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sebastianswallows · 1 year

Note

hello!! i started reading dangerous and delightful and i am so hooked on it LOL. i love how you write sebastian sm. i saw one of the tags was breeding kink 👀👀 and so i was hoping (if you are taking requests) if you would be able to put a little fic together for that? i don’t think i can wait for it to happen in the story and need something to satiate that thought now LOL

Alright so, this was a hard one 😂 But I finally have it for you, nonny. I'm sorry it took so long!

As I mentioned in that little preview snippet I posted the other day, I had a conflict on whether to write this as con or noncon, and ended up going with noncon cause it just... fits. And you said in another ask that you don't mind, so... I'm hoping it's all satisfactory 👀

Anyway, here goes! Probably the filthiest thing I've written for this fandom yet.

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader (characters are aged up)

— WARNINGS: smut, angst, noncon, vaginal penetration, breeding kink, size kink (Seb is a big boy), creampie, cunnilingus, dirty talk, a bit of bondage, wet & messy, manhandling, fingering

— WORDCOUNT: 12k (yes it's long af)

He kissed her. It was gentle, but his big broad hands held her face still and she couldn’t get away. She muttered into the kiss — in surprise, outrage, shyness — but wouldn’t know what to say even if she were allowed to speak. Sebastian’s soft lips caressed hers until he noticed that she wouldn’t stop struggling, and then he kissed her harder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her body flush against his, and kept pressing himself into her — his chest, his legs, his mouth, even his breath that fanned hot and fast against her cheek. She moaned and mumbled and scratched her little nails against his shoulders, but it did nothing to stop him.

When he got tired of her trying to dislodge him, he parted his mouth from hers, frowned at her for a few frantic heartbeats, then lept down for another kiss while walking the two of them forward until her back was against the wall. The glance he’d caught of her face — shocked and a little tearful — broke his heart, but Sebastian was determined to see this through.

He could hear her try to say his name, all muffled into the kiss, but he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop, until she gave up and submitted. His hands moved down to her hips to hold them in something between a tight grip and a caress — he wanted to caress her, wanted to love her, to show her how much he loved her… And if she wouldn’t have it willingly, he would have to make her take it.

He swallowed her gasp when, with a sudden jolt, he pulled her away from the wall and started walking her backwards to the bed. Finally able to move her head back, she dislodged herself from his kiss and started begging him.

“Please, Sebastian, you don’t ha—”

But then he leaned in to kiss her again, because he didn’t want to hear it.

The bed was narrow and quite old, as good as he could afford while in the middle of his research. The mattress sagged a little and the pillows were thin, the sheets a muddled brown with an ugly leafy pattern. He felt sorry that this was where it would happen… He’d imagined it many times, with her, and it was always somewhere better, something soft and clean and bright, something she deserved.

“Sebastian,” she gasped when he grabbed her by the upper arms and pushed her down.

Holding onto her with one arm in a bruising grip, he summoned his wand from the desk — a trick he’d learned from Ominis — and used it to undress her.

“Divesto!” he cast, and in the blink of an eye, all her clothes fell off her body and pooled around her ankles. Even her shoes were taken off her feet.

She yelped and tried to cover herself quickly. Sebastian used the moment to push her further on the bed and plant a knee between her legs. He kissed and kissed her as he laid her back against the pillows, his hands shakily caressing the body that he had only now just scarcely caught a glimpse of, but had so often dreamed about.

The high bone of a hip tickled a line across his palm as he trailed his hand upward, while the other held her right thigh apart. He felt over the smooth plane of her stomach, so tense, so warm, so soft, still dimpled with traces of her corset… Her hands gripped at his sleeves strongly enough that he thought she might tear them open — but then she grabbed his wrist with both of them when his right hand reached her breast. He cupped her while he sighed into her mouth, his face tense with pleasure, lips never ceasing to press his love into her mouth through gentle, tender, patient kisses. Nervously, he brushed a thumb upwards and caught the round little tip. He flicked it back and forth until it hardened, and then, like a loving peck, took it between three fingers and pulled at it a little. Against his mouth, he could hear her whining, pleading, stealing every breath she could against his frantic kisses in an attempt to say something that, she hoped, might stop him.

Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest — from the fear, the humiliation, the sheer shock of what he was doing — and her breath felt frozen in her throat. And only minutes ago, she had been so happy to see Sebastian…

He’d invited her over at around 8 o’clock, offering to have dinner together and saying that he needed her help with it — and she understood instantly what he referred to. She knew something of the nature of his research from what he’d told her through the past few months.

Sebastian had been searching for something he’d read about in a book recently translated from ancient Greek — a Casket of All, or Casket of Plenty, or something like that. It was said to be a container of modest size, probably a box or an urn, that, once opened, would grant the owner their every desire. But it had to be opened with a key, and when last she spoke with Sebastian, the only clue he had was the cryptic translation of a line that said the key ‘would already be in the owner’s possession’.

It was the sort of research that he needed wealthy sponsors for, people connected to the sort of wizards that could lead him in the right direction. He had considered the Notts and the Malfoys, among other even more nefarious sorts. It didn’t help that Ominis absolutely refused to introduce him to the wealthy pure-bloods he knew. In the end, Sebastian spent months ingratiating himself with the Lestranges by tutoring their eldest son, Cyrille, in the dark arts. It was perhaps as harrowing of an experience for the boy as it was for Sebastian, who had never had a particularly good relationship with teachers and found it even more awful to become one himself.

She, however, was very much amused. And whenever they went out together, be it for a picnic or for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, he complained and complained for hours how impossible it was to get little master Cyrille Lestrange to remember basic wand movements. It was supremely funny, in a way she couldn’t explain, to see Sebastian so frustrated with a child.

And after finally learning from Mr Lestrange where the Casket of All was, he travelled to it. She never quite found out where he went, but judging by the duration of the journey there and back, she estimated it was somewhere in Southern France or Spain.

Back in England, researching how to open the thing seemed to take even longer, and she saw Sebastian less and less often as he immersed himself in interpreting old texts and ancient poems. On the rare occasions that he would let her help, they’d spend all day and night and until morning lost together, going down a rabbit hole of synonyms for “opening” and “cleave” and “pour” — because it was obvious, as soon as Sebastian inspected the item, that the Casket was not opened by any conventional key. It had only a little orifice at the top, just large enough to let… something in.

And the meaning of ‘the owner already having the key’ had still evaded him the last time they saw each other — when she fell asleep over his chest on this very bed, his warm hand cupping her shoulder, his chest pillowing her cheek, her legs thrown over his… She’d woken up a little embarrassed and dazed, but Sebastian just smiled, so warm and tender, and brushed his finger over the indent left on her cheek from the fold in his shirt.

She hadn’t suspected anything untoward when she knocked on his door today. He’d smiled upon seeing her and let her in — looking tired but bright-eyed, as he often did lately — and nothing was different about the room except for a few more melted candles than the week before… He offered to take her out to dinner and asked if they should deal with the Caskey before or after.

“After, of course,” she’d said as she took her coat off. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve learned about it.”

His smile had been stilted and sad… Sebastian rarely had sad smiles. That should have been the first hint that something was wrong.

The second hint came when he told her that the key to opening the Caskset of Plenty was proof of consummate love… in liquid form.

It took a few awkward glances from Sebastian and a few more questions from her to drag it out of him that they had to make love. He’d invited her to his home that evening to make love. And the combined release of their pleasure, as he so delicately put it, once poured into that opening no wider than a child’s pinky, would open the Casket. He’d already prepared a vial for it, she saw it laying, nice and corked, on his bedside table.

She refused, of course. It was absolutely outrageous and insulting. Never mind that she’d been in love with him for years. Never mind that she counted the days until she could see him again. Never mind that her whole body flushed at the briefest idea of his naked body over hers. And now, his clothes were unbearably thick beneath her hands…

“Seb—” she muttered when she got the chance to, once his kiss let her breathe for one moment.

He only took a moment to catch his own heaving breath, and stared down at her with haunted brown eyes while his hands stilled on her body.

His room was cold and she trembled, but his hands were so warm… One on her breast — holding it, cupping it, caressing it with teasing flicks that drove her mad — the other at her thigh. And Sebastian kept looking into her eyes, only her eyes, pleading with her in his own silent way... Accept it. Take it. Take me. He leaned down again, slower this time, and kissed her once again.

He kissed her like he loved her mouth, like he loved her taste, like he wanted to take her breath inside of him and live off of it forever. His kiss spoke silently to her, telling her how dear she was to him, how badly he wanted her, how he had thought about this and dreamed about this for so long… It wasn’t even about the Casket anymore, if it had ever been.

She trembled beneath all that tenderness, overwhelmed by an intensity of emotion that had never been directed at her before — not by Sebastian, not by anyone. It was dizzying to feel so afraid, so exposed and vulnerable, but it was twice as dizzying to feel so deeply desired.

And then a shock went through her body and all her thoughts evaporated from her mind, when the hand at her thigh moved.

He still thumbed at the stiff little pebble of her breast, while his other hand caressed, slowly and almost shyly, the full length of her slit — up and down, up and down, over the surface of those plump folds in search of… something.

Sebastian gasped into her mouth when he found it, that little pearl she had, hidden in her intimate places.

She cried out into his mouth when his finger started rubbing at her nub at the same rhythm with which he teased her breast. Her back arched traitorously into his grip and her legs tensed on the bed, scrambling to get away from him.

But there was nowhere to go.

He held her legs down with his own, kneeling above them in a careful way so as not to hurt her, and he let as much of his weight as he safely could onto her torso.

She could only shake her head away from his kiss, leaving him to press his lips into her neck and down, down, down to her clavicle while she pleaded with him and insulted him in turn.

“Damn it, Sebas— STOP! You’re a m-monster! No, not— not like this!”

He answered by nibbling harder on her collarbone, all the while rubbing those two sensitive points on her body — making her burn from one teased little tip to the other, from beneath her legs all the way to her heart, making her sweat and drip over his sheets and writhe beneath him — until the heat began to spread in every little part of her body as if he’d cast some strange spell on her.

“It will be alright,” he whispered against her chest, his lips trailing messily toward her breast. “It will be good, you’ll see…”

“To hell with you!”

“I love you.”

“Get someone else for your stupid experiment!”

“I don’t love anyone else.”

She took in panicked breaths that shook her, and as long as she had strength she scrambled for some hope of freedom, but eventually, under the pressing weight of him, her legs stopped squirming. His breath fanned over her breast and she felt the heat of his face on her skin, so close…

“You don’t love me either,” she whispered tearfully, staring absently at the desk. The setting sun cast flaming blades over it, and over that terrifying Casket.

Sebastian sighed and took her nub into his mouth, still flicking the other. She trembled and cried out while he pressed her sensitive point between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, his lips opening in wider, wetter kisses as he tried to take as much of her flesh within him as he could.

Her nails left his clothes to dig into his scalp and try to pull him off that way. He moaned when she tugged at his hair — first in pleasure, then in pain.

“Stop thinking!” he growled, finally releasing her from his mouth. “Stop thinking and just let yourself be loved for once!”

He pressed his mouth to hers, as if afraid of what she had to say, kissing her breathless before raising himself to look at her again. His eyes were wild, but there was a certain innocence there that seemed out of place. With a look that was a mix of desire and fear, Sebastian brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and brushed her tears away. If being gentle and loving with her didn’t work, perhaps frightening her would…

“Do you understand what I will do to you?” he whispered. “Do you understand what I will do to you if you won’t be mine?”

She whimpered and bit her lip, too scared to even beg to be let go anymore, too limp to fight.

Seeing that she was quiet and scared, he signed and kissed her once again, slower this time, a languorous drip of love, love, love from dry lips onto a sweet surrendered mouth.

He let go of her cheek for a moment, and she was afraid that he would touch her body again — but it was even worse: he reached for his wand. Her eyes went wide; he was a talented wizard who knew more curses than she knew spells, he could force her to submit to his will in horrifying ways…

But instead of pointing some cruel hex at her, he only pointed it at himself.

“Divesto,” he whispered, and his clothes fell all around them. He brushed them aside with another wave of his wand like a soft gust of wind, and then he laid the wand somewhere out of sight, beneath the bed.

She couldn’t even remember where hers was anymore; probably in her coat pocket.

Her trembling was even stronger now as he looked down at her, and she looked down at him, at what parts of his naked body she could see pressed parallel to her. Sebastian caressed her cheek and smiled down at her fondly while her eyes drank him in — round shoulders, tapered waist, and a sprinkle of brown hair and freckles all across his strong, broad chest. She blushed fiercely just at the sight of his skin against hers, let alone the intoxicating feeling of it, the intense intimacy of the moment. His legs felt warmer as they laid across her own, his hips narrow and straight above her softer ones, and against her stomach, she felt…

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his smile dampening to something even gentler. “Don’t worry, not yet…”

His hands took hold of hers and pressed them down beside her head while he gentled her with kisses — from her lips to her chin and her cheeks, trailing upwards to her forehead and around her hairline, each kiss more patient and innocent than the last.

“You don’t have to worry about anything while I’m with you,” he whispered into her hair, breathing her in deeply. “I’ll protect you from everything.”

“Will you protect me from yourself?” she hissed bitterly against his neck.

Sebastian chuckled and leaned close enough to kiss her lips once more, his mouth just resting against hers. “What do you mean, darling?” And at her tummy, she felt his manhood laying heavier, pressing into her soft flesh. “I’m protecting you from myself right now,” he murmured into her mouth.

She whimpered unhappily into his kiss, her eyes squeezed shut in a stubborn frown, but Sebastian chuckled, and caressed her again, and started kissing from her mouth back down again while his hands both slid down from her wrists, her arms, her shoulders, to her chest. He held the birdcage of her ribs between his hands while his lips declared his affections in little pecks and licks and nibbles that went down, down like waterdrops, until his mouth hovered over her heart. He could nakedly see the thin bones moving up and down with the flutter of the heart beneath.

“Just let yourself be loved,” he whispered against the core of her chest, “let yourself be loved by me.”

Above, he heard her whimpering unhappily again, but she had no words left to say to him. She had surrendered with her mind and body, although not with her heart — not yet.

“If I could only make you see how much I care for you,” he sighed, lips kissing gently down her torso, “how much I want with you… have wanted you… and for how long…”

He kissed her stomach now, hands coming down to hold her hips. Sebastian’s eyes slid up to hers for a moment and saw there a more urgent kind of fear, like an animal in a trap — the same wide look, the same fear and hatred, the need to escape, to escape him.

There was a tension in her stillness now that he had not felt before. He almost warned her not to do something foolish, but thought better of it. While holding her gaze, his hand left her hip to slide beneath the bed, and almost as soon as he held his wand again he pointed it at her arms, binding them with a red length of summoned rope.

“Wh—?!”

She was at once surprised and angry with him, looking from her bound wrists back down to him, his face so close to a place where she was so vulnerable.

“I want everything with you,” he said as he held her gaze — scared, furious, and desolate — in his — resolute and fierce.

He scarcely finished saying it before he kissed her, right on her lower stomach — right where her womb was. His eyes were closed in a serene, dreamy way. He opened them again and looked right up at her, and kissed a little to the left, and then a little to the right, roughly where her ovaries would be. It was such an unassuming part of her body, but he knew how special it really was — as magical as any enchanted Casket, as capable of creating wonders inside of itself, and all the more deserving of his desire and greed and possessiveness. Sebastian worshipped this part of her while he took in deep breaths, filling his lungs with her scent just like he filled his mouth with her taste. He wanted all of her to be in him, just like he wished for all of him to be in her.

She frowned as she looked down at him in fear and somewhat confusion — did she really not understand, or did she just not want to understand? Did it, perhaps, not cross her mind why he liked this part of her so much? Why it meant so much to him? Why he lusted over it?

Sebastian parted from her lower stomach with a teasing lick and moved himself a little lower. Her eyes broadened in shock, but he continued to kiss her, more and more intensely.

“I love you,” he said again, “I love you,” as if he was finally telling her some long-held secret, a secret he could no longer keep to himself.

“Seb—”

He kissed her mound. Her legs twitched and she kicked him in the ribs, but it was dull enough that it didn’t even hurt him.

“STOP!” she cried.

He smirked and opened his mouth for a wider kiss before shifting even lower... He held her legs now with his arms, elbows at her knees, palms holding down her thighs. His lower body was almost completely off the bed, but the discomfort hardly mattered.

With a whimper of desire, Sebastian held her thighs apart with his thumbs and gazed at her, right at her. He felt his eyes go dark, lidded in a satisfied way at this sign of his conquest. He could look at the most shameful parts of her, and she couldn’t stop him. And she was so beautiful, so fragile looking, so maddeningly enticing. It made his stomach twitch and his manhood stiffen and his mouth water.

“Please, stop!” she begged, “d-don’t! Let me go!”

