#he asks where Abigail is

[authorafterhours]

Gods, can you imagine what would happen if Will or Hannibal got amnesia and forgot the other one? Especially post-fall?

[frontlinebicepsoftheninth]

in light of a second migration to this site i just need to speak my truth which is that harrow is a redditor gideon is a twitter user and ianthe is a tumblrina hope this helps

[winepresswrath]

I am haunted by Alecto the Ninth's potential to give me the awkward family dinner of all time. I can see it already out of the corner of my eye. With every glimpse my yearning intensifies, matched only by my fear that it would be too powerful and overwhelm the narrative and thus won't happen.

[quietwingsinthesky]

meanwhile, despite the fact that a dozen people have gone missing in the local area and abigail keeps bringing tupperwares full of food to the bunker, none of tfw ever suspects there's anything weird going on with her or her family.

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

will wasn't crying for himself in ko no mono, he was crying for hannibal.

[lilgynt]

i can’t think about how hannibal literally took multiple children away from will i want to eat glass

[navree]

oooh, you're a fan of NBC Hannibal? a "fannibal" one might say 😉

People have indeed been saying, and yeah, at least for the first two seasons. I never got around to watching the third, and from what I can tell some of it feels a bit rushed (plus them not having the rights to Clarice was always gonna make it a bit doomed to fail). But I enjoyed Hannibal a lot, I liked the story and the acting and the characters, and for some truly godforsaken reason Will/Clarice is a big crackship for me.

[katakaluptastrophy]

I think what's so interesting about Gideon as a narrator at the anniversary dinner is the fact that there's clearly tensions that she's just not picking up on because she's only there to eat a dessert.

But these people are all the immensely powerful leaders of the Houses and consider themselves to be in competition for literal godlike powers and the favour of the emperor.

There's so many little snippets that are potentially intriguing: why is Teacher trying to prime the Ninth to consider the Fifth a threat? Why are the Third and the Sixth "sizing each other up like prizefighters"? The Fifth absolutely knew what they were doing when they sat the teen heads of the opposing cults near each other.

Through Gideon's lens, Magnus' speech is a little awkward jokey thing. But...the seneschal of the House that is known to be actively trying to absorb another House is saying it's such a shame they're all so remote from each other and what do they all have in common (and it's so quiet you "could have heard a hair flutter to the floor") - that had to feel a bit different to people who aren't Gideon.

Palamedes' is dissecting the meaning of "Master Warden" and at one point compares it to a prison warden. 'Dulcinea' asking about whether Magnus and Abigail have children is perhaps less small talk and rather more pointedly political. Harrow's apparently stilted conversation with Protesilaus is clearly her actually probing his limitations like he's a bad Chat GPT-run chatbot.

And then 'Dulcinea' tells Gideon she liked the dinner because it was "useful". In her typical "I never lied to you" way, Cyth wasn't lying when she said Abigail had to die because of her hobby - Abigail Pent let loose on the Facility would have risked blowing Cyth's cover sky high. But what does a Canaan House look like where after the dinner party, the Fifth go down to the facility, get a key, and survive to continue their 'the Houses are going to get along or else' agenda? We've seen Fifth House soft power on a smaller scale in HTN: and it looks like inviting a teenager round for coffee, lulling her into a false sense of security with small talk, and then physically preventing her from leaving the room until she does what you want, while smiling the entire time. A series of little coffee chats could probably have led to a lot of cooperation in Canaan House, one way or another.

Gideon jokes about Silas marrying Ianthe because of their similar colour pallete, but it does raise the fact that there seems to be some tension around the Third, its succession, and the *point* of Ianthe. Why is Silas openly saying Ianthe should have died at birth? Combined with Judith's comments in the Cohort Intelligence Files about succession on the Third, it feels like there's something else being said here that Gideon isn't picking up on.

And of course, Harrow wasn't the only one desperate to become a Lyctor because her con was unsustainable. Presumably at some point Corona and Ianthe would be expected to marry, or at least take on more separate roles as Corona prepared to take over the throne and Ianthe was funneled off elsewhere. At some point, their package deal would have become unsustainable and Corona's cover would have been blown. But much as Harrow wants to become a Lyctor so she can reveal the state of the Ninth without repercussions, Ianthe is probably in part motivated to become a Lyctor for the same reason. Because otherwise, what would Ianthe's expected role have been? Amidst the suggestion of anxiety about the Idan succession, the dinner party also presents the fact that the reason Abigail and Magnus' infertility isn't a succession crisis for the ruling family of the Fifth is that Abigail's younger brother dutifully married in his early 20s and had kids. We know there are branch families in Ida - Babs is from one. He may be a prince, but he's not treated well, and you do get the sense that the stakes to stay in power in Ida are high.

We don't learn anything about the political situation in the Houses themselves during HTN or NTN, but in the wake of Canaan House, you have to suspect there are a number of tensions and concerns.

[thedragonsnotdead]

hannibal raising his voice a singular time in s1e13 scared me more than any of the murders in this show

[iamthescalesofjustice]

idk if ive ever mentioned that my primary obligatory ‘throw my ocs into the series i currently like’ scribbleplot involves keres being at canaan house and jj only showing up onscreen in ntn (barring maybe a cameo in ayu), and their presence, identites, and abilities not being explained until the very end of ntn or after. 

crucially, keres has had a supremely high-level ‘shroud against undead’ effect up the whole time, so nobody falling under that unbrella, including anybody who has so much as touched the river, is able to perceive their existence or the direct results of their actions. the only people at canaan house not subject to this full-on stranger effect are the 2nd, 4th, 6th, and magnus. 

[christopher-the-cube]

Let me get this straight:

- there was no dance number

- barely any good songs

- no mention of the weird Korean ben with the side part

- Sloane and Ray were written off with one (1) line

- sure Ray walked out but why on earth did Sloane disappear if she was there with them in hotel oblivion I guess we’ll never know

- we were told Reggie erased everyone’s memories about Ben’s death but ??? it was physically impossible for him to have erased ghost Ben’s memory. Like, did Ben never discuss that with Klaus? It looks like he didn’t even realize it was Reggie who shot him, did he never ask Klaus how he died? 😭

- they showed us sparrow ben obsessively drawing Jennifer in s3, sort of insinuating he survived the Jennifer incident in the sparrow timeline but he straight up didn’t recognize her at all now? It’s like they were meeting for the first time?

- where did that subway even come from

- um. Five and Lila

- how the hell are their kids alive in the last scene if the siblings never existed

- why the hell are the Swedes and pretty much everyone from the commission there alive at the same time if they were meant to be taken from different time periods and that’s meant to be a true and pure timeline without any time travel whammy

- seriously wasn’t there a scene with an old timey black and white picture of the Swedes they would NOT be there in 2019-2024-whatever-year-it’s-supposed-to-be

- why does grace have a stroller in that last scene whose kid is that

- on that note what’s up with Lila’s family, to me that kind of insinuates all of the 43 WERE born in that timeline but… there’s no mention of any of the children or any of the siblings bio families

- which completely ruins the last plot point of ALL of the marigolds having to be destroyed, please even if the other children weren’t born there they straight up still had a half a jar of marigolds in Diego’s van 😭😭😭

- ALSO what was Abigail’s motivation, am I crazy or did she go like “fuck you reggie for wanting to destroy the world to punish you I am going to destroy the world” ???????

And I’m not even touching the whole Five characterization thing oh my god

[gogobootz1]

Dog Day Afternoon

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: New to town but oh-so sought after, a few stumbles might just lead you to love

Word Count: 3k

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Today, I write with news from the North. The reclusive Duke of Devonshire has come to London. It seems that after the death of his younger brother some time back, he is determined to find his eldest daughter, the new heir, a husband. The lady is supposedly very beautiful and will no doubt consume all of the attention of eligible young bachelors. I only bid good luck to her competition, as they will surely need it.

The fluffy tails of your two best friends could not keep still. The black Newfoundlands you had trained from puppyhood loved carriage rides, mostly because they loved meeting the horses before and after. You were sure they'd grow even more excited when you arrived at the park.

As the carriage slowed, you smiled, eager to get them some exercise. Your maid stepped out first, and you momentarily handed her both dogs' leads. Accepting a hand down from a footman, you turned to take them back when they broke free of her grasp entirely. Worse yet, they took off at a run.

You called after them, then whistled, but they were determined. Usually, they didn't give you any trouble with recall. Reaching for the dog whistle you kept on your person, you found nothing.

Without a second thought, you took off after them.

"My Lady!" Your maid called from behind you, panicked. You paid her little heed, anxious to have your babies back safe.

Park patrons stood as your dogs, followed by yourself, ran past. They gawked openly at the strange scene put on by an unknown young lady.

