#(hes there btw if u look closely he is there! in the shadows!) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lunarmoves · 1 month ago

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who i see, looking back at me (ch2)

pairing: sebastian solace x reader

mentions: post-urbanshade fic, no use of y/n or pronouns, u are his partner <3, hallucinations, grief/mourning, non-sexual intimacy, touch aversion, hurt/comfort, ooc sebastian probably, again taking creative liberties with his mom and siblings, tentative reconnecting :)

a/n: so this fic is now 4 chapters instead of 2. what happened, u ask? i have no idea. i blame sebastian. also, i made some minor edits to ch1- nothing too major, i just changed sebastian's age from 32 to 33 LOL. i found out pressure takes place in 2025 when he's 32, so i nudged it up a lil. not that telling u guys this makes a difference dsjfhj. i used the urbanshade wiki for a lot of his info btw. anyways, hope u guys enjoy, bon apple teeth!

word count: 11k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

In the following days, a storm swept its way down the coast, confining you to your cottage when you weren’t at work.

You sat at the window in your living room overlooking the sea, watching the way rain drummed against the glass. You could hear the way the wind battered the walls of your cottage, a low whistling echoing from a window you likely didn’t close properly. The sky was swollen with dark, heavy clouds that lit up with the occasional fork of white lightning. The rumbles of thunder that followed were loud enough for you to feel in your chest, and you enjoyed sipping at a warm drink as you read a book in the evenings before bed.

After watching the way the waves crashed viciously against the sand and rocks of the shore—following the push and pull of the storm—you wondered if you should be worried about possible flooding. You’d think you’d be used to it after living by the sea for so long. But no, the water was not agitated enough to reach your little cottage at the top of the cove, so you did not think too much about it.

What you did have to worry about, however, were leaks.

“Ah, shit,” you hissed as you toed a bucket under a steadily dripping wet spot on your ceiling. You’d never had to deal with them before, but then again, the winds of this storm were certainly strong. They could’ve knocked something loose. Your cottage was old enough that you wouldn’t be surprised.

“Least there aren’t too many,” Sebastian remarked as he stood next to another bucket. He stared up at the point of leakage, a drop falling every few seconds. “Either deal with them every storm or bust out some tools to fix them, shouldn’t be too difficult, even for you.”

You hummed out something of an agreement, ignoring the little jab at the end. You’d never been the one to do the tinkering or fixing around the house, preferring to observe him instead as he worked. You had to learn things yourself, over the years. It didn’t make it any less painful.

(“Put that engineering degree to work,” you told him as you always did each and every time, then grinned when he gave you that same squinted glare.

“Mechanical engineering is not equal to fixing a pipe,” he grumbled back at you, pointing the wrench in his hand in your direction as you hovered by the bathroom doorway. He lifted his head just enough from the cupboard of the sink to meet your gaze in the mirror in front of him. “Neither is hanging a painting on the wall. Or swapping out lightbulbs, for that matter.”

You just smiled at him, not bothering to hide the way your gaze trailed along the muscles of his back and shoulders—forming shadows along the black tank top he wore. He made a face at you that had you biting your tongue to hold back a laugh.

“It is to me,” you replied in amusement. His groan only made your lips stretch wider. “Chop chop, nerd.”)

You sighed, a weary thing that you felt deep in your chest, and frowned out at your living room with its couple of buckets collecting water. Sebastian lifted his palm just under the leak he stood by. You watched him for a moment before turning away as another drop fell towards his hand.

It felt like ages before you finally found yourself waking up to a sliver of bright, warm sunshine through your curtained window. You could finally pack away the buckets scattered around your home, lazily eyeing the spots on the ceiling where the water had dripped through. You’d need to borrow a ladder from someone so you could inspect the roof. You would deal with that later, you decided.

You opened your front door to breathe in the fresh air of a storm long gone—the earthy smell accompanied by a salty seabreeze that promised better days. Clear skies with feathery wisps of clouds accompanied you all the way to work, where you and your coworker made plans to reschedule that dinner you both had meant to grab before the storm reared its ugly head and sent everything awry.

And once you got back home after a long shift, you took some time to pick your way down the shore to walk alongside the lazy ebbing of the tide.

The storm had washed up quite a few things. Bits of driftwood and seaweed, mostly. But occasionally a glimmer of something shiny would catch your eye, buried partially within the sand. You ended up wandering around for a bit, digging up seashells or small rocks that caught the light in just the right way when you held them up in front of your face.

Eventually, as the sun danced along the horizon and sent its golden light to caress the planes of the earth, you ended up on the dock. Your pockets clicked and clacked with your findings as you walked down its length, the wood only mildly damp now from the days of endless rainfall. The boards creaked under each of your steps, and when you finally stopped at the dock’s edge, you paused for a moment to peer down at it.

It—looked utterly ruined. Splintered pieces of wood that still held on through the storm poked out along the damaged planks. You frowned as you squinted at it. The edge was broken in a way that alluded to three separate points of destruction—the wood cracked and jagged like the maw of a hungry beast. Your lips pursed. Damage from the storm, no doubt. Maybe the vicious waves. Either way, it looked like you couldn’t sit here anymore until it was flagged and repaired. A shame, really. You glanced around at the rest of the undamaged dock.

You supposed you could simply… sit elsewhere upon it. But… You grimaced to yourself as you swept your gaze across the calm waters. No prickle of your skin. No teal glow. No familiar rasp of a voice that made something in your chest ache. That did not mean it would not happen again, however. You were wary. Your own home you could not escape from him, but the dock you certainly could.

Maybe you should spend your evenings somewhere else for a bit.

And that was how you found yourself down in the cove in the days that followed. It was not a place you frequented as often as the dock when you just wanted to lounge around—you needed to scale quite a few rocks to make it to the little beach within it—but it was just as gorgeous. Calm. Quiet. You could sit on the sand and watch the tide rise lazily to brush against your feet.

Here, you felt protected—the cove curving in such a way where you were surrounded on almost all sides by rock apart from the section of the sea in front of you. Not many people ventured over here, preferring to stick by the wider—more open—stretch of the beach. You didn’t mind. All the more peace for you.

You were feeling reminiscent, one particular evening, and decided to bring out that ukulele you’d purchased so long ago. It mostly sat in a corner of your room, collecting dust. But occasionally, you felt the urge to strum a couple of chords in some resemblance of a song—as clumsy and out-of-tune as they were.

You sat cross-legged in the cove, far enough from the water’s edge that it could not reach you for a couple of feet. The sun had long started its descent, making the water sparkle like gems were littered under its surface. A few seagulls cawed overhead, close enough that you occasionally glanced upwards to watch them circle about in the air.

Ukulele balanced partially on your lap, you squinted down at the card that came with it that had the finger positions for some chords drawn out. The card rested on the sand in front of your shin, and you frowned at it as you strummed out a rough-sounding G-chord.

“That’s not right,” you muttered to yourself as you adjusted your fingers on the fretboard. You gave another strum. It sounded clearer—if marginally. “There we go.”

Now to switch to an F-chord. You repositioned your fingers and strummed again. Not bad. Definitely better sounding than your G, that was for sure. The pads of your fingers were starting to ache with how hard you pressed down onto the strings. Your wrist too, for that matter.

After learning a few more chords, you started to idly strum away, searching for a tune. A lot of songs could be played just by using the C-, G-, and F-chords, you noted. Between your mindless down and up motions along the strings, you caught a faint glimpse of an old song you used to hear in your youth. And so, you chased after it, murmuring the words under your breath.

“No, that’s not…” You trailed off as you switched between a G and C, fingers moving slowly. Ah, the order did not sound right to your ears. Maybe an F should follow the G instead. You gave it a try and scrunched your nose when it sounded odd again. “Ah… man.”

A voice suddenly spoke up from somewhere in front of you—low and musing. “Ukulele, huh? When’d you pick it up?”

A brief glance upwards revealed exactly who you’d expected, even as something sank to the soles of your feet. Sebastian lounged stomach-down in the low shallows of the water, head propped up atop his hands as he watched you with half-lidded, squinted eyes. Close, yet not too close that he reached the point where the water’s edge kissed the beach.

The distance, however, was not your main focus.

Behind his upper body, you could see the stretch of a long, thick tail as it trailed towards the sea. Massive, in its entirety, and resembling a snake of sorts. Its posterior side glistened with gray-blue scales that caught the light in a nearly mesmerizing way. There were these black straps that criss-crossed along his tail all the way up to the base of large, whale-like flukes that were arched out of the water. Why the straps were there, you did not know.

He was much larger than you’d thought he was.

You averted your gaze and looked back down at your instrument. Truly, you did not know why he looked so different out here. You didn’t like the way it made you feel. Were you losing your grip on him—his memory? The last fragments of him that you had? No. No.

You didn’t like that at all.

“Helloooo?” Sebastian called, voice pitching upwards. “I asked you a question. Gonna just leave me hanging here?”

You huffed through your nose. He should know this. “Not too long ago,” you told him anyway, squinting slightly at him.

His eyes crinkled into upturned crescents at your response—short as it was. “There, was that so hard now?” His voice dripped with condescension. One of his ear fins gave a little flick. “So, have you realized that it’s actually me, yet?”

You didn’t answer, turning your attention back to your ukulele.

He sighed like he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. “That’s what I thought.”

He was quiet as you spent some time strumming away. You were determined to figure out the right chords for this vague song, but you were severely lacking the knowledge of what they might be. You switched back to learning more finger positions from the chord card. Maybe it would fill in some gaps.

“Your thumb is too high on the neck,” Sebastian suddenly said after a while, earning him a quick glance from you. He pointed at your hand. “You’re gonna hurt your wrist like that, babe. It’s also restricting your movements. Lower it some more so that it’s not sticking above the fretboard.” He paused for a second, then added, “Also the strum zone is a little higher than that.”

You mulled over his words for a bit, then adjusted your hold. Playing a few different chords, you realized that yes, it was easier to switch your finger positions now. Sounded much smoother as well. You hummed to yourself.

“You really think if I wasn’t real that I’d be able to give you advice like that?” he asked pointedly, eyes falling into a half-lidded gaze. “Tell you shit you didn’t know about?”

You pursed your lips. You… guessed so. But you had done some online research when you’d first bought the ukulele to learn more about it, being a novice and all. You were certain you’d read about correct positioning before—maybe you forgot but some level of your mind stored the information. You weren’t well versed in the workings of the human brain, particularly when it came to your… situation. You only offered Sebastian a shrug. He sighed deeply and grumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out.

You went back to trying to figure out the song you’d distantly caught onto before. C-chord, followed by an E minor, G—wait no, an A minor actually—then an F. You were making some progress, as small as it was.

The discordant notes from your ukulele mixed in with the steady swelling of the waves. Somewhere above, there was the caw of a seagull—sharp and piercing. Occasionally, there would be a small splash out in the distance, either from a fish jumping out of the water or a bird diving for a meal. You breathed in and—

Splat!

You made a surprised, strangled noise, something immensely cold and wet and slimy landing directly on your face. You couldn’t even really process what was happening before you felt it slide down and land on your lap. Your face scrunched up, disgusted, then you jumped slightly when laughter erupted from somewhere in front of you.

“Oh my fucking god,” Sebastian wheezed, and your gaze shot towards him to see him practically curled up in a shaking ball. His tail slapped at the water, once, then twice when he rolled around to clutch at his stomach. “H-Holy shit that was funnier than I’d expected it to be oh my god your face! I think I’m gonna piss.” He lifted himself up just enough to look at you, then he burst out into cackles again.

“Hwhuh?” you said, still stunned. He laughed even harder, and you took the time to look down at your lap at your assailant. You blinked at it and felt your lips pull back in some strange grimace.

It was a wad of seaweed—fishy-smelling and gross and goddamnit it was soaking into your clothes and got all over your ukulele—

“Oh man, I missed doing that so much.” Sebastian wiped a tear from one of his teal eyes and grinned sharply at you. “Never change, babe. Never change.”

You only made another sound, picking up the seaweed with one of your hands and flinging it off to the side. You could still feel the residue, well, everywhere. Coating your cheeks and your eyelids and your mouth. It was foul. You swiped your hand down your face in an attempt to get rid of it. You were not all too successful.

Sebastian chortled, then leaned back down with his head propped atop his palm, fixing you with a suddenly calculating stare. The tide swept up and around his body. “So? Would I have been able to do that if I wasn’t real, hm?”

For a moment, you just watched him. His nonchalant pose. His gaze firmly trained on your own. The way his third arm did a little finger wave at you, a gold ring glinting on its fourth finger. You stared, and you stared. Then, you turned to look at the clump of seaweed. After a beat or two, you looked up at the inky sky—where those seagulls still circled overhead. Sebastian followed your gaze.

He paused.

“Wait. Don’t tell me”—he let out a laugh, incredulous, almost—“you think that was the birds?”

A scoff escaped your lips. “What else would it be?” you grumbled, mostly to yourself. You needed a shower, and you needed it immediately. You stood up to dust the sand off your clothes with one hand, the other occupied with holding your poor ukulele.

“Babe,” he groaned, one of his hands raking down his face. His lips trembled, minute. “You’re gonna feel real stupid once you realize I’m actually here, you know.”

You only huffed and wiped at your face again, eye twitching ever so slightly.

And that was how the next few days went.

He would show up whenever you were in the cove at night. Always making these remarks at you to get you to think that he wasn’t just some illusion you’d cooked up. Making you think that the splashes of water you felt on your legs or arms were from him and not the tide. When you moved back to the dock in an attempt to evade him, he followed you there too, and did the same thing again and again and again.

And all the while, he looked as though he was battling something internally. What that was, you were uncertain. But it didn’t matter, did it? He was just an extension of your own thoughts, your own mind.

Ignore, just ignore him like you always do, you told yourself repeatedly. He would eventually stop talking. He would eventually go away. But he never did.

And one night you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Did you ever want to start a family?” he mused at you one evening in the cove, tail flicking idly behind him. You felt like you’d been doused in icy cold water as you stared down at the book in your lap. Eyes stuck on one word, but not truly seeing it. “We never really talked about it, did we?”