“Stop what?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

He continued to hold her, looking at her directly, making up for all the nights he merely dreamed of having a glimpse of this part of her.

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked.

She wouldn’t answer, her lips stuck in a shocked, revolted, angry gasp, words so jumbled in her throat that they got stuck there. Sebastian frowned at her silence, and instead leaned still closer, looking down at the thing that he wanted so badly. He had never seen something that could make him feel this way, that could drive him so wild in a way that he would do anything to obtain it. He wasn't ashamed of himself in this moment, not anymore — not ashamed of what he wanted, or what he was willing to do to get it.

He held her down more firmly and pressed his lips against her folds. She yelped and pleaded with him more, but Sebastian barely heard it. Her legs struggled in his grip and he could feel the bed jolting slightly as she tried to tug her arms free, but he only kissed her womanhood more passionately, pressing into her, dipping his tongue between them to lap at her little hole. She was wet against her tongue, and only got wetter as he serviced her.

To say he was desperate would be an understatement - he needed, wanted, craved her flesh and he had to have it. So, when she started to beg and plead with him, it did not make him stop, but it did fill him with a deep, all-encompassing anger. He pulled his mouth away from her for a moment, his words a mixture of affection and anger.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Do you want me to tie your legs down as well?”

She breathed frantically as she stared into his eyes.

“Please, Sebastian,” she whispered tearfully. “Don’t do this to me… Don’t do this to us… We had — we were —”

“We were nothing,” he said lowly. “Platonic, touchless, kissless lovers pretending to be friends, while we were neither one. I want us to be something. I want us to be both. I want us to be everything.”

“No, no, you just want to open that damn —”

“That’s not what it is!” he growled, his hands becoming tighter on her thighs.

He took a deep breath, his eyes softening, and then he kissed her lower lips again. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, it calmed him down — as if her taste was all he needed for a bit of happiness to bloom in his heart.

“It’s not about my research. It’s not about the Casket, not really,” he sighed against her delicate entrance. “I want us to be everything together. I want to have everything… with you.”

A plea got stuck in her throat as he dipped his head again and lapped at her greedily, and instead of saying whatever it was she was about to say — denials, rejections, refusals — she moaned. His thumb left her soft inner thigh to rub her pearl while he dipped his tongue inside of her.

“Sebastian!”

He let his groans of pleasure sink into her. She dripped on his tongue as her body welcomed him, opening itself up to him. His thumb flicked her little nub in brutal little motions while he fixed his lips around her core and lapped at her insides. She was so warm and frail there, and tasted so sweet, so raw… Sebastian moaned deep in his throat, his breath coming out in heavy pants that drove the scent of her womanhood up to his head and drowned him.

Slowly, the jerking of the bed stopped as she relented, her wrists laying still in their bindings. Her legs around him also lay now sapless, soft and cold on either side of his chest. Sebastian sighed and finished his tending of her with one last, long, deep kiss the sticky sound of which resounded in the room. He lifted himself from her on his elbows and licked his lips.

“So beautiful,” he sighed, his thumb pleasuring her slowly, coaxing her entrance into rhythmic clenches. “And still so tight…”

Sebastian gazed up at her. She looked ravaged. Her flushed face was damp with tears and her hair had fallen from its elaborate bun into a hazy mane that framed her face, sticking to the sweat on her forehead or streaking across his pillow softly.

“Every time I look at you,” he whispered, “I fall in love again…”

“Don’t say that,” she groaned, shaking her head. “Don’t say you—”

“I love you,” he insisted, swallowing the taste of her. “I love you…” And his thumb started flicking her nub again while the index of the other hand tickled a path up her thigh to poke at her entrance.

“Don’t!”

He looked at her intensely, breathless, watching every frown and tensing of her face while his finger eased itself past her hole.

“I have to, my beloved,” he whispered tenderly.

He pressed in almost shyly, then retreated, then pressed in deeper, making her moan. Her hips twitched beneath him, trying to buck him off. To soothe her, he flicked her nub a little faster.

“Shhh… shhh… there there,” he gentled her. “I just want to feel what you’re like inside…”

His thumb eased off her pearl and Sebastian leaned closer instead, touching it with his tongue for the first time. She yelped and her hips twitched, but he held her down firmly while working his finger deeper, deeper, a little bit deeper inside with each thrust. With a dark look in his eyes as he gazed up at her and a cheeky smirk, Sebastian curled his tongue beneath her nub and just let it rest there, holding that very sensitised part of her on the soft, warm, wet cushion of his flesh. He heard her moan loudly, her back arching — was this her surrender? — and she twitched on his tongue. He closed his lips around her hot little button and suckled on it.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, head thrashing left and right, hands twisting senselessly into the rope. “Sebastian, it’s… too much…”

He chuckled and sucked her deeper into his mouth without mercy. While she was distracted by this, he removed his index finger from inside her and moved it to part one of her plump folds, holding her open as he placed in its stead his thicker middle finger at her hole. Rubbing back and forth he opened her up a little more, a little more each time, making her more pliant, more wet for him. Her juices dripped out of her around his knuckles, dirtying her upper thighs.

She clenched when he reached all the way inside. Her whimpers were drowned out by Sebastian’s hungry moan when he felt the end of her on the tip of his finger.

“Aaah! Stop it!” she hissed through her teeth.

Her legs struggled out of his grasp and kicked until he caught one of them in his hand. He held her by the knee, close to his neck, forcing her open while he ate at her, licking and sucking and teasing her with kisses from her nub to her hole where his finger kept stretching her. He parted from her with a suckling pull at her folds that nearly hurt, then began kissing her inner thigh while he thrust his finger faster and faster, preparing her for what he was about to do.

“Why is it so difficult for you to accept being loved?” asked Sebastian, looking into her eyes. It didn’t even sound like a tease, it sounded as if he was… sad for her, and genuinely curious to know the answer. “You’re not afraid of me,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly, “not really… You’re afraid of being vulnerable. With me...”

She frowned at him angrily, and he could tell she was gritting her teeth from the clench of her jaw, but her eyes were so fearful and tender, spilling over with tears.

“You’re afraid of what will happen, aren’t you? When you allow yourself to be loved…”

She hissed a curse at him and tried to struggle more, turning her head away into her upper arm and hiding her face in it.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, easing a second finger into her.

She ignored his question and gasped at being so stretched, her back arching sharply. His fingers were thick and strong, those two already larger than three of hers together.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asked lowly, his eyes never leaving her face even as she tried to hide it. “I won’t,” he growled. “I’m working right now to make sure I won’t hurt you.”

And he shoved his fingers deeper, working them faster into her channel, making her leak into his palm and filling the air around them with humiliating sounds. Her thighs trembled and she moaned, her voice hoarse and breathless. When Sebastian decided to cruelly curl his fingers and press against the soft spot above her entrance, she cried out.

“Sebastian!”

“I’m right here,” he whispered, kissing her thigh while his fingers worked her faster and faster. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t leave you,” he promised.

“Sebastian, s-stop,” she mumbled, “I can’t… I can’t…”

“Can’t what, hmm?” he teased, letting his tongue dip a little lower and rest against her button. With every canting of her hips, she rubbed herself against him.

“Seb—!”

He smiled and lowered his lips to her nub again and kissed it lovingly, reverently, while he thrust his fingers into her harder, louder, messier — until he felt her start to clench. She screamed and thrashed, begging him to stop. Her leg nearly slid out of his grip, but he kept his mouth on her and pleasured her until it ended. It hadn’t quite been an orgasm, more the beginning of one, a shock of pleasure that had taken her over for a few moments and scared her.

Sebastian moaned against her hot little flesh and carefully pulled his fingers out. Almost immediately, he wrapped his hand over his manhood, slathering it with her juices, squeezing it to temper himself. It had been hard this whole time, tickling his stomach, drooling all over itself with how much he desired her.

She relaxed, her tearful wet face falling away from the crook of her arm to look down at him. Her gaze was so hazy he wasn’t sure she knew what she was looking at. Sebastian slowly made his way up the bed, arms pressing down on the bed on either side of her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he whispered hotly.

She bit her lip and took in deep, shaky breaths.

“Don’t what?” he said again. By this time, he was right above her, his lips hovering over her own. “What, darling?” he sighed, looking at her with nothing but love. His hands caressed her arms, rubbing them up and down. “How about we set you free, hmm?”

With a brush of his arm, the summoned tethers fell away. He caressed the soreness out of her wrists while he balanced himself above her, his knees on either side of her waist. Between them, his shaft twitched anxiously. His sac slotted itself right at the dip of her core. He smiled to himself at how warm and welcoming she felt down there, so wet he could feel her dampening him.

“W-will you let me go now?” she asked in a small voice.

Sebastian chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, that wasn’t enough.”

She groaned and began panting again, her body going from hot to cold with fear. Her arms slipped from Sebastian’s gentle massage and went up to his chest, trying at the same time to push him away and scratch him. His skin was tough, but he still hissed sharply when her little nails left pink welts on his skin.

“That’s it,” he growled, grabbing her wrists and holding them up. “Be good, now,” he said firmly, struggling with her on the bed, “be good for me…”

She grit her teeth at him and fought him all the way, her body weak and cold but more lively now that it was no longer dazed with pleasure. But she was no match for Sebastian, who was so much bigger and stronger, a dangerous man even without his wand. He held her wrists together and pushed her back on the bed, laying on top of her with all his weight.

“Let me go, please!”

“It’s alright,” he hissed, holding her wrists to her chest with one hand and brushing the hair from her forehead with the other. “It won’t be so bad, you’ll see…”

“Let me go, Sebas—!”

He kissed her into silence, swallowing her angry moans while he moved his legs between hers. His knees edged her thighs apart, and then he caressed down her side with his right hand until he reached her knee. He lifted it slightly so that he could fit even closer to her, and wrapped her leg around his waist, holding it there until he finished kissing her.

“I do love you, even when it doesn’t sound like it,” he sighed.

She frowned at him, but then she jumped in a little shock when she felt something hard and smooth against her core. Her lips parted, and she was ready to beg again — for a delay, for him to change his mind, for anything — but he kissed her again.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he drank in the sweet taste of her lips, dry and salty with tears as they were, swallowing her moans and pleas while he tried to find her hole. His hand left her leg to grab hold of himself and steady his twitching shaft.

“S-stop,” she muttered against his lips as she barely managed to twist her head away.

Sebastian’s mouth parted from her with a gasp when he felt her at his tip.

“It will be alright,” he whispered, his eyes aimed between their bodies. He couldn’t see much, but his heart thumped in his chest at the sight of his manhood, thick and throbbing, resting right at her entrance. “You’ll see, everything will be good…”

She didn’t seem to believe him, and instead struggled more and cried, and tried to pull herself away from him.

“Shhh…” he gentled her, frowning in his own kind of suffering as he eased the tip inside.

She cried and struggled in his grasp, screaming to be let go, crying again, thrashing on the bed, but Sebastian’s grip was strong even while he was so deliciously distracted.

“There you go,” he whispered, his head tilted back in pleasure as he felt her, he felt himself entering her. “There you go, that’s my good… good girl,” he moaned, biting his lip.

Sebastian let himself lay more heavily on top of her, curling his large body over hers. His forehead was braced against the pillow a little to the side so he could keep kissing her cheek while he worked to get as much of himself into her body as he could before he had to still himself. She was in pain, and as much as he wanted to take her, he had to wait.

She swallowed in greedy, deep breaths, the skin of her chest meeting Sebastian’s, parting in sweaty pulls after they stuck together. Her core still pulsed, struggling to contain the length that forced it open — and he'd barely shoved the whole head in.

They breathed together for long moments, her wincing occasionally, him moaning, both of their bodies aching for the other in ways that were obvious to the two of them -- she leaked around him, he leaked inside of her, easing the passage, helping her stretch, and their whole bodies were aflame even while so exposed in the cold air of the room. All the while, their hearts beat together, side by side.

Sebastian tried to slip a little more inside of her, pressing forward with his hips. His fist still held his member at her hole, keeping it steady as he pushed inside. He moaned and bit his lip at the warmth that met him.

“Aaah!” she cried, gritting her teeth as he conquered a little more of her. “S-seb—!”

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it, my beautiful girl, my love…”

He was relentless, and didn't stop until the whole head of his manhood slipped inside. Around his waist, he felt her legs tense for a moment, and then give up.

Feeling her so limp around him, Sebastian let go of her wrists and braced himself above her on his arms, his face right above hers pressing gentle kisses that swallowed each wince of pain. His member was securely in her core, fighting against the tight clenches of her channel.

“Open your secret place to me,” he breathed, his brown eyes pleadingly looking into hers. “Let me come inside of you…”

“No,” she hissed. She shook her head weakly, although she didn’t even remove her hands from where they rested above her head, where he had placed them.

Sebastian groaned and leaned down to take a tight little bud in his mouth, and she moaned. He smirked against her skin — he knew she’d like that. He suckled on it while he gently thrust his hips, feeling himself dripping into her, his shaft pulsing, trying everything to ease his taking of her. He switched to the other breast, holding her puckered flesh gently between his teeth to lave at it with his tongue. It made her a bit more wet, but hardly relaxed her core. She winced every time he tried to reach deeper inside.

“Try to relax, my darling,” he sighed, lifting himself off of her.

With a soft look at her, Sebastian eased out — what a shock the cold of the room was after having been inside her — and slid once more down to her waist. She hardly had a chance to glance down at him when he took hold of her thighs and placed his mouth at her core again.

“What are you—!”

He started lapping at her hole again, but so much more passionately this time, tongue slipping from the bottom of her slit to deep inside her hole and flicking upward before going down again, lashing her womanhood with quick, maddening strokes again and again and again until he felt her begin to pulse.

She moaned and wailed in pleasure, confused about what he was doing but too dazed to care.

When he thought he pleasured her enough that she was more relaxed, he raised himself, gripped her hips, and shoved his manhood into her once again. It went in a little deeper this time. Sebastian moaned and shivered when he felt her juices dripping down his shaft all the way to the nest of dark hair at his base, like she was slobbering all over him.

His arms tensed holding him above her, but she felt so good around him, softer and wetter and just as feverishly warm, hotter and hotter the deeper into her body that he reached. He grinned as he looked down at her.

“That’s it, there you go,” he whispered smugly.

He let himself lean down with one elbow bent around her head, cupping her gently, the other holding him at an angle so as not to lay too heavily on her. And as he worked his way inside her, thrust by small thrust, he pecked little kisses on her lips.

“Seb-bastian,” she gasped, looking tearfully into his eyes. “I… I…”

“What is it, my darling?” he whispered, his thumb reaching down to smooth her tense brow. “Hmm? What is happening? Do you like it?”

“It… mmmm…” She bit her lip and frowned, closing herself off to him again.

“What?” he asked again, “What is it? What do you feel? What am I making you feel?” he murmured, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers.

She winced and turned away, her forehead set in a frown and her lips parted as she breathed out heavily. “H-hurts,” she whimpered.

He couldn’t resist her, couldn’t resist wanting to comfort her. Sebastian groaned and stopped thrusting, letting his manhood just rest inside her. His thumb kept brushing against her hairline, trying to soothe her, and he kissed gently all over her cheek. With a steady sigh, he slid his hand down her body, caressing her soft stomach on its way, and quickly found that erect button above her entrance.

“Ah!” she yelped, her hips canting upward at his touch.

He smirked and kissed the corner of her mouth and began rubbing her pearl in tight circles. With satisfaction, he felt her begin to shiver in the same pleasant way she did when he was licking her. His hot chest rested over hers, rough hair rubbing her already tight and tender buds as they breathed in heavily together. And then he started rubbing her button faster, flicking it messily until she could no longer swallow her moans down and she pulsed and throbbed — and that’s when he tried again to shove himself deeper inside of her.

“—bastian!”

“Yes?” he chuckled teasingly against the corner of her mouth.

“No, t-that’s… aaah, too much,” she said, her back arching.

“What is it, my beauty?” he asked sweetly. “Hmm? What is it?”

“I… I… mmm…”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, her head facing away again. Sebastian quieted his moans by kissing her neck, taking greedy mouthfuls of her flesh, but trying not to bite too hard.

“What are we doing? You and I?” he asked hotly, his closed eyes resting in the dip above her shoulders. “Tell me… Tell me what I’m doing to you…”

“Y-you’re…”

“Yes…”

“You’re… t-taking me,” she whispered with a choked little sob — and maybe it was wishful thinking, but he thought she sounded pleasured by it.

He chuckled and reached up to kiss her lips, his fingers brushing her forehead gently.

“What am I doing, darling?” he asked again with fake innocence.

“You’re taking me,” she said quietly.

“And what are we doing together? What is it called?”

She whimpered, and he could hear her biting her lip. She couldn’t say it.