You were relieved when they slowed, but it didn't take long for them to sprint off again. They rounded a corner, quick as lighting. You kept after them, unable to see the obstacle around the bend.

Crashing right into someone's back, the two of you stumbled. The poor gentleman in front of you took the brunt of the impact, but you didn't have time to stay and make a formal apology. Staggering a bit, you resumed your chase.

"Sorry!" You yelled over your shoulder.

"Wait! Miss," the man called after you but gave up as you ran further away.

When your dogs ran off the path and into a clearing where people were picnicking, you grew really worried. Chasing after them on a trail was one thing, but ruining the outings of fellow nobility would be an altogether worse embarrassment.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized who the boys were scampering up to: your little sister. Abigail sat on a blanket with a girl who looked to be about her age. In her mouth was the dog whistle. You tended only to use that whistle when you took them out in the woods, and you'd trained them to run back to you at the sound of it. It gave you peace of mind knowing that you could call them back at any time if they went too far off in the forest or on one of your walks.

Abigail seemed pleased to see the two of them. A surprised grin graced her face as she patted them. They were even happier to see her, showering her in kisses. "Hoo-y? Moo? What are you doing here?" She giggled.

Her laughter stopped when she saw you stalking over. Thoroughly out of breath, you crossed your arms when you reached them. The three of them looked guiltily up at you. With a snap, your dogs came to sit on either side of you. Although your countenance was thoroughly enraged, scratching behind both dogs' ears decreased your intimidation factor.

"Why on Earth did you steal that?" You nodded toward your whistle.

"I think it makes for a chic necklace," Abigail said defensively. You stuck a hand out, and she reluctantly placed the whistle she'd put on a chain in it.

"And why on Earth were you using it?" You asked expectantly.

She held her hands up in surrender, "Miss Hyacinth was skeptical that the whistle could not be heard with human ears. I was simply showing her how it worked." Abigail was clever- you'd give her that. You could hardly scold her in front of her companion, and you wouldn't dream of scolding the other young girl for something so clearly not her fault. Using her as a human shield was a cowardly tactic by your sister, however. "And I thought you weren't arriving until later!"

"They were antsy. I figured I could abandon the harp in favor of allowing them some exercise," you explained, then glared at her, "This was not the type of exercise I had in mind."

"But Hoo-y and Moo love running free," she pouted at you.

"They are not allowed to run free in public spaces where I must chase after them!" You snapped at her. Crouching to get closer, you reached into your purse and gave both dogs a scrap of jerky. "Huginn and Muninn are both well-behaved gentlemen, and you may have tarnished their good names by causing this wild romp!"

"Huginn and Muninn? Does that make you Odin?" A deep voice called from behind you. You rose and turned to see a tall, handsome gentleman with dark hair.

His question took you by surprise. Most people did not understand their names. You blinked for a second before collecting yourself, "No." It was hardly a smart reply, but it was the most you could manage after chasing your dogs a few hundred meters. You shook your head a little, vaguely embarrassed by your answer, before turning back to the girls.

"Would you please excuse Lady Abigail, Miss Hyacinth?" The bright young lady nodded at you with a pleasant smile before you even finished speaking, "The least she can do after causing such trouble is help me walk the dogs." You directed the last part toward your sister, who reluctantly stood. Taking one of the leads from your hand, she bid goodbye to her companion before walking off. You nodded at the young lady and the handsome stranger before following after her.

Benedict watched you walk away from his sister's picnic spot, only slightly removed from the rest of the family's. He collapsed down next to Hyacinth and stole a grape from her plate, "Who was that?"

"My new friend, Abigail," she replied, smacking his wrist. He ate the grape anyway.

"And the older one?"

"Her sister," Hyacinth looked at him skeptically, "why do you ask?"

Benedict thought of how you'd practically pushed him to the ground in the middle of the walkway, then ran from the scene. "No reason," he shrugged.

——————————————

The first ball you'd be attending was later that evening, and you were incredibly nervous. Sat on the floor of the library, you brushed through Muninn's coat in an attempt to calm your nerves. Waiting for your father to finish changing was making you even more anxious, the dread just building up in your body.

"Why are you on the floor?" His voice finally came from the doorway.

"His coat needed brushing," you shrugged innocently. The Duke waved at you to come join him, and you stood, brushing some fur off yourself. Muninn stood, too, and closely followed as you joined your father.

"You're only lucky he didn't slobber on you," your father shook his head at you fondly, offering his arm.

Taking it, you made one last bid to skip the event, "Remind me why we are attending this?"

"A future Duchess needs a husband," he said simply.

"Does she really?" You asked wryly.

"No," your father answered seriously, causing you to stop. "Well, only if she should like a Duke or Duchess of her blood to follow in her footsteps," he tugged on your arm to keep you walking.

That only made you feel worse. While before you felt nervous, guilt was now in the mix. What if that didn't happen?

"If you never marry, I will not love you any less," he revealed. "I only ask that you try," your father asserted, "but if there is nary a man up to snuff, I would have you die a spinster." You laughed at that, feeling some pressure relieved. He joked with you for the duration of the carriage ride and up until you were announced at the ball.

"Now presenting; His Grace Daniel, Duke of Devonshire, and his daughter Lady-"

The entire company of the room turned to watch the two of you descend the stairs.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Your father whispered to you jokingly.

"Oh, only that awful mustache," you whispered back playfully. You caught the corner of his lip twitching as he tried not to laugh at the jab at his expense.

A few more seconds of staring had you whispering to him again, "I see now why you never leave the house." That earned a huff of a laugh from him.

"Let us thank our host, then visit the refreshments," he relayed the plan.

"Excellent idea," you replied quietly as he dragged you toward a finely dressed older woman.

"Lady Danbury," your father nodded at her in greeting.

"Lovely to see you again, Your Grace. It's been quite some time," she smiled at him knowingly.

"Indeed it has," he laughed, "may I present my daughter?" You smiled then, giving her a polite nod as well.

"My, how you've grown, my lady. The last time I saw you, you were far shorter than me," she chuckled, and you laughed politely with her. Unfortunately, you had no memory of that meeting. It must have been a long time ago, and she must have visited your home at Chatsworth House.

It was only a few more moments of small talk before your father excused the two of you, under the guise of not impeding her from talking to other guests.

He fixed you both a glass of lemonade at the refreshments table before he was pulled away. As much as he hated socializing, people loved him. He sent you an apologetic glance as he left. You only shook your head at him, smiling.

You took a brief glance around the room, noticing a few debutantes conversing near you. You sent them a smile, but they sneered in reply and closed ranks. Stunned at their response, you didn't quite know what to do.

"They can be rather mean," you turned to find a young red-headed woman beside you. "Not to mention jealous," she said helpfully.

"Jealous?" You were confused. They hadn't even met you. "Of me?"

"Oh, yes," she laughed a bit. "Haven't you read Lady Whistledown?"

You were embarrassed to have no idea of what she spoke, "I haven't met her. Is she in attendance?" That got an even greater laugh from your companion.

"Lady Whistledown is a gossip columnist and a rather popular one at that," she informed you, and you felt foolish for your last comment. "She wrote about you in her latest issue."

"Really?" You were stunned, as you'd only recently arrived in London.

"She predicted you'd steal the attentions of every available gentleman away from your fellow debutants," she nodded.

"No wonder they hate me," you sighed, sorry to have made a bad impression on the debutants before making their acquaintance. "Oh, I'm sorry, I still haven't introduced myself!" You were eager to make at least one good first impression.

"I'm Penelope Featherington," she said with a smile.

"I must admit, Miss Featherington," you shook your head, "I think Lady Whistledown's prediction will prove incorrect." She tilted her head and gestured for you to go on, "I've not been approached by a single gentleman."

Penelope took a quick look around the room, accidentally meeting a few pairs of eyes. Plenty of people had already been looking in your direction. She smiled a bit at your obliviousness, "I think perhaps they're just intimidated."

"Oh no," your eyes widened, "have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all," she assured you, "I think it's just... no one wants to take the first shot at a great stag and miss."

"I'm not sure I like being prey in this metaphor," you deadpanned, causing her to laugh once again.

It seemed one young gentleman mustered the courage to be the first to approach, and he really was young. "Good evening, ladies," he greeted you both, then offered you his hand, "would you care to dance?"

You placed your hand lightly in his but sent Penelope a look as he led you off. She giggled as you went. From there, you were off to the races. Dance after dance, gentleman after gentleman, you were exhausted.

"Please excuse me, sir, I'm feeling rather parched," you did not even recall this one's name.

"Oh no, please, my lady, I shall fetch a beverage for you," he nodded, "stay right there! Don't move!" He kept eye contact with you as he walked backward a few paces. You couldn't help but walk backward away from him, and you continued to do so even after he'd scurried off.

