrettable loss, but you must look beyond it. You and I--”

Something snaps inside Hector's brain and he feels suddenly choked with a surge of emotion too complex for easy definition - rage and grief and exhaustion and disgust. “Leave me alone!” he snarls. His eyes come open and he rolls to his front, through his knees and onto his feet in a smooth motion that curves itself into an unthinking punch in the direction from which the Emperor was speaking.

The Emperor is too quick, and darts backward before the blow can land. It hovers just out of reach, looking at him with that unreadable stare, and makes a clicking noise from somewhere within the maw beneath its tentacles. “Foolish,” it murmurs. “I am not your enemy, Hector. I never have been.”

Hector stares back at it, for once not bothering to hide any of his anger. “You know,” he spits angrily, “you do a very good impression of humanity. You've almost made me believe it sometimes. But sometimes it's really obvious that Withers is right - that you have no soul. Because no human would ever think that this was the right time for a strategy meeting.”

He turns away, walks to the edge of the floating rock on which the two of them are standing. “If you have something in mind that can save Karlach, I want to hear that. But I don't want to hear about your plan, or our connection, or our partnership. I don't want to hear about the Knights of the Shield, or bloody Stelmane and how she was the love of your poor misbegotten life. And I don't want to hear about your fucking tadpole.”

Anyone else might have been surprised to hear the curse on his lips, but the Emperor listens impassively, its tentacles barely even twitching.

“So shut up,” Hector finishes coldly, staring out at the unending starscape. “And leave me be.”

There is a long silence. Finally the Emperor speaks, and even for it, the words are slow, low, and very carefully controlled. “Perhaps you think I tolerate such disrespect with equanimity.”

“Oh, go ahead, then,” Hector says with a humorless laugh. “Kill me. Suck my brain out. You won't, of course. Because you need me.” He scowls. “Pity. I would welcome oblivion right now.”

“Were I weaker of spirit than I am,” the illithid growls, “I would grant it. It is lucky for us both that I am not.”

Hector's fists clench at his sides. “Why?” he asks, and it's a demand less of the Emperor and more of the universe, of any gods that might be listening. “Why do I get to live and she gets to die? Answer me that, if you can, you eldritch bastard.”

“I have no more control over Karlach's fate than you do.” A pause. Its tentacles give a sharp, spasmodic twitch. “Except in one regard,” it adds, with a sudden strange cruel brightness in its voice. “The tadpole would transform her, you know, just as it would transform you. She would have no need for her engine heart. No limit to the years you could have together...”

Hector goes utterly still, the blood draining out of his face. “No,” he whispers.

“There, you see?” the Emperor says caustically. “It is I who offer to heal her, and you that would let her die.”

“Shut up.” He tries to put force into the words but they emerge hollow, broken. The Emperor has found the weak point in his armor, stuck a knife into it, and twisted.

“Are you so selfish,” the mind flayer presses, “that you cannot see the value of what I have to offer? It is strength, and it can be life.”

He sinks to his knees on the edge of the platform, his breath starting to come in sudden sharp bursts. “She has taught me… some things are more important than living or dying…”

“And when you see her burning from the inside out, I am sure those things will seem very important indeed,” the Emperor murmurs.

“Shut up,” he says shakily.

“I am sure you will watch her scream and think fondly on your principles, on the strength that you turned down because you lacked the courage to evolve.”

“Shut up.” Hector hunches forward, his fists pressed into the stone beneath him, as if curling away from a physical attack.

“And when she is gone, your forbearance will provide great comfort in a cold bed.”

“SHUT UP!” The roar bursts from him and cracks apart into a sob. Tears flood his eyes, blurring his vision. “Gods… please… just leave me alone. I can’t… I can’t… she is dying and she is in so much pain, and I can’t help her, I can’t stop it. If you were anything less than a monster, you would grieve with me, you would want to help her… you would give a single, solitary damn… but you don’t. All you care about is your fucking worm, and it’s all falling apart… it’s all gone… it’s all gone…”

The tears are coming heavier now, choking him, blinding him. “What the hell am I going to do?” he whispers. “I won’t… I won’t do it, I won’t do what you want… I won’t become an… an abomination just to save my heart… I won’t take her choice from her… but how will I bear it…? ”

He realizes, suddenly, that he is awake, that his fists are clenched into his pillow which is soaking wet with tears, that his whole body is being wracked with each gasping sob, that his bedroll is tangled around his legs, constricting him, trapping him. “Oh, gods…” he whispers brokenly. “My Lady, help me, please… please… the night is so dark…”

“Hector?” Shadowheart is crouched at the flap of the tent, peering through at him with an expression of uncharacteristic concern. As he rolls over awkwardly to look at her, he sees faint movement behind her, a flash of Jaheira’s eyes in the dimness, the curve of one of Wyll’s horns. Gods, did he wake the whole camp bawling?

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” he mutters hoarsely. “A bad dream… I’m-- I’ll be fine.”

She frowns, glances sideways at someone unseen beside her in the dark. “Do you… erm. Need to talk about it?” she asks, with an awkwardness that he might find touching if he were not so utterly lost in his own grief.

“No,” he answers. It is an old habit now to turn away, to hide his feelings, to withdraw into an air of aloofness and control-- though he makes a poor show of it just now, with his eyes red and body trembling. Oh, what’s the point? “Yes,” he adds in a low mutter after a pause. “Maybe. But…not now. Rest. You need to rest, all of you.”

She looks at him for a long moment, then nods and withdraws into the darkness.

He rolls over and stares at the ceiling of the tent with a heavy breath out. The grief still sits in his gut like a heavy stone, and his breath still feels caught in his throat.

And the Emperor’s voice still whispers in the back of his mind, implacable and cold as ice. “Think about what I told you. We both know that very little time is left…”

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #long post #drabble #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #karlach x tav #tav x karlach #emperor bg3 #bg3 emperor #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #well this went off the rails and became much more ouchie than i intended #>:)#tysm for the prompt! I hope you enjoy the feels!

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