“Are we making love? Is that it, my darling?” he moaned.

“Sebastian…” she whispered, her voice full of defeat.

“I’m taking you,” he moaned. “And you’re taking me. Right here,” he moaned. “Right inside this little body…”

Sebastian looked down at her warmly and pressed his cheek against hers, rubbing her tears away with his skin while he kept pressing deeper.

“Right inside this naughty little hole that isn't used to being opened like this, is it? It's not used to it, is that right, my girl?”

He felt, more than heard, a moan bubble up her throat, and the movement of her head could have been a shiver, or it could have been a nod… Sebastian was entranced by the sight of her trying to take him, forced to submit to him, accepting — finally accepting — a bit of the pleasure he had to give her. But it wasn't enough for her, he could tell it wasn't nearly enough... It was his fault, he'd forced her, he'd scared her.

His finger had eased at her pearl, allowing her to focus just on the feeling of his length inside her, but she only clenched tighter — either from pain or fear or something else, he couldn’t tell. She was so tight now he could hardly move. Sebastian sighed.

“Let’s try it a little differently, my love,” he said, parting from her with one little kiss on her lips.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled his member out and lifted his sweaty body off hers for a moment. She breathed in deeply in relief, but then he cupped her hips and motioned her over, onto her front.

“W-what is this?” she asked in a tired voice.

“Something that might help you,” he smiled.

Sebastian brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed her skin while his fingers pet her sides. The bed felt worse this way, its rough springs almost digging through his flimsy mattress, but perhaps if she didn’t see him she might feel less nervous about the whole thing, and her body could accept him.

It was easy to move her, she hardly put up any resistance anymore. Sebastian set her on her knees and eased her down, holding her carefully and shushing her, until her chest lay flush against his pillow — and how delighted he was going to be from now on to rest his face on the pillow that her breasts had rubbed against. With his knees set on either side of her, he held his shaft in his hand and led it to her entrance again.

“Easy there, my love,” he cooed when he heard her wincing.

“Not again,” she whined, her hands clutching at the pillow in angry little fists.

“It will be alright…”

“No,” she complained, “I don’t want it… I don’t…”

It was harder to work his tip inside her this time, her hole opening and closing in such strong clenches that it got Sebastian to grit his teeth in frustration.

“You need to relax,” he said, one hand caressing her ribs, her chest, slipping down to cup her breast and hold it warmly.

She shook her head, forehead pressed into the pillow.

Hurriedly, almost angrily, Sebastian let her go and slid down the bed again, a growl crawling its way up his chest. While holding her hip with one sweaty palm and her ankle with the other, so that she wouldn’t kick him, he brought his face to her womanhood from behind. He stared at her clenching little hole, all red and sore and a little puffy, all his frustrations melting away at the sight. He brought his mouth down onto her again.

She yelped, she screamed, she twisted to look back at him in outrage, but he held her tightly and kept her there, to lick her pain again. It was quite different from his angle, but she felt that much more at his mercy this way, and Sebastian closed his eyes in delight. His tongue first came across her hard little nub then pet its way up it, as it were, from its plush hood to the erect tip and quickly falling into her throbbing hole. He curled his tongue until it met the edge of her entrance and he held it there, pushed in a little, easing it with loving and gentle licks, showing it how much he adored this part of her. He licked and licked and filled the air around them with messy, sticky sounds that scandalised her, but made her drip shamefully much on his tongue… Sebastian smirked and kept lapping and sucking, moaning right against her folds.

“You're so much sweeter when you're sore down here, did you know that?” he teased, speaking right against her most vulnerable place as he held her down, forced her still for him to pleasure. “You're dripping down my tongue... down my throat,” he moaned. “Like you're drooling from this little mouth,” Sebastian chuckled.

Vaguely, he could see that she had covered her head with both her arms while she moaned, hiding herself away from what he made her feel. He groaned as he laved at her.

When he felt satisfied that her womanhood was wet enough and pliant and sufficiently convinced of how much he cared for it, he got up on his knees again and settled firmly behind her. His member rested right between her folds, tapping against them — tensing up with every lustful twitch, then pulled back down by how heavy it was.

“Is it better now?” he whispered in her ear, penetrating her slowly.

She gasped and wailed into the pillow when the tip entered her again. She felt so exposed in this humiliating position, so vulnerable… It made her throb.

“Is it?” Sebastian asked again, his hot breath right against her neck. “Is it good for you like this?”

Steadily, holding himself to her hole, he pushed and pushed and groaned and pressed deeper until he was halfway in again, and then he rested his sweaty forehead on her back. His trembling hands gripped her around her waist as he steadied himself. Then, slowly, he moved one palm upwards to cup her breast before he began to pump his length inside of her.

“Mmm… that’s it,” he moaned, “you do feel better like this, don’t you?”

She said nothing, burying her tears in his pillow, together with her moans and whimpers and every embarrassing sound — both of pleasure and of shame. Sebastian was so hot against her back, his body broad and heavy and so firm, his skin tough but smooth, chest rough with hair, stomach flexing with each thrust, and the base of his manhood — so rugged it rubbed against her rear a little sore in a… not altogether unpleasant way, she blushed to admit.

Her traitorous womanhood opened for him, clenching hard then parting like a greedy mouth, and all it wanted was him — his shaft, thick and hot, leaking a sticky trail inside her with each shove. She felt him so deep she could almost taste him on her tongue.

When she started panting, rendered breathless from what he was doing to her, she tilted her head to the side — and now there was nothing left to hold back her moans.

“S—e—bas… aaah…”

“That’s it, my sweetheart,” he groaned.

His hand at her breast plucked her erect little bud, teasingly, moving sometimes to the other to not let it get too lonely, while around her waist his arm held her firmly against his front — as if he was constantly afraid that she could escape him.

“My darling, my lovely girl, my heart,” he rambled, pressing hisses against her shoulders and her neck and wherever on her back that he could reach, “my love, my one, my only…”

He groaned from the bottom of his chest when, with one long and stubborn thrust, he reached all the way inside her. She cried out and nearly burst into tears at the sensation.

“Sebastian!”

“Oh f— that’s…”

“Seb— it’s too deep!”

“Shhh, shhh,” he whispered against her hair, “easy… easy, that’s… oh, that’s… damn, that almost hurts me too, it’s so tight,” he laughed madly.

He stilled inside her, giving them both time to adjust, and slowly, she relaxed. It was as if the pain had pierced her and through her and left her behind with nothing but a feeling of... overwhelming fullness. She lay quite sapless on the bed, her hips held up only by his grasp around her middle. As Sebastian eased himself out a bit, she felt her core cling so tightly to his shaft that she nearly panicked for a moment, but then he shoved back in, and she sighed in relief and pleasure. It now almost felt like home to have him there… and she hated that she felt that way.

“Sebastian,” she groaned, pleading for… for something, she didn’t know what.

He cooed in a deep and breathless way, his lips against her ruffled hair, and he started to thrust slowly in and out. The hand around her waist relaxed enough for him to slip his finger lower, back on her abused nub, rubbing it again. Her hips jerked and she whined, but that didn’t stop him — just like nothing else did.

“You’re getting wetter for me,” he whispered hotly, “I can feel it… can feel it against… against my skin…”

With each thrust inwards, his heavy sac pressed against her folds. They throbbed right against it, kissing it in greeting. And then, he pressed himself even deeper, pushing her down, shoving her almost completely prone.

“My lovely girl,” he sighed, finally giving up on holding her upwards and letting her lay on her front while he pounded her into the bed. “My girl, all wet for me… taking me…”

Her blushing, tearful face was buried in the pillow again.

“Taking me while I’m taking you, isn’t that right?” he chuckled, resting his forehead on the nape of her neck.

Both his hands slid up her chest, each cupping a breast and holding it, letting her flesh rest in his hands while he shoved himself inside of her, pushing the breath out of her, harder and harder the more his manhood loosened her up. Every clenching of her was battered away, her channel opened up forcefully and held that way by his sheer girth. The heft and curve of his shaft aimed always his thrusts always slightly lower, against the soft spot above her entrance that made her way to cry.

“Seb—!” she gasped suddenly, raising her head from the pillow when the head of his member brushed against it.

“Yes? Is that good?” he moaned, hissing his way down her neck. “Is that good, my heart? Right there?” he teased, starting to deliberately beat away at that tender spot.

“Aaah! S-stop!”

“I don’t think so,” he groaned, “I’ll keep doing this to you until you give me what I want.”

“Please, Seb…”

“Until you give me what I want... and what you want to... Admit it... Admit it...”

“You’re mad,” she spat, sounding angry but being genuinely more afraid than anything.

She had never felt such an intensity of feeling aimed at her before, and it drove her to distraction that it would be kind and playful and bookish Sebastian who would give this to her.

But he didn’t seem to take kindly to the insult. With a growl through clenched teeth, he took his hands away from her breasts, one threading through her hair — gently, but threateningly — the other going to her stomach. She wasn’t sure what he wanted to do there, but then she felt it — he pressed slightly on her lower tummy, and right against her flesh, he felt himself.

“Do you realise how deep I am inside you?” he whispered angrily in her ear. “Do you understand… how much I love you? How much I… I want to be inside of you… With you…”

She tried to hide her face into her shoulders, her hands coming up to cover her head.

“And this is how you speak to me?” he continued. “Do you feel nothing for me?”

She didn’t wish to tell him yes — partly because she was afraid of how he would react, and partly because it wasn’t true. She did love him, had loved him for years, but this was not the sort of way she’d wished to be joined with him.

“Seb, you’re scaring me,” she whimpered.

He sighed and forced himself to ease his grip, softened as he usually was whenever she showed even a bit of vulnerability. But his thrusts only got harder, and his grip against her lower stomach stayed. He felt his tip press against her and into the cup of his hand with each pumping of his hips.

Beneath Sebastian’s lustful moans and the creaking of the bed, she could hear the humiliating sound of his flesh slapping into hers — his sac, churning with cum and dripping with her juices and his sweat, his hips, his thighs... She could smell his body too, salty and sweet and very distinctly sultry, devastatingly virile and male.

“I… I’m so…” he groaned nonsensically into her hair, “I could finish in you right now,” he threatened. She clenched at the promise. “Won’t you do it too, darling?” he murmured. “Please, I… I need it…”

“Never,” she bit back, and all around his shaft, he could feel her tightening rebelliously. She didn’t wish to be part of his experiment at all.

“I need it,” he said again, “more than you know… Come on, my love, my heart… I know you need it too. Tell me,” he panted, “how do you want to be pleasured?”

She kept quiet. Only little whimpers were pushed out of her by his heavy, deep thrusts.

“What do you need to make this little hole flutter for me?” he whispered.

Her legs tensed and her womb clenched. At her stomach, she felt his fingers begin to stroke a little up and down — stroking the head of his manhood with every inward thrust.

“What do you need? You need my love?” he said, kissing behind her ear. “My hatred?” he added, kissing her neck this time. “Anything… anything…”

“I want nothing from you,” she whimpered.

“You want my seed?” he asked — and that was it.

He felt her body clench, her little hole bubbling with cream in the areas where there was enough space for it to leak around him.

“Oh is that it?” he chuckled breathlessly, teasing her with a lick at the nape of her neck. “You want it? Hm? You want my seed inside this” — and he shoved especially hard — “little hole?”

“Sebas—!”

“You want me to make you pregnant?”

“Sebastian!”

“Want someone to breed you, is that it?”

She began struggling in his grasp, a last attempt to get away, because she knew what was coming. Sebastian wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against his thrusts that wouldn’t, wouldn’t stop. If anything, he started battering at her womanhood even harder now, sliding wetly in and out in spite of how much tighter she got.

“Oh, but my girl is naughty, isn’t she?” he growled with a wide grin.

When she kicked a little higher with her left leg, he grabbed that too and hugged it to her chest, opening her up helplessly as he claimed her.

Her hands held onto the pillow now no longer as a distraction, but out of need to hold onto something. She wailed and buried her high, frail cries into it.

“Let me love you,” he begged roughly as he shoved himself into her, his thick manhood scraping against her tender, clenching walls in a way that made her scream. “Come on, let me love you… Let me feed this little hole,” he hissed. “It’s been so lonely, hasn’t it? Nobody’s loved you before, have they?”

“Bastard!” came her muffled, angry cry.

“No, darling,” he sighed, pressing deep, deep into her and holding there, pushing her higher on the bed with the force of it, making her legs shake. His tip had reached her cervix. “No, darling, you love me,” he whispered right in her ear. “Like I love you. Do you feel that?” he asked, his hips holding his manhood deep and then thrusting a little more. “You feel your thick little lips down there kissing my balls?”

“Seb—!”

“I certainly feel it,” he moaned, grinding into her while he let his forehead rest against her back.

His arms tightened around her waist with her leg still trapped there, her hole stretched more vulnerably open than it had ever been.

“Feel it warm and wet, dripping all over it, drooling over me… You’ve been as desperate as I, haven’t you? So lonely… so unloved… You’ll never be unloved again,” he promised hotly, and then resumed his thrusts, but this time slow, tempered, hard, deep, battering against her cervix every time.

“Your womb will be full of my seed,” he breathed against her skin. “I’ll force it into you, you’ll have no choice, I promise that,” he whispered. “Hold you opened up, make your beautiful body swallow it…”

She whimpered and tried to crawl away before she realised there was nowhere to go. And behind her, Sebastian kept thrusting that shaft into her swollen channel, her muscles too weak to clench against his penetration anymore. She felt conquered and completely helpless.

“I’ll do it as often as you need it,” he said with a sweet, warm sigh, “I’ll make you all warm inside… Keep you safe. Keep you full of me…”

His thrusts started getting faster, less deep now but almost angry, almost desperate, and she wailed at the sensation because he rubbed against her spot with every thrust and it felt good, she hated how good it felt.

“And then it will take, won’t it? It will have to… I’ll breed you, I’ll get you pregnant… And everyone will see what I did to you,” he growled.

“Sebastian, please,” she moaned weakly, no longer having the strength to pretend he didn’t make her feel good. “Please, I… I need…” Her tearful eyes looked into his, dark brown and hazy, over her sweaty shoulder.

“Shhh, I know, I know, darling… ” he cooed. “Release for me, my love,” he whispered, his full lips coming to rest near hers. “Release for me, and I’ll release for you, alright?”

“Aaah…”

“It’s alright,” he said gently, kissing her. “It’s alright… stop thinking… Stop being afraid…” he coaxed. “Just let me love you, let me love you, take it… take it from me…”

She whimpered, and burst into tears. Her body shook in his grip, trembling not only from his powerful thrusts but from the pleasure that licked its way from her womanhood all through her chest and her limbs and her heart and her head… Sebastian’s hands around her tightened, and her hip almost hurt from how sharply her leg was held against her chest, but her core had never felt more satisfied, more perfectly content, more cared for and loved and wanted. He fed his manhood to it, and she was forced to take it, and she wanted — she realised with shame — she wanted his seed.

“Seb-bastian,” she sighed, sounding genuinely pleasured for the first time, completely surrendered to the pleasure both her body and his were giving her.

“That’s it,” he whispered encouragingly. Around her waist, she could feel his thumbs brush against whatever skin of hers he could reach to pet her, even as he held her flush against his chest and he thrust rough and hard down into her. “That’s it, my heart, there you are… I’ll give it to you, but you have to take it, alright?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, not knowing really what he was saying anymore, “yes, I… I…”

“You’ll have to take it, sweetheart, right in this tight, hot, secret little place of yours…”

“Sebastian!”

“I’m here,” he smiled, kissing her again on the lips — briefly, as each of his thrusts jolted her away from the reach of his mouth. “I’m here with you. I love you. I love you more than any—”

“Aaaah!”

“Oh, is that it, darling?”

“Aah! —bastian!”

“Is that it? Is your womb opening up for me?”

“Seb—! I feel… aaah…”

“Too much, my darling?” he grinned.

She nodded, eyes closed, mouth open in one long moan.

“I feel the little throat you have inside opening up for me?” he groaned, the head of his shaft pounding at her cervix. “Think I can get it inside?”

“No!” she cried.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, not wanting to hurt her, and knowing how small she was compared to him, but he teased her anyway but pressing deeper, aiming for that flexing opening. He bit his lip when he felt the tip of his member get lightly pinched by it.

She scrambled uselessly beneath him, her back arching into his sweaty chest, hips canting, and Sebastian kept thrusting into her. The little pearl that he’d teased earlier so much peeked out with interest, and his sac now met its tiny kiss each time it swung forward.

“Too much!” she wailed, her body tensing and relaxing and tensing again in the grip of some unfathomable wave of pleasure. “No more… no more, please!”