In fact, you retreated so far back that you retreated right into someone else's back. You both turned.

“You rather love bumping into me,” the gentleman you’d seen earlier said.

“Excuse me?” You certainly hadn’t seen him before this morning, so you had no idea what he meant by that smart comment. Your offense at his statement outweighed the sway of his good looks, unlike earlier.

“This makes twice,” he insisted, “once chasing after your ravens and once just now.”

It took you a second to catch up, “It was you I knocked over in the park earlier?!” Embarrassment rolled over you like a wave. “Oh God,” this was awful, “I am so incredibly sorry. Truly, I am mortified. And I would have apologized earlier, I-“

He only laughed a bit, “It’s quite alright. I got the sense you were in a rush.” His teasing tone brought a smile to your face.

“They’re usually so well-behaved,” you assured him, “I’m afraid my sister was behind the debacle.”

“Oh, yes, she was sitting with Hyacinth, was she not?”

“You know Miss Hyacinth?”

The gentleman grinned and bowed, “Benedict Bridgerton, her brother.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you smiled, “officially.”

“I’m not sure I caught your name,” right as he asked, you heard it being called.

“My lady?” You whipped around, and spotted the gentleman you’d abandoned searching for you. Wincing, you scuttled toward the closest pillar and ducked behind it. Benedict stayed put, but watched you run off with great amusement. After a moment, he chose to follow you.

“Are you hiding?” He teasingly asked.

You peered around the pillar, hoping the man had walked away. When you saw he hadn’t, you ducked away again, “yes!”

Benedict blinked at you, smiling, “Why?”

“My feet hurt,” you confessed, “I have danced every dance. I haven’t sat down in hours. Frankly, I’m surprised so many are interested after my jaunt through the park.”

“Perhaps they were impressed by your display of athleticism,” a crooked grin crossed his face. You leveled him with a look.

“There you are, my lady,” you jolted at the foreign voice, and Benedict had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “I could not find you, so I’m afraid I drank your lemonade as well,” you could see Benedict’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Are you ready for our next dance?”

A look of pure horror must have crossed your face, because Benedict finally intervened, “I’m afraid she’s promised the next dance to me.” He pulled a pencil from a pocket in his jacket and outstretched one hand to you. You held out the arm your dance card was attached to, “In fact, I’ve very generously been granted all her remaining dances.” He winked at you as he filled in the four remaining spots. You fought off a grin.

“I see,” the man you interrupted you said sourly. He turned on his heel and marched away. Neither you nor Benedict could stop your laughter at his reaction.

“It is not my intention to further burden your feet,” he assured you after a moment, “I only hoped to dissuade him.”

“You did a fine job,” you grinned at him, “you have my gratitude.”

“I think I rather scandalized him,” Benedict chuckled, and you shook your head.

“It seems rather easy to scandalize this lot,” you said.

“Well, you’re right about that,” he nodded.

You sighed, “I think they’re all so concerned with presenting themselves as proper and important they forget to consider anyone else. Not one man I danced with asked me about myself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Benedict shook his head, “I hope the rest of your evening is more relaxing.”

“Thank you,” you nodded at him, “at the very least, I know my dogs will listen to me when I return to them.”

Benedict laughed at that and slightly bowed towards you again, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, my lady. I hope to bump into you again soon.”

Your eyes widened, “Maybe not bump.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled at you and nodded before leaving you free to go find somewhere to sit.

Soon enough, you father found you relaxing on a chaise lounge in a nearby study. He only shook his head, and offered you his arm to depart.

——————————————

The next morning brought with it house calls. You’d been hoping to spend a quiet morning working on a new piece for the harp, as you’d forgone practice the day before. But, much to your chagrin, you were forced to dress and be presentable within only ten minutes of your waking.

It didn’t take long for the sitting room to be bombarded with interested parties, though none were interested enough to truly speak with you. Each brought with him a new bouquet of flowers, and you soon grew worried you’d start sneezing uncontrollably. Eventually, you became so overwhelmed that you bribed poor Abigail to keep them occupied while you disappeared.

The only question she had for you was if you cared what she did to them. You’d given her free rein. With one look at her wicked grin, you fled the room.

Quickly turning the corner to another hallway, you quite nearly crashed into someone.

“That was almost three,” Benedict joked with you.

“Almost,” you highlighted, “but only a close call.”

“True,” he nodded.

"What brings you here?"

Benedict smiled, "I had hoped to call on you. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Not at all," you shook your head jovially.

"Excellent! I brought a gift," he produced a brown paper bag. You were slightly confused but glad for something other than flowers.

"Thank you," you reached for it, but he pulled it back.

"Not for you," he shook his head. You blinked back at him, wide-eyed. "Unless you have a proclivity for raw steak." Benedict laughed at the shock on your face, "I thought Huginn and Muninn might enjoy a treat."

A surprised smile eased onto your face. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at him, "I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Do you think they might also appreciate a walk in the park?" He asked, "A chance at redemption?"

"I think they'd like that," you grinned widely as Benedict smiled and offered you his arm.

---------------------------------------------------------

He didn't ask a single question! And he was wearing these- FUGLY jeans

Lol I've been toying with this idea since S3 part 1 came out, hope you liked it! I let her live in 2005 Mr. Darcy's luxurious mansion so you're welcome

(sorry for obscure norse mythology references)

[obsessed-with-stardew]

His Hoodie

You looked cold so Sebastian let you borrow his hoodie, he didn’t know how much he’d like seeing you in it.

Sebastian xF!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names

Wc: 3530

It’s another Friday night at the Stardrop Saloon. You’re in your usual spot, next to Abigail on the couch, in the game room watching Sebastian school Sam at pool like always.

“Top left pocket,” Sebastian calls his final shot.

“No way you can sink that, man!” Sam said.

Sebastian catches your eye as he carefully lines up his shot, and with a wink he sinks the 8-ball.

Sam groans “argh you’re too good, it’s not fair!”

Sebastian chuckles softly, “Fine, fine. Y/n, are you any good at pool?”

“Um I mean I’ve played before but I’ve never claimed to be good… why?” You ask.

“Let’s say I’m evening the playing field,” Seb says with a grin.

“Hey two against one isn’t even,” Sam complains.

“Think of it this way Sam, I’m teaching y/n so if you beat us, you’re beating me and showing what a bad teacher I am.”

“Alright… just this once” Sam says.

The game starts just fine, Seb breaks. Expertly sinking two balls off the bat.

“We’re solids, y/n. That means don’t sink the stripes” Seb teases.

You blush, “I know the basics.”

You asses the table, choosing your path. You lean down, hoping to at least hit the ball. Sebastian’s breath catches. Sure he’s been attracted to you since you first moved into Pelican Town, but seeing your jeans perfectly molded to your ass as you bend over the table… the things he’d do to you if you were alone.

Seb says “Sorry I couldn’t tell you knew which ball to hit by the way you line up your shot” he chuckles. “Here, can I help?”

He leans down behind you. You can feel his breath on your ear ask he skates his hand down your forearm to adjust your hold.

“You gotta grip it a little tighter, you’re in control here,” he whispers into your ear.

It’s only with his body pressed to yours, his hand guiding your own, that you realize how phallic a pool cue can be. He must realize it too, because you feel something firm pressing against your ass.

*cough cough* Sam clears his throat.

“Today you two!” Abigail laughs.

You blush as Sebastian cooly straightens and runs his fingers through his dark hair.

“You got this y/n” he says encouragingly.

You take the shot and make it.

“Woah I actually made it!” You shout, bouncing up and turning to Seb. The joy on your face makes his heart flutter.

Sam sighs, “well this isn’t gonna be as easy as I thought”.

“I’ll grab the next round, you guys keep playing” you say.

After you return with the drinks the game and the jokes flow easily.

You make a few shots and miss a few too, with Seb encouraging or laughing it off with you.

“Middle right!” Sam calls the last ball.

He lines up his shot

He shoots

It misses.

“Oof, tough break bud” Abigail says.

“Awh sorry Sam, looks like it’s not your night,” Seb teases. “Y/n, you’re up.”

You choke on your drink, “Seb I thought it was your turn??”

He smiles at you, “nah, you’ve been doing so well for me. I think you deserve to finish this.”

You try to keep your cool, leaning over the table.

“Just breathe, you got this.” Seb says, it’s meant to be encouraging for you but it doubles as an attempt to control his hard on. The way you’re leaning, he can just glimpse your black lacy bra down your shirt.

“Top left,” you call the pocket.

With Seb’s encouragement warming in your chest, you loose your shot. The tip of the pool cue hits the ball perfectly, sinking the 8-ball right where you wanted it.

“Hey we did it!” You bounce up and pull Sebastian into a hug. He stiffens at the sudden contact and you let go blushing.