Your jaw tensed. No. No you didn’t.

“Ah, we were so young,” he continued in a quiet voice. “I’d say time has flown, but it didn’t. Not to me.” You did not need to look at him to know he was staring directly at you. The back of your neck prickled. “You’re what, thirty-four, now?” He chuckled. “You look just as I’d remembered.”

The way it was said—soft, tender, like an admission murmured in the darkness of night—added fuel to the way something wrenched itself fiercely in your gut. Paralyzed you on the ground. Your grip on your book tightened. Your gaze landed on your wedding ring, still bright and vivid even after all these years with the care you used to handle it.

It was quiet.

“I’m sorry, you know?” A confession, whispered so gently you almost thought you didn’t hear it. “I’m sorry I was gone. Not that either of us could’ve done anything about it at this point. But I’m sorry I left you for so long, for what it’s worth. Maybe if I hadn’t been…” He trailed off, the implication of his words settling around your neck like a noose. “Well. I wonder sometimes about what could’ve been if all this shit didn’t happen.”

It was never ending, this pain. That you carried on a day-by-day basis, heavy like you wore chains around your ankles and wrists. Your heart. It would be easier to let yourself sink into the ocean, you think. Maybe it would be better than the endless hollowness you felt everywhere in your body.

Sometimes it felt like time did not aid you in healing. You were unsure if it ever truly would.

“I thought about you every day,” he whispered, voice thick with emotions you could not bear to decipher. “Every. Single. Day.”

Something deep inside you cracked like porcelain set too roughly atop a surface. You didn’t want to hear this, you didn’t want to hear this anymore.

“Stop— just stop,” you moaned out, wrenching your grip from your book so you could claw at your head. Your eyes squeezed shut. A dull ache throbbed beneath your fingers. “Leave me alone.”

“No,” he instead said firmly, low cadence to his tone. “I’m not gonna do that. Not now. You finally listening to me?”

You shook your head and covered your face with your hands that shook like you were one step away from being unbalanced. This Sebastian was persistent and talkative in a way that your Sebastian in your cottage was not.

And it hurt. More than anything in this world, it hurt.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you choked out, a fierce stinging making itself present behind your eyes. “I-I can’t. I can’t.”

You thought about your cottage—that had seemed small, at first. But when you stood in the space of your living room and looked around at the vacant couch, listened to the eerie stillness that came with being alone, it was all too large just for you.

Your heart ached.

“It’s not fair,” you sobbed, voice breaking on the tailend of your sentence. “It’s not fair. It hurts too much, I can’t— I can’t do this.”

You were so, so tired.

Of feeling this way. Of waking up to his face and falling asleep with it etched into your eyelids. Of going to work with him over your shoulder. Of finding no escape even in the one place you thought you would be at ease. It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

Sebastian was quiet as you sat there, attempting in vain to wipe away the wetness spilling across your cheeks. The chill of night was starting to set in. You could feel its cold hands snaking up your bare arms. You sniffed and scrubbed at your eyes. Distantly, there was a steady shifting sound. Sand being displaced. The drips and drops of water falling into a puddle.

There was a touch against your knee—featherlight and hesitant.

You froze. And slowly, ever so slowly, you lowered your hands.

A gray-blue hand—large enough to cover the entirety of your knee—brushed lightly against the thin material of your pants. The pads of its wet fingers traced a small circle around it, mindful of the sharp claws attached to its ends. You felt as though you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear your gaze away from what you were seeing until the hand drew slightly away.

You looked up through wet lashes to see Sebastian—closer to the point where his shadow covered the entirety of your body. His head was bent towards you, angler’s lure falling into the space between your faces. The twilight that painted the sky in fragile light made his eyes glow softly, lowered as they were to take in your expression. Searching, maybe, though for what you were uncertain.

You swallowed, your gaze darting down to his curled hand, then back up at his unreadable face. A static encompassed your mind, leaving no room for coherent thought.

He seemed to be waiting for something. But when you only stared wide-eyed at him, he eventually sighed.

“It won’t be enough, I know,” he murmured, tail shifting somewhere behind him in the sand. “It will take the both of us. Here.”

He extended his arm before you—bending it in a way where his forearm oriented itself horizontally in front of you. He nodded down at it. “Go on.” It did not take a genius to figure out what he wanted you to do.

Could you do it? You didn’t know. You didn’t even know if you wanted to, for that matter. But one glance up at Sebastian’s face revealed an expectant sort of look to it. Nervous, you might say. Even grim. It did not make you feel any better. If anything, it made your muddled mix of emotions and thoughts even more messed up.

Time… Did you go through enough time?

You stared down at his arm—that looked so real, in this instance. Attached to a body that you could not even fathom in your dreams. You closed your eyes for a moment and could almost feel that phantom touch against your knee. The wetness that seeped into your pants from it. Reopening your eyes, you trailed your gaze from the clenched fist of his thick fingers, to the sharp jut of his clothed elbow. The space between you and it. A grim sort of feeling was beginning to take root in your stomach.

Always at a distance. Never crossing a line.

You took a deep breath.

And then you reached out your hand.

Your fingers sank into the wet material of his jacket. You inhaled sharply through your nose and found you could not pull yourself away for the life of you.

“…What?” you murmured, lightly brushing over his arm. Over and over and over again. Soggy and stiff and so utterly there. You were trapped in a free fall, plummeting down to the earth. “What? No. No, no, no no no.”

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears.

“Didn’t I tell you?” he asked, an unsteady frown overtaking his lips. His voice lowered, barely above a whisper. “I’m right here.”

“No,” was all you could choke out, fingers still feeling at his jacket. Slowly making their way to his elbow, then up his upper arm. Your lips trembled. “No. You—“

Your gaze shot up to his face and suddenly all you could see was him. Honeyed skin and blue eyes and rough scar across his nose. Looking at you so sadly, you almost felt your heart break all over again. An urge, so immense and paralyzing, swept its way throughout the entirety of your body and sank deeply into your very soul. It was all you could do to willingly follow it. You reached up towards his face, stomach twinging, and—

And he flinched away.

“No!” Sebastian suddenly snapped, teeth bared in a sharp snarl.

Your heart skipped a beat. Your entire body jerked back in surprise, your hands retreating towards your chest. He softened almost immediately. A pained grimace overtook his features, and he let out another long sigh.

“I just… Not yet,” he mumbled, shifting away from you so he could wrap his arms around his torso. His gaze lowered to the sand. “Not yet.”

Wide-eyed, you stared at him. You took him in—really took him in. Ear fins that flicked and twitched at the sides of his head. Gray-blue scales that were soaked in the dewy light of the rising moon. Massive tail supporting an equally massive torso. Three arms that tightened and gripped at the folds of his jacket.

This was him. This was really, really him.

And you could not comprehend it.

“I-I—” you stammered, pushing yourself up to your feet. You felt unsteady. Your chest hurt. It was like you couldn’t even think properly with how your head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. You clutched at your book as though it was your only lifeline. Maybe it was, at this moment. You took a shaky step back, sand crunching under your shoes. “I need… I need a moment.”

Just to yourself. Just to breathe and process.

The waves ebbed back and forth beyond the cove—the only sound for a few terse minutes.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian told you gently, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. His lips pressed together as his head turned away to look out at the sea. “I can wait.”

The next day passed by in a thick haze.

You’d gone to bed feeling completely and utterly spent. Your dreams were filled with muddled images of teal eyes and sharp teeth, this accompanying sense of dread so deep that you woke up still feeling its stifling presence. It felt like you constantly had something pressing down onto your chest. You pulled yourself out of bed and stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom, frowning at your reflection as you rubbed idly at your sternum.

Behind you, reflected in the glass, was your Sebastian. He didn’t say a word. Just stood there and smiled. You lowered your gaze down to your sink and felt your frown deepen.

You went through work feeling oddly detached from your body, your mind swirling constantly with thoughts of the previous evening. If you stared down at your hand—the one you’d used to caress his arm—you could almost feel the sensation of his jacket against your fingertips. The coldness. The wetness. The realness.

God, the realness. You had to cover your face with a hand so you could giggle hysterically into your palm. He was right. You felt stupid. But beyond that, it felt like you were still trapped in some kind of fog. Maybe you’d finally lost it after all this time.

But no, no, this was real. This was happening. You’d felt it yourself.

…Didn’t you want this? Didn’t you spend countless nights thinking about him? How much you missed him. How you would give anything for him to come back to you. The things you would do. The things you would say. It had all evaporated into thin air—was replaced with this hollow feeling that you could not decipher for the life of you.

You’d wanted him back, right?

Your Sebastian, with his— his…

Something in your stomach writhed endlessly.

“Hellooo? You still there?” a voice asked in your ear.

You blinked back to awareness, your phone clutched in your hand. The breakroom of your workplace was empty apart from you sitting at its little table. You cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry. Zoned out a bit. What were you saying?”

There was a small pause. Then, “Are you… okay?” Isidora asked hesitantly. You could practically hear the frown in her voice. “It’s just… You seem out of it.”

You rubbed a hand across your face. Truthfully, no, but you weren’t about to tell her that. “I’m fine. Work’s just been… work. You know how it is.”

She made a small noise in understanding. “Oh boy, yeah I get it. Just last week I had a 10-hour shift. I swear, some of my coworkers are so incompetent.” She huffed, then her voice softened. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I won’t press you about it. Just make sure you’re getting enough sleep, yeah?”

You blew a raspberry at her, your voice taking on a slightly teasing lilt. “What are you, my mom? I’ll be fine.” You paused for a moment, then added, “Speaking of, how’s Maria?”

“She’s fine. Recently took up knitting actually,” Isidora told you. “I think she’s working on a blanket right now. She tried beanies first, but they didn’t turn out all too well.” She snickered.

“Never thought I’d see the day where she’d take up knitting,” you mused.

“I know right? She used to say she’d never get into any ‘old lady hobbies’ and now look at her!”

“She’s not working full-time anymore, right? She’s probably bored.”

“Oh for sure, especially with Lucas not home to cause trouble.”

“Yeah? When’s his spring break?” you asked, glancing over to the wall in the breakroom that had a small calendar hung up on it. It was nearing March.

“Not until next month. We still have some peace and quiet. A little too much, if you ask me.” She sighed, then her voice brightened. “Oh! Actually, Mama and I started going through some old albums the other day. Hang on, there were some pics I wanted to send you...”

You hummed. “She did make a hobby out of album making a while ago, didn’t she?” You thought back to that album of family photos Sebastian kept in his desk—that you ultimately ended up returning. You frowned to yourself.

“Yeah, holy shit you should’ve seen the number of boxes we sorted through,” Isidora said, her voice slightly fainter like she’d removed her phone from her ear. There were a few tapping sounds. “It was nice seeing all our baby pictures. I almost forgot Lucas used to look so cute when he was a toddler.”

You snorted, then removed your phone from your ear when it gave a little buzz of an incoming message. You clicked on the notification banner from Isidora.

Instantly, you could feel the smile fade from your lips.

The first picture was of Sebastian—chubby-faced and missing one of his front teeth as he grinned up at the camera. He was kneeling on a wooden floor as he petted the back of a fluffy, brown cat. There was a bandaid across the bridge of his nose where you knew a rough scar would form, but it didn’t obscure the way his eyes crinkled in delight.

(Teal eyes. Fingers like knives.)

The second picture was of you, Sebastian, and his siblings right before you went out Trick or Treating one year. You remembered this. Isidora spent so long trying to help Lucas with his Bumblebee costume—it came with so many different parts. You could barely see the peek of Lucas’ blue eyes past the yellow helmet. Isidora herself dressed up as the girl from The Ring, her long, black hair framing her face in shadows as she stared monotonously forward.

Your gaze lingered on Sebastian, his teeth bared at the camera to show off the two fangs he bought for cheap at a store. Fake blood ran down his chin from the corners of his mouth. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, where you were posing like you were about to bite into his neck. Both of you had black makeup smudged around your eyes and long, flowing capes that you remembered had been a pain to deal with as they dragged along the ground outside.

(Teal eyes. Fingers like knives. Body covered in scales.)

The last picture—

You felt your mouth turn dry like cotton had just been forced into your throat.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

The last picture was of you and him. Dancing in the middle of a small wedding hall. The photographer had caught you mid-laugh. What Sebastian had told you, you didn’t remember now. But you lingered on the way he smiled down at you, cheek dimpling slightly. The warmth of his gaze. The familiar crinkle of his eyes. The way your hands were intertwined tightly together, gold bands glinting on each of your fingers.

(Teal eyes. Fingers like knives. Body covered in scales. Pungent smell of—)

All of them were taken in a way where it was clear they were pictures of the pictures already printed out in their designated albums. God, you had no idea Maria had kept some of these. You could feel a cold sort of feeling spreading throughout your body, numbing everything it came in touch with.

There was a reason why you didn’t keep the pictures you’d had back at your apartment.

And that reason was currently swimming around in the depths of the ocean instead of the bottom of a casket like you’d originally thought.

“I thought you’d want to see them, it’s been so long since”—Isidora’s voice broke off and she cleared her throat—“well, y’know.”

You didn’t even know what to say. “I— yeah.” You blinked, once, then twice. Forcing back the stinging you felt at the corners of your eyes. “Thanks.”

He’s alive, you wanted to tell her. He’s alive he’s alive he’s alive and he’s here and he’s so much different than you or I could have ever possibly imagined.

But… you couldn’t say all that. Not when everything was still so disconcerting for you. Not when you were still struggling to come to terms with it yourself. Not when you knew she would never believe you.

“We still have some more albums to go through. I’ll send you more pictures if I come across them!” Isidora said eagerly. “It’s just… nice to have them, y’know?”

“Yeah,” you forced out, even as it felt like someone had grabbed a fistful of your insides and ruthlessly twisted. “It… It really is.”

That same evening you found yourself pacing relentlessly in your living room.

You could see Sebastian from the corner of your eye as he sat on your couch, his head moving side to side as he followed your movements.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet at that rate,” he told you, idly tugging at the cartilage piercing on his upper ear. “Relax.”

You ignored him.