“Take it,” he groaned, “good girl, take it…”

And then that wave of pleasure crashed into her, and she screamed. Sebastian cried out too, a low and pained sound. He stilled his thrusts when he felt her core tighten around him. It gripped him as if she was going to swallow him whole, as if she wanted to drink everything he had to give — and he gave it to her, because at that very moment, his orgasm hit too, and his sac churned painfully and pushed his seed out of him in wave after thick, thick wave.

“Aaah! Oh f— my darling,” he moaned, hips twitching into her reflexively now, “my dearest… my love, my… ohh…”

He pressed grateful kisses into her neck and moaned out every endearment he could think of, and her name, and his promises to take care of her, to give her everything she deserved, to love her until the day he died…

She mewled weakly, too tired to cry out, too tired even to open her eyes. Her body had never gone through anything like that before, and as her pulses quieted and her core relaxed, Sebastian eased himself as deeply into her as he could. She could feel his seed pooling at the end of her, warm and heavy. Finally, he released her leg and let her relax fully on the bed, his own body laying for a moment on hers before he slid to the side, sapless.

She could feel and hear his heaving breath against her back, and beneath it, the frantic beating of her heart.

Sebastian kissed her shoulder one last time before he moved away, seemingly to get up. She then realised he had only retrieved that vial.

With great gentleness and care, he bent down to her core and stroked her lower back. She barely had the chance to look down at him, frowning, when she was struck by the humiliating feeling of his release and hers dripping out of her in big, pearly gushes.

“Oh,” she groaned, hiding her face away.

She didn’t see, but she could hear Sebastian chuckle.

“I know this part is a little awkward,” he said. “It… it isn’t how I wanted to end this, but…”

He stopped there, saying nothing else while he collected what he needed.

She sighed and pushed her sweaty face away from the pillow when she felt him part from her, his caressing hand stroking her leg gently one more time before he got up. She had new cause to blush when she peeked at his naked behind, firm and shining with sweat, and the length that could be seen swinging between his legs — still a little hard, still wet, tip blushing a raw, delicious colour. She felt sure a similar colour was blooming at her ravaged core, and she hid her face into the pillow again.

Sebastian’s hands were shaking. His sweaty skin felt the chill of the room more keenly now, especially after his chest had been so wonderfully warm from rubbing against her. He still had so much excitement and pleasure coursing through his veins that made him almost unsteady on his feet… But he had to see if this would work, he had to try to open the Casket.

He put one hand on its side and held the vial aloft with the other, its mouth poised just above the little orifice that would take the ‘key’.

He bit his lip to try and steady himself, and tilted the vial… The content was white and syrupy, and he blushed at seeing it. He had to wait for it to drip out… Once it reached the edge of the glass, it fell quickly, pulled down by its own heaviness right into the hole.

Sebastian held his breath as he waited, fearful for a moment that it had all gone wrong, that he’d been misled, that this had all been a terrible mistake… But not even a few seconds later, something happened. He felt a little tremor against his hand, as if something moved inside the Casket, and he pushed against the lid. Where many times before it had stood as firm as if the whole thing were one solid piece, this time, the lid slide away without resistance.

His eyes widened, and he started in quiet wonder at the open relic.

“Did it work?” she asked from the bed, her voice sleepy but still slightly interested.

Sebastian laughed, not able to take his eyes away from the inside of the Casket. It was supposed to provide its owner with whatever they needed at the time, and it certainly did that… Inside of it were two silver bands, one slightly smaller than the other, plain and unadorned, of exquisite purity: two engagement rings.

“It… it did,” said Sebastian with a bright smile.

Still, he wasn’t sure now was the right time to ask her… He felt a bit monstrous after what he'd done, and worse still for not regretting it. He was lucky that he got her to feel pleasure, to accept what he was doing, that he found the key to her lust — but it could just as easily have been the end of everything between the two of them, and he didn't know what he would have done if he'd lost her. How close he had come to that, due to his own mad desire for her, scared some sense into him now after everything was done. So he took the rings out of the Casket, quickly opened a little drawer on the side of his desk, and placed them inside.

He then walked back to the bed and joined her, squeezing himself beside her on the narrow mattress. She was hiding her face again, leaving him only her neck and shoulders to kiss.

“I apologise,” he sighed.

She mumbled.

“Do you hate me an awful lot?” he whispered with his lips against her nape. “You can tell me honestly…”

She said nothing.

“I did apologise, but I’m not sorry, just so you know,” he continued, his hand brushing the hair away from her shoulder in slow, long caresses. “I’m sorry it happened like this, but… I honestly can’t find it in me to regret it. I’ve wanted you for… a long, long time. I hope you know that. And it pained me how… how you always held yourself away.”

“Stop,” she whimpered, still facing away from him.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, the little of it that he could reach.

“I meant it, you know,” he whispered at the corner of her mouth. “I’d want nothing more than for us to have children together…”

“Sebastian, that’s—”

“I know you might not want it with me, or not at all, but… but I want it, I want it because it would be with you. But only with you.”

He sunk his face into her neck, hiding away from her rejection, hiding away from himself, but wanting all the while nothing other than to sink inside of her in every way — with his body, with his mind, with his heart. The sheets were a mess around them, half-fallen to the floor, and both she and Sebastian were sweaty and cold and messy with each other, and it was uncomfortable for both of them to lay that way together on a hard and narrow bed… But there was no safer, sweeter, better place in the world for Sebastian — nor for her, she quietly realised.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and curled his body around her from behind, seeking comfort in her. He had thought, those past few months, that he would get everything he wanted once he opened the Casket, but now he knew he could only find what he wanted in her.

She breathed deeply, accepting his embrace, and not knowing… what to say, how to confess to him what she, too, felt, even though she burned deeply with the need for him to know her, really know her, and how profound her love for him was. She lay quietly in his arms, her chest moving steadily up and down. And then, before he knew it, her hand came to rest on top of his own. Against the back of her neck, she felt Sebastian smile brightly, and she couldn’t help but smile too.

#sswallow;answers #Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow smut #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics

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dduane · 1 year

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Hi there! I'm not sure if this is something you've talked about before in another post, but I just finished the first draft of my first novel, and I was wondering if you could talk about what your experience was like getting your first novel edited and published. I have this story that I'm excited about but no idea what to do with it now that I've reached "The End," do you have any advice on what my next step ought to be towards eventually getting it published? Thanks in advance!

First of all: thanks for asking. ...And now I have to warn you that I am possibly one of the worst possible people to ask about what their first novel's publication looked like... as it was completely atypical.

Not that that's going to stop me, mind you. (And you know what? I'm inserting a cut here, because this goes on a bit. Warning: contains [calculated] dissing by old friends, pulp non-fiction, unexpurgated language, unexpected awards nominations, and advice that's worth just what you're paying for it.)

What happened with me and my first book goes like this:...

In the late 1970s I was starting to burn out on psychiatric nursing, and was offered a job as assistant to the novelist and Star Trek ["The Trouble with Tribbles"] writer David Gerrold. I took it happily, as I was in a place in my life where I really needed some kind of change. The work with David was part-time; I also occasionally did special duty nursing shifts to help make ends meet.

Now during this period, I was writing for my own amusement (as I'd been doing all my life from about age eight onward). Right then I was working on a project I'd been tinkering with from my late high school years right through college, nursing school, and my first couple/few years of practice as an RN. This was the background worldbuilding for a vaguely Tolkienesque, somewhere-between-late-Medieval-and-early Renaissance fantasy scenario featuring a couple of moderately unusual magic systems, a sexually diverse culture, and a pair of "These Two Idiots"-style protagonists with complex interleaving problems.

While I was working for David, I had a lot of opportunity to observe, close up, what the life and workflow of a career writer looked like. Slowly, over a year or so, the realization crept up on me that what David was doing, I could do too. And it was at this point that I finally admitted to him that I thought I might want to write as well.

David's (as I later discovered, extremely calculated) eyeroll could probably have been seen from space. "Oy, not another one," he moaned. After which I went away from the abortive conversation pretty much resolved never to speak to him about this again... but also with a single thought filling my brain: You fucking supercilious sonofabitch, I'm going to show you that I'm not just another one.

...I'll never be able to thank him enough for that. Fury can be so motivating. :)

In the aftermath I got busy pulling together my background material with much more focused intent, and beating the most significant parts of it into something that started looking like a plot. It came together with surprising speed and unnerving insistence—one of the very few times in my career when a project, once begun, has simply flung me into the writing chair and insisted that it was the most important thing in my life and needed handling now. And when in the fullness of time David went on vacation, leaving me to house-sit at his place in LA, I immediately started using his very early computer to transcribe my novel's so-far-only-handwritten draft material.

I took what I thought was considerable care to cover my tracks... but not quite enough. On his return from vacation, when he was putting out the trash, David found some of my discarded draft pages, read them, and confronted me (with a certain amount of friendly teasing) about what had been going on. Then he said to me, "What I've seen of this thing doesn't look too bad. Let me see it when you're finished, and if it looks good enough, I'll ask one of my publishers if they want to take a look at it."

So that's what happened. I finished my first draft and a polish of it in about six weeks, and passed it to David. He read it and immediately handed it on to his editors at Dell, who were just starting a fantasy line for which they needed product. Two weeks later, they said they liked the novel and made an offer, which I accepted. Not a vast amount, but respectable enough. So there it was, my first sale: this book. Which then got me nominated two years running for the Astounding Award, and opened the door for the sale and publication of So You Want To Be A Wizard, as well as my earliest Star Trek work and my entry into the animation world.

I remember very little about the editing process, except that it was painless. What was not exactly painless was the book's cover, about which...well, the less said here the better. But the book came out to generally good reviews. So, with this series of events behind it, you can see why as regards first-publication stories, I'm a first-class outlier and should definitely not be counted. (Also to be avoided by new writers if at all possible: the experience of having half their strongly-selling first novel's initial print run pulped in the warehouse* because it was taking up room needed by a new book by a world-famous novelist.) (Whom I have long since forgiven, since it wasn't his fault, and...well, what can you do? Shit happens.)

...Anyway, that's more than enough about me. Now let's talk about you.

My first advice about what to do with the novel you've just finished? Stick it in a drawer (literally or figuratively speaking, whichever suits your case better) and don't look at it for at least a month. Two would be better. You can spend those two months thinking about your next moves... because you need to give those some consideration before you do anything else.

The question that you first need to answer is going to at least partially shape what you do next. And it's this:

Are you seriously considering making a career out of writing?

It's not that it can't be done! Of course it can. But it won't be easy... not at all. Anyone who tells you it will is either just outright lying through their teeth, or trying to sell you something. ...Or both.

Be honest with yourself as you consider this. If you aren't, you may be letting yourself in for considerable pain over a prolonged period... and I'd sooner you were spared that, if you can be. In particular, be clear about the difference between the statements "I want to write" and "I want to be a writer." Often enough people like the sound of the lifestyle and what they see as going with it—the signings, the book tours (physical or virtual), the interviews, the best-seller lists—without any real concept of the grueling, day-to-day, weekends-are-for-other-people, why-am-I-making-less-than-minimum-wage-most-of-the-time labor that underpins it.

If you simply want to write and be published—without the concept of a career necessarily being involved, or the lovely shimmering dreamlike vision of Giving Up The Day Job—you now have work pathways available to you that would've been unimaginable in the previous century. Self-publishing makes it possible for you to get your work in front of many, many eyes without necessarily having to submit yourself to the specific set of trials that go with achieving the initial stages of an intended career. Selfpubbing still has significant unique challenges of its own, of course, which have to be evaluated so that you can tell (as the commercials say) if they're right for you.

But if you're thinking of a career in what's usually being referred to these days as "traditional publishing", then you face a number of challenges that don't necessarily come with the self-publishing end of things. In particular: many publishing houses no longer consider manuscripts that come to them un-agented. So you're going to need to find an agent who's willing to represent your work... and this is a task that no longer looks anything like what it did when I found mine. (Or rather, when he found me, having been recommended to me by one of my editors. I've been with him for even longer than I've been with @petermorwood... and that's saying something. But this is yet another way in which my career's been wildly atypical.)

There is so much that could be said about this subject alone—the business of researching agencies to see which one seems like a good fit for you, the art of writing the perfect query letter to get their attention focused on a given book, and so much more—that I could hardly begin to even skim the surface of it here. There are whole websites devoted to shopping for agents, not to mention how to pitch yourself and your work to a given literary agency.

Let me leave this whole subject here for the moment. We can come back to it another time, because right now you need to be thinking this through. ...This I'll say, however. For the past six to nine months I've been pulling together links to various online resources that can be beneficial to new writers just getting started. These will be available as posts over at the FicFoundry.com site that I'm going to be bringing online before summer. I'm hoping to build that into kind of a compendium site or clearing house for online resources on this subject. We'll see how it goes.

Meanwhile, thanks for inquiring about this. You're standing at the first branching of what I'm hoping will be, for you at least, a fascinating variant of the Choose Your Own Adventure genre. :)

More on this later.

("Wait. Did she just call us idiots??")

*Now that we live in the era of just-in-time warehousing, this is something that fortunately doesn't happen much any more... as far as I know. But once upon a time, if somebody's new best-seller was going to the warehouse in its many thousands of copies, and your relatively-less-well-selling book was taking up space that could be used by the other author's "more valuable"/higher-priced titles, your books (5-10K of them, in my case) were simply thrown into a machine and turned into papery mush. And these go on your sales record as "unsold copies". (sigh) Some discussion of this phenomenon can be found over here.

#advice #writing advice #career stories

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nvvermore · 11 months

Text

The Ghost of My Life

Vesper arrives to lead Amaryllis to the answers they seek

[part eleven of Come What May]

words: 3k

cw: memory loss, animal injury

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

Amaryllis is ready to strangle Asra when he whispers to them at breakfast the next morning, telling them to meet him at the palace’s fountain after breakfast with Nadia.

They don't really care why he and Vesper are here, just that they're here at all, meddling in their investigation, meddling in their business with Nadia. Out of all the opportunities Asra has had to answer their questions, he chose now.

Amaryllis meets him anyways, at the fountain, his skin glistening against the early morning sunshine. It’s far too early for what little sleep they got last night.

“It was good to see Nadi again. She hasn't changed much.” Asra murmurs, a false pleasantly, as he gazes deep into the fountain.

Amaryllis notes the lack of familiarity in the way Nadia had interacted with Asra, both at dinner and at breakfast. “So you knew her.”

“She doesn't remember me. Her memories are missing. A lot like yours.” His expression holds an air of nostalgia.

“I feel like you're the only one not missing anything.”

“I’m missing more than you think.”

“I'm not even going to bother asking.”

Asra sighs. “But that's not why I asked you here. You and Ilya are trying to figure out what happened that night, right?”

“I am. Julian, not so much. He’s set in believing what he wants to about what happened. Whatever makes him look like the villian.”

“That… sounds about Ilya. Why are you bothering to help him, then?”

“I’m not helping him. I’m using him to get answers. There’s too many coincidences, Asra. The timeline, the memory loss, Lucio.”

“What about Lucio?”

“His ghost haunts these halls. There's a painting, of me, in his wing. He insisted I had something to do with his death.”

“Amie… have you told Nadia?”

“No. You're the only one who would believe me. Julian knows, but only because he saw it for himself.”

“That's… concerning.”

“Oh, really? I thought it might be the typical goings on around here.”

“I've come to the realization that even if I have the answers you seek, I can't give them to you. I'm going to have Vesper take you somewhere you might find some.”

-☽☼☾-

“So, are you gonna bring your boytoy?” Vesper finally breaks the silence, as Amaryllis leads him through the palace gardens.

“He's not my boytoy.”

“But you knew who I meant.” They don't need to see his grin to know it's there.

Amaryllis sighs. “For now, I’d like to find Portia.”

“That cute little redhead from breakfast? I'd like to find her too.”

They groan. “Will you knock it off? It’s this way.” Amaryllis turns a corner, leading Vesper through the gardens to Portia’s cottage.

It isn't much longer until they arrive, but it feels like ages thanks to Vesper’s incessant blabbering.

As the pair of siblings approach the cottage, all is quiet, and Amaryllis knocks on the door softly.

It opens to reveal none other than Julian, as soon as their fist makes contact.

“Amaryllis? Funny finding you here! I was just, uh. Expecting Pasha?”

“Because Pasha would knock on the door of her own home, of course.”

“Right. Well. Then I suppose you're looking for me.”

“Unfortunately.” Amaryllis steps to the side, gesturing to the man beside them. “Julian, this is my brother, Vesper.”

“Salut tout le monde,” Vesper holds a hand out, shaking Julian’s eagerly. “Tu ne m'as pas dit à quel point il était beau.”

“Ferme ta bouche.” Amaryllis tells him, nudging Vesper in the side. “Anyways. Apparently Vesper can lead us to someone who has answers. I’d prefer to go without you, but It’s better if someone is keeping an eye on you.”