“Way to go y/n, now I guess I’ll be bench warming all by my lonesome” Abigail scoffs

“Maybe you should try playing some time Abby,” Sam says.

“Oh fuck off sam, you just want to win for once,” Abigail said.

“Think you can take me??” Sam asks.

Seb leans over towards you, “they could be at this for awhile, want to join me for a smoke break?”

You nod and follow him out of the saloon.

Seb leans against the side of the building, pulls out his pack of cigs and offers one to you.

You take it, happy to have something warm you up on this cool spring night. Seb flicks on his lighter and you lean in to light to up. You look so beautiful in the light from the flame, your eyes hooded, focusing on getting your cig lit then they flicker up at him, catching his gaze. Time slows as his can see your lips wrapped around his cock instead of that dainty cigarette. He blinks, releasing the flame. Relishing that he can hide his blush in the darkness. As he lights his own cig, you fall into a similar daze. Watching his fingers expertly flick on the flame, illuminating his face so full of focus. Your mind drifts to what that focus and those fingers could do to you. The thoughts make you shiver.

“Oh shit, y/n, are you cold?” Sebastian ask.

“Huh? What?” You shake yourself out of your daze.

“Here hold this” he hands you his cigarette and begins to take off his hoodie.

“Oh now you don’t need to…” your words trail off as Sebastian pulls the hoodie over his head. It takes some of his shirt with it, revealing his stomach and a hint of hair at his waist line in the moonlight. You take a drag on your cig to try and refocus yourself.

“Trade me,” Seb says as he holds the hoodie out towards you. Passing him the cigarettes, you pull the hoodie on. It’s still warm and smells like him, a mix of smoke, cedar and something spicy.

“I think our cigs got swapped at some point, this one is maybe yours?” He says handing it back over.

You giggle, “it doesn’t really matter, we were bound to swap saliva eventually.” You say as you lean up against the wall next to him.

He turns to face you, “oh really? And how is that?”

“Oh, um well, you know..” you stammer. “Like sharing drinks and stuff…”

“And stuff?” Seb teases.

You take a drag and blow your smoke in his face, causing him to cough and laugh. You start to laugh too, then Sebastian’s hand grabs your wrist, pulling you to him. With his other hand he tilts your chin up so your eyes meet, he can see the Cherry of his cig reflected in your blown out pupils. A dead giveaway that you want him as much as he wants you.

“Stuff like….” Seb drawls, leaning down to brush your lips with his own. “this?” He murmurs against your mouth just before capturing it with a kiss. You let out a soft moan, as you part your lips to deepen the kiss. You pull lightly on his full bottom lip with your teeth and he lets out a low groan, dropping your wrist and grabbing your waist to pull your body flush against his. Just as you begin to deepen the kiss the door to the saloon swings open and you hear your friends turning the corner. The two of you jump back, sucking desperately at your cigs to try and act natural.

“Oh there you guys are!” Sam says.

“Sam thought you would’ve snuck off to the woods or something,” Abigail laughs.

“Nah, we’re just enjoying the air” Seb says, hoping his voice sounds calm even though his pulse is hammering so hard he’s sure everyone can hear it.

“Yep, love me some air” You say a little breathlessly, shooting Seb a small smile.

Abigail and Sam share a look that says they are all too aware of what they interrupted.

“…anyway, I’m headed home. Seb, you ready to head out?” Abigail asks.

Shit, Sebastian got so swept up in you he completely forgot he’d promised to walk Abby home. She may have a tough exterior, but after her first trip to the mines, the darkness makes her jumpy.

“Yeah, um let me just finish this cig. “ he says.

“Oh, here you probably need this back,” you say, “I know how cold the walk up to the mountains can be.”

You start to wriggle out of his hoodie.

Seb places a hand on your arm, halting you movement. You look up at him.

“I think you need it more than I do tonight,” he says with a small smile.

“Well I’m off,” Sam says. “Bye you guys!”

“Alright Abby, let’s head out.” Seb says, “see ya later Sam… bye y/n.” His hand lingers on your arm for just a moment before he steps back and heads out with Abby.

You sigh, take a final drag on your cigarette and turn for the farm. You’re grateful for the warm hoodie, but you wish it was Seb walking you back to your house. You imagine him pushing you up against the wall the second you walk through the door. kissing you until you’re both panting and breathless. But it’s just you, alone on the farm.

You get ready for bed, keeping the hoodie and the smell of him on your body. As you snuggle into bed, you fantasize the he’s there with you. You grab your breasts and tease your nipples, thinking of his fingers pulling them and his mouth sucking on one and then the other…

~*~meanwhile, outside Abigail’s house~*~

Shit shit shit, Seb thinks. He just realized he left his house key in the pocket of his hoodie. He could wake up Maru or his mom but he always hates how they look at him coming home late, smelling like smoke.

Y/n probably just took the hoodie off when she got home and left it on that coat rack by the door. He could just slip in and grab the key and you wouldn’t have to know.

The thought of sneaking into y/n’s house while she’s asleep gives Seb a dirty thrill. He feels his cock stiffen as his mind floats to naughty thoughts of ways he could wake you up. He was so wrapped up in his fantasy the walk was over before it had begun. The farm really was so peaceful at night, he’d never noticed how beautiful y/n kept it. It’s almost as calming as the lake in the mountains.

“You don’t even know if she likes you like that Seb, stop imagining a life here,” he scolds himself, walking up to the door.

Reaching his hand up to brush the top of the door frame, he finds the key you keep ‘hidden’. Locking the door always makes you feel safe, but you also want your friends to be able to come by anytime they need.

He fits the key into the lock, turns it quietly and slips into the darkness of your home. Pulling out his phone flashlight, Seb searches the coat rack for any sign of the hoodie, with no luck. Maybe you took it off in your bedroom… he quietly walks down the hallway. Hearing a noise, he halts. Was that sound really what he thinks it was? He hears another little whimper.

“Yes, Sebby yes,” you moan quietly.

His heart hammers in his chest and his cock hardens painfully.

“Is this really happening?? Is y/n really touching herself while thinking about me??” Seb thinks.

He palms his hard length through his tight jeans letting out a small hiss of air between his teeth. Before he can stop himself, Seb peers into your bedroom. He sees you, glowing in the moonlight wearing only his hoodie. One hand clutching your breast and the other moving carefully between your legs. You’re so lost in the action, you don’t notice him enter the room.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you’re such a needy girl aren’t you y/n,” Seb says in a low, barely audible voice.

“mmmmm I need you sebby” You moan, thinking his voice was in your head. Wait…. That was most definitely not in your head. Your movement stops and your eyes shoot open to find Sebastian casually leaning against your doorframe.

“Don’t stop on my account sweetheart,” he drawls taking a few steps into the room. “Unless you want some help with that?”

You’re stunned into silence. Is this really happening? You’re open your mouth to reply, but quickly close it. You sit up and grab at your sheets to cover you, praying he can’t see your flushed face in the moonlight.

“Don’t get all shy on me now baby,” Sebastian croons, making his way to the edge of your bed.

“Wha-what are you doing here Seb??” You stammer.

He huffs out a laugh and sits down next to you.

“Awh, what happened to Sebby? I think I like when you moan it out of that pretty little mouth.”

He leans in capturing your lips with his own as his hand reaches into the hoodie pocket.

“Woah wha-?” You pull away with a start as you feel his hand brush your stomach through the fabric. He pulls his hand out and you see something flash between his fingers. A key.

“I realized I left this in there after I got to Abby’s,” Seb says, “And instead of dealing with Maru I figured I’d slip in here and grab the key from the coat rack.”

He twirls the key in his fingers, watching you squirm under the covers. He laughs, “Imagine my surprise to find you wearing only my hoodie while you moan out my name.”

Grabbing your hand, Seb gently guides you to feel his hard bulge through his jeans.

“Ahhh” he sighs at the contact, “See what you do to me y/n?”

You let out a whimper, biting your lip.

“And to find out you’re so needy for me, that’s just an extra treat.” He says, his voice low and gravely.

Sebastian shifts quickly to straddle you, grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them above you as he cups your chin with the other.

“How bout you be a good girl and let me take care of you, y/n?”

You nod vigorously and he leans in to press a punishing kiss to your lips. You both moan as he presses his bulge to your dripping pussy. His hands begin to roam your body, grabbing at your breasts and your hips. You reach down to grab the hem of the hoodie but Sebastian grabs your wrist and presses a kiss to it.

“No,” he says, his eyes dark. “Keep it on. I like seeing you in it.”

Your heart flutters and you caress his face.

“Anything for you Sebby,” you say.

At the sound of the nickname falling from your lips, Seb feels himself losing control. He would do anything to hear you cry out his name.