Glancing out the front window, you could see the sun’s last vestiges of light disappear under the horizon, making way for a cool, dark night. You couldn’t see a wink of moonlight anywhere. Either a cloud was blocking it or it was a new moon, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter though. Your insides felt like you’d swallowed a jar of jittering bees.

You were procrastinating, you knew. But part of you reasoned it was better to go under the cover of an almost vantablack night, the stars your only light. Your gaze darted to Sebastian, one of his feet jiggling slightly from where it was crossed over his knee. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth and turned back to stare out at the black, rolling sea.

Every time you closed your eyes you could see his face—inhuman and unfamiliar.

Did you want him back like this?

Something had happened to him. Something bad. The way he drew away from you was telling—the way he couldn’t quite look you in the eye. You wanted to ask him what happened, how he ended up like… like that. But you were scared of what his response would be.

All this time, he had been alive, somewhere, and you were none the wiser. You were none the wiser. It was as heartbreaking as it was utterly devastating.

You sighed and scrubbed your hands along your face. This wasn’t about you. This was about him—likely waiting for you by the shore. It was time to get a move on.

You patted yourself down and did a final sweep of your living room to make sure you’d packed everything neatly away. Then, you slipped out the front door, the moon finally making its presence known as the clouds parted overhead. Slowly, you made your way to the cove, carefully picking down a few steep rocks until your shoes came into contact with sand. There was a slight chill to the air as you trudged over to your usual spot and stood there, staring out at the sea.

You did not need to wait long.

“You’re here later than normal,” a smooth voice called out pointedly once his head broke through the waves. He swam closer leisurely—the teal glow of his eyes bouncing off the water in front of him—then lounged on his stomach a short distance away. Eyes fell into a half-lidded look. “Was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show up.”

You shifted on your feet, looking away from him to stare at the ground. “No I… I was just waiting for it to get darker.”

Sebastian hummed like he didn’t quite believe you. “Right. Well?” He seemed to brace himself. “I’m sure you have… questions.”

You did. You really, really did—brimming as they were on the tip of your tongue. But you swallowed them down, just for a moment.

“I do,” you told him, “but…” You hesitated.

He picked up on it right away, drawling out a “Buuut?”

You fidgeted with your fingers, rotating your ring around. “Do you… want to come in? First?”

There was a pregnant pause. You grimaced to yourself.

“You mean…?” His head flicked up towards the top of the cove, where your cottage stood idly waiting. The lights were still on inside, making the windows glow a warm, welcoming orange.

You nodded, then flapped your hands around nervously when his expression flattened out—unreadable. “Ah, I mean— I just thought it might be better? Than being out here, you know? But— But if you don’t wanna, we can stay outside, I don’t mi—“

He cut across your fumbling words. “Yeah, we can go. I just…” He trailed off, avoiding your gaze. “Didn’t expect you to offer, really.”

There was… honestly a lot to unpack there. But you could do that later.

“Alright, c’mon.” You lingered in place for a moment, then turned on your heel to make your way back over to the edge of the cove. You glanced over your shoulder when there was the sound of rushing water—thousands of droplets trailing down Sebastian’s torso as he lifted himself up from the tide and slid his way towards you.

It was… oddly captivating, watching him move. The anterior side of his body did not have scales like you’d assumed—there were scutes, instead, that helped him move easily across the sand. The thick muscles of his tail undulated side to side, displacing sand to leave a trail. You watched as the grains were pushed out of the way. The water that fell from his body and darkened the ground.

Shaking your head slightly, you turned to the rocks to begin your steady ascent.

The quiet of the climb was interrupted only by the occasional sound of waves forming and collapsing in the distance. You swept your gaze around the bit of the shore and dock you could see just in case there was anyone wandering about for a late night stroll. Luckily there wasn’t, but even if there was, you didn’t think they would be able to make out anything in the dark.

If you strained your ears hard enough, you could hear the steady slithering of Sebastian’s body as he followed somewhere behind you. It made the hairs on your arms stand up straight, the piercing feeling of being watched weighing heavily on your form. You peeked at him from time to time, watching the way he slipped easily over rock and grass. His long, thick tail extended far behind him and blended into the navy-blue shadows.

You… didn’t have much to say. Neither did he, apparently. But that was okay.

You shuffled up the last bit of the climb and rolled your shoulders once your feet found flat earth. Grass tickled at the exposed parts of your ankles as you tread over to your cottage to wait by the door. You couldn’t rid yourself of the prickling along your body.

He took his time to meet you there. You had a feeling that he could be much faster if he wanted.

He came to a stop by your side, his eyes slightly squinted as his tail pushed himself up much higher over you. And the two of you stood there for a moment. You, looking up at him. Him, looking down at you.

Neither of you said a word. Waiting for the other, you realized.

You cleared your throat, eyeing his taller—wider—form, then the front door’s frame. You… believed he would fit. Probably. You set your hand on the doorknob.

“Well,” you said in what you hoped was a casual manner, cracking the door open so that the inside light could spill forth across the shadowed ground. “Here’s home.”

You stepped inside, your body cutting through the light to cast a long shadow behind you. Sebastian hummed, and you looked at him to see he was lingering just out of reach of the light. Your head tilted at him.

“Mind turning the lights off?” he asked, grimacing slightly once the words left his mouth.

Oh. You paused and turned his request over in your head. You supposed you never did see him in broad daylight—it was always during the evening, when the sun had already turned in for the night.

You nodded and shucked your shoes off to the side before walking over to the wall that had your living room light switch on it. You flipped it off, darkness immediately dousing everything within its vicinity. You blinked, waiting for your eyesight to adjust. Moonlight through your open-curtained windows allowed you to just barely make out Sebastian’s form as he slowly moved his head and torso through the doorway. His teal eyes pierced through the shadows to land on you.

He shifted a little. “Wanna see a cool trick?”

“...Sure?” Confusion lined your voice.

The shadow of one of his arms reached up to pull on something and before you knew it, a warm, golden glow washed gently along the walls and floor of your cottage. You squinted slightly at the angler’s lure that curved down from the top of his head, breathtakingly luminescent. Hypnotizing, almost. Your stomach churned.

“S’better on my eyes than regular bulbs,” he explained in your silence, shifting further into the living room. “Easier to handle than the artificial light or whatever. Though darkness is, mh, ideal.”

Ah. “That makes sense.” You watched as his head turned this way and that while he took everything in. Your couch. Your sparse decorations. The small coffee table with books stacked atop it. The fluffy carpet on the floor. It made you feel awfully self-conscious. You rubbed your upper arm.

Exhaling lightly, you stepped back towards the front door once the last bit of his tail slipped inside and closed it gently. And once you turned around, you spent a moment to just… take everything in.

It felt like there wasn’t enough space to hold all of him, curled up as he was in your living room. His long, serpentine tail wrapped around your couch so that the wide flukes at its end rested heavily near your coffee table. And even then, he was still coiled in a way where his tail supported him up, his head nearly brushing the wood of your ceiling where he was tucked in a corner of the room.

A little too large. A little too out of place.

How in the world were you supposed to deal with this? How in the world was any of this real? You were still having difficulty wrapping your head around it.

Sebastian hummed, two of his hands clasping at each other while the third reached out to run its fingers across one of the cushions on your couch. “Cozy.” His gaze landed on you. “How long have you been out here for?”

You shrugged as you shuffled closer, stopping right by the curve of his tail. You stared vacantly down at it. “A while,” you told him. “After everything happened.”

“Not a fan of the city anymore, hm?”

You slowly shook your head. “No. It was just… too much.”

He nodded, a motion that made his lure bob slightly in place. The reach of it caused the room to be partially bathed in both light and shadow that shifted with even the smallest of movements. But you could still see the sopping wetness of his jacket. The way his waterlogged scarf hung heavily from around his neck, and his hair was plastered to the sides of his face. You frowned.

“Do you want a change of clothes or something?” you asked him, the words leaving your mouth before you could really process them. Your gaze trailed along his tail. Even the straps attached to it were still wet. That couldn’t be comfortable for him. Right? “Maybe a towel?”

He waved you off lazily with his third arm. You followed the gesture with your eyes, latched onto the bandages wrapped around his forearm. Those were wet as well. “Nah. I’m fine. Don’t you worry your sweet little head about me.”

Your frown deepened. It felt like all you could do was worry, now.

You fixed him with a stare. “Sebastian, you’re sopping wet. At least dry off. Or let me toss your clothes into the wash.” You pondered it for a moment. “Actually that might be better.” You’d only ever seen him in those clothes, after all—even if most of the time you’d thought he was well, not real.

He only grinned mischievously down at you, mouth full of sharp teeth that made something in your stomach lurch. “Already trying to get me out of my clothes?” he purred, eyes lowering into low crescents. “You rascal. Take a guy out to dinner first.”

You squinted at him. There was an air of forcefulness to his words that you were only just able to pick up on. Bravado. A facade. He was deflecting. And you were not about to be fooled by it.

“You’re making my floor wet,” you said flatly. His smile twitched slightly at the corners. “I’ll go see what I have. Though I don’t think there’s anything that’ll fit you, really.” You eyed his upper torso. “I think I have a large blanket, that might work.”

“I really must decline,” he said cooly, but you were already gone—stepping around his tail to head over to your bedroom. He called out your name in exasperation. “Are you listening to me? I said I’m fine.”

“Right, right,” you replied idly, opening your bedroom door so you could shuffle over to your closet in the dark. There were various linens stacked up on a shelf, and you pulled out a towel and a decently-sized blanket that you used occasionally when it was chillier. This would have to do. The thought saddened you.

Bundling them up in your arms, you shut the door with your heel and turned to make your way back to the living room.

Sebastian loomed in the doorway, the light from his lure gently lighting up the corners of your room. One of his hands braced against the top of the frame as he peered at you. “Awfully persistent, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Come now,” you said as you approached him. He moved out of the way so you could step through the frame and look up at him. “Surely you don’t want to keep those on?” You held up the towel. “Here.”

“I assure you, I am more than a little used to some wet clothes,” he drawled as he reached out to carefully take it from your grasp. In his hold, it looked much smaller. He clutched it in a fist.

“Well, you don’t have to be”—you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder in the general direction of where your washer and dryer were tucked away—“It wouldn’t take too lon—”

He growled—a sound that made your hairs stand straight up on your nape. The room darkened fractionally. “I said no.” Eyes narrowing, he set you with a firm look. “You’ll quit asking if you know what’s good for you.”

There was a moment where you just watched him. Observed him, your eyes flicking over his face. The hair partially shielding his eyes. The way his lips pressed together in a thin line. This was not a battle you would win. And that was okay. Baby steps.

You took a deep breath. And then you exhaled it all out.

“Okay, okay,” you relented softly, averting your gaze to walk over to your couch. You dumped the blanket over it, then sat down wearily. “You win, for now. I don’t suppose you happen to have anything else to wear?” It was futile to ask, but you had to anyway.

“This was what I was given,” he said dryly, shifting on his tail so that he sat coiled upon it somewhere in front of you. He fidgeted with the towel. “You learn to make do.”

And wasn’t that a sobering thought.

You bit at your bottom lip, your fingers wringing together as you watched him use the towel to carefully dry his hair. You burned and burned with the number of questions that lingered bitterly on your tongue. You swallowed, and one of his ear fins twitched slightly.

Quietly, you asked, “What… happened?”

He stilled, staring down at the towel gripped between his fingers. And after what felt like a long, long time, he sighed.

“Better get comfortable,” he mumbled wearily and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “It’s a long story.”

You were woefully unprepared for a single thing that left his mouth.

A fake execution report. An experiment to give humans gills. Being trapped in an underwater facility for years. It all sounded like something straight out of fiction. You were beyond stupefied. In hindsight, thinking he was a hallucination wasn’t even the worst of it all, but it certainly didn’t make it easier to get rid of your own struggles with him actually being here right now. Part of you wondered if he was lying to you to avoid talking about something unfathomably worse—if such a thing even existed.

But he wasn’t. You saw it in the way his jaw tensed from time to time. The way he flexed his fingers and his tone changed into something much cooler. And even if what he was saying didn’t sound possible… it made sense. It made sense.

You didn’t know what to do with all of it. Didn’t know how to react, really. There was this gnawing pit in your chest that worsened with every word that left his mouth. You… couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had gone through. And even then, there were things he certainly wasn’t telling you. Call it intuition but… you could sense it. He didn’t tell you everything. And you were not sure how to feel about that. Still…

All this time… All this time.

And you’d been none the wiser.

“So how did you… escape?” you asked as you rubbed your fingers into your temples to stave off a growing headache.

Sebastian grinned, a sharp thing that showed the dark gums of his teeth. “They let their guard down.” The grin turned into more of a baring of teeth. “I stole a keycard, caused a sitewide lockdown. Liaised with one of Urbanshade’s competitors and they got me out in exchange for selling them data.”

You blinked at him. There it was again, that feeling that he was purposely leaving out details. You didn’t call him out on it. “And then you came… here?”

He made a noise, his shoulders shrugging. “Sure.”

“How did you even find—?”

He cut you off with a snort. “The power of corporations, babe. It was easy for them to find your location. Made my life easier when it turned out you were living on the coast now, too.”

You weren’t even going to deliberate that too deeply. “They just let you come here?” you asked dubiously.

“Mmmmyep.” He scratched slightly at the side of his face. “Don’t be mistaken, I’m still in contact with them. For ah, other business purposes.”

“Other business purposes,” you repeated warily.

Sebastian gave you a close-mouthed smile, his eyes crinkling shut. “Don’t you worry about it.”

Right, this again. It felt like you’d just aged fifty years in one sitting. You sighed and leaned back into the couch, your arms crossing over your chest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you wrestled internally with all that you had learned. A weight had been placed upon your shoulders. But you knew it was nothing compared to the one he carried on his own. You frowned, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

You felt sick. So, utterly, sick.

Sebastian was quiet now that he’d said his piece. He wrung the towel still in his hands together as he glanced around your cottage again. Eyes jumping from one thing to the other, though you had no idea what he was searching for specifically. Eventually, though, he spoke once more.