-☽☼☾-

Julian is eager to tag along, practically jumping out the door to follow Vesper’s lead.

Vesper is vague on where exactly he’s taking them, only asking Amaryllis to show them the way off the palace grounds and into the forest. From there, he and Julian walk together while they trail behind, the two becoming fast friends, much to their disdain. They pretend to be grateful Julian’s attention isn't on them, but everytime they catch Vesper saying something flirtatious to him, it only adds to their ire.

Their conversation disrupts the otherwise eerie, but peaceful, silence of the forest. Amaryllis just trails behind them, with Styx to keep them company, focusing on anything else but the annoying duo in front of them.

Vesper leads them deeper and deeper into the dark woods, into parts Amaryllis has only managed to venture into a handful of times, in search of flowers or other rare herbs.

Eventually, they approach a small clearing, and immediately Amaryllis senses a change in the air— magic.

There's a protection spell cast over the entire clearing, and Vesper has stopped the group at the boundary of it. He traces a few runes into the air, disarming it to let them pass. Once they're all through, he reengages it with a different set of symbols.

“Vesper, where are we?” Amaryllis asks. They aren't familiar with this area of the woods, or this type of magic.

“A friend of mine lives here.” He gestures across the clearing, where a gigantic, centuries old, sprawling tree stands. There's a cottage built into the hollowed out base of it. “He’s not going to be happy that I've brought you two along.” Vesper explains. “He’s not home, but we can wait for him inside. He won’t like that either, but I’ll make it all up to him later.” Vesper winks, and Amaryllis sees Julian go red out of the corner of their eye.

In a moment, they're going to be seeing red.

Vesper saunters over to the front door, having no problem opening it despite the protection spell engraved into it. Amaryllis examines the carvings, and the base of the spell they’re able to identify as Asra’s work.

“This is where Asra sends you all the time.” Amaryllis says as they follow Vesper inside, Julian trailing behind.

“Guilty.”

Inside is more inviting than Amaryllis assumed it would be. The mystery man’s home is spacious, with surprisingly high ceilings, with branches from the tree above cross-crossing through the rafters. There’s a large, unmade bed pressed up against the far corner, and bookshelves full of knick-knacks line the walls. At the front of the room is a large fireplace, and next to it a kitchen, even bigger than the one in the shop. It’s impressive, all the work someone clearly put into making this place into the perfect home.

Vesper strips off his boots and lights the fireplace from across the room casually, as if he lived here himself. “Make yourselves comfortable,” he says, struggling his way onto the bed. “Just not as comfortable as me. And don't touch anything. I'm already pushing enough of Muriel’s boundaries as is.”

Amaryllis decides to take a closer look around, their hands clasped behind their back. Julian takes a seat at the dining table.

“So, this, Muriel will be able to give us answers about the night Lucio was killed? Who is he anyway?” Julian asks.

“He’s a friend of mine and Asra’s. That’s all you need to know. As for what he knows, I don't know. Asra just told me to bring you guys to him.”

“Why you, instead of Asra?” Amaryllis asks.

“Asra thought I’d be the better option for many reasons, number one being I can get away with more when it comes to Muri.” Vesper sits up to address Amaryllis. “Number two, you were cranky on the walk with just me and Julian. All hell would have broken loose with Asra here.”

Amaryllis crosses their arms in front of their chest. “I was not cranky.”

“Oh really? So I can flirt with Julian here all I want and you won't be mad?”

“I don't know, how would ‘Muri’ feel about you flirting with other men?”

“Touché.”

Suddenly, the front door is kicked in and a large figure steps through it. Vesper shoots up in the bed, and even Julian rises from his seat.

The man makes eye contact with Amaryllis first.

“What— what are you doing here?” he asks, eyeing them, voice far softer than expected. Amaryllis finds him familiar, but it's not the same intensity as they'd felt with Julian and Nadia.

“Muri, Asra told me to bring them here. They have questions for you— wait, what are you carrying?” Vesper hops down from the bed to rush over to Muriel, examining the bundle of cloth in his arms.

“Not now, I’m busy. Get out.” Muriel tears his gaze away from Amaryllis to look at Vesper. “We'll talk about this later.”

Vesper fumbles around with whatever is in his arms and Muriel lets him, uncovering a wolf, shivering and covered in blood. When Muriel notices Amaryllis staring, his hold on the animal tightens.

“Nanna!” Vesper cries. “Muriel, what happened to her?”

Julian apparently can't read the room, and steps forward, addressing Muriel for the first time. “Is… she hurt?”

Muriel nods slowly, his uncertain glare now trained on Julian.

“Well lucky for you I'm a doctor then. Maybe I can help her.”

“No, keep your hands off her.” Muriel orders, but it's gentle, purely protective. He sets her down gently in front of the fire, atop a pile of furs. He remains hovering over the wolf, shielding her.

Vesper speaks up. “Muriel, let him help. From what I've heard, he isn't your average doctor. He can heal her better than any of us ever could.” Muriel stares at Vesper for a few moments, before sighing, and leaning back to kneel next to the wolf. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh, nodding subtly. “Go ahead.”

Julian still looks hesitant with just Vesper’s verbal permission, but he strips off his gloves anyways, approaching the wolf slowly. She snarls at him, baring her teeth even as Muriel pets gently at her fur.

“Inanna, it’s alright.” Muriel coos, and she calms down. Amaryllis decides the wolf must be his familiar.

Inanna finally lets Julian touch her, removing the blanket to find a large gouge upon her side. “Oh my, you poor thing. I’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy, don't mind me.” He goes to work right away, the mark on his neck glowing as both Muriel and Inanna watch him carefully. The wound on her side fades until it's gone, and the blood is seeping through Julian’s coat instead.

Julian backs away from the duo and Vesper rushes forward to take his place, greeting Inanna warmly as Muriel checks her over.

“Thank you…” Muriel mutters, his guarded body language falling slightly. Amaryllis goes to Julian without thinking, peeling the bloodied coat back to check the wound, now on Julian’s own side.

“It’s no problem at all, it's already almost all healed on me.” He turns away, lifting his shirt showing off nothing but a faint scratch upon his skin. “It’s fine, Amaryllis.”

They nod, backing away from him.

“Muri, what happened? That wasn't from just any animal.” Vesper asks, still offering comfort to Inanna. Helios, his own familiar, slithers out from his shirt and down his arm and onto Inanna to give her his own snake hug.

“It was Lucio.”

“Lucio? He’s here?” Amaryllis raises their voice just enough to be heard from the other side of the room, but it seems to set off alarm bells for Muriel anyways. He tears his disapproving gaze off of them and his eyes soften when he looks at Vesper, who nods in approval.

“He’s back. At least his ghost is.”

“I know.” Amaryllis steps forward, but not too close, lifting their sleeve to reveal the remnants of the gashes he left across their arm on their first night at the palace. “I didn't think he was able to leave his room.”

“He’s growing stronger.”

“That’s why they're here. Muri, Asra says you know something about that night.”

“The night of the fire…” Muriel murmurs.

“I do know you?” Julian speaks up. “Now that I think about it, you seem quite familiar.”

Muriel rises from the floor, towering over everyone else in the room, even Julian. “We need firewood. Stay here.” He nods at Vesper before exiting the hut, unintentionally slamming the door on the way out.

Suddenly, Amaryllis feels a magical shift, one that they can't quite explain. “Vesper, what's going on?” they ask, unsure of what they're even talking about.

“You’ll see.”

A moment later, the front door slams open, and in steps a hulking man carrying a bundle of firewood. He looks at Amaryllis and Julian, with mild disdain, but seemingly unsurprised to find two strangers in his home.

Perhaps Asra let him know they’d be coming ahead of time?

He steps past them, turning his back to Amaryllis and Julian to approach the fireplace. A mark— just like the one Julian carries, just like the one they apparently carry over their heart— is aglow on his back.

“Amie, Julian, this is Muriel,” Vesper says, “he was just in here a moment ago. You don't remember him.”

“He was already here? No, no… I would have remembered meeting someone as… large… as he is.” Julian says, his cheeks turning pink as Muriel gives him a side-eye.

“You wouldn't. People… forget me.” Muriel explains, getting the fire going.

“But you don’t forget him, Vesper?” Amaryllis asks, turning to their brother.

“I used to. Then one day Muriel decided he didn't want me to anymore. Obviously Asra remembers him too. But that’s it.”

“People forget you? Just like that?” Julian slumps back down into the dining table chair.

Muriel keeps stroking the fire. “Don't you have… questions, or something for me?”

“The mark. Yours allows others to forget you so you can live a peaceful life. Julian’s allows him to take other’s injuries onto himself. I have one over my heart, but I have no clue what it allows me to do. Neither of us know how we got it, but you might.” Amaryllis keeps their distance from Muriel, still sensing the man’s hesitation.

It takes him a moment to respond. “...I helped a friend. And I was rewarded in return.”

“Amie, you have one of these marks?” Vesper asks. They look to their brother and nod, summoning up whatever magic they can to make the mark glow. It’s faint, but now that they know it's there, they can make it appear.

“A friend, hm? So Asra.” Muriel seems to have no comment at Amaryllis’s deduction.

“Muri, are these marks connected to that night? I know even less than all of you, all I’ve been able to get from Asra is that Amaryllis’s accident was magical in nature, and he implied it was his fault.”

“What? He’s told you that much?” Amaryllis questions.

“He’s afraid to tell you, because every time he’s tried, your headaches get worse. But whenever you learn the truth naturally, they don't. He’s just trying to protect you in the only way he knows how.”

“That’s all you know, Vesper?” Julian asks from across the room, a contemplative look across his features.

“It’s the most he’s ever told me at all. He thinks I’ll run my mouth— and he’s not wrong— so he keeps me in the dark. We both agreed to it, for Amaryllis’s sake.”

“If Asra sent you here, he wants me to tell you what I know.” Muriel starts. “It was the night… The night of the fire. Asra sent me to find you.” he nods his head towards Julian.

“Asra was there? You were there? Why don't I remember any of this?” Julian rises once more.

“You were locked in a dungeon.”

Julian’s eye widens, and he digs through his pocket, pulling out the key he found in the library yesterday. He holds it up for Muriel to see. “Recognize this?”

“That’s the key. To the dungeons.”

“Locked in a dungeon… before the murder? What for?”

“I don't know. But I let you out. I led you up to… his room. L— You know. Him.” Muriel's expression grows intense for just a moment, but he reels it back in. “The room was already on fire. You ran in, and I left.”

“The room was already on fire…? I’m innocent…?” Julian pulls his gaze away from Muriel, and it lands on them for a moment, before glancing down at the brand etched into his skin. “I’m innocent.”

“Muriel, where was I that night?” Amaryllis interrupts.

The room goes silent, and Julian’s former expression of relief and victory is replaced with cold dread.

“Don’t.” is all he says.

“No! I’m tired of everyone else knowing something I don’t!” Amaryllis tries not to shout, as to not disrupt Muriel’s home anymore than they already have. “Muriel, where was I?”

“He’s… right.” Muriel grimaces. “I shouldn't. It’s not for me to tell.”

“Fine!” Amaryllis throws their arms up, approaching the door, pulling it open. “Everyone else can get their answers but me. I hope you're happy, Julian.” They step through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind them.

They make it just past the edge of the protection spell before Julian is trailing after them.

“Amaryllis, I—”

“No! Don't speak! Don't tell me whatever you’re keeping from me is for my own good, I don't want to hear it.”

“But—”

“I mean it!” Amaryllis keeps walking ahead, shouting loud enough for Julian to hear their words from behind them. “You lost memories. You got to make the choice to come back to Vesuvia, to find out what happened to you, despite everyone who cares about you protesting against that. We all gave you the room to make that decision for yourself. And in return you take away my ability to make that choice for myself.”

Julian seems to have nothing more to say.

The two of them trudge on in silence, much like they did the other night. As much as Amaryllis wanted Julian to shut up, now his silence is aggravating them just as much.

And then, the light, sparse drizzle turns into a full-on downpour.

Julian catches up with Amaryllis, stripping off his oversized overcoat to shield the both of them with it.

“Maybe we should find a place to stop until the rain lets up?” he murmurs, far too close to their ear.

Amaryllis says nothing.

They walk on, boots slopping through puddles of mud as they trek back through the forest on an undetermined path.

“You're right, you know.” Julian says. “I'm keeping this… thing… from you, keeping you from making your own choice. But it’s not out of concern for you as much as it is for me. Vocalizing what I think I know, it may very well break me. You're strong enough to handle it, I know it. But me? Not a chance.”

“Oh, so your selfish arrogance is supposed to make me feel better?” Amaryllis stops in their tracks, Julian bumping into them from behind. “This whole time I had thought I was trying my damndest to find the good in you, but I realize now I was only trying to prove Asra wrong.”

Amaryllis feels Julians fingers brush against their damp shoulder, and then he’s gone, resuming the walk back through the forest.

“We’d better get a move on. I’m sure Pasha is expecting us.”

#the arcana #amaryllis leroux #julian devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #asra alnazar #apprentice amaryllis #fan apprentice #my fic #amie fic #vesper tristesse #amieilya #vesmuri #come what may

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parcequecestnotreprojeeeet · 11 months

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After my story "An inexplicable reaction" I kept thinking about how her ex-husband found out about the relationship and my countless thoughts led me to this story. Your Strawberry

When everything makes sense

He was sitting in a restaurant staring into the faces of the celebrating teenagers sitting around him, rejoicing at the success of their play. Being a quiet person by nature, no one noticed his taciturnity. However, he was not so apathetic because he felt left out, but because he was horrified. His life had literally collapsed like a house of cards that evening.

He had already felt a strange sensation at the theatre performance, but it was only when his wife had embraced her theatre protégés on stage that he had understood. With one boy she had stopped a little longer and he had looked more closely for the first time. He had instinctively sensed that there was more between them than the relationship of a theatre teacher to her pupil. Since then he had kept an eye on her and on him and he had seen things he had never noticed before.

For months, this boy had been visiting her regularly at her house because he was writing a play together with his wife. The looks this boy gave his wife were unmistakable and it had shocked him to discover the same look in his wife's eyes. They were small gestures that completed puzzle piece after puzzle piece in his mind. A fleeting touch of her hands as he presented her with a bouquet of flowers. Glances they exchanged when they felt unobserved. He was the star of the evening and of course he sat next to her in the restaurant. There was a kind of complicity surrounding the two of them that he had never noticed before.

The more the evening progressed, the harder it was for him to pull himself together. He wanted to confront her, but he couldn't do that here. But he couldn't go home either, because his daughter was also among the partying youths. He could not ruin this evening for her.

At some point, his wife's gaze met him. She looked at him as shocked as he felt and he knew she understood. He was glad when they were finally able to leave the party. Had it not been for their daughter, happily telling of her success in the back seat of the car, the silence between him and his wife would probably have been noticed. But as it was, only they knew what stood between them.

It was a balmy early summer evening and he retreated to the terrace. He knew she would come to him eventually, but he needed a moment alone. He had not yet come to terms with the shock, of course, but he knew what he had to do. Quietly, she stepped out onto the terrace and sat down on a chair. His gaze slid to her briefly and he saw her clasp her hands together.

"I'm sorry," she said in a failing voice. "Sorry for what?" he asked quietly, yet sharply. He heard her take a deep breath. "I fell in love with him," she said in a trembling voice and he felt like falling into an abyss. Somewhere in his head there had been a voice whispering to him that he was imagining everything. That voice had now finally faded away.

"He's the same age as our daughter," he pressed out helplessly. "Yes," she said simply. "I can't understand it." "I know," she replied. "Even though we have grown apart in the last few years and are only together because of our children, I never expected you to do such a thing to me," he said emotionlessly. She remained silent. "A child. Do you even realise what will happen when this comes out? If I can see it, then others can see it too."

"I can't talk to you about that now," she said quietly. "But please let us be reasonable with each other for the sake of our children," she pleaded. "I will pack my things and move out," he declared. "Tomorrow," he added, sensing that he had caught her off guard.

"We'll talk to the children in the morning and tell them we're separating. We'll sort out everything else when I've thought it over." "If that's what you want," she whispered chokingly. He stood up and walked past her. "I'll sleep on the couch," he said as he passed, leaving her alone. The next morning it happened just as he had said.

Helloo sweet 🍓! ❤️

In Andre’s mind, suddenly it was like 💡! Well, it’s not about feeling or not sorry for him but it must’ve not been easy for him, regardless of the state of their marriage.

Nice writing despite the delicate subject and Andre’s point of view 😉

Thank you so much, Strawberry! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #strawberry

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 2 years

Text

Apocalypse

PART 7

Pairing: Winchester!Reader x Negan (ft. Sam x Dean)

Summary: You manage to put together a plan to escape The Sanctuary with your brothers, but things don't go to plan.