He leans back taking you in, hoodie bunched up around your waist, chest heaving and pussy glistening. All for him. Sebastian knows he should take it slow, savoring and exploring your body. But you’re both so ready any more foreplay would feel like torture.

He crawls out of bed, and unbuttons his pants. You’re practically drooling watching him pull off his dark tshirt and black jeans. Seb’s dark boxer briefs fight to restrain his erection. Then those are on the floor too. His hard cock springs out, and you shudder in a breath looking at him. Have you ever seen a boy as beautiful as Sebastian? His pale skin shining in the moonlight. He slowly strokes his cock, letting you watch him.

“You’re so beautiful Sebby,” you tell him softly.

He huffs out a rough chuckle, “You’re one to talk sweetheart”.

He climbs back on top of you. You pull him down for a kiss, tongues twining as you lose yourselves in the others mouth. You arch your back, pressing your body into him. His cock brushes your soaked pussy. He pulls back from the kiss on shaky arms.

“Are you sure you want to do this y/n? If we do this, I don’t think I can go back. I don’t think we can just be friends anymore. I’ll want all of you.” Sebastian says, looking intently into your eyes.

“Fuck being friends,” you say, “I’ve wanted to be yours since I first saw you.”

He groans, pushing the head of his aching cock between your wet, waiting folds.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” Seb says as he eases into you. Just the tip, letting you adjust to the size of him and allowing him to get his bearings so he doesn’t blow this moment by cumming the instant he feels you clench around him.

He takes a shaky breath and continues to push into you, stopping only when he is fully sheathed inside of you.

“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes out. “So good and tight for me aren’t you sweet girl”

You moan and he can feel your walls clench his cock. He pulls out almost to the tip, then slams back into you.

“My good girl, so wet and ready for me” Seb says between thrusts. “You are my good girl aren’t you?” He asks.

You’re so lost in pleasure you don’t register that he’s waiting for a response. Seb reaches out and wraps his long fingers lightly around your throat. Your eyes snap up to his, you’ve never been choked in bed before.

He pushes in all the way then stills “You have to answer me baby.” Seb says, watching you with dark eyes.

“Y-yes, I’m your good girl Sebby,” you murmur, wriggling your hips.

Seb chuckles and applies a little more pressure to your throat. You moan in response and he rewards you by starting to fuck you again in earnest.

“Next time we’ll take things slower baby” he huffs, “I’ll fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.” Seb groans, his pace getting sloppier. “I’ll eat your perfect pussy until you come on my tongue.”

You cry out, eyes closing as you succumb to the pleasure.

“No no baby,” he coos, “I need to see your eyes as you come for me”.

You blink open your eyes, taking in the sight of Seb’s lean frame towering over you. Sebastian’s eyes bore into yours, so full of lust and hunger.

“Seb-sebby,” You moan “I’m gonna cum!”

His intense features break into a grin, “That’s my good girl, cum all over my cock sweetheart”.

And with that Sebastian follows you over the edge, thrusting deep into you as he spills into your pussy. His arms give out and he falls onto your chest with a huff. You giggle, nuzzling his head. Seb jerks a bit, and groans.

“What is it Seb?” You ask.

He lets out a chuckle, “I can feel you laughing”.

You giggle again, and he buries his face in your chest. “It feels good I hope?” You ask.

“Fuck baby, it feels too good,” Seb says looking up at you with a grin.

He pushes back up on he elbows, and with a hiss pulls out of you. You let out a little whine, feeling empty without him inside you.

Seb laughs shaking his head, “You really are insatiable, aren’t you?”

He sits back, admiring how lucky he is. The girl he’s thought about while alone in his own bed, now sprawled out before him. Your beautiful fucked out expression, his cum leaking out of your perfect pussy. Seb leans forward and with two fingers starts gently scooping his cum back into you.

“Mmmmm” you moan, “Whatcha doin down there Sebby?” You ask with a shiver.

He looks up at you with a bashful smile, “Just didn’t want to waste any of it,” he says as he pushes his fingers into your overly sensitive hole.

You gasp as Sebastian curls his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that drives you crazy. He pumps them in and out of you in a lazy pace, watching you whimper. Seb brushes his thumb against your clit causing you to tense.

“Shhh baby, just relax” he says rubbing your thigh with his free hand. “You didn’t think I’d give my sweet girl just one orgasm did you?”

You let out a groan as Seb slowly pushes another finger into you. He fingers you lazily, skillfully drawing out your second orgasm. After bring you back down from your high, seb slides his fingers out of you and slips them into his mouth.

“We taste pretty good together baby,” he says with a wink. You can’t move, so entranced watching him clean your combined mess off of his fingers.

“C’mon sweet girl,” he says extending his hand, “Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.”

You follow his to the bathroom, “Wait so does that mean…” you trail off.

“What? You think I’d take this good care of you to let you sleep alone?” He asks with a grin.

[sinsydia]

Do you have any headcanons for Sebastian's tattoos?

Yes! In total 13.

1. weird smiley face where the nose was a mole (his right side of ribcage) that Sam tattooed. 2. A butterfly. Abigail tattooed this one.

3. D20 dice mostly dedicated to Sam and their nights playing DnD. :3

4. "Farmer" tattoo. 5. Krobus. 6. synthesizer keyboard. 7. junimo tattoo. 8. A witch.

9. frog with a wizard hat.

10. upside down umbrella filled with rain water and a frog peeking out of the collected water with a rain cloud above it.

11. A tattoo dedicated to one of his favorite movies: Mysterium

12. He has a back tattoo dedicated to the mountains.

13. And finally, a robin. Dedicated to his mum :3

Thanks for asking! Here's a sebastian/sam/abigail at zuzu tattoo shop to go along with your ask 🖤

[cloverfarm]

— read you like a book

sdv!harvey x f!reader

rated e - 5k

Tags: gentledom/service!dom harvey, mutual pining/ yearning, mention of alcohol, flirting, kissing, begging, teasing, body worship, oral sex, vaginal fingering, implied squirting, multiple orgasms

A/N: had the thought that Harvey would know just how to take care of you, and wanted to explore that idea (and still deep in my Harvey-is-a-dirty-talker era)

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” Harvey rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

“I was thinking-,” A finger slips beneath the band, testing the elastic. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

(Or - Harvey overhears about your past lackluster experiences, and can’t help wanting to lend a hand)

There’s the clack of pool balls colliding in your corner of the Stardrop Saloon. The jaunty piano music muted, your fingers wrapping around a sweat-dewed glass.

A late-night Friday evening, the conversation already turning debauched as your off-handed remark of feeling frustrated was quickly misinterpreted and took another turn. Spiraling away from you, with their overlapping ideas.

Your nose crinkling with a suggestion to use the community board, one that has them bent-over with laughter - you could only imagine the shock at seeing such a message.

Help Wanted: Farmer looking to get ploughed. Used to getting a little dirty. If interested, please call…

“Could use an app. Been a while, but I used to do that.” Shane’s wiggles his phone at you, keying in the website for FerngillFlings. Flashing the front page at you, all while you try to ignore the clench of jealousy that flares to life in your stomach.

Sam leans over you, squinting at the screen, “You can’t tell me that works. Your matches come all the way out here?”

“Sure do.” Shane’s shoulder lifts in a shrug, from where his arm rests on the couch behind you. “Haven’t heard any complaints.”

The double-innuendo isn’t missed, your tongue poking into your cheek as your head shakes in exasperation.

“Haven’t heard, or haven’t listened?” Abigail shoots back with a smirk, and he rolls his eyes at her in response.

“Any matches from here?” You can’t help but ask, glancing sideways at him in curiosity.

He slumps a little further in his seat, knee knocking against yours, “Wouldn’t you like to know, farm girl?”

Thick fingers curl around the can before it lifts it to his lips, hiding his own smirk as you stiffen beside him.

Shane infuriated you. Always teasing, never answering a question directly. Deflecting a sly comment with a dry one of his own, until you weren’t sure where you stood with him.

You’d given up a while ago.

Your heart now quite taken with another.

“I think we’d all like to know.” Abigail chimes in, and you send a grin her way.

“I thought we were still talking about Miss Grange Queen?”

Your look turns apologetic - you know Pierre has been prepping all week as well - but she brushes it off, “I don’t care. Honestly, I hope you win this year. But he is right…”

A chipped polished nail taps her lip, before she fixes you with a look of concern, “When was the last time you got laid?”

The gulping swallow of your drink goes down wrong, making you splutter. A solid hand thumps you on the back, as your palm swipes across your mouth.

“What?” You manage, through watery eyes.

“Okay, we definitely gotta know.” The hand still rests against you, pinned against the plush cushion of the couch. Fingers tapping expectantly between your shoulders.

Yoba almighty.