“...You never remarried.” It was said more as a statement than a question, like he knew even before saying it. You supposed if he’d been watching you all this time, it would have become apparent that you lived by yourself. You watched him carefully.

“No,” you replied simply. You showed him the ring still on your finger, the gold glinting up at him. “See?”

His gaze flicked down to look at your hand. His head tilted slightly, the light on his lure brightening minutely.

“Aww,” he cooed, “I knew you were still madly in love with me.”

You gave him a look—stricken as you were by his words. “Of course,” you said quietly, looking off to the side. “Always.”

He seemed to sober up at your words. He cleared his throat and looked away. But you still continued to gaze at him, your eyes flicking down to his third arm where you could see that glint of a band around his fourth finger. You hesitated, then steeled yourself for what you were about to ask of him.

“Sebastian,” you murmured. His ear fin flicked, but he didn’t meet your gaze. “Give me your hand.” Then, after a pause, you added, “Please.”

You think the request caught him off guard, just a little. He opened his mouth, but before a single word could escape, he glanced at your face and closed it abruptly. You wondered what he saw there. You waited as he seemed to mull your request over in his head. Then, he shifted closer to the couch—his larger body looming over your own and painting you in gentle, soothing light.

You reached out a hand, patient. He eyed it, then slowly, so slowly, he extended one of his arms.

You shook your head. “No, not that one.” You pointed to his third arm. “That one.”

He seemed taken aback. “You…” he trailed off, then shook his head with a sigh. “Alright.”

He lifted his arm up and reached towards you. Leaning forward, you met him halfway. But before you could touch him, you flicked your gaze up to his face. He watched you. Quiet. Intent. Not a single breath being taken between the two of you.

Your hands grasped at his own. Real, real, real, real. It was… strange. Different. You couldn’t help the way your insides writhed and writhed and writhed. Inhuman. Unfamiliar. His hand, even one that was starkly smaller than his other two, was so much larger than yours, now. Thicker. Colder. Harder. It felt like he had a shell of some sort encasing his fingers. And the tips of them were sharp like the end of a blade—carefully curled away from you as they were. You held onto one of his fingers and pondered upon the distinctness. Lost yourself in the feeling. His finger twitched under your grip.

(“Hey.” Sebastian nudged you with his foot, forcing you to tear your gaze away from your notes to raise an eyebrow at him. He was sitting on the other side of the couch, his back pressed against its arm. “Let me see your hand for a sec?”

“What for?” you asked warily, yet still extended your hand out to him. He gave you a small grin, then took your palm with a contemplative hum.

His free hand went up to his chin in thought as he twisted your own this way and that. “Ah. Just as I thought.”

“What?” you pressed him, not liking the glint in his blue eyes.

“You’re missing something,” he told you. “Something so important that I fear you might die if you don’t get it soon. Shit’s fatal, you know.”

You lowered your eyelids at him, not believing him for a second. “And that is?”

Sebastian hummed, nodding slightly to himself, before he laced your fingers together. Your palms pressed against one another, the sensation of warm skin encompassing your own. “There. You’re cured. You're welcome, by the way.”

You puffed out a laugh and tried to fruitlessly yank your hand away. His grip tightened. “Sebastian, how are we going to get any work done like this, huh?”

“Not my problem. I can work just fine with one hand.” He wiggled the fingers of his free hand at you, the black polish on his nails slightly chipped at the tips.

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him. “Your hand’s all sweaty.”

“Rude. My hands aren’t sweaty, yours are.”

You gave him the stink eye. “No you.”

He mirrored your expression back at you. “Alright, get over here you little—” With a swift yank, he tugged you over to him. Yelping, you felt yourself get dragged across the couch until you found yourself trapped within his arms. They tightened around your body, and for extra measure, you felt one of his legs hook around the back of your own.

You gave a halfhearted wiggle, your cheek pressed against his chest. “This doesn’t help either of our productivities.” Your voice was muffled a bit. If you inhaled even just a little bit, you could smell his musk covered by the sweet scent of cinnamon. “You stink.”

He tightened his hold. You could feel his head lower to rest atop your own. “Think about what you’ve done and maybe I’ll let you go,” he murmured into your ear. You could practically hear the devious grin in his voice.

You only sighed in resignation and hid your smile in his shirt.)

You shook your head slightly, pushing down the ugly feelings crawling up your throat. Focus on the here and now. Peering closely at his fourth finger, you observed the gold band.

“That’s—a big ring,” you said slowly, squinting at it. There was no way that was the same one you both had exchanged at your wedding. It was much bigger, for one. And simpler. “What happened to the one I gave you?”

“Broke,” he replied with a forced casualness that you could smell from a mile away. His tail shifted behind him.

You raised an eyebrow. “Broke?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Y’know, when the whole”—he gestured to his body loosely with a hand, making it seem like it wasn’t as big of a deal—“happened.”

“I see.” You cocked your head, running your thumb over the large ring. Once, then twice, then thrice. “So you found a new one?”

He grumbled something low under his breath. You glanced up at him to find him pressing the towel into the lower part of his face, not quite able to look at you anymore. “Yeah,” he begrudgingly admitted. There was a warmth in your stomach, somewhere, fed by the rosiness that you could see on his cheeks. You willed the feeling to chase away all the others that simmered under your skin.

You gave him a small, teasing smile. “Hmm. I knew you were still madly in love with me.”

He sniffed and tugged his hand away from your grip—incensed now that you threw his own words back at him. You let him go willingly, your smile turning into a grin. Your hands tingled in the aftermath of holding his own. “Shuddup, weirdo.”

You chuckled and spent a quiet, peaceful moment just sitting together in your cottage. Listening to the vague ticking of the clock that rested somewhere on a wall. You breathed in, then out, willing your mind to cease its incessant buzzing.

“...What now?” you quietly asked, your question lingering in the finite space of your living room.

Sebastian only watched you, his eyes a gentle glow. “I don’t know.”

You exhaled through your nose and glanced outside at the darkened sky. You could feel a specific kind of fatigue itching at your eyes. It was late, and the events of this evening had been so utterly exhausting. Still were, honestly. Rubbing a hand down your face, you stood up and stretched out your arms.

“It’s getting late,” you said, rolling your shoulders. “I need to sleep, I have work in the morning.”

He blinked, seeming to startle out of thought, and flicked his eyes over your face. His lips pursed. “Right, yeah,” he grumbled, shifting as he straightened up and turned towards your front door. “I’ll get outta your hair then—”

Instantly, your heart leapt up in your chest. You stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. He jerked slightly before he turned to give you a questioning look. Pulling away, you held your hands in front of your sternum. “You’re leaving?” You did not want to admit to the vulnerability that coated your voice.

“...Duh?” He hesitated. “Don’t you… want me to?”

“Not at all,” you told him, stepping back to give him some space. “You can stay.” Then, timidly, you added, “For as long as you want.” You… thought it was a given that he could.

Sebastian stared. He stared and he stared and he stared until finally he slouched forward and released a long, long breath. “...Thanks.” One of his hands scrubbed at his face. He looked so tired. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Make yourself comfortable.” You gestured at the living room, the blanket still piled upon your couch. “I’ll grab you a pillow, one sec.” You took a step back towards your room, then paused and turned back around. “Oh, I can take the towel too.”

He didn’t seem much for conversation anymore. He only nodded and handed back the towel to you, damp as it was from mopping up the water from his body. You could feel his eyes on you as you scurried back into your bedroom to sling the towel into your laundry hamper and grab an extra pillow from your bed.

“Here you are,” you said as you reentered the living room and tossed the pillow in his direction. You hoped it didn’t have any of your hair on it. He grabbed it out of the air with one hand, something contemplative to his gaze. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you’re hungry. I think I have leftovers.” You shifted, pointing your thumb behind you at your bedroom. Was this okay? “I’ll… just be in there if you need me.”

And there it was again. That look on his face like he was battling something mentally. Like there was something just barely on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say. He held onto himself, hands gripping at the folds of his jacket. Gazing at you so— so….

You hesitated, wondering if this was the right thing to do. You both were not the same as you’d been all those years ago. It made the air thick with something that went unacknowledged.

You broke the silence with a gentle clear of your throat. Baby steps, you reminded yourself. “Well… good night.” “...Good night,” he whispered, still watching you with this look in his eyes as you stepped into your room and finally closed your bedroom door with a quiet click.

part three

#icb i let this fic beat me up in an alleyway like this #shay scribbles daydreams #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #pressure x reader #roblox pressure x reader #<- still takes me out #who i see au #if u guys saw that lactose intolerant fact ignore it i was wrong LMFAOO

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sturnioloszn · 1 month ago

Text

IN LOVE WITH A CRIMINAL - C.S

summary; after almost being caught committing murder, chris reassures you that everything is fine and helps you relieve some nerves...

warnings; smut, mentions of committing a crime (murder), gun kink.

a/n; i'm lowk stepping out the comfort zone w this one, so if it's dogshit, we know why. btw, if u don't understand the relationship, chris and y/n work together as hitmen (or ig hitman and hitwoman).

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

I sit on the edge of the bed, leaning down to undo the straps on my black heels. I'm usually focused on how sore my feet are after wearing heels for several hours, but my mind is engrossed with one thought.

It wasn't uncommon for Chris and I to be paired together for hits; actually, we worked well as a team. But tonight didn't go as smoothly as it was meant to.

It was supposed to be a straightforward night; while I kept the ambassador distracted, Chris would take him out.

Unfortunately, my charm worked a little too well, and the ambassador wanted to "find somewhere more private," so we kept changing locations, meaning Chris couldn't take the shot easily.

We eventually managed, but the authorities were on scene immediately, which wouldn't have been the case if we had stayed at the original location. Due to this, we were almost recognised, but we fled the scene just before they could recognise us.

Yet, I can't help but feel paranoid. I know what line of work I'm in, and yes, I know the risks, but it's still an insanely scary thought. What if they saw my face? Would I have to be a fugitive? Would I have to live the rest of my life in the shadows to prevent from being seen again?

Fuck.

The sound of ammo hitting the bathroom counter snapped me out of my anxiety-ridden thoughts. I slowly stand up from the bed, stepping out of my heels and heading towards the bathroom in the hotel room.

I reach the doorway and see Chris at the countertop, he's clearing the gun that was used tonight. I lean against the door frame with my arms crossed over my chest as I watch his hands work the gun. I won't lie, Chris was hot as fuck, he had a sharp jawline and a beautiful side profile with gorgeous brown hair that fell over his forehead.

But it doesn't matter how sexy he was, there's no way anything could happen between us, especially with work. It would just get way too messy.

"Do you think they saw us?" I ask, breaking the deafening silence that was lying between us.

"No," he replies coldly. I know he was somewhat upset at me due to the fact that I couldn't keep the ambassador in one place, making his job harder.

"There were a lot of them... what if they did see our faces?" I say, now beginning to share my inner conflicts with him.

"They didn't. Stop stressing," another cold reply.

"They saw us leave though, we had to have looked suspicious, right?" I question once again. I could sense he was getting annoyed at all my questions but I really couldn't help it.

"We're fine," he huffs, as he sorts through the unused ammunition. I watch his fingers work diligently, organising everything so carefully. I wonder what else his fingers would be good at.

Fuck, I really have to stop thinking these things, because I can only blame myself for the dampness in my panties right now.

"Listen, it's not your fault, okay?" He sighs, turning his head to finally look at me. I think he feels slightly bad being so harsh on me, even though it really isn't my fault that I'm so hot.

I nod at his words, dragging my eyes to the floor to avoid eye contact. He takes a few steps towards me and places his index finger under my chin, tilting my head high enough so that our eyes could meet.

"I mean it...I'm sorry for being a dickhead," his words are soft and sincere, almost enough to make my knees crumble completely. "And no, I'm sure they didn't see us. Stop stressing your pretty little head about it,".

He's so close that I can almost hear his heartbeat, and the small touch he has on my skin is enough to burn up my entire body. There's no way he can't see the effects he has on me.

"What can I do to ease your mind, hm?" He says, moving his finger from under my chin and using his entire hand to cup the side on my face; his thumb caressing my blushed cheek softly.

"Nothing, I'm fine...I probably just need some sleep," I say. But even if I take him up on his offer, what is he really laying out on the table? Maybe I'm reading too far into this.

"Nothing? There's absolutely nothing I can do f'you?" He asks, lowering his head to my neck and planting a soft kiss there. I lean my head back, surprised by his actions.

Chris and I have been strictly colleagues, and other than the occasional flirty joke, there's not been anything else between us... until now.

"Chris..." I whisper, almost as a warning, as if someone could catch us at any moment.

"Hm," he mumbles against my neck, still peppering small kisses. I sigh and give into his touch. He feels me surrender, and he moves his hands to my curves, drinking them in with every touch.

"This dress looks so fucking good on you, y'know that?" His words are barely recognisable, so I weave my hands through his hair and tug his face away from my neck. I guide him towards my lips and it doesn't take long for him to crash his perfect, plump lips into mine.

The kiss is instantly hot, burning even, and the feel of his hands all over my body definitely doesn't help with the heat. His hands slip down to my ass, grabbing handfuls. A light gasp leaves my mouth, surprised by his direct actions.

"Can I make you feel good?" He asks, briefly pulling away from my lips. There's a look of hunger in his eyes, which makes him look even more irresistible.

"Please, Chris," I reply pathetically. By now, my panties are soaked, and we're both still fully dressed. God, what is he doing to me.

I feel him reconnect our lips and slide his hands under my ass to my thighs. I feel his arms tense, and my feet lift the ground. He places me onto the bathroom countertop, and I wrap my legs around his torso.

His hands find my hips again, but instead of stopping there, they continue downwards towards the slit in my dress. His right hand slips under my dress, and he reaches for the fabric at my hip.

He invites his left hand under the dress, too, finding the fabric on the other side of my hip. He tugs both sides down, removing my panties completely.

He looks up at me, his cold, blue eyes meet mine. I've never seen anyone with eyes as pretty as his; they really are his best feature.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, his eyes locking me in a trance. I nod, unable to get any words past my lips.

"I need you to use your words," he speaks again. If he keeps speaking like this, my composure will be out the window any minute.