Warnings: Some strong language, possible graphic violence/injuries.

A/N: So this would've been the end of this series but I've decided to keep it going because I'd like to explore the reader's relationship with Sam and Dean better and I'm just having too much fun writing this aha.

Also, if anybody ever has any ideas for another series they might want to see or even just random ideas, please send me an ask because I really like writing things like this. Thanks for reading!

Your heart hammered in your chest as you crept through the dark hallway. Over the past week, you'd been passing notes back and forth with Dean. And now you were on your way to meet him and Sam in one of the empty store rooms.

Although you hadn't expected many people to be around at this time of night, you had to say you were surprised that there wasn't at least a couple of people standing guard anywhere. Maybe Negan finally trusted you. He'd certainly been showing you a little more respect lately.

When you reached the store room, you hesitated outside the door. Something felt off, like this was a little too easy. But if Negan knew what you were up to, he would've stopped you ages ago. He wouldn't be stupid enough to risk leaving it too long.

You tried to push the thought out of your mind, before gently pushing the door open. But when you entered the room, you were immediately regretting your decision to open this door. You should've listened to your doubts, because this was too easy. It was too easy because he let you get this far.

"Hey there." Negan smirked as he stood in the centre of the room, your brothers slumped against the wall with bound wrists. "Going somewhere?"

"Negan, I-" You felt like the breath had been knocked out of you as you stared at him with wide eyes. Negan wasn't the stupid one, you were.

Before you were able to register what was happening, Negan had dragged Sam and Dean up off the floor and you felt a hand wrap around your hair, before you were dragged out of the room.

He roughly forced you all outside into the cold night and then he shoved you to the ground so you were kneeling in front of him. Your brothers were kneeling next to you, and then Negan started pacing back and forth in front of you all.

"Well I will say, you are smart." He grinned, pointing at you. "But you aren't that smart."

"Negan, please-"

"No!" He yelled, lunging toward you with his bat. "You don't talk unless I say so!"

He carried on then, seeming to get more angry by the second. "Now, I know that you know what happens if you cross me. And I never thought you'd be so goddamn stupid, yet here we are."

You fought the urge to plead with him again as he continued pacing in front of you.

"You disobeyed me, so now, you gotta be punished. Now, as much as I'd hate to lose one of my best men, I just can't let this slide. So I'm gonna kill your brothers, and you're gonna watch. And then I'm gonna let you go, with the knowledge that their deaths are on you."

"Negan, please, just...just kill me."

He chuckled. "That's not gonna work though is it. Cuz if I kill you, then I lose two men and a I get a target on my back. So I got no choice but to kill them so that you know what you've done. And I will take great pleasure in your suffering."

"I'm sorry, okay? I-"

"Shut your damn mouth!"

Your whole body was shaking as you knelt there in front of him, helpless as he focused in on your brother now. He was going to kill them and it was all your fault, because you couldn't just suck it up and stay with him.

You felt like you were going to throw up as Negan lifted his bat into the air above Dean's head. This was your fault.

But before he could bring the bat down on Dean, you suddenly found yourself throwing your hands onto the bat mid swing. Your skin burned as you closed your fingers around the weapon, the barbed wire sinking into your flesh.

The pain didn't seem to last long though because when Negan threw you to the ground, your hands just sort of turned numb.

Thankfully, what you had done had given Dean time to untie his wrists, and he launched himself at Negan, knocking him forward.

And whilst Negan was occupied with Dean, you shuffled over to Sam to help him free his wrists.

"(y/n), you're bleeding." He said, his eyes filled with concern as you struggled to pick up a stone to cut his ties.

"It's fine." You assured him, although it wasn't fine as you were beginning to feel the full extent of the pain now. Your fingers were on fire as you tried to keep hold of the stone, blood continuing to spill from the cuts in your hands.

When you finally managed to free Sam, he immediately started examining your hands, and it became evident to him that it was not fine. "Oh my god." He breathed out, gently cradling your hands in his as he looked down at all the blood.

Your attention was brought away from your injuries when you heard a thud behind you. Turning around, you saw Dean on the ground, and Negan was standing over him, an evil smile on his face.

Without thinking, you picked up a large rock from the floor, barely able to keep hold of it as you lifted it up. And you struck Negan on the back of the head, causing a loud crack before he collapsed beside Dean on the ground.

You dropped the blood stained rock as you took in the scene in front of you. Dean was pulling himself up off the ground while Negan lay unconscious.

"Is he dead?" You asked, your voice merely a whisper.

Dean quickly checked if Negan was still breathing and then he picked up his bat, coming to stand over him. "He's not dead yet."

"Wait, you can't kill him."

"Why not? He just tried to kill me."

"Yeah but he's not like a monster."

Dean looked at you then, seemingly offended. "He's a psychopath!"

"Dean, I know he's just tried to do what is probably one of the most awful things a person could possibly do, but he's a person. We don't kill people."

"You're not seriously trying to save him are you?"

"Just...take his bat and let's leave."

Dean sighed before walking towards you. "Fine, but he's gonna come after us."

"Well then let's just make sure we get as far away as possible then."

TAG LIST

@lostinworldofdarkness @melixson @fairy-alix @faithm120601 @namelesslosers @historymemes2001 @flannellover67

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

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peninkwrites · 1 year

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Any headcanons for mafia!Tubbo that you haven't mentioned or included? Is the mafia au going to focus mainly on the characters it already has been focusing on, or are characters who are more in the background rn going to become bigger characters? I'm loving the mafia au, so really anything you have to share would be cool :D

Ohh I have Several mafia!Tubbo headcanons to share.

This one isn't happy (of course) but well, Tubbo first decided he was going to kill Schlatt when offhandedly he mentioned that Tubbo could never move out or go away to college or in general get out alive because he "knew too much" about the family business. So whatever plans Tubbo had of being estranged and just moving on with his life ended then and there. He was probably like 15. He waited with that conviction 3 more years before he finally did it.

Also, the closet in his bedroom he's used as a safe-haven for years. Big fancy old house, so there's a little window in there overlooking the street. He could wedge the door shut with some rope around the doorknob and the hanging rod. It didn't really make him safer, but it made him feel better. He'd dragged a chair in there, some books from when he was younger, and he'd just look out at the street from there, people-watching, fascinated and maybe too longing for the normalcy he thought he saw in them.

And in that same vein, Tubbo liked to think that Schlatt wasn't really his dad. I mean, the last name is all wrong, he doesn't know why and it's not like Schlatt was open to questions, so maybe out there somewhere his actual dad is a scientist or something, working for NASA he'd like to think. Or maybe a beekeeper. Something ordinary. Something without guns. (this is in part bc I normally don't like dad!Schlatt so. I'm making myself feel better lol)

And as for our main cast of characters: the rest of this arc will continue to focus on Quackity and Tubbo (I didn't expect the two of them to end up taking up so much screen time, but I'm not complaining, I love these guys!) as well as some more resolution for Ponk's story. As for the next fic, I do have subplots planned for Wilbur and Tommy, Sapnap will start to get more involved in Quackity's storyline. The Badlands are major to the plot, but I still am unsure of writing Bad and Ant, so idk how much we'll see of them! I want to write some more of Niki and Jack, eventually some more from Ranboo and Karl, a bit more of Sam, I don't think there's anyone who is going to become major to the plot that hasn't been shown to have a pov/story already! Most of our major arcs have started in one way or another by now :D (I mean, I am open minded, if I can find a spot to fit in more of them I will. Find an excuse to expand on Hannah's story, Tina was mentioned but doesn't exist really, Fundy is literally just an accountant but if there's room I will write him gladly. and Eryn I have SO much backstory for and nowhere to put it lol)

Actually, I know I've posted a few prequel fics, but the main prequel Plot (why did the Empire fall? What happened between Wilbur and his father? why did Puffy leave the police force and join the Badlands?) more major things like that I'll put together in a more plot-heavy multi-pov prequel fic, it will probably be a shorter arc focused on Phil and Techno, Puffy, Sapnap and Bad, Wilbur and Quackity, that type deal!

I'm so glad you're liking the Mafia AU!!! :D I could talk about it for ages, and these questions were really fun to think about! Thank you!!

#asks #chaos-creature1 #mafia au

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nar-nia · 2 years

Text

felix (part 2)

warnings: none

word count: 1.6k

"Felix!" You couldn't believe your eyes. Was he actually here? Or was this some sort of hallucination? Were you already dead?

"Y/N.", his breath rattled, his arms shaking when he tried to pull you up.

"What are you doing here? I- "

"Can we," he took another deep breath, "please get you up first."

You did your best to help him, but your best right now consisted in digging your fingernails into his arm and grinding your feet against the wall in the hopes of finding some support. Thankfully Felix seemed to have gained some strength while he was gone, slowly pulling you up until your feet scrambled against the hole where the window was previously, until you could finally stand again.

"Thank you.", you mumbled, your eyes now fixated on Hyunjin, who was still standing there with a lazy smile on his face.

"And you! What the hell was that? You could have killed me!"

He stopped smiling, but he didn't even try to show an ounce of regret. "I told you the deal. You either join us… or that." He pointed towards the window.

You could feel your face heating up, eyebrows drawn together. "You -"

"Okay, can you leave us alone for a second? Please?", Felix intervened, trying to get some distance between you and Hyunjin. The other boy just shrugged before strolling away, like he was trying to aggravate you even more by walking extra slow. But he finally disappeared, causing you to trap Felix in a long hug.

"I've missed you.", you mumbled against his shoulder, not wanting to let go yet.

"I've missed you too."

"So what happened? Where have you been, what are you doing here, how- "

"One thing after the other.", he chuckled, softly grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you! I was so worried that something might have happened…" You couldn't stop your knees from shaking from nerves, even when you sat down. You had been looking for him since what felt like ages, and now you finally found him. You couldn't even begin to describe how relieved you felt, but something still felt off. Where did he suddenly come from? And more importantly: had he been given the same choice as you? Because if he was still here it must mean…

"I'm okay." His answer distracted you from your thoughts, the relief making you forget about your worries shortly.

"I'm so glad.", you whispered. "But what happened?"

"Where should I start…", Felix sighed, turning his body towards you. And then he began to talk. How he found a trace towards the oddinary, how he decided to follow the clues and how he ended up here. When he started to explain how he met Hyunjin however he suddenly stopped talking. You waited for a bit, but he was silent, his eyes focused on his fidgeting hands.

"Felix?" Your soft voice made him look up, eyes resting on you. There was something inside them, but you couldn't quite figure out what. Was he nervous? Fear, maybe? It didn't seem to be something good, you were sure of that. But at least they weren't green.

"What happened with Hyunjin?" He ran his hand over his face, his expression now turning almost painful.

"Y/N… I didn't have a choice."

His words felt like sharp pieces of glass, finding its way into your heart without hesitation. Your chest felt too tight, making it harder and harder for you to breathe. You couldn't do this. You needed to get out, get somewhere… You didn't even realize that you stood up, your breathing getting frantic, your worries overwhelming you.

"Y/N…" You slapped away his hand that was trying to grab your arm, bringing some distance between you two.

"You joined them? I went through all of this and -", a sob shook your whole body, "and you just joined them? I wanted to get you back home! I almost died, Felix!" Your voice had grown even louder than before, getting almost hysterical. You couldn't even look at him right now, too disappointed, but also so, so worried about him. Would he become as lifeless as the others? As threatening?

"I'm so sorry." His voice was shaking, like he was trying hard to hold back tears. You didn't dare to look at him though.

"What will happen to you?"

"I don't know." His voice was so sad, so full of despair, that you decided to turn around after all. Your breath got stuck in your throat when you looked at your best friend, when you saw the look on his face. He used to be called sunshine by everyone around him, always in a good mood and smiling, making the people around him happy. But the Felix that stood in front of you now was an entirely different person. There were tears streaming down his face, his whole face sunken in, and his eyes… he looked so tired. And so scared.

"Felix.", you whispered, trapping him once again in a hug, your arms wrapped tightly around him. "We'll figure something out, I promise."

His previous sniffles turned into loud sobs, his hands clutching on your shirt, pulling on it in an attempt to hold you even closer. You had never seen him like this. Your hands were caressing his back, just holding him, waiting until the tears stopped, whispering little affirmations. "It's going to be okay."

His sobs slowly died down after a while, but you two remained in this position, bodies pressed closely together.

"So what happened after you said yes?", you whispered, trying to get the conversation back to your topic. Your hand was massaging his hair, trying to soothe him a bit.

He hesitated for a second, his body tensing up. "I don't know. I don't- I don't remember. Everything just turns black afterwards… until I saw you falling down the window."

"You mean after Hyunjin pushed me."

"I- yes. I think he did the same thing to me."

You let go of him, holding his shoulders to press him away to have a look at his face.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you??"

"I'm fine. He jumped after me… but after that it really all turned black."

You could feel a headache coming up. "Okay, so he saved you because you wanted to join? But why did he throw you out the window in the first place?"

"I don't know, Y/N." He sounded exhausted. But who could blame him? This was a scary situation for both of you.

"It's okay. We'll figure it out, okay? But we need to get out of here first."

"There is no way out."

"I'm sure there is. Maybe we can take the same way back? Or maybe…"

With a groan he grabbed you, forcing you towards the window again, to look down. "This is the only way out. You want to take it? Because I don't."

"You're hurting me." Your whisper was barely audible, but he instantly let go of you.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what just happened."

"It's okay." You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, getting some distance between you two. This was definitely not the Felix you knew. Did Chan maybe already get to him? But then again, who knew what he had to endure while he was here? If only he could remember… but that had time. You really needed to get out of here before Hyunjin came back. Preferably not through the window. But going the same way back also wasn't an option. There had to be another way.

There wasn't. After searching the floor and walls for what had to be the 100th time you gave up, letting yourself fall on the couch next to Felix with a little grunt. "I told you.", he mumbled, but you chose to ignore it. You didn't need his negativity right now.

"Maybe I could pretend to join them. And when they trust me we could escape… but they already proved that they can do some sort of mind control. Did you experience anything like that?" Felix shook his head, but he didn't seem to pay much attention.

"Maybe that could be a good idea then."

"What if you actually join them?"

Your head snapped towards your friend, eyes wide open in disbelief. "What? Why would I do that, Felix, have you seen the others? I don't want to become like them! And what are they even doing? Just sitting around here all day? No thank you." You started to ramble, feeling slightly enraged by Felix suggestion. How could he say such things?

"Think about it! I already joined them, there's no way of escaping for me. And they won't let you go either now. Yes, we might turn into… whatever they are now, but we could spend time together until then." Your eyes were focused on his hands, his fingers moving towards you, intertwining with yours, holding tight.

"Don't say that." Your voice had grown quiet again. "We will get you out of here."

"We won't. Y/N please. Don't leave me here alone." You kept staring at your connected hands, deep in thought. Were you actually considering his idea? His other hand was moving towards your face, guiding a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing over your temple. And you felt yourself giving in.

"Okay."

You could feel him staring holes in the back of your head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay." You furrowed your brows. Why was his voice suddenly so different? So cold?

before | masterlist | next

only one more chapter until we've reached the end 🤧 let me know what you thought and be excited for next week's chapter! 👀

taglist: @cb97zone @kpopworldwide @septicrebel (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

permanent taglist: @maeum-your @sunoona @hoonsmarsbar @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @taekbokki @axartia

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids au #skz au #stray kids felix #skz felix #lee felix #lee felix au

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solarsavoy · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday, Krystar!

For being the main subject of my Monday posts, it's kind of weird I haven't talked about this yet. So here we go.

Krystar is meant to be an epic fantasy targeted at new adults, age 18-25. Deshi, 16yo male, gets randomly isekai'd to another planet and obtains a god relic. It's meant to speak to anyone that's reluctant to do things out of the norm while also wishing to be somewhere else, like in their own anime or game. This is Deshi. He uses videogames as an escape and gets his wish only to find out that he actually has no idea what he's doing and everything is trying to kill him. And a lot of things get really close to succeeding.

I think he almost dies twice in the First Fragment. Gotta love those natural D20s. (AKA for those that don't know DND, he's very lucky without a luck stat. So very lucky.)

The Fragment series, which will consist of five books, focuses on Deshi as he breaks out of the indecisive nature he's always had and rises up to save his soul mate, the princess. There's a lot of twists and turns that should turn the chosen one trope on his head, but no spoilers. Let's just say he's uniquely qualified, but he was picked at random. If anything, by accident. 😏

I currently have First, Second and Third Fragment written but only the First one is consumer ready. Even so, I've put it on hold temporarily as I figure out just how I want to self publish it. In the meantime, if anyone wants to become a Tier 1 Patron, I'll start posting the First Fragment by chapter twice a week. Once you've read the first book, Patrons will have an opportunity to become beta readers for the other Fragments. (Others I've asked to be beta readers already can still be beta readers whether or not you are a Patron.) If you'd like to support me as a writer and artist, become a Patron today!