You know they won’t back down. Even Sam lingers, eyebrows raised as his hip rests against the edge of the pool table.

“It’s been… a while.” You hedge, glancing around the room before you can answer. Voice lowering - not worried about the bar, it’s too far away.

More concerned about the booth that sits just across the room. Occupied when you arrived - your gaze flicking to Elliot often as he had sat alone, waiting.

Knowing who would be coming - a little flip in your stomach with Harvey arrived late, red-cheeked from the run, the novel pinched between his fingers.

You thought it was cute. Their little weekly book club. On another night you would have hoped to eavesdrop - figure out what the choice was for this month.

“You talking weeks? Months?” Sam asks, ignoring the glare from Sebastian, the hip check that follows - indicating his turn.

“Pre-farm,” Your head shakes, “Two years, maybe?”

“Years?” Abigail screeches, as your eyes widen - a hand coming to press unconsciously against a burning cheek.

Unable to help the sidelong look at the table across the way. The heat in your cheek rising to your ears when your eyes meet hazel ones, before you’re dropping your gaze.

“It’s not worth it,” You try to rein them in, all but pleading, “It’s not like it’s all that satisfying either, you know?”

“You mean you don’t…?” Abigail suggests - looking at you dubiously, and even Sebastian is turning to give you a pitying look.

“I mean… sometimes, I guess?” Your shoulder lifts, and then drops, “It’s not a big deal.”

You could get there yourself just fine. Have certainly managed, with your current dry spell. Before, you sometimes would afterwards - alone - easing the unresolved pleasure that licks in your belly.

But you’re sure it wasn’t the same as having someone there with you. Having their focus so solely on you.

It’s not something you’re about to explain. This has gotten too deep. You’re used to the tales of Shane’s old one night stands. The occasional complexities that come from Sam and Abigail both dating the same person, but these talks rarely focus on you.

“What kind of guys are you fucking?” Shane asks bluntly, making you gasp.

“Normal guys.” You hiss, “Besides, it’s probably just me.”

Taking a sip of your drink then to deflect, the sharp flavor making you cough.

“You don’t starfish, do you?” Sam pipes up, helpfully.

It has you almost choking again.

Shane smirks, “Maybe it is you, Farm Girl. Should have someone here take a look-”

You miss the end of his comment with the sudden, loud scrape of wood. Heads turning to where Harvey half-stands, his chair pushed back. Staring your way, with lips parted and brow furrowed.

“You got something to say, Doc?” Shane scoffs, his voice a little too loud.

Harvey blinks, and reddens. Coming back to himself, a sharp click of teeth as they close - swiping his half-full glass from the table.

Mumbling something about needing a refill - before his head is dipping, and he makes towards the bar.

Your eyes follow him, before your hand is scrubbing over your face - the heels pressing into your eye sockets. And finally, mercifully, the subject is changed, a collective groan as Sam accidently knocks two stripes in the corner pockets.

But even as the evening fades - you can’t quite shake Harvey’s expression from your mind.

The air is cool, hinting at the coming frost. Your jacket shrugged on as you step outside, before plunking down on the cobblestone path outside of the Stardrop.

It’s dark, late. The scattered streetlights outside offering pockets of the town, the rest cast in hazy shadow.

There’s a flare of light to your side. Sebastian sneaking out for his smoke break, now that Robyn and Demetrius have called it a night. You sometimes go with him, keeping silent company.

Content to let your legs dangle, to listen to the croak and groan of the frogs near the river. To let your mind wander.

Tonight though, it’s still so singularly focused.

You don’t feel embarrassed about what you said, only that he overheard it. Harvey had so much of his life together - surely a man who was there to discuss books and drink wine would not want to spent his evening listening to the lewd gossip of folks younger than him.

What if he took your words to heart, and thought you were not interested? What if he thought you weren’t good? A sigh to yourself then, as you pull yourself together with a reminder. Not that he thinks anything of you.

But… you admit that you had hoped.

It’s only now that you hear voices just down the path, two friends bidding goodbye. That shade of green you’ve come to associate with Harvey has your ears pricking up - catching where they linger, near the park benches.

Bravery steeling itself, in your belly.

“I’m gonna head out,” You hear yourself saying, as you push to your feet, “I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Sebastian asks, with a smoky exhale.

“Yeah.” It’s distracted. Giving him a wave, just as you skirt around the door that opens behind you.

Missing the pair of eyes that follow you as you leave.

Too far out of earshot to hear the murmured words, as he exhales another held drag from his cigarette, “You’re missing your chance, man.”

And then the answer, growled out as Shane’s hands shove deep into the pockets of his well-worn jacket.

“Never had one.”

“Harvey!” You call out, as he splits from his companion.

Missing how Elliot settles amongst the trio of benches, his book cracking open to finish the chapter under the streetlight.

Harvey lingers, in the middle of the cobblestone path. His expression almost wary, your explanation coming in a rush.

“I am sorry if we made you uncomfortable.” Your hands clasp together, fingers twisting, “We should’ve been more considerate. You and Elliot were there first.”

His expression clears at that, a slight mark between his eyebrows. He’s tall, you’re realizing. Not that you didn’t know, not that you haven’t stood next to him on occasion.

But your heart had never quite pounded like this, never so acutely aware of your proximity - too used to the barrier of the counter in his office.

“No, uh, not at all. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” Harvey clarifies, his voice soft, “I certainly didnt mean to try to interrupt. I’m afraid that was rude of me.”

His answer sends your mind careening into overdrive. Not quite taking his half-hearted excuse earlier, but too wrapped up in your embarrassment to truly process it.

That has you thinking - realizing that he had some sort of intention. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, unable to help but wonder.

“Can I ask you something?” Your eyes search his, voice quiet in the night, “You don’t have to answer.”

The slight curve of his lips fall, an almost uneasy look passing his features - though he does not deny you, “If you’d like.”

“What were you going to say?” You ask him “Back in the bar. You can tell me, I won’t tell anyone.”

Your words hang, for a moment. And then silence, enveloped by the soft sounds of the night.

“Oh.” He hedges, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “It’s, ah… it’s just a shame.”

Your eyebrows lift, worry flooding through you as you wonder what he means.

“That you haven’t had a more… positive experience.” He finishes lamely.

The worry transforms, turning into a heated curiosity.

“Why would it be a shame?”

The shade of pink deepens across his cheeks, hidden in the shadows. A finger unconsciously hooking around his collar and tugging.

“Because there’s no reason satisfaction can’t be mutually inclusive,” He manages, “From uh, the point of view of a medical professional.”

Your lips press together to hide your laugh, charmed by his careful answer, “How I wish that were true.”

And that had him fixing on you, catching you in the brunt of his gaze, “It could be. Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

It makes your breath catch. That hope flaring to life again. Reading into his meaning, daring yourself to ask, “Is that right? You know anyone around here?”

Only to watch the way his face goes carefully blank - his words slow, “I’m sure… I’m sure you don’t need my help to find out.”

It’s hard not to feel disappointed. Hoping that there was an offer, woven into his words. The bit you had clung to leaves you, with the next exhale of your breath.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Your smile is small. Deflecting with a joke, because it’s all you know, “I don’t starfish, by the way. If you heard that part.”

He huffs a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I didn’t think you did.”

The look he gives you is at odds with his hesitance in answering. A soft, amused smile that makes your heart flip.

Yoba, you have it bad.

“Goodnight, Harvey.” You smile back - intent on ending the night before you make it worse, “And, thank you.”

His answer echos yours, his feet firmly rooted as you disappear into the night. Silence lingering under the soft glow of the street lamp, as his mind races.

“If you were looking for an invitation, old friend,” An amused voice comes from the benches - where Elliot still sits, his book long forgotten.

“That was it.”

The television blares as you stretch out on the couch - intent on unwinding a bit further, after a long day. Immediately stripping down to your loungewear as soon as you stepped in the door, cracking a window to let in the autumn air.

Your head rests on a pillow, an old quilt pulled haphazardly around your hips as you watch a rerun of The Queen of Sauce - something that fortunately required little attention.

Because your mind is occupied elsewhere, thinking back to the square with both chagrin and disappointment. Hoping that maybe Harvey had drank more wine than you thought - that maybe he wouldn’t remember how you all but threw yourself at him.

Gentleman that he is, he probably just wouldn’t bring it up in the first place. You don’t know if that’s more preferable, or less - perhaps you owe him yet another apology.

A timid knock at the door draws your attention, your feet silent as you slip from the couch. You really should move it - giving yourself a view of the small, narrow porch. Maybe installing another light outside.

But this was Pelican Town, you remind yourself - you’re not in the big city anymore. It was probably Abigail, not wanting to head home yet.

For now, you move to the door, pausing to shrug on the worn, plaid barn coat that hangs by the door, buttoning it in an last-minute attempt at modesty.