"Of course I trust you, Chris," I say, wondering why he's even asking me that. He then turns and grabs the gun next to him. What is he doing?

He returns his attention back to me and slowly spreads my legs. My dress rides up, leaving me more than accessible to him.

"Fuck, look at how soaked you are and I haven't even touched you yet," he groans, and I can see the buldge in his trousers form.

He then does something that I would have never dreamed he'd do.

He took the barrel of the gun and ran it between my folds, lathering it in my fluid. The cold metal of the gun against my hot core makes me jump slightly.

"C-Chris... what are you doing?" I ask, my breathing getting shallower.

"Shh, just let me take care of you and ease your worries," he says, his eyes never faltering from my dripping cunt. I throw my head back and enjoy this new sensation that I'm being guided through.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel the gun slip into me. No way he's fucking me with a gun.

"Fuck, Chris," I say, bucking I'm hips slightly. I'm not completely opposed to this idea but it's definitely something new.

Thank God I saw him take out the bullets otherwise my stress level would be through the roof.

He starts pumping the gun faster and faster, and a familiar heat is building in my stomach. Moans start spilling from my lips uncontrollably and my hands find their way to his hair again.

"Chris, p-please... don't stop," I say, at this point I'm fucking the gun back, and I'm so close to euphoria.

"I wasn't planning on it," he breathes out. A few strokes later, and I'm spamming around the gun, letting my wetness coat it as Chris' name, along with a string of curse words, leave my mouth.

He slowly removes the gun from my hole and looks at it in wonder before turning to me.

"I've never been more turned on in my life," he says, his eyes bouncing back between me and the gun.

I'm sure I look a mess right now, I'm panting heavily, my hair is frizzy, and mascara is likely running down my face, yet Chris doesn't think twice about calling me beautiful.

"What does this mean for us?" I ask, pulling myself down from the countertop, grabbing onto Chris to steady myself.

"I've liked you for a while, y/n, I was tired of pretending like I didn't need you," He admitted. My cheeks are definitely blushing, and not because I just orgasmed.

"Me too... but what about work?" I question, work is the main reason I hadn't made my move. I'm already a criminal, I can't be in love with one, too.

"We'll make it work, now stop worrying about everything, I'm going to run you a bath, and you're going to relax," he says, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; well... I don't think this is too horrendous (if it is, keep ur mouth shut otherwise i'll cry). alsooo, 151 notes on my last fanfic?? u guys are insane but i appreciate it sooo much, thank youuu and love youu smm 💙

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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1eoness · 1 year ago

Text

professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)

cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 22 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon ♡

[to clarify, i am 18. anyone <18 and anyone >18 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.

synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."

especially you.

kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)

he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?

it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.

so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.

"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)

yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?

you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.

so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?

"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(

much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.

you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.

he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!

but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.

"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"

"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.

"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."

naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.

once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.

it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.

a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)

..but blue was his favorite color.

"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.

...

leon sighed.

he wasn't celibate.

his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.

manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.

"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"

his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.

until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.

he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..

he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..

your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.

"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.

he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.

"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.

"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.

he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.

"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.

"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...

you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.

leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"

he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.

"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.

he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.

seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #guys im sorry if my writing is pretty vague idfk lmao #re4remake leon smut #THIS IS SO BAD AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut

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daisies-daydreams · 9 months ago

Note

Hello, I hope ur having a lovely day. ^^ (I have a fic request for Encanto, 22 yrs old btw)

May I request, Bruno Madrigalxfem!reader, in which they have a couple dynamic similar to Roger and Jessica rabbit. The reader is one of the most beautiful and sought out woman in all of the village, villagers constantly ask for her hand/show interest in her, not knowing she’s already in a relationship with Bruno. 🥰 If it were up to her, she would gladly and proudly display their relationship to the village but Bruno told her to keep it a secret for now since he feels like he’ll ruin her reputation 🥺

Maybe one day the madrigals are having a family dinner together and Bruno decides to tell his family about his gf but no one believes him, they all think he’s lying about being in a relationship 😭 even Mirabel struggles to fully believe him even though she tries to be optimistic about it lol. Until his gf actually shows up one day and the whole family is shocked 😂 not only is he in a relationship but he scored the most sought out woman in the village. 😂

The villagers to the reader: “What do u even see in that guy!?!?” 🤨

Reader: “He makes me laugh 😏”

Bcuz of this experience, reader decides it’s time to no longer hide their relationship. And proudly shows off her man to the village, lots of pda with a very flustered but happy Bruno. 😊💕✨After all that, Reader and Bruno have a picnic date together, where smut ensues~👀✨

(BONUS POINTS if reader is taller than Bruno 😭🙏🏻✨)

(Sorry for the long request. I tried to be specific as possible, no worries if u can’t write all of it ^^)

Thanks again and have a good day. ❤️

Mi Vida (Bruno Madrigal x F!Reader)

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x F!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut Warnings: PDA, Secret (not so secret) Relationship, Unwanted Flirting, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex (M! and F! Receiving), Delayed Orgasm, Sub!Bruno Madrigal, Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know to the Drill), Cowgirl Position, Semi-Public Sex, Cumming Too Quickly, Cum Eating, Swearing, Pet Names Word Count: 6.5k+ A/N: OMG Bruno is literally my favorite Disney character! 😭🙏🏻💗 Thank you so much for your sweet request and I hope you enjoy!

“¡Muchas gracias, Señora (L/N)!” Mirabel chirped as she took the box of fresh Aborrajados from you [Thank you very much, Ms!]. You smiled and gave the young woman a short nod, some flour still caked on your face after rushing over from your bakery.

“De nada, Mirabel,” you smiled warmly [You're welcome]. You caught a glimpse of Bruno slinking behind one of the newly reconstructed pillars of Casita, his eyes soft and lips drawn into a sheepish smile. You giggled softly and leaned down to Mirabel. “Tell your familia I said hello,” you grinned warmly [family]. She hummed before following your line of sight. Bruno tensed and quickly tried to shift back into the shadows…only to trip over a large potted plant.

You gasped and nearly rushed to his side before he stumbled back to his feet. Bruno’s eyes were as wide as saucers as his cheeks flushed with pink. The dark-haired man flashed you a toothy grin and gave you a small wave. You giggled and waved back. Mirabel looked between the two of you and gave a small smile.

“Thank you again for the treats,” the young woman beamed. You blinked.

“Hm? Oh, you’re welcome,” you said before stealing another glance of your beloved…only to find him gone from your line of sight. "Buenas noches, Mirabel," you sighed while giving her a tired smile. The young girl gave a quick nod before you saw yourself off. A soft sigh left your lips as Casita slowly closed the front doors with a light creak. You bit the inside of your cheek as you turned on your heel, the sun already starting to set over the crest of the tall mountains surrounding the Encanto.

Suddenly, a high-pitched squeak resonated through the air. You froze in place before hearing it again, this time followed by a soft rustling of leaves. You slowly took a few steps closer towards a bush nearby, your heart pounding beneath your chest as you hesitantly pushed the branches back. You gasped when a baby capybara suddenly poked its head out; it's button eyes sparkling as it titled its head curiously. You cooed and bent down, your large, colorful skirt billowing around your legs as you picked up the tiny creature.

“Aw, que linda,” you murmured [how cute]. The little, furry pup tilted its head to the other side and sniffed your hand before squeaking happily. You laughed softly as it rubbed its head against your palm and flicked its ears. You looked up when you heard Alma Madrigal and the others gathering around in the dining room, their voices filtering through the open window just above your head.

"What are those, mi vida?" Julieta asked her youngest daughter as she carried the box of treats into the room.

"Aborrajados. (Y/N) brought them from her bakery just now," the young woman piped up. You smiled as you stroked the capybara's soft fur while it cuddled up in your lap.

"(Y/N), eh?" Felix asked. Mirabel hummed in reply as she took her seat. "I remember when your Tío Bruno had the biggest crush on her when we were teenagers," he chuckled. You cover ed your mouth and giggled as you recalled the first time you caught Bruno staring at you in the marketplace; his hand picking at a loose strand of his ruana as he gave you a shy smile.

"Aha, yep," you heard Bruno chuckle nervously before he started to drum his fingers on the table. The sound of silverware clinking filled the air as the family began to feast on their meal.

"She's always been such a sweet girl. Remember when she danced with you at Julieta's wedding?" Alma piped up. You could imagine your love tugging at the collar of his brown shirt as cleared his throat.

"S-Sí, Mamá," he muttered. A giddy smile crossed your features as you recalled him constantly muttering apologies for stepping on your feet...only for you to hush him with a quicky peck on his cheek. You've never seen someone blush such a deep shade of red in your life.

"I always wondered why she never married. She's the most beautiful woman in the whole village," Félix stated nonchalantly. You felt a gust of wind explode from the room as a low rumble of thunder reverberated across the walls. "That is…the most beautiful woman after you, mi amor," the man's voice wavered nervously. You could only imagine the look of irritation on Pepa's face.

"You know, I always wondered why she never found a husband, either," Mirabel said. You tucked your bottom lip beneath your teeth as you shifted your gaze to your beloved. His face was drawn with a tense expression as he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers almost vibrating against the table as he bounced his leg.

"Probably because we've been seeing each other this whole time," Bruno suddenly blurted out. Your jaw dropped as the whole room went dead silent.

For so long, he refused to confess your relationship to the village...let alone his own family. You understood why - even after he “returned” to the Encanto and helped rebuild his home, quite a few villagers were still weary of the prophetic Madrigal. Despite the countless times you've reassured him that you didn't care what everyone else thought, he refused to allow his reputation to "ruin you".

You were pulled back to the present when you heard the Madrigal's whisper amongst themselves.

“Really?” Bruno’s brother-in-law, Agustín, bluntly asked.

“Agustín,” Julieta chastised her husband with a loud whisper. You peeked through the window as you cradled the pup in your arms, your fluttering as you waited for Bruno to continue. The whites of his eyes nearly swallowed the two pools of hazel resting within them as he gulped. Your beloved eventually took a deep breath and puffed out his chest a little.

“S-Sí,” he answered while knocking on the wooden surface of the table. A long pause remained as your heart skipped a beat. You anxiously held your breath as you studied the faces of everyone in the room. The family members exchanged glances before a low rumble of chuckles filtered through the dining room. You furrowed your brows as amused smiles washed over their faces.

"That's a good one, bro!" Félix chortled before slapping his hand on the table.

“B-But it’s true!” Bruno stammered as he frantically looked around. Your heart burned as you clenched your jaw and narrowed your eyes. His gaze locked with his youngest nieces as he furrowed his brows. “You believe me…right, Mirabel?” your love asked with pleading eyes. His niece tensed in her seat, her lips drawn in a tight line.

“I…I don’t know, Tío,” she sighed while looking down at her lap. Bruno's shoulders slumped as he wrung his hands together. “I mean, it’s not impossible…but how come you never really mentioned it until now?” Mirabel questioned. The chatter suddenly broke when the youngest Madrigal, Antonio, gasped.

“Where did Sofia go?!” he cried. You squeaked and ducked your head as everyone began to scramble around the dining room. You looked down at the baby capybara and raised your brows while it sniffed your palm.

"I'm guessing that's you," you whispered. You flinched when someone suddenly poked their head out the window. You instantly relaxed as Bruno met your gaze.

“Hola, hermoso,” you murmured [Hello, handsome]. Bruno blinked, his cheeks still dusted with scarlet as he gave you an uneasy expression.

“Hi…” he quietly replied as his eyes trailed down to your lap. "You found Sofia," he muttered. You giggled and nodded as you handed him the pup...but not before you stole a quick kiss on his cheek. Bruno's eyes widened as you let your lips linger against his stubbly skin.

“I could come inside there right now and prove them wrong, you know,” you said as you twirled one of his thick, curly locks between your fingers. You leaned forward a little more, your warm breath falling against his lips as he nearly dropped the young pup. "I've missed the feeling of your lips against mine," you purred. Your love swallowed thickly as he stared at your mouth with his deep, hazel eyes.

“Is she out there, Bruno?!” his sister, Pepa, suddenly shouted nearby. He tensed and shifted his gaze between the dining room and you. Bruno squeezed his eyes shut and sighed heavily.

“Lo siento, mi corazón,” he murmured while giving you an apologetic look [I’m sorry, my heart]. You reached out as he dipped back inside, leaving you kneeling on the patch of grass below. You sighed while everyone rejoiced in the dining room, happy to have found Antonio’s little friend. You smoothed your hands over your skirt before slowly rising to your feet. Your heart ached for your beloved as you began to walk away from Casita, the house shutters groaning and waving at you as if beckoning you to return. You simply shook your head before turning back to the stone path ahead of you.

The sky was painted with a collage of orange and blue hues as you stepped into the village. Streetlights flickered overhead as your footsteps echoed down the pathways. You scoffed and rolled your eyes when one of your many “suitors” suddenly stepped into view.

“I was wondering where you’d run off to, Señora,” the tall, muscular man lilted as he flashed you a blinding grin. You tried to pay him no mind as you walked past him. You gasped when he suddenly rushed forward and stood in the way of your abode. He held a single red rose towards you as his eyes flickered with desire. A bitter taste washed over your tongue as you crossed your arms.

“And I wondering when you’d learn to take a hint, Sebastian,” you huffed, venom laced in every word that fell from your lips. The man placed a hand over his chest as if cradling a fresh wound.

“Oh, mi mariposa. When are you going to realize that no one else in this village is fit to be your husband except me?" he cooed [my butterfly]. You rolled your eyes again before pushing past him. You muttered to yourself as you yanked your key out of your pocket. You sighed as he slid his hand against the wall of your home while hovering over you.

"You know I'm one of the second richest men in the entire Encanto. And I could provide for you...in more ways than one," he purred while going to tuck some hair behind your ear. You scoffed in disgust as you yanked on your doorhandle. You quickly stepped inside and blocked him from entering, your fingers white-knuckling the threshold of your precious bakery.

“I’ll never realize it - you know why? It’s because of three simple words: I’m. Not. Interested,” you spat before slamming the door in his face. You huffed and quicky locked the door behind you.