Moving on. I also have half of the Fourth and Fifth Fragments written. (Don't ask. It's complicated and contains spoilers if I explain how that happened.)

After the Fragment series will be a standalone called Lost Fragments. Lost Fragments contains 3 smaller stories called Peace Bringer, Gerit, and Mythren. Gerit is finished, but I'm doing art (or slacking, really) for it as I publish it on AO3. It should be the only one I put on AO3 and I'll be taking it down when the other two stories are finished and I'm ready to publish the book. It comes with a lot of content warnings, but it's surprisingly wholesome despite them. You know, since it's popular at the moment, think Sandman. There are very dark and suggestive themes in Gerit, but the story is what matters.

These three stories are related to the world of Krystar, but do not interact with the Fragment series. At least directly. They sort of provide some background for the world. But it's really a sort of prelude to the second series of Krystar, the Echo series.

The Echo series will also consist of five books (all Stag's fault by the way) and focuses on the lives of five other individuals. The first one will be called Echoes of Stag. I have names for the others, but they are spoilers. 😏 And Echoes of Stag is complete. Just needs editing. It does have to be read after the Fragment series though, even though the spoilers are mostly in the epilogue.

The Echoes series brings all the other stories together and an end to the world of Krystar, which brings me to the 12th and final book, Reign of Mynt.

Reign of Mynt follows Mynti, Mythren's daughter, as she attempts to claim her rightful place as a Kares royal. Like Lost Fragments, it's a side story simply set in the same world, but there will be hints of all the happenings from the other books in this one. It would not be the way it is if the other eleven books didn't happen. 😁

Should be interesting.

And that is the general overview of Krystar! Thanks for reading. Let me know if you're interested in me doing a WIP Wednesday for Peace Bringer or Mythren. The other stories are either finished already/waiting for edits or contain spoilers, so unfortunately, those are the only ones I can really do a WIP Wednesday for. Have a good day!

#daily delivery #WIP Wednesday #Krystar #original story #please read the books some day itd make me really happy

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 2 years

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hii there! what are your favourite books / do you have any recommendations?

Hello, Lovely~

I've read... so many books over the years, it's almost a wonder I ever had time for much else. ^_^;

I believe I may have mentioned some of these books before, but there are several that come to mind for possible recommendations. These are all the books that immediately spark a memory, which linger with me even seemingly ages after last exploring their pages.

The first I would recommend is cresando by Amy Weiss. Love, loss, heartache, and the story of two souls who find each other over and over again, in each and every lifetime, who choose to find each other over and over again, who drift through the cosmos in an eternal dance, dancing in the spaces between lifetimes. It remains one of the most breathtaking stories I've read in the past few years, pure poetry captured onto each page.

If you have a chance, I would recommend searching for Two From Arcadia by Lucine Finch on Project Gutenberg's database. It's a short read, a lyrical poem of contrasting viewpoints, but it's woven together with beautiful artwork that not only grounds the mystical words, but also enhances the sensations, almost fully immersing you into the story. I happened upon it by chance today, and I am now seeking out an original edition to add to my collection.

It's been a decade since I've read them, but I remember I was obsessed with the Skinjacker Trilogy (Everlost, Everwild, Everfound) by Neal Shusterman when I was a teenager. There was an incredible amount of worldbuilding to those books that still leaves me kind of in awe, and I still tend to think of every once in a great while. And despite it being over 10 years since I've read them, I still remember the names of my two favourite characters, the reasons why I loved them so much, and the bittersweet finale.

Another I finished recently is Jomny Sun's Everyone's a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too. Reading as a diary, this book (a very short read; I knocked it out in half an hour!) follows the story of an alien who has been sent to Earth on a reconnaissance mission, but there is an underlying depth that reveals some of the struggles of leaving your home and moving somewhere new, of finding a place within that newness, and the disconnect once one returns home, no longer quite fitting in when your views and perspective have changed.

Another story that actually follows along that thread is a story about a mouse that I read last year: Young Fredel by Cynthia Voigt. I know there's almost a stigma against adults reading children's stories, but as a former librarian and now an educator, I highly recommend that more adults read children's stories. It offers another way for us to connect with them, and sometimes they can teach even us old timers something valuable. Fredel, oh my little Fredel, had that same wide-eyed wonder and curiousity that so many of us have, and the story followed him through it all. I forget exactly how many chapters the story contained, but there were many moments that had me on the edge of my seat.

One of my favourite novels as of late is Eternal Life by Dara Horn. Following our protagonist, we're guided through several different lives, with many others that fall in between. Trapped, cursed, to eternal life with the sort-of antagonist due to a single mistake, a vow, an arrangement- I don't want to go too much in depth about this book, but I'm obsessed with it and have read it several times. This one does have some allusion to darker topics, just as a warning in advance.

I could go on for ages about the books I've enjoyed and would recommend, but I don't want to go on for too long. If you have a specific genre you're looking for luv, please let me know. I can give you more specific suggestions from there. ;)

I also have a Goodreads Account if you want to peruse more of my shelves. I know I have only a fraction of the books I’ve consumed mentioned on there, but it’s a start?

Thanks for the ask! :D

#reference #books #book recommendations #i'm sure i've talked about some of these before mais c'est la vie mes amis #thank you for the ask dear!#if you're looking for a specific era or a vibe or genre or something please let me know~#hello my darlings i hope you're all doing well!#been kind of busy the past couple of weeks but i'm trying to fit in some writing when i can :)

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jamesunderwater · 3 months

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Back to request a card of your choosing bc I think my last one got lost somewhere ❤️🙏

El, I hope didn't think I forgot about you <3

I actually pulled a spread for you in early January, but wanted to do more for it and thus never posted it. So I'm going to give you that reading, but I also did another one for you today. Sorry this took ages, thank you for being so patient with me.

January reading (sorry the pictures aren't the best):

The Fool is always an interesting card to get, and it says a lot for it to have been the first card I pulled for you. As a Major Arcana card, and the first card in the entire Tarot, this is an important message and probably speaks to an overarching theme in your life right now. It's all about being at the start of a new journey. Maybe there's been a recent transformation in your life, or a huge upheaval of how things have been before. And so despite all that you've already learned in life, in some ways you're starting at square one again, with lots to learn. To me, the fact that it's reversed might indicate that you're hesitant about starting this journey, or you're having to make decisions right now but are lacking some knowledge that would help you make the best one. The King of Swords coming alongside The Fool says to me that whatever situation The Fool is referring to requires a lot of wisdom and forethought. It also, again, speaks to the long journey ahead, and the perseverance that will be required. I love that the Deer card followed up these two cards, because the Deer is patient and compassionate. Maybe you are currently on or about to embark on a hard journey, but the Deer reminds you that being kind to yourself is the best way to get through it. She's the feminine energy of the world around you, always there to offer you comfort when you need it.

Today's reading:

I love that this reading is super coherent. To me, it's saying that you have a lot that is about to happen or is already happening related to work or a project of some sort you're excited about. I've been getting the Bee a lot personally, and it's a reminder that the things I'm dreaming of and slowly working towards are worth it, and to keep up the slow and steady pace; don't give up, every little bit of work counts. To get Gandalf and the Wand together was very cool! Wands are tools of intention, so right now, the ability to manifest what you're wishing for or working towards is all in your hands. And Gandalf is just that final confirmation that you are on the right path, and you have what it takes to do the work needed to get you where you want to go. I'm also curious, if you're a LotR fan at all, if there's other symbolism in his character that's meaningful to you here...

I know I got really in depth with my reading of these cards, so please ignore anything that doesn't resonate with you! What you see in the cards and what stands out to you in the descriptions is far more important than anything I had to say. I also think it might be worth looking up the stories that The Fool and the King of Swords were based on in that deck (you can see it at the top of the description). I recently started doing that and found that I got even more out of the reading after reading the myth it came from.

Hope it was worth the wait, though! <3

Decks, in order of appearance: Tarot of the Divine, The Wild Unknown Animal Oracle Deck, Oracle of Novice Witches

#oracle readings #el tag

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lipstickstainz · 3 years

Text

true lies - s. r. (12/?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A collection of letters Spencer and you share while you're gone - and then you're gone forever. At least, that what he thinks.

Warnings: some fluff, angst, angst, angst, smoking, slight ptsd, grief and loss

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I'm sososososo sorry. please don't hate me. I love you. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Dearest little bear,

two months have passed since you had to leave, and not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wish you were here with me.

We are trying to do everything in our power to be able to bring you back home. But unfortunately, it seems to be taking longer than I would like.

I was told you were working on it as well. You are strong and smart and even though you can't be with me, I'm sure we can do it together.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I was very happy to receive your message. I always carry it with me, although I would rather be in your arms, but I can't.

I can't tell you where I am right now, but still I wish you were with me. It is warm and beautiful and I am sure you would like it here very much.

Except for these letters, I'm not allowed to talk to any of you, but I like talking to you best anyway. We've come this far. And we'll make it.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

It's been four months and with each passing second it becomes more unbearable. But a light is appearing at the end of the dark tunnel. We think we know who she is.

It won't be long before we can see each other again. And I can't wait to be able to hug you again. To be able to touch you. Or kiss you.

Not much longer. And then nothing can separate us.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

It would have been too good to be with you again at last. But it still takes time.

I have found something that can help us, but for now, just know that I will do everything I can so that I can return home. Back to you. No matter what it costs.

Keep your eyes open. We're closer than you think.

I'm thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

I was given time off to take a break. I was with my mother and she told me that a kind young lady had been here. She doesn't remember you, but she knows you are familiar and that she can trust you. As I do.

I am infinitely grateful. And I'm tired of waiting, but for you I do. For you, I do it all.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I can no longer grasp a clear thought, because whenever I close my eyes I see everything I have done in review. I can hardly sleep and the nightmares plague me.

I just hope that everything will end soon. It has already been a year since we saw each other. I can't promise you anything, but I hope you know that everything I had to do was for you. For us.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

it's been a few weeks since I've heard from you. I hope you are doing well.

We have found a trail that will take us further.And brings me a little closer to you. And that will bring you back home. I can't wait.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

It's been two months since you wrote to me.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

Words cannot describe how much I miss you. Or how great the pain in my chest is.

I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can hardly breathe without you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

they hung your picture today. In the portrait you are smiling, proud to finally be part of the team. I can't look at it.

I was sent home, but everything there reminds me of you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I keep your letters in a small box next to my bed. They are a part of you that I don't want to lose, even though I have already lost you. They are a part of you, just as you are a part of me.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I went to our bookstore and found a book of poems that you would like. I'll put it with your letters.

No book in the world could have prepared me for the grief I feel. The pain is too engaging for me to talk about it with anyone but you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

it's been almost two years since we last saw each other. I don't remember what you sound like, or what you smell like. Why can't I remember that? Is it wrong of me not to think it's bad? It takes away my pain a little.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

A lot has happened in the two years we've been apart. Too much to ever be able to write down all the things. I just want you to know that this time was not easy for me. Not for any of us.

I put your letters away safely because you will always be important to me. But I have to let you go. And with this, I release you.

I love you. Forever.

With love,

Neruda

You pinch your leg to wake up. Your neck is wet with cold sweat and you have to blink several times to realize that you are in a cab. You run your hand through your hair as the driver looks at you curiously through the rearview mirror. He says nothing, which is why you glance out the window.

The drive from the airport to Quantico only takes an hour, but you still take the opportunity to close your eyes for a moment and doze a little. You haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages, you don't even know what a healthy portion of sleep feels like anymore, because you haven't had that luxury in the last two years.

As the car comes to a stop in front of the FBI building, you pay the driver and get out with your small bag. The building seems much bigger than you remember. You used to spend every day here, it had once been your home. But now you're not even sure you have a home anymore.

You take a deep breath and enter through the large doors, but are directly approached by a security guard.

"Miss? Are you visiting?", he asks suspiciously, extending his arm to keep you at a distance - something that wouldn't do him much good if you were actually trying to get past him.He eyes you up and down, which you can't blame him for. In your ripped jeans, dirty sneakers, and loose sweater, you don't look like someone who belongs here. By now, you don't either.

You look at him. "I'm here to see Unit Chief Prentiss", you reply coolly. You know he's just doing his job, but you're too impatient to let all this wash over you. You know Emily is already in the office. You know her too well not to. Why doesn't he just go get her? You just want to see your friend.

"Chief Prentiss?" He raises an eyebrow. "And what is your request?"

Your gaze is rock hard and your tone cold as ice. "Tell her Y/N Y/L/N is here to see her."

You wait outside the building, letting the morning sun warm your skin and the cigarette burn between your fingers before you put it to your lips and take a drag. Afterwards, you stub it out on a trash can. As you exhale the last bit of smoke, you turn around. And there she is.

Emily is standing at the door, and when you see her, you drop your bag and wrap her in your arms so tightly that you can't breathe. You cling to her, afraid that maybe this whole thing isn't as real as it feels, but you imperceptibly pinch your arm. And she is still with you.

"I thought - they said", she stammers, and it's the first time in your friendship that she's speechless. You hug her even tighter.

"I know", you answer softly, blinking away the tears that have formed in your eyes. The moment is too beautiful to cry. As you break away from each other, Emily wipes her own tears from her cheeks, but some have already landed on her blouse. There are dark stains now.

"I don't even know what to say", she says, smiling at you as you enter the building together. The guard gives you a look, but doesn't ask any questions as you walk past him toward the elevator. Inside, she pushes a button that takes you to the BAU floor. "I can hardly believe you're really here."

Neither can you.

The office is completely silent because no one is here yet except for you. Although nothing has changed, everything has changed because you are now someone else. It's been a long time since you've been here. Two years, but everything in this room is all too familiar to you. The coffee machine, the law books, the files. It feels like you've never been away. It's déjà vu all over again.

While Emily gets you both coffee, you sit down at the round table and wait for her. Your friend sets the cups down on the table before sitting down next to you. She smiles faintly. "How are you?"

You pucker your mouth. How are you? You haven't been asked that question in ages, and to be honest, you don't know how to answer it either. How could you possibly be?

When you don't answer Emily, she phrases her question differently. "What are you feeling right now?"

Your lips become a thin line. "I don't know. It feels like all of this," you point to the room, "isn't a part of me anymore. Nothing has changed, but it still feels foreign."

Emily nods. "You've been through a lot, I guess." She takes a sip of her coffee. "You're right, Y/N. Nothing has really changed here. But you're a different one now, aren't you?"

You open your mouth to answer her, but you don't know what either. Part of you feels at home here, but a bigger part of you knows your place is somewhere else. You just don't know where exactly.

"Do you want to see the others?", Emily asks. "I'm asking you because it's been a long time since you've seen them. And they think you're...you know. Are you ready for that?"

Are you ready for that? You haven't seen either of them in a long time, and it would probably be better not to see them for now, but to let Emily sort it out first. But the team is your family - the closest thing you have to a family. And you've missed them all terribly.

You nod and take a sip of your coffee as JJ and Rossi enter the room. When they see you, they glance uncertainly at Emily, as if they're not sure if it's just imagination, but she nods at them. And that's when all the dams break for JJ.

She pulls you from your chair and hugs you like the salvation of the world depends on it, and David has to pry her cramped arms from you so he can put his around you as well. They affirm to you how much they missed you and ask how you are, wanting to know what happened, but Tara and Penelope join them and that's when it gets too loud for you.

Penelope cries with joy and Tara also can't believe that you are standing in front of her. They besiege you and ask you questions to which you have no answers, so you just smile weakly at them. They definitely don't mean any harm, after all, you've just risen from the dead for them, but you've spent the last while in silence and are no longer used to this volume. So you turn away from them. They look anxiously after you as you sort of flee from them. You hope that this will make the headache go away.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you find yourself facing the wall where the pictures of the deceased agents hang. And yours is hanging there, too. You don't know how long you've been standing in front of it - minutes? hours? -until a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn around and there stands Spencer. His hair is a little shorter and he looks like he's seen a ghost. Well, he sort of has.

You want to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, and never let him go. Seeing him knocks the air out of your lungs, which is why you can barely breathe. The two years without him had been hell on earth, but you got through them. For him.

For Spencer, who doesn't take his eyes off you as the blonde woman next to him, whose fingers are intertwined with his, looks at him and asks, "Honey, who's that?"