Your hand on the frame of the door as you crack the front door open, close enough to grab the old wooden bat you have tucked next to the rickety side table.

Eyes going wide when you realize who it is.

Harvey. His face half-turned away, looking like he’s second-guessing himself from your delay - half-way ready to book it down the steps that lead to the packed dirt road.

“Hi again,” You nudge the door open wider, leaning against the frame.

He turns back, surprise crossing his features again when he sees you. Eyes dipping down, snagging - slowly dragging back up over the bare skin of your legs, the low dip of the collar, as if he has forgotten himself for a moment.

“Hi.” He answers belatedly, blinking as he comes back into the present.

You wait a beat for him to explain, for any sort of sign as to why he’s here. Wondering why he travelled all the way in near-darkness, you knew more than anyone what a trek it could be.

And he must realize, because he blinks again, worry pulling down the edges of his brows, a small crease appearing in the middle.

“I-, well, Elliot-,” Harvey begins, throwing a thumb over his shoulder into the darkness, his other hand still clutching the book from the Saloon. Starting over when he realizes he’s making zero sense, “Back, in the square.”

His lips pressing together for a moment, an inhale of breath before the words rush out, “Am I misreading this?”

An emphasis on ‘this’, a small gesture with his fingers between the two of you. It makes you smile, relief flooding through you - enough to where you’re reaching out, tapping a fingernail against the solid cover of the book.

“I think you’re reading this just fine.” Your head tilts up to look him in the eye, seeing the relief on his own features as well, “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” He breathes, and you’re stepping aside with a smile - taking his book from him to rest on the little side table.

Hanging his moss-green jacket on your one good hanger by the door, showing him where to put his shoes.

Steps that make the floorboards creak because he doesn’t know which ones to avoid - not yet - as he lets you guide him to the couch. Carefully sitting on the middle cushion, the sharp, white starch of his dress shirt standing out against the worn, rust-orange fabric.

Your own feet following until you’re standing in from of him. Not quite believing, as your face tilts down to meet the upturned angle of his own.

Harvey was here.

The man who got more than a little bossy with you when you came in to the clinic with a bad scrape, or a cold. Who always has a smile, who listened intently when you keep him up to date about the new crops you’re growing, even though he knows nothing about farming.

Who you never had let yourself daydream about too often, because he had always kept you at arms length. You had always thought it was part of his profession, or that perhaps he just didn’t see you like that.

Like he’s looking at you now - like you’ve hung the stars.

You really want to kiss him.

You hope he’ll let you.

Slowly, like when you’re approaching a new calf, you move toward him. The slight, automatic spread of his knees as you step between them, before your own knees are bending.

Hands resting on the wooden frame of couch as you lower yourself - until you’re straddling his thighs, bare knees pressing into the worn cushions on either side.

“This okay?” You ask, close enough to smell a hint of his aftershave, the solid weight of him beneath you.

Hands that slide from their place at his side, up the curve of your calves, until they’re resting on the bare expanse of your thighs.

“Yes.” The word comes out low, fingers pressing against your skin as your own drop to the thick buttons of your coat, slowly working each one open.

Until you’re shrugging the fabric off to pool on the wooden floor - all bare arms and legs beneath in your too-large t-shirt, a pair of cotton underwear.

About to apologize for your choice in clothing - never actually expecting to take someone home - but the hands rise, cradling your face as he tips it to meet his.

A low sound in your throat at his lips touch yours, your hands resting on his chest, fingers fisting in the fabric. A feather-soft brush until you shift, pressing yourself against him as you lean in.

His groan matches yours. Hands moving, skating down your arms, curving around your hips. Your hips roll on their own, seeking the friction of his trousers. Something warm pooling in your belly, when he deepens the kiss.

Encouraging you, as those hands guide the roll of your hips again. As his tongue brushes against lips that part without thought.

There’s the sharp punch of fruit on his tongue, paired with the taste of him. A heady mixture, making you feel like you could get drunk off just this.

You can feel him harden beneath you. Pressing against your cleft as your thighs inch further apart. It’s only when your hands leave his - reaching for the bottom of your shirt, that he breaks away.

His lips kiss-swollen and pretty. Disheveled, his tie crooked, shirt wrinkled from your fingers. Equally dazed, his eyes flicking down to your mouth, and then further again.

“Not here.” Harvey’s voice is a low rasp, unmoving despite his demand.

It has your pausing, until you catch the way his first two fingers slip under the hem, petting against skin.

“Bedroom?” You offer, and he’s smiling. Leaning forward to kiss you again. Easing you off him but it’s reluctant - his fingers twining with yours as you stumble into the next room.

It’s darker in there, the light from the television flickering against the floor. Dissolving as it reaches your bed, your knees parting this time as he stands between them.

Your eyes greedy, focused on his fingers as he loosens his tie, the first few buttons of his shirt. His own drifting over every inch and curve of you. A short intake of air as you tug the shirt from your shoulders, leaving it to drop on the floor.

It feels like you’re on display, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with the way he looks at you - his eyes snagging on the damp patch between your thighs, the pale fabric darkening with your arousal.

“You want to know what I was really thinking about?” He rasps, the tips of his fingers skating against your waist, slipping down to tease against the elastic band.

You’re near-mute. Left nodding, as the bed dips. As he urges you back into the pillows, folding himself onto the mattress with you.

“I was thinking-,” He tests the band, a finger slipping beneath. Inching it away from your skin, but not making to remove them, “A girl like you should be taken care of.”

His voice drops, “And that I wanted to be the one to do it.”

You feel yourself clench down around nothing. A low whine in your throat at the tone of his voice. So matter-of fact. Like he knows how to do just what he says.

“Can you?” It comes out strangled, your breath held as his eyes fix on yours, “Could you show me? What it’s like to be taken care of?”

“Would you like that, sweetheart?” He asks - his gaze searching. Slipping a second finger under, the blunt nails grazing sensitive skin.

“Yoba.” Your hips feel like they lift on their own, seeking him, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He smiles again, the moonlight catching on his glasses. A hand running through tousled curls, mussing them further. Fingers joining yours as your panties join the floor, baring yourself fully.

You expect him to touch you and he does - but not in the way you’re thinking. Lowering himself next to you, guiding your mouth to his again. His hand skimming the inside of your thigh. Fingers slipping along the crease where it meet your hip, inches away from where you ache for him.

“Harvey.” You sigh into his mouth. Chasing it when he pulls back, hearing the pleased hum in his throat. Carefully removing his glasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket.

Then his mouth is dropping to your neck, where your pulse flutters. To your shoulder. All while his fingers trace your skin, making you squirm in anticipation.

When his tongue peeks out to brush against tight, peaked nipple, you hear yourself cry out. Clinging to him again, as teeth graze against your breast - followed by a soothing kiss, his mustache tickling against the soft curve.

“I need you to touch me,” You pant.

Long forgetting what it was like to feel like this. The anticipation swirling in you like a dam about to burst. The desperation - knowing after all this time of wanting him, that tonight he is yours.

Your own hands grasping at him - tugging at the buttons. Pale skin and dark hair appearing with each one that loosens, trying to pull the hem from where it tucks into his trousers.

The hand against your thigh twitches, his gaze dark as he glances up at you. No longer hidden behind frames, you can see how his pupils are blown wide, inching out the hazel.

“I just want to make sure you’re ready, sweetheart.” He rasps, inching closer - fingers parting on either side of your mound.

“Want you nice and wet for me.”

It’s too much. You’re too wound up, needy. In your daydreams you’ve thought of him - in your bed, bent over the table in his office. Everything pales in comparison to this, turning you into a begging mess.

“I am,” You breathe, “Fuck, Harvey. You know I am, I’m-”

The words break off, turning into a ragged moan as he finally touches you. Parting your slick seam, where you’re dripping from the press of his mouth and the teasing glide of his fingers.

“There you are.” He hums, though you can feel the way his hips press against yours. Chasing his own urges, seeking friction where he strains.

Your eyes flutter half-shut as he teases as your entrance. Fingertips slick as he brings them up to circle your clit, sparks going up inside your belly.

Watching as he moves, the careful ease from where he lies next to you - now settling between your thighs.

“Yoba, you’re beautiful.”

He says it so simply, almost as if in awe. Your thighs start to clamp shut around his hand but he’s smiling - his left palm pressing your leg to the bed, opening you further.

Not used to his gaze like this. It flicks from your face, down to where his hands shift - his thumb rolling against your clit, as his middle finger sinks inside you.

He can feel how you clench around him already. Movements slow, drawing himself out just to sink further each time.

“So fucking pretty.” He says it again - you think, just to see you squirm. The way your eyes pull from his, the flex of your muscle under his palm.