"¿Dios, alguna vez me dejará en paz?" you groaned while running your hand down your face [God, will he ever leave me alone?]. A small pang echoed inside your chest as you gazed around the empty room, the last sliver of golden light fading from the walls as the sun dipped past the ridge. You sighed as you lit a candle and stepped towards the back of the bakery where you resided.

You frowned as you shuffled into your personal kitchen - a plate of arepas waiting on the slightly chipped surface of your counter. You sighed and slowly pulled the towel back before snatching one from the plate.

Your eyes suddenly lit up just as you took a small bite from the pastry. A playful smirk stretched across your face as a wicked idea crossed your mind.

You refused to allow Bruno’s family to accuse him of lying...and you knew just what to do.

+++

Mirabel blinked when she opened the door for you the next morning.

“¿Señora (Y/N)?” she asked as she eyed the stack of boxes in your arms. You gave the young woman a bright smile.

“Buenos días, Mirabel,” you grinned ear to ear [Good morning]. She tilted her head and pursed her lips.

“I don’t remember us ordering anything else from you this week,” Mirabel said. You laughed, the boxes bouncing a little as you gave her a shrug.

“Sí. I just wanted to show my…appreciation for la familia Madrigal, so I whipped up some breakfast pastries for you all,” you chirped. She raised her dark brows.

“Well, thank you! That’s very thoughtful. I’ll just-“ you pulled the boxes away and shook your head.

“Oh, no need, my dear. I’d be more than happy to carry the boxes wherever you need them,” you said. Mirabel blinked.

“Uh…okay,” she said before pushing her green glasses up the bridge of her nose. You followed her inside as she led you towards the back. “This way: we usually eat breakfast outside,” Mirabel commented as she held the door open for you. You saw the family setting the table as you walked through the threshold.

“Thank you, Mirabel,” you beamed. The young woman nodded as she watched you walk over to the long table. Everyone except for your beloved were preparing for the first meal of the day.

“¡Ah, Señora (L/N)!” Alma called with a bright smile. You reflected her expression as you walked over, Julieta coming to your aid and helping you set the boxes down. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” the matriarch of the family asked. You maintained your bright smile as you held your hands out in front of you.

“Oh, I just wanted to stop by and show my appreciation for La Familia Madrigal,” you motioned towards the boxes. You watched as Isabella opened one of the boxes to sneak out a pastry…only for the real Isabella to clear her throat with a raised brow. Camilo sighed as he shifted back to his original form and slipped the treat back inside.

“How thoughtful,” Alma said while clapping her hands together. “Would you like to stay for breakfast? We simply have too much food now,” she offered with a chuckle. You placed a hand over your chest.

“Oh, Señora, you’re too kind,” you said. Alma grinned ear to ear.

“Please, I insist,” she replied while motioning towards an empty seat Casita was already nudging across the tiles. You pretended to think about it for a moment before shrugging.

“Mmm...okay!” you said with a large grin. Alma’s eyes lit up as she smiled.

“Excellent! I’ll have one of the boys get a plate for you,” she grinned with a nod. You smiled before making your way over to an empty chair. Antonio’s eyes lit up as you sat next to him. Sofia slept soundly in his lap as he gave you a toothy grin.

“Thank you for finding Sofia yesterday,” he whispered. You chuckled softly.

“You're welcome, Antonio,” you whispered back. You thanked Agustín as he brought you a plate while the rest of the family filed in. You turned when the little one tugged on your sleeve.

"Everyone said that Tío Bruno was lying, but Sofia told me he wasn't," he said. You smiled when Sofia perked her head up at her name.

"Muchas gracias, Sofia," you whispered gently. Bruno suddenly came stumbling out the door, his hair bunched up in a mess and clothes disheveled as he leaned on the doorframe. You pursed your lips when you saw his pupils blown wide as he panted heavily.

“Forgive my son - he’s always been a late riser,” Alma smiled. Bruno straightened his green ruana before locking eyes with you. You gave him a warm, genuine smile as he froze.

"Mi vida..." he muttered under his breath [my life]. Everyone at the table watched as you rose from your seat and sauntered over to your man. You saw the shock grow in his eyes as you approached him, your lips parted as you dusted some sand from his dark, curly hair.

“I’m so happy to see you…darling,” you said aloud. The whole family gasped when you dipped your head down and kissed his cheek, letting your soft lips rest against his face as you slid your palms onto his thin shoulders. Bruno flapped his hands as his eyes widened even more, the rest of his body as stiff as a statue. You cooed and cupped his cheek as his face flushed with red.

“M-Mi cielo…” he whispered while nervously glancing back and forth between you and his family [my heaven]. You smoothed your thumb across his stubble as you smiled.

“Hermoso…it’s time,” you murmured. Bruno gulped as you slipped your hands into his and squeezed them gently. He straightened his shoulders as much as he took a deep breath and nodded. You beamed before turning to the barrage of shocked faces. Bruno cleared his throat as he clenched your hands.

“Mi familia, this is mi amor...(Y/N),” he smiled sheepishly while motioning towards you [my love]. You smiled and waved at the family.

“It’s nice to be properly acquainted with you all,” you giggled before tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. The table quickly erupted into utter chaos.

“Are you for real?!" Félix boomed.

“Are you sure this isn’t an elaborate prank?!” Isabella gawked.

"I knew this whole time," Dolores shrugged with a quiet whisper.

You and Bruno turned to each other, his face turning red once again as he shrank and winced under their rapid-fire questions. You placed your index finger and thumb against the corners of your lips before whistling loudly. The entire family quickly came to a halt as they whipped their heads towards you.

“I'd be happy to answer all of your questions…if you’ll still have me for breakfast, that is,” you said with a twinkle in your eye. They all slowly sat back down in their chairs while Alma cleared her throat.

“Of course,” the matriarch said with a small smile before motioning towards two empty seats.

A Few Days Later…

“Are you sure about this, mi vida?” Bruno asked nervously as he kept his hood up. You gave him a gentle smile as you pulled his hood back down. The two of you stood in the dimly lit foyer of Casita, a picnic basket slung around your free arm and a quilt over his.

“Absolutely,” you replied with a firm nod. Bruno swallowed thickly as he tugged his hood over his curly locks once more. You sighed and gave him a patient smile before flipping it back over.

"Mi amor, I don't want to spend the day with Hernado, or Jorge, or any other persona of yours...I want to spend it with you," you cooed. Bruno perked his head up as he finally let his hood remain draped over his shoulders. You giggled as he suddenly nuzzled his face against your collarbone, the top of his head brushing against your chin.

“Gracias, mi amor,” he said with a hushed whisper. You smiled brightly as you pecked the crown of his head.

"You're welcome," you replied. "Now...let's go show the village who I belong to," you winked while playfully bumping his hip with yours. Bruno chuckled softly as the two of you stepped outside hand-in-hand, the mid-afternoon sun hanging high above your heads as you began to stroll through the front yard of the Madrigal estate.

You felt Bruno's grip on your hand tighten as you approached the village.

"I'm right here," you reassured while brushing your thumb over his knuckles. Bruno nodded and took a deep breath. You grinned before stopping in your tracks and kissing his temple. You giggled as his cheeks grew red as you moved your lips to his nose.

"(Y-Y/N)," he muttered before going to pull his hood over his eyes. You giggled at his bashful behavior and placed your hands over his wrists.

"What? I'm just letting the village know how much I adore my Bruno," you beamed before peppering his face with more kisses. His cheeks burned even more as he white-knuckled the hood of his ruana.

You chuckled before quietly continuing your walk alongside him. Several villagers turned their heads as you passed by. You swayed your hips side to side, flaunting your beloved as you slung your arm around his.

Bruno immediately stopped when you suddenly stooped down and pressed your lips against his. You gasped when he suddenly reached up on his tip-toes and kissed you back.

"Bruno," you said with a breathless look while he pulled away. You heard a few young girls giggle nearby before their mothers shooed them away. The two of you shared a quiet laugh before continuing through the bustling market. Bruno seemed to relax with every step he took, his tense expression softening as he sighed. The sun peeked out from the parted clouds, the golden rays beaming down on your face as you inhaled deeply.

The two of you exchanged smiles as you made your way out of the small town and towards the lush, serene forest. You sighed as the two of you hiked through the dense brush before coming upon a familiar opening. Bruno wore a goofy grin as the two of you began to unfold the quilt and set the food out. You hummed a little tune while grabbing a bottle of wine before Bruno cleared his throat.

“Here: let me get that for you, mi amor,” he grinned. You raised your brows and handed him the bottle and opener.

“By all means, hermoso,” you giggled. Your love winked before he screwed the opener on. You watched as he fought and struggled with the cork, his elbows flapping wildly as he muttered to himself. You gasped when he fell back, the bottle flying out of his hands and into the brush. He flinched when the sound of glass shattering echoed through the forest, several toucans and other birds flying out afterwards. The two of you exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

“It’s okay: I prefer the taste of your lips anyway,” you purred before pecking his lips. Bruno chuckled as he cupped your face.

“And I yours,” he murmured and brushed some hair out of your face. The two of you enjoyed the next hour as you fed each other the delectable treats you packed.

You eventually found your head in his lap as he slipped a plump grape past your soft lips. You closed your eyes as you savored the sweetness of the fruit and slowly. A gentle breeze swept over the forest as you sighed happily.

"Do you remember what happened the first time we came here, hermoso?" you lilted while opening your eyes. Your lover's breath hitched as he nearly choked on a piece of fruit. You flipped yourself over and rubbed Bruno's back as he cleared his throat.

"I-uh-I do," he flushed while picking at a blade of grass. You smiled and bit your lip, your breasts peeking out from beneath your lacy, white blouse as you wiggled your hips.

"We were both so nervous," you said as you slid your hand over his thigh. Bruno's gasped as you rested your chin between his ankles, your eyes locked on his crotch as he gulped. "But you did so well…made me the happiest girl in the whole world that night," you purred while sliding both of your hands up his legs and beneath his ruana. Bruno swallowed thickly as he fell back on his forearms, his legs spread out as you pounced on him like a lithe jaguar. His breath quickened as you hovered above him, your barely covered breasts grazing over his chest.

"Would you like to relive that moment?" you whispered as your lips brushed over his. You swore his eyes nearly shot out of his head as his face burned a bright red.

"B-But mi amor...what if someone sees us?" he muttered with a shaky breath. You chuckled before pecking his lips while rolling up his ruana, revealing his scruffy happy trail that led to the bulge growing beneath his slacks.

“Don't worry, we're far enough in the forest," you whispered into his ear while tracing your fingertips down his lean stomach. "No one will see or hear a thing," you said as your lips curled into a seductive grin. You felt his muscles tense beneath your light touch as you hooked your fingers around the band of his pants and tugged them down his lean thighs. Bruno gasped as his semi-hard cock sprang free, his tip growing flush as his shaft twitched in the exposed air.

You smiled as you dipped your head down and captured his lips in a passionate kiss. Bruno moaned softly and gripped your hips as your lips caressed one another in a heated embrace. He gasped as you slid your hand all the way down his stomach before wrapping your fist around the base of his burning, veiny shaft. You panted against his mouth as you gently squeezed his length.

"Pobracito...you're so pent up," you cooed before swiping your warm tongue along his bottom lip [Poor thing]. Bruno's eyes rolled back as you began to slowly pump your tight fist around his dick. Quiet moans fell past his parted lips before you slipped your tongue inside his wet cavern. He squeaked and bucked his hips forward as your tongues entangled with a wet squelch. You groaned into his mouth as you continued to rub his aching cock, each noise and shift of his hips causing the damp spot in your panties to grow wetter.

“Mmmm-mi corazón,” Bruno whined when you pulled back for air - a thick string of spit connecting your swollen lips as he breathed heavily. His cock twitched as you smeared a hot bead of precum across his flush tip. You cooed and kissed along his jaw as he arched into your touch.

“Would you like to feel my warm, tight mouth wrapped around your cock, Papi? Hm?” you husked into his ear as you continued to stroke his now rock-hard shaft [Daddy]. Bruno released a guttural groan as he writhed against your body.

“S-Sí…por fa, Mami,” he panted while desperately trying to gain any friction against his dick [Yes…please, Mommy]. You grinned and nipped at his ear before trailing your lips down his jaw and neck. Bruno's eyes grew half-lidded as he watched you create a painting of hickeys and small bite marks across his skin, goosebumps rising wherever your lips landed.

“I love all the cute noises you make, Brunito,” you chuckled against his collar bone before lashing your tongue against his bare skin.

“(Y-Y/N), por favor. Te necesito,” your lover begged while rocking his hips into your tight, warm grip [I need you]. You grinned and licked over the tiny bite mark before shuffling down his body. You swiped your tongue over your lips before letting your hot breath fan over his dick. Bruno's eyes grew clouded with lust as you pecked his bulbous tip, the salty taste of his precum leaking over your tastebuds while you moaned. Your beloved groaned as you swirled your wet muscle around his tip in sloppy, wet circles.

“M-Mierda,” Bruno hissed between gritted teeth as he watched you wrap your lips around his head before shallowly bobbing your mouth up and down his throbbing shaft [Shit]. You moaned and hollowed your cheeks, a wet slurping sound reverberating through the air as you took him in deeper with every dip of your head. You relished in the way your lover trembled as you cupped his balls in your free hand, tenderly massaging his sac as you fluttered your lashes. His dick felt so heavy as it glided along your tongue, the texture making your pussy clench and ache for the familiar drag of his shaft.

“God, (Y/N),” he moaned and bucked into your slick cavern, drawing a small gag from you. You gazed into his eyes when he gasped and shifted back, leaving your lips wrapped half-way around his sex. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-“ his jaw went slack when you grabbed one of his hands and placed it on top of your head. You tilted your head to the side and began to quicken your pace, your spit now smearing down his balls as you squeezed them in a loving grip.

“A-Ah!” Bruno yelped as he grabbed your luscious hair, his nails digging into your scalp as you eagerly sucked him off. You squealed when he gripped your hair and guided you along his length, his eyes half-lidded and lit with pure desire. “S-Sí, Mami - tan buena,” he rumbled [Yes, Mommy - so good]. You smiled and kept your cheeks hollowed as you took him deeper and deeper. You moaned as you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth, his tip now soaking the back of your tight throat with salty precum.