- tags -

@obsssedwithjustaboutanything // @ashwarren32 // @slytherinbth // @rexorangecouny // @candlemouse // @lexymoniqu // @m3sml // @username2002 // @calliecookie // @haylaansmi // @thehuntresswolf // @skyslowalking // @padsfirewhisky // @criminalminds4days // @criminallyoddsocks // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @vladsgirlxx // @justdianaz // @x2moonlight2x-blog // @countingthestarsinfinitely // @box-of-fandom-stuff // @sergeantbuckybarnes // @princesssmooshie // @sassiest-politician // @ littledm2000 // @a-broken-pact // @strawberry-tea // @sassy-hades // @danrad-rdj4ever // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @smell-my-twisted-shadows // @poeticsassandtrash // @wintrrrsoldier // @peaceluvnirvana // @jemimah-b99 // @lokislilslut // @advicefromnixxxx // @panicattheeverywherekid // @my-guilty-pleasures--of-life // @itsdars @pjmjams // @imagine-this-motherfucker // @sasbb23 // @fivedicksinatrenchcoat // @missyoumaybank // @blameitonthenight21 // @s-r-16 // @knee-coall // @hamlewis // @twodirtymindedgirls // @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness // @imdefinitelyfloating // @crazyloca06 // @gardenroses1 // @saspencereid // @enchantedlove90 // @sizzlingclamturtlesludge // @moondustmemories // @bambi-is-my-name // @beg0neth0t420 // @william-shookespeare // @pancake2603 // @ayo-cowbelly // @herbstmelody // @frnks-stuff // @mimischaos // @lilxnvm // @archiveofadragon // @burnin-passion // @oddobsessionbutotay // @chaoticdreamsss // @ghostly-ginger // @knittingstudyblr // @gorbagreb // @biafbunny // @ayo-cowbelly // @ellyseveronica // @saspencereid // @takethee // @ethereal-stark // @shirayuki1204 // @spencerreidspp // @jesuswasnotawhiteman // @stinkykay // @exzidss // @ifuckinghatepinapples // @youhaveabadconnection // @kaseyjohnson04 // @vampiracontessa // @princesssmooshie // @gardenroses1 // @r0s3mm // @willyoulovemeinthemorning // @rrtxcmt // @softpeteparker // @littleiswhattheycallme // @hoeyadoingbitch // @emmariexx // @oops-all-ajs / @reidemandweep // @oliwisstephhh // @g0lden-cth // @measure-in-pain // @amesandpineapples // @spencerreidat3am //

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds one shot #Emily Prentiss #tara lewis #Jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner

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thera-daydreams · 3 years

Text

INDAY

± A Trese Fic ±

[Crispin/Basilio/Maliksi/Dominic x Skymaiden!Reader]

01: Noon at Ngayon (✓)

02: Ang Kambal na Anak ni Datu Talagbusao, Diyos ng Digmaan (Link)

03: Ang Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang (Link)

04: Ang Pinuno ng Mga Aswang (Link)

05: (Link) 06: (Link) 07: (Link)

01: Noon at Ngayon

Back then, long before you were born, your mother used to work as a katulong of the Trese Family and was very close to its matriarch, Miranda Trese. Coming from the province, she was no stranger to superstitions—even more so after knowing the work of Miranda's husband Anton Trese, who was actually the Babaylan-Mandirigma of Manila.

Years later, after giving birth to you around the same time Miranda gave birth to her twins (one a stillborn, unfortunately), it was you and Alexandra who became best buddies instead, as different your personalities were. You two had practically grown up together and you yourself heard countless stories of the supernatural from your Tito Anton. It wasn't that hard to believe when he and his sigbin companions would sometimes come home tracking blood prints on the floors (which you'd helped your mother clean up). Heck, you'd even met Señor Armanaz, the Great Stallion himself and the ruling tikbalang of the Armanaz herd. That pretty, white-haired diwata seemed extremely fond of you, too, which was evident when you'd sneak in with Alexandra to Tito Anton's meetings and she would smile (even wave) at you happily.

You had absolutely no idea why the fae-like lady was so nice to you, but you weren't complaining at all!

However, in spite of your experiences with the supernatural, you and your mother always believed that you were normal humans. In actuality, that was who you were for the majority of your childhood. It was only until Miranda herself saw a vision of you—a much older you—fighting the monsters of the Underworld alongside her own daughter. During dinnertime, Miranda told your mother that she saw you blessed by the heavens with powers that would aid in the battle against evil.

It sounded absolutely ridiculous, right? Yeah, your mom thought so, too.

Your mother only laughed it off as she placed a steaming bowl of tinola in front of Alexandra's brothers, who instantly dug in like they haven't been fed in years.

"Boys! Dahan-dahan lang," Anton reprimanded his sons. "Or else you'll choke and the soup will come out of your noses!"

"Okay, Papa."

"Grabe ka naman, Miranda. I doubt that anything like that's going to happen to my daughter," your mom chuckled, watching your little hands try to feed Alexandra with a piece of chicken. "Unlike you guys, our lineage isn't anything special. Ordinaryo lang ang lahi namin."

Miranda sighed, looking at you and her only living daughter enjoying your time being kids, "I guess you're right. Baka panaginip lang talaga 'yun."

Anton glanced at her knowingly. Although he was aware that you and your mom didn't dabble in magic or anything like they did, he knew that whenever Miranda—one of the Seven Seers—had such vivid dreams, it was something of great importance. But he decided to say nothing, understanding how much your mother wanted to let you live as normal of a life possible in this household.

That was when you were seven years old. One year later, Miranda died fighting against a group of aswang who decided to betray Anton. Said man found the eight-year-old Alexandra hiding in a corner behind the waterfalls, scared and holding Sinag close to her heaving chest as she tried to hold her tearful sobs in.

Of course, a few days later, you and your mother attended the funeral with the mourning Trese family. All the brothers had done their best to stay strong, especially for their little sister who didn't fully understand yet what just happened. Little you ran towards Alexandra, holding her hand tightly as her mother's casket was lowered. Around you were various comrades, both human and non-human, paying their respects to their bereaved allies.

That day, as you turned your back to return to your mother's arms, you knew you would never forget the feeling of numerous unearthly eyes following your every movement.

Even they could sense that there was something about you, a so-called regular human child. You smelled human and had the aura of one, but there was something they couldn't place. It was like a tiny rock getting into your shoe, not coming out at all.

Much changed after that, but you and Alexandra remained close together. To your dismay, just after you graduated elementary, you and your mother had to move back to the province to stay with your sick grandparents. The last thing you could remember was kneeling in the back of the car, looking sadly through the rear windscreen as Alexandra and her brothers waved goodbye to you.

More than a decade had passed since then. You used to write letters to Alexandra, but after Hank told you she had to undergo the trials of the Puno ng Balete, you haven't heard from her (although Hank did disclose that she'd managed to come home safely, which was a great relief to you). You didn't blame her; you knew Tito Anton had passed away in the five years she was gone and that she had to take over the title of Lakan, as well as the Babaylan-Mandirigma of Manila. It was a demanding job! You remembered Tito Anton sometimes staying up all night—breakfast would be served and he would still be in his study, going over paperwork. On other days, he would be gone for consecutive nights handling cases all around Manila. You could only pray Alexandra was fine.

Your life had continued on, as well—you took care of your ill grandparents until they died, helped your mother in the province, went to a good highschool, then earned your degree in another prominent city that wasn't Manila.

Your mom actually recommended that you go to school somewhere else, given the constantly rising number of attacks in the capital of the country. And so you did. Life was hard, but normal until then.

The funny thing was that, when you reached the age of twenty-one, you finally understood why those supernatural creatures kept looking at you weirdly as a kid (and why Lady Diwata liked you so much).

What was even funnier was that the dramatic revelation came to you when you weren't in the Philippines. It was after you freshly graduated college, when you were traveling all over Asia to volunteer in charity projects. It was always your dream to one day expand your horizons not only beyond your province, but the Philippines itself, while also doing good in the world.

And here you were, walking that path you dreamt of.

The organization you luckily managed to become a member of provided everything you needed, and every few months, you would move from country to country. Because of that, you'd already been able to travel to so many places. First it was Thailand, then Indonesia, China, South Korea, India, Japan, Sri Lanka, Singapore, Malaysia, and currently, you were in Vietnam. Visiting those places was fun and gave you a whole new perspective of the world you lived in; it was a... learning experience, too.

Still, that incident happened when you were in Thailand, when you were the last one in the rented apartment balcony taping up the boxes for the donation drive tomorrow. Yawning, you cut more duct tape and stuck them to the open boxes tightly.

"Inday," someone said from behind you. You didn't bother turning around, thinking it was one of your fellow volunteers looking for you this late at night. Probably your roommate. She was the only one who usually called you by your nickname instead of your real name.

"Hmm?" you hummed, taping up more boxes. "Papasok na ako sa kwarto, Lyn. I just have a few more boxes to close. Alam mong mapapagalitan ako kung may hindi madidistribute bukas."

"Hindi ako si Lyn."

You paused, then slowly turned around, flinching at the sudden bright light that shone right against your eyes. For a moment, akala mo namatay ka na at hinaharap mo si San Pedro.

It was a glowing figure in white whose face you couldn't clearly see, which frightened you even more.

"Ay, mama!" you exclaimed, shielding your eyes and falling to your knees. Then, you gasped loudly, patting your body and panicking with closed lids. "Oh my God, am I dead? Nasa heaven na po ba ako?" Your lips wobbled. "Ngayon pa nga lang ako nakaalis ng Pilipinas... I haven't even done all the things I've wanted to do! Hindi pa ako nakapagpaalam sa nanay ko—aray!"

You'd felt something hit the back of your head. Hard. It was the glowing figure in white, but now you could see their unimpressed face scowling at you.

"Kalma lang, Inday. Hindi ka pa patay, pero makinig ka nang mabuti," they shushed you urgently (you weren't sure if they were male or female). "Do not be afraid. I am a messenger from the heavens, and I bear great news!"

"Great news...?" you trailed off, then your eyes widened excitedly. "Like, nanalo ba ako ng lotto? Isang milyon? Bilyon? Hala! Wait, is this a Mama Mary moment? I'm not ready to be the next immaculate conception!"

They glared at you, making you shut up instantly. "Sorry, I'll shut up now," you apologized with a mumble. This person (thing?) was kind of... strict. Whatever did you do wrong? You were just sleep-deprived and running on energy drinks (as well as kape).

"I have come to tell you that you are the vessel of the last skymaiden," they revealed, arms wide open. The light around them seemed to grow even brighter, making you squint. You felt like you were about the go blind! "Ikaw ang huling biraddali, Y/N L/N."

At ayun, zero brain cells remaining. Tunay na nagloading screen ang brain mo. Nag-error at nagcrash pa nga siguro, eh.

"... Ha? Ano?"

You blinked, completely speechless—as seen by how wide your jaw had dropped open. It wasn't that you were unfamiliar with the biraddali, it was just that you'd only heard of them once when you were just a young child. Your Tita Miranda had mentioned they were long gone from the world of the supernatural.

"Oh no, me? A biraddali? You're joking," you stuttered out, pointing at yourself. "Aren't they extinct or something? And, uh... not human?"

They nodded, "Yes. It is correct that everyone in the mystical world thought that the biraddali were long gone, even before the colonizers came to conquer the native lands. However, before the skymaidens all disappeared, the youngest and most powerful one among the seven sisters sealed her soul away to the rivers of time until the strength of a heavenly being was needed to help purify the evils of the world." The figure floated closer to you. "That last biraddali's soul, along with its corresponding power, traits, and knowledge, had chosen to reside deep within you the moment you were conceived."

Honestly, how were you even supposed to react? Your life was nowhere near ready for something like this. Was this a prank by your friends? Your colleagues? The light around this person seemed too authentic to be fake, though.

You stayed in shock for an entire minute, silent. The being in front of you only waited for a response.

"Ano 'to, Sailor Moon? Winx Club?" you whispered to yourself, before slapping your own cheek and scolding yourself. A stinging red mark was left on your face. "Inday, kakamanhwa mo 'yan! Nasosobraan ka na ata, matulog ka na!"

Sighing heavily, you rubbed your face tiredly, still in disbelief that you—according to this stranger—were apparently some old soul from a species of ethereal beings that were long gone. It sounded like something out of those reincarnation webnovels you got addicted to. What now, you were the MC? Wattpad ka, girl?

"Look, this is a mistake. I still have to wake up early tomorrow to give out the donations," you spoke to the glowing being (or whatever it was), laughing nervously. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. Either that or I must be hallucinating from sleep deprivation, because I'm definitely not a divine creature. You're probably just a product of my imagination. Sorry, I'm going to bed."

Bang!

At that moment, the power in the building went out. The only thing you could see was the thing who assumed you were a biraddali (they were so bright they were like a flashlight in the dark for you).

"Brownout?" you blinked. It felt wrong, though. It was eerily silent. "Did a fuse blow up?"

"Nagsimula na ang iyong unang pagsubok, Y/N," they announced seriously. "Creatures of the dark have already begun to take over this building. You may not have noticed, but all throughout your life, you have always been helping and giving. It is your nature as a being descended from the heavens themselves, and now, it is time for you to accept your destiny."

"Hoy, sandali lang! Sandali, sandali!" You were absolutely wide awake now as you heard the sounds of strange whispers around you. It was terrifyingly creepy, much creepier than whatever you'd seen back in the Trese Residence (and you'd seen a lot in that house). You did not want to be a part of a horror movie-like lifestyle. "Don't I have a choice in this?! I—I don't have any training or fighting skills! Hindi ako Alexandra Trese o Babaylan-Mandirigma! I'm not ready for this, holy sh—"

The candescent creature raised a brow at you, "Inday, I just told you that you have the power of a lost mystical being. And tell me, if you had the power to save your companions in this building from the forces of evil, would you save them?"

You were silent, knowing the answer.

"Well?" they prodded.

You bit your lip, "Oo naman. I'm not heartless!" But you were a little impulsive. And apparently, insane.

"That's what I thought. I just need you to believe in yourself," the being encouraged, gentler this time. It transformed into something smaller and rounder—like a ball of light. "Ikaw ang huling biraddali, Y/N, at marami kang kapangyarihan. Isa dito ay ang pagtulong sa mga nangangailangan, lalo na laban sa masasamang nilalang."

Bestie, what had you just gotten into?

You swallowed apprehensively, then nodded in determination, "Sige. So, how do I save the people in the building? Biraddali were said to be able to shapeshift, right? If I remember the tale correctly. Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening to me right now."

"That's just one of your abilities, but I'll teach you. I'm actually your guide," they replied confidently. "With me, you'll be able to master your powers and exceed your capabilities in no time!"

"Wait! Anong pangalan mo?" you asked breathlessly, following them as they speedily flew out of the room. "Grabe, slow down! I'm not athletic! I haven't even exercised this week, goodness."

"... Gabay. Ako si Gabay."

Despite the adrenaline and fear running in your veins, you still grinned up at the ball of light, "Okay. Nice to meet you, Gabay."

This was just the beginning of your supernatural combat training abroad. When you returned to the Philippines three years later, you were stronger, faster, and more powerful than you'd ever felt before. It was crazy.

Oh, that guy who tried to rob you when you came back to Manila was crazy, too. The two identical-looking men in dark suits and white ties—you wondered how they were surviving the heat in that attire—could only watch in awe as you chased down that man who stole your bag while doing acrobatics and parkour.

"Uy, Kuya Crispin, sino kaya 'yun?"

"Ewan ko, Basilio."

"... She's kind of pretty. Type ko. Type mo rin ata."

"The more important question is, paano niya na nahuli ang magnanakaw?"

"Oo nga, no? One in a million chance 'yan dito sa Maynila, haha! Ang astig ni ate!"

(Next Chapter.)

± Author's Notes ±

Ayieee, type daw tayo ng kambal! 😌

How the hell did I write this entirely random thing in one day? 2k+ words? Ano daw? 😃⁉️

You know, this was supposed to just be a Trese one-shot or a bunch of drabbles for the characters I'm currently simping for... but it turned into a full-blown, shameless self-insert slash crackfic. Kakacellphone ko 'yan. 🤦‍♀️

Nagresearch pa ako ng articles about Filipino skymaidens because I wanted something similiar to the Japanese celestial maidens (tennyo). Very random idea but why not? Gusto ko ng badass Y/N na hindi takot lumaban sa mga mumu! 👻

Also, pagbigyan niyo nalang ang matandang 'to kasi ilang taon na akong hindi nagpopost ng mga writings ko. May track record pa naman ako bilang author na hindi nagtatapos ng mga fanfic, hehe. I also haven't read the comics so please forgive me for any inaccuracies and of course, misspellings/errors. Gusto ko lang matapos 'to para makakabalik na ako sa Jujutsu Kaisen. 🥲😗

Anyways, comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Hit those heart, reblog, and follow buttons for updates! Just comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapters. ❤

#trese #trese netflix #trese 2021 #crispin #basilio #maliksi #dominic #x reader #kambal x reader #crispin x reader #basilio x reader #maliksi x reader #dominic x reader #trese x reader #thera.writes

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