Transfixed by the way his fingers move. The pressure against your clit, the way he presses deep. Your small room filled with the little sounds you make and the slick plunge of his finger.

Your panting breath catching, turning sharp as his finger crooks on the next pass. Carefully stroking against your inner walls, a throb of pleasure following.

He catches your sounds, a mark forming between his eyebrows. One you’ve seen before, in the way he focuses when you’re explaining something about your farm. A sweet stretch of pressure when he adds his ring finger, opening you further as he strokes again.

You haven’t felt anything quite like this. A ghost of it, with past lovers. Something that made your muscles tighten, but never so focused.

Like he’s intentionally searching for this spot that makes sparks arc up your spine. Making you ache for more - to be filled by him.

“Mm,” He hums with satisfaction, “Right there. Does that feel good?”

It’s hard to think, with the thrust of his fingers. The circling pressure against your clit. Your own fingers curling - one in the sheets, an anchor. The other drifting up to cup at your breast, unable to help leaning into his ministrations.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

There’s an edge to his voice. One that he uses in his place of authority, one that only stokes the roaring flame in your belly. Everything winding tight in anticipation, each steady pump of his fingers hurtling you towards your peak.

“Yes,” You moan, “Yes. Oh, Harvey-”

His head dips, mouth pressing a kiss against your abdomen.

“Good girl.” He husks, with your answer. The words shoot straight to your cunt, just as you begin to arch into his touch.

“Oh, please-” You whine, eyes sliding shut, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

The pinch of your fingers harsh against the tight bud of your nipple. The flicker of pain melding with the tight swirl of his thumb.

“Good.” He all but growls, the words low and rough in his throat, “Come on, honey. Show me.”

Your next moan turns high and long - as that tight string inside you finally snaps. A throbbing pleasure that begins at the apex of your thighs, radiating outwards as you bear down around him.

The hand in your sheets grasping and slipping on your way to him - his hand leaves your thigh to twine with it. Anchoring you as your hips buck into fingers that have gone still, giving you something to clench around.

“Just like that,” He coos, “Ride it out, I’ve got you.”

His breath warm against your skin, a kiss pressed to your stomach again, then hip.

“It’s not you,” Harvey tells you, each kiss moving lower, “You know that, right?”

Your breath catching - it feels like your cunt is still pulsing, when his mouth dips further. Not waiting for your answer this time - driving his point home with the talented tongue that suddenly presses against the bud of your clit, wet and warm.

Ensuring you won’t forget.

A moan is ripped from you, as he teases. Tight pointed licks, a flat lick following. A rough groan as he tastes your orgasm that coats his fingers, only just how beginning to move.

You’re too sensitive, squirming at his touch. Panting breaths and little jerks of your hips, the tight twist of overstimulation bleeding into something smooth and sweet as honey.

He’s ruining you for everyone else. The thought is a blurry one, something you can barely snatch. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’ve already come harder than you ever have.

And is already working you towards a second. A rough groan when you let your fingers leave his to twist in his dark curls. Grasping onto his shoulder with the other one, his shirt wrinkling further.

You want it off. You want all of it off, want him bare and on top of you. Want to taste him on your tongue. Taste yourself against his lips, after this.

Unsure how he’s able to do it. Bring you to the edge again so quickly, but maybe it’s because you’ve never desired someone like this.

Deeper than desire, though you’re not quite ready to admit it.

You’re brought back, as his palm presses beneath your thigh. Hiking it over a shoulder, opening you to be devoured. Those fingers more confident now, sure and slick as they pound into you. Louder now, with the way you coat them, your release smeared across your thighs.

This time when you come, it’s against his tongue.

Brought over with the way his lips close sound and suck. The way he groans at your taste, his clever fingers leaving you breathless.

Choking on your heartbeat as you shatter. His wide palm curled around your thigh, keeping your cunt pinned against his tongue.

This time he can feel your pulse. Each throb of pleasure as it resonates through you. Feel the way you gush for him - his fingers dampening further, across knuckles and the flesh of his palm.

“Fuck.” You moan, when you can breathe again.

You expect him to pull away, after this. He must know you’re more than ready. But instead all you can see is dark eyes, a tongue that slips between the fingers that are still buried in you.

“Harvey,” You gasp, as his tongue then lifts to curl over your clit again, “Don’t you want to-?”

Doesn’t he want to fuck you?

Isn’t he aching, like you are?

“Tonight is about you,” He answers firmly. Lips glossy with your release, and despite his words you don’t miss the way his hips press into the bed.

“Sounds like I got some time to make up for.”

Your head falls back onto the pillow as you huff a laugh, breath catching as you feel his fingers slip free just long enough to work in a third.

Already finding that spot again, as he begins to build towards a third.

If he can read you this easily already, you think dizzily…

You can’t wait to find out everything else he knows.

So here for the Harvey Renaissance ��💕 would love to know what you thought! Are you enjoying 1.6? (If so what are your mod recs???) | part ii is up here!

[farmerstarter]

The Bachelors and How They Sleep

hello lovelies! Have some more of my headcanons. These HCs are for a gn! reader. If you have any requests then feel free to send me an ask! Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated 🌷🤍

Alex:

🏈 Moves a lot during his sleep. But he doesn't outright punch you by accident. You always seem to end up being under him.

🏈 Mumbles a lot too. One time, you woke up to him counting to himself, just like how he counts his bicep curls.

🏈 Wakes up early, just a few moments before you. He says it's because he needs to exercise the first thing in the morning. But it's actually because he felt you move out of the bed and he doesn't like to be alone.

🏈 Gives you all the pillows to make you comfortable. He says it's important for your muscles to get a good night's rest. He ends up hogging the blankets.

Elliott:

🪶 Sleeps like a dead man. He doesn't move at all, save for the occasional turning to the side to snuggle against you.

🪶 It takes him a while to finally succumb to slumber. He says it's because he's used to listening to the waves of the beach to fall asleep.

🪶 Silk pajamas, the man has sets of them. He keeps his hair down while sleeping so you sometimes wake up to your whole face being covered by his locks.

🪶 He's a late riser, mostly because he sleeps late too. He tells you that he writes better at night and he doesn't allow himself to rest until he's finished writing one chapter at least.

Harvey:

🛩️ Sometimes, Harvey forgets to take off his glasses before he goes to bed. Which is why he has so many broken ones that he tries to hide from you by kicking them under the bed.

🛩️ Professional cuddler. He always makes sure you're in his arms or vice versa. He needs to touch you in order to get a good night's rest. Doesn't matter if you two are spooning or if it's just his hand on top of your arm.

🛩️ Snores a lot. Goes "hoooonk mimimimimi hoooonk mimimimi"

🛩️ I like to imagine him wearing those pajamas that's like just a long night gown and those floppy pointy hats. You know the one.

Sam:

🎸 Alex mumbles in his sleep, Sam straight up sings. Usually it's outbursts of the choruses of his songs, sometimes he'd hum the tune out. You have a video of him playing air drums while sleeping. You sent the video to Abigail and Sebastian, and they never let Sam hear the end of it.

🎸 He wakes up super late most of the time. But on the rare occasion where he doesn't, he cooks breakfast and serves it to you in bed. Complete with a flower in a vase and everything.

🎸 Always kisses you before he falls asleep. Straight up drags you to his side of the bed to peck your lips.

🎸 Would take off his shirt to put it on you. He says he doesn't want you getting cold at night and waves you off when you refuse, worried about his wellbeing. "I don'T gEt sicK eaSiLy, Babe," ends up in the clinic to get meds the next day.

Sebastian:

👾 It's my headcanons and I say he moves a LOT during his sleep. So much so that you end up on the floor when you wake up. He refuses to believe that he does that.

👾 His sleep schedule depends on you. He refuses to sleep unless you're already in the house. He doesn't like the feeling of sleeping when he doesn't know you're safe. You'll find him waiting for you on the porch.

👾 Prefers to sleep on the side of the bed where the sun doesn't shine.

👾 Immediately feels it when you get out of the bed. And he wakes up immediately, groggy and needing a few minutes to register where he is. Even if you're just going to get a glass of water, Sebastian would wake up and ask where you're going.

Shane:

🐣 This man says good night to all the chickens in your coop before he goes to bed, I decided.

🐣 He used to get little to no hours of sleep but after moving in with you, he tries to get enough sleep as possible.

🐣 Hugs you in his sleep, all the time.

🐣 He wakes up the same moment you do, sometimes earlier. He gave himself the job to take care of your farm animals so you don't have to work too hard. So he wakes early to get the job done as soon as possible to spend breakfast with you.

🐣 My brother in Yoba, he would wake up in the middle of the night to get a snack. You would sometimes catch him in the middle of drinking cows milk straight out of the bottle in front of the open fridge.