Bruno's grunts and cried grew more desperate before you suddenly pulled off of his length with a slick “pop”. His eyes snapped open as he looked at you with a mix of confusion and yearning.

“(Y/N),” he whined and desperately thrusted his hips up. You immediately stole his attention the second you shuffled out of your white bloomers and skirt, the fabric falling onto the blanket with a soft thud. Bruno’s face turned cherry red as you pulled your shirt above your head, revealing your supple breasts to his hungry eyes. You giggled at his dumbfounded expression as you slowly sank down onto your knees and straddled his waist.

"Lo siento, Papi...but I need to feel you inside me," you sighed as you slowly grinded your hips against his. Bruno's eyes rolled back as your wet pussy lips caressed the sides of his cock with every stroke of your hips.

"Fuck, Mami," he whined as he wrapped his hands around your waist. You sighed and smoothed your palms over his slightly hairy chest as he dug his nails into your supple flesh. You moaned as the weeping tip of his cock glided over your puffy clit - pulses of pleasure sweeping through your empty heat as you gazed into his eyes.

"You feel so good beneath me, Brunito," you murmured while cupping his cheek. Bruno's bottom lip jutted out as he gulped.

"Mi vida, please," Bruno grunted as he gave you a soft, pleading look. You grinned softly and laid your hands on his stomach while you adjusted your hips. He gasped when you wrapped one of your hands around his dick, rubbing his head against your entrance teasingly before deeply gazing into his eyes.

You released a heavy sigh as you slowly sank down on his hard cock, his length deliciously gliding against your gummy walls with a wet squelch.

"Oh bebé," you moaned as you arched your back. You shivered as you buried yourself down to the hilt, a rush of heat swelling through your core as his dark bush gently brushed against your bundle of nerves. You paused for a few seconds, relishing in the feeling of his dick stuffing you to the brim while he panted beneath you. You swallowed thickly before you raised your hips and brought them back down.

The forest was filled with your combined grunting and moaning as you bounced on his cock. The sound of wet slapping between your hips made your legs shake as Bruno sank his nails into your hips.

"You stretch me so good, hermoso," you whispered as you leaned forward, your breasts now pushed against his chest while you captured his mouth in another sloppy, heated kiss. You smiled as you felt his cock twitch inside you, his head kissing your soft cervix each time you gracefully brought your hips back down. He gasped for air when you pulled back.

“Mami, I-I’m so close,” he said through gritted teeth as he dug crescents into your perfect hips. He shivered as you kissed along his scruffy jaw, your walls sucking him in and sweetly caressing his swollen dick. You soon sat back up on your knees, your breasts bouncing as you sped up your movements.

“Go on, Bruno: claim this pussy with your cum,” you moaned. You squeaked when he shoved your hips down as he released a deep, guttural groan. You trembled above him as you felt streams of his thick, hot cum paint your gummy walls as he stiffened beneath you.

“Sí, Sí,” Bruno mewled like a broken record as he writhed with pleasure. You moaned as you felt the sticky mess between your two bodies, a few beads of his thick cum leaking from the seam of your stretched out hole.

“Mmm, Papi,” you sighed as you rubbed your hands over his chest. Bruno slowly opened his eyes - his hazel pools glossed over with pleasure as he heaved.

“Did you…” his voice trailed off as he furrowed his brows and gazed at the space where your sexes were snugly joined. You chuckled softly and shook your head.

“No, but it’s-“ your eyes widened, the world around you passing in a blur as Bruno suddenly laid on top of you. You blinked as he cradled the back of your head with his soft palm, his long fingers smoothing through your locks as he panted above you.

“Por fa, mi princessa…déjame mimarte,” he rumbled while pressing soft kisses to the junction between your jaw and neck [Please, my princess…let me spoil you]. You moaned as he peppered your sensitive pulse with kisses as his hands smoothed over your breasts. A soft sigh escaped you as he gently rubbed his thumbs over your perky nipples, his mouth suckling on your exposed skin as he slowly pulled the rest of his soaked length out of you.

You mewled at the emptiness, prompting your love to coo and lick a bold stripe over your pulse.

“Bebé,” you keened while stroking your fingers through his thick, dark hair. Bruno’s eyes sparkled as he gave you a sheepish smile.

“What I want to do is a bit…different, if that’s alright,” he said as his cheeks tinted with pink. You chuckled softly and kissed his forehead.

“You know I’ll still enjoy it,” you said while smoothing your thumb over his cheek. Bruno’s smile grew before he took a deep breath. Your body trembled with anticipation as he traced his lips between the valley of your breasts and down your soft stomach. Your jaw went slack when he slung your legs over his shoulders, his warm breath falling across your dripping sex as he licked his lips.

Bruno flicked his eyes back to you, hesitantly waiting for your response.

“It’s alright, Brunito,” you reassured him with a soft whisper. Your beloved snacked his lips again before delicately tracing the tip of his tongue around your swollen clit. Your legs shook around his head as he moaned against your sex, the vibrations of his voice sending ripples of pleasure through your core.

“God,” you moaned as Bruno swiped his tongue along your drenched slit - his wet muscle collecting your combined juices before he hungrily slurped it up. You gasped when he teased your weeping entrance, shallowing pumping his tongue inside your cunt as his nose rubbed against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“S-Sí, Papi. Sigue adelante,” you breathed as you tugged on his dark locks [Yes, Daddy. Keep going]. Bruno grunted as he closed his eyes, savoring the flavor of your cunny while flattening his tongue over your folds. You moaned and rolled your hips against his face, his stubble lightly scraping over the inside of your thighs as he swayed his head back and forth.

Your eyes nearly crossed when he suddenly puckered his lips around your engorged bud, a cry of bliss escaping from your throat as the tension in your lower belly swelled.

“B-Bruno,” you gulped for air as he spread your labia apart with his nimble fingers. Both of you shared a quiet gasp when he teased the rim of your entrance. His lips curled and suckled on your clit as he slowly pushed a digit inside, causing the thick cream stuffed inside your cunt to come pouring out.

“Mi vida,” Bruno whispered, his lips dancing over your mound before he dove back in. Stars began to spark in your vision as he curled his digit against your plush g-spot while he slowly worked another one inside. Your legs trembled as he steadily pumped his fingers in and out of your fluttering hole; every dip and curve of his digits perfectly massaging your walls.

“Sí, p-por fa,” you moaned as he sloppily made out with your clit while thrusting his fingers deeper with every stroke. Your lover groaned as you raised your hips, his grip around your thighs tightening as he rumbled lowly. You screwed your eyes shut as you felt the delicate surface of his warm tongue caress over your slit. Bruno continued to moan as he savored the sweetness of your juices while spreading your hole open with his digits.

You suddenly came with a final long drag of his tongue against your clit.

“Bruno!” you screamed his name as you snapped your hips forward, his face completely buried against your cunt as you cried and thrashed in his grip. Your melodic moans cascaded through the forest as you heard him slurp up your thick cream, his eyes rolling back as your gummy walls pulsed around his fingers. You mewled and fucked yourself on his digits as you came; completely soaking his hand with your arousal.

You whined and babbled incoherently as your body shook with pure bliss, jaw slack and eyes nearly crossed.

“God, yes,” you swallowed thickly as tears of pleasure rolled down your flush cheeks. You slowly blinked your eyes open as the overwhelming pleasure began to fade. Bruno’s nostrils flared as he exhaled through his nose, hid eyed glowing with pure admiration as he laid a soft kiss over your puffy cunt. You flinched as you felt him smile against your folds.

The two of you simply gazed into each other’s eyes for several moments before he slowly placed your hips down on his lap.

“That was…amazing,” you said breathlessly. Bruno chuckled as another sheepish smile crossed his features.

“I’m glad I made you feel so good, mi amor,” he beamed, pride glowing in his eyes as he slipped away. Your face burned when you saw how soaked his chin was as he licked his lips. Bruno cooed and patted your hip as he slowly pulled his fingers out of your tenderly fucked pussy. You smiled and kept your arms open as he crawled on top of you, his soft, soaked dick slipping against your sex as he planted a sweet kiss on your lips. You sighed and brushed your fingertips through Bruno's hair as he laid his head on your chest.

"Te amo mucho, mi vida," your lover whispered as he laid his head on your chest [I love you so much]. You smiled warmly as you placed a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

"Te amo mucho, mi corazón," you murmured.

____

Thank you for reading! 💚

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toxintouch · 1 month ago

Note

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat. A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way. Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention. It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you. On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort. You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips. His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs. “Your lips are so cold.” He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering. His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?” He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours. “Not that it matters. It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to. Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building. I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling. You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.” He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things. However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?” He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore. Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable. A pity. By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday. Good wine, music, dancing. There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces. But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself. Some of the dances were very scandalous. You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer. It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say. He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share. In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage. Though, I admit. I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you. Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?” He purrs. “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes. It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady. Dizzying.

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up. It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den. He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist.

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth. The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you.

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet? You really do try your luck…”

#Foxes purr btw!#i await more purring Vere fics I hold out my sickly little claws for them (a prompt from me for other fic writers)#You and I get to know that Vere was touching on Sparrow’s face sm bc he caught a peek at Mhin doing it in Cold Spots #and he got territorial #I decided that the narrative pointing it out was laying it on too heavy. but you and i know.#Hopefully this fits the bill ok of what u described anon! A liiittle spice but mostly wholesome??#i’m ngl I was going for more spice but ...Deicide!Flavored Vere... he took all of it #AAA SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG THO ANON AAAAuuughghhh #also ur so right anon u gotta have a sequel (since I was talking about horror tropes lol)#the thought of Vere & Mhin being down bad for the same person is sooo funny to me btw. i think of it often.#vere x reader #touchstarved x reader #toxintouch writing #touchstarved game fanfic #no pillow fight i'm osrry #this fic. fought me. this fic stole my wallet in the denny's parking lot #toxintouch: {pick} prompt {your poison}#wtf tumblr why did u do this to my image i thought i got my dimensions right the file can't be that big...#i have 2 ways of choosing titles btw on the nose and “you'll have to google this/have me explain”

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megalony · 12 days ago

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hiii this is the idea i had.

Bobby and Y/N are in a loving relationship, but they’ve faced some hurdles, mostly stemming from Bobby's own inner struggles. Despite their age difference, Y/N has shown, time and again, that she’s committed to him, but Bobby can’t shake the worry that he’s holding her back from a "normal" young life—dating, going out, meeting new people—instead of spending quiet evenings at home with him. When he updated his emergency contact to Y/N, he knew he’d have to tell his 911 team about their relationship. To his relief, they were supportive, and their reaction reassured Bobby, as they could see Y/N’s admiration for him was genuine. After Y/N moved in, life felt wonderfully complete, and she dreamed of a future with him. This dream became even more real when Y/N discovered she was pregnant. Thrilled, she planned to surprise Bobby on his birthday. To make it special, she bought a small silver charm in the shape of a heart engraved with the words "Our Little Love," intending to give it to him at the fire station, where he was working that day. But when she told him the news, his reaction was unexpectedly complicated. Instead of joy, Bobby looked anxious and scared. Even though he tried to reassure her, the firehouse team sensed the tension between them.

That evening, at home, their emotions spilled over. Bobby confessed that he was terrified. He worried his age would make him feel more like a grandfather than a father, and that their child might one day resent or feel embarrassed by him. Hurt by his reaction, Y/N felt like his insecurities were casting a shadow over her happiness. Frustrated and overwhelmed, she decided to stay at her sister’s house for a few nights. Bobby wanted to stop her but felt paralyzed by his fear, so he let her go. Alone, he wrestled with his feelings and eventually poured his heart out in a letter to Y/N, admitting he’d been consumed by his own self-doubt and afraid he wouldn’t be enough for her or their child. Days later, Y/N experienced a sudden pain and, in her panic, called Bobby. Without hesitation, he rushed her to the hospital. Thankfully, both she and the baby were okay, and they discovered they were expecting twins, doubling their joy. This experience made Bobby realize how much Y/N and their future family meant to him.

When Y/N read his letter, she saw his vulnerability and understood his fears more deeply. Bobby apologized, promising her that he’d put his worries aside to be the best dad he could, focusing on the love he’d bring to their family rather than his age. With a renewed sense of commitment, they prepared for parenthood together, feeling supported by the 911 team and their loved ones. Holding the silver charm close, Bobby felt a new confidence in their love and in himself, ready to embrace fatherhood with Y/N by his side.

ofc i totally understand if u dont want to do it, btw i love ur writing <3

Hello,

Firstly, thank you for giving me my first Bobby request and letting this be my first bobby imagine I posted on here.

I was so happy reading this as there was so much detail that I had an exact plot planned out and I decided to just go for it and make it one long massive imagine rather than splitting it into parts.

I hope you like how it turned out, please let me know what you think and I would love any other Bobby ideas you have as I want to try and do some more imagines for him.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Second Chances

#911 imagine #bobby nash imagine #request #bobby nash x reader

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6okuto · 2 years ago

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MORNING KISSES

(time skip) osamu x gn!reader | suggestive (a make-out session), 1.1k

(tag list lmk if u want to be untagged for suggestive posts btw) u do a littol kissin! getting back to writing...bwah. didn't proofread. don't tell me about any mistakes. (/j) ill explode

"i'll get breakfast started 'nd you can come down when y'aren't so sleepy, then,” osamu murmurs before sitting up to stretch. light sneaks in through the blinds, and it casts a striped shadow across his toned back while you watch him fondly. it’s been a while since the two of you got to sleep in, you note. the restaurant’s been doing well enough that your boyfriend’s decided to take the day off to “focus on you instead."

you hum in response, pulling the blanket up to your chin in attempt to keep the cold away. he’s barely made it two steps out of bed when you call his name. “‘samu.”

“hm?” you don’t say anything, and he turns to see an expectant look on your face. he jokingly sighs before making his way over to your side of the bed and bending down. “how could i forget?” he asks, pressing a chaste kiss to your head and standing back up.

you pout a little before hiding under the covers again. it wasn’t exactly the kiss you wanted, but you stay quiet considering you chose to stare in silence as your plea. osamu raises a brow. “why'd you pout?”

“what? i didn’t pout.”

“yes you did.”

“no i didn’t.”

“i jus' saw you?”

“okay? you saw wrong?”

“darlin’."

“i—” his expression is disproportionately serious for his crime, you think, and you can’t help but laugh. shaking your head, you try to wave him off. “it was nothing, seriously. go make breakfast, ‘samu.”

osamu’s face is still scrunched in worried confusion. he's never been one to let it go if he's done something wrong, especially when it came to you.

it takes another second, but eventually his expression relaxes, and he smiles knowingly. this time he kneels fully to be eye-level with you. you blink at him. “what’re you—what’s happening?”

he exhales, and you stare. he’s close enough that you can smell his new shampoo, and for a fleeting moment you wonder if reaching out to touch his hair would be too out of place. he'd raise a brow and smirk at you. say something to embarrass you so he could watch as you'd bury your face back into the pillow and—

a hand is suddenly coming to hold your face, and a thumb runs across your cheek. osamu juts his tongue to wet his lips, and all you can do is continue to watch, flustered. “‘m sorry. i didn’t kiss you properly, right?”

and as if he could hear your “no” before you’ve even opened your mouth, he leans in to kiss you. denial dies on your tongue when his lips meld with yours, perfectly as if they were made to match. it’s gentle and loving, longer than his peck to your forehead. you relax under his touch but all too soon he pulls away to look at you, hand still warm against your face. “was that better?”

you think his voice is as soft as his lips were.

“...maybe.”

"maybe?"

“maybe.”

to be honest, you don’t think your brain has registered his question. all it knows is how light is reflecting in your boyfriend's eyes perfectly, and his messy bedhead hair is still calling for your touch. your gaze is honed in on his lips when they curl into a smile. and then they're coming closer.

osamu’s eyes are heavy-lidded, and you can feel his breath against your skin as his lips brush against yours. he teases, “well, that’s not good enough, is it?”

your only response is a shake of your head, earning a huffed laugh before he closes the distance between you. again, osamu kisses you. and this time your arms reach around his neck as if you could close the gap between you even more—force him to stay with you instead of cook eggs, or toast, or whatever you asked for 5 minutes ago. you don't remember, and you’re not sure you care, or that he’d mind with the way he presses forward and gently holds the back of your neck.

he groans a little when your fingers finally find their way to his hair and pull gently. he starts to pull away, and you whine, only to be met with a chuckle. “yer killin’ me, y’know,” osamu huffs.

yet he kisses you again. and again, and again, and again. his lips find yours and you sigh against them, chest fluttering at the way he gently bites your lower lip.

you maneuver so that he’s forced to get back into bed on top of you. he hovers, one hand beneath your head, and the other clutching the pillow above. the only sounds besides shifting bed sheets are your racing heart, soft breathes, and open-mouth kisses.

a hand eventually lowers to grip your hip and caress your skin. cold fingers slide their way beneath your shirt, making you gasp and reflexively pull him in. a groan escapes osamu when his hips momentarily grind against yours. his kisses get harder, more needy, his breaths heavier and his hold on your waist a little tighter.

your hand travels down his back, and you pull—you know he's strong enough that he wouldn't let himself topple onto you. he complies to your touch, and you become keenly aware of his chest pressed against yours.

but before anything else can happen, osamu pulls away. though not far. his nose brushes against yours and when you open your eyes, it’s easy to see him still staring at your lips. his eyes finally flicker up to yours and he smiles.

he leans down to your ear, and your breath hitches. “you're poutin' again,” he whispers.

“i'll assume that means that kiss was better?”

his breath tickles and you squirm, scrunching your nose and bringing your shoulder up as a defense. “tease. and i don’t know if that counted as one kiss.”

a gust of air is blown into your neck and you laugh before pushing him away. osamu breathes out a laugh of his own before moving back to hover above you. "okay, smart-ass. how about those ones?"

“i guess they were marginally better,” you tease. he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, narrowing his eyes. you get ready for him to blow more air at you, but instead he squishes your cheeks together and shakes your head.

you giggle and grab his hand with your own, not really doing anything to stop him, and osamu grins at you again. there's an almost sickening amount of love in his eyes as he sighs. “let me make breakfast, then i’ll kiss you properly as much as you’d like, alright?”

@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a @curiouslilbeast

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu #haikyuu fluff #osamu fluff #x reader #samu time!!!#reading week was NOT a week for reading Or writing apparently.

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fumifooms · 8 months ago

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Do you know about the Marchil h-doujin, just called "Marchil Meshi"? (Dunno wether you're comfortable about adult content regarding the ship. If not, sorry and feel free to ignore).

Imagine my surprise… When a few months ago, I was looking up places to buy doujins for dunmeshi online bc of that new-ish laimar (sfw) doujin and I find, many many nsfw ones bUT AMONGST THE HORDE… MARCHIL MESHI. I ate it up. It’s a lil iconic to me ngl, I quote it in my head sometimes. Marcille angrily gesturing always gets me cackling. It honestly has no business being this good, it was made pretty early on in the story so many years ago, and STILL! So in character, and honestly so funny, AND no weird business either. Like listen, I scour the internet, looking for any marchil content, any marchil content at all… And find a dry af desert, no life here, literally jackshit nothing. Only Pixiv has some afaik but the nsfw is def… Hm. 😔 (2 fics tagged chirumaru on there btw!! That aren’t mine lol) Thank you marchil meshi author if I had to pick 1 piece of marchil nsfw to exist I’d choose this one (honestly that’s already so close to reality lol) Thank u Asaki Takayuki I owe u my life. I like zines but I’ve never bought doujins before so it didn’t cross my mind, but dunmeshi is taking a lot of my first times in fandom engagement and I bought said laimar doujin just the other day hehe

I do want to keep my blog generally sfw but yes I’m 100% cheering on nsfw marchil content from the shadows, glad that ao3’s finally getting some too. I hope that fic writer makes more… Tallman Chil is so so good but I hope they also do some more general premises, which the end notes on that one do make me hopeful 👀 I want more marchil writers in general. More marchil fanartists. Sfw nsfw idk I need to be fed 😭 (<- This post was drafted before that new marchil smut fic WOOHOO. So much new marchil content this week!!)

Oh while I’m here, I find this so funny/odd, but in japanese fandom ship names are simply the beginning of each name smushed together, like marchil or chilmar. The order of the names is that the first one is the "top"… Idk how jp fandoms live without switches but aight, but in m/f ships this means that typically the man is the first half of the ship name right. WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT marchil is so much more used than chilmar lmaoo. Even more stats: On Pixiv, the tag marchil had all the artworks, but the chilmar tag had all the fics. Ain’t that wack to think about. Anyways marchil or chilmar idc you go guys

Sighh thinking about them. They are so "I beg your pardon??!" "Then beg", "Fuck you!" "Fuck me yourself you coward"… Forget stamens and pistils, Chil is the cursed "You see, there are keys and there are locks…"

More under cut since I don’t get to talk about this often, screenshots and hcs for horny time

^ said panel that lives rent free in my head and makes me giggle. I wish I’d just put the whole page here it’s my fave but nahh go find it yourself

Why are they like this. Like what is thatttt

I need to stop collecting these I’m making myself feel insane (thank you fic writer for that last one I’d never noticed but omg)

Alright hc time what was I gonna talk about… Ah yes ah yes. I def think Chil is a pest, he’s horny and he wants sex and is flagrant about it, but also we know that he stayed faithful for 4 years without getting any, I feel like realistically the relationship sex wise would 100% be on Marcille’s pace. And this is the fun part, bc would Marcille be very eager? Would she want to do the romance book correct™️ route and that means no tapping until marriage, or he needs to court her all princely first? I hc that elves have a much lower libido than humans because of the whole long af lifespan thing, it’d be kinda funny if Marcille was like "Let’s take things slow… 🥺" aka first base achieved after two years of being together lol

But seee that’s the thing too bc Marcille is so afraid of loss she might rush through things as well, she very well could like, jump on him right after confessing. Is Chilchuck kind of a shithead or is he very gentlemanly and romantic, wanting to do it right and treat her well? They are such a blank canvas of sexual chemistry listen LISTENNN there are just so so many ways you can go with them they are so special. God the banter… They cannot stop bantering for a second I swear So many kinks they could fit… I like uhh praise kink for him and for her… Idk she just really loves him and the emotional adoration is what’s at the core of her enjoying it all so like, loving Chilchuck kink, which turns out those two really match together 🫶 He makes her sing and ummm um you see where this goes. They are so grossly in love and into each other

They are so domestic. I hate them

#Followers you now know about the existence of this you’re welcome #Marchil #Sorry for taking a week to answer this ask. I have so many to get back to aaa sorry everyone #There’s never a perfect time to drop bomb posts like these gdvdgd #Fumi rambles #the opening line of this post is a quote of Amanda’s iconic rant about PLA sneasler in my heart #No one can reblog this post it shall be framed in shame on my blog only /j

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f1nalboys · 11 months ago

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broooooook my love!!! #31 with a lost boy of ur choice. literally ANY of those vampire skanks. pls and ty!! mwah!! 💖💖💖

im screaming and crying and creaming and moaning..... i mean huh? had to pick david bc he's a smug bastard and GODDDDD i love him... gonna TW this as dub-con but its not im just a pervert and i love this scenario so...... also the setting is inspired by this fic by @sunkendreams (who btw u all need to follow their stuff is SO good oh my god......)

david x gn!reader , possible tw for dub-con

He had grabbed you and pulled you behind a few of the game stalls, his lips rough against your own as he backed you into the wood. “David,” you had giggled, sighing into the kiss but gently pushing at his chest. “Someone could catch us!” You had expected him to chuckle, maybe kiss along your pulse point, but ultimately relent, taking your hand and walking back through the crowd. Instead, he grinned, his teeth baring at you.

“That’s the point, sweetheart.” He had purred and then you had frowned, pushing him away and straightening out your clothes. And here you were. Your eyes narrow and you look away from him towards the boardwalk, watching as dozens of people walk by, none the wiser to what was happening in the shadows. “Oh come on, Y/N,” he says, tilting his head at you, taking one step closer. Your back was still pressed against the wooden boards of the stall and you realize you’re trapped. “Don’t act like you never thought about it before.”

“I haven’t.” You say stiffly, looking back over at him. He was menacing here, his already sharp features amplified by the moving shadows and lights. The sound of the crowds just to your right seem to die down as he moves towards you once again, his eyes both accusatory and amused. “I’m serious! Why would I want someone to catch us… you know?” You ask, your voice cracking at the end ever so slightly. He notices, of course; he notices every little thing about yourself that you wished he didn’t. He laughs.

David’s gloved hand rests on your cheek, tilting your head so you are looking at him. Despite the gentleness of his touch, you flinch ever so slightly. He grins, the carnival lights casting a strange yellow tint to his eyes. “So if I touched you… you wouldn’t like that?” He asks quietly, his breath hot on your skin. You feel our face heat up, but you say nothing. “You wouldn’t rut into my touch and moan like the whore I know you are for me?” He questions, the word coming out sharp enough to make you jump.

You shake your head, but he can feel your hesitation, the way you swallow heavily, the beat of your heart speeding up. He hums, his other hand coming down to roughly cup you, deft fingers pressing against your crotch. The noise is ripped from you before you can cover your mouth with your other hand , your hisp bucking against his touch, and you close your eyes at the sound of his cruel laughter. His hand doesn’t move as he leans in, his lips right against your ear.

“Liar.”

#ask tag thing #f1nalboys masterlist #the lost boys #david the lost boys #the lost boys david #david x reader #tlb david x reader

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lunarmoves · 15 days ago

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who i see, looking back at me (ch3)

pairing: sebastian solace x reader

mentions: post-urbanshade fic, no use of y/n or pronouns, u are his partner <3, hallucinations, non-sexual intimacy, yearning the yearning!!, touch aversion, hurt/comfort, tentative reconnecting, mild dissociating :)

a/n: i lied btw, there are now 5 chapters instead of 4. if u guys see the number increase again, know it was against my will. the characters do whatever tf they want, apparently. anyways, this chapter simultaneously feels like so much happens and also nothing at all. have fun!

word count: 12.3k+

masterlist | part two

ao3 link

You dreamt of a face, looming over your own as you laid supine on something soft.

Everything felt muddled—like you were sunk deeply underwater and still continued onward in your neverending descent. Details eluded you. Any sharp edges or angles were softened into nebulous clouds of seafoam green and teal, with light that gently painted the planes of your face in a tender touch. A quiet pressed along the sides of your head, stifling in its presence. You could not move. You were weighed down by something you could not define, your vision hazy and unfocused.

When you closed your eyes, the backs of your eyelids felt like they were awash in blue. Blue, blue, blue. Infinite, it seemed. Just like the ocean, a distant part of you thought.

You breathed in and out. Calm. Quiet. Then, you opened your eyes. Properly, this time.

The ceiling of your room was coated in shadows broken apart only by a fragile light coming from your slightly parted curtains. You stared, gaze half-lidded, up at it. Not really seeing it. Not really processing. Distantly, you could feel the pull of sleep once more. But you could not bring yourself to return to it. Could not manage to fall back into a slumber even if you tried.

So you dragged yourself up until you were sitting in bed, blanket sprawled across your legs. Your upper body slumped like you were a puppet cut from its strings. And you just stared forwards.

Sebastian—fake Sebastian, not real Sebastian—stared back.

You didn’t move a muscle. You only watched him—unblinking, eyelids heavy like they were weighed. There was something rooting you to your bed, a heavy pit in your gut that made it difficult to do anything other than stare.

It was quiet. So, very, quiet.

“Why are you still here?” you murmured after what felt like hours and hours of sitting there. Dawn had long passed, the bright light of the sun poking its way into your room to splay across the floor. You blinked slowly at him—nonchalant as he was where he stood across from the foot of your bed all this time.

His gaze lowered as his smile widened to show off each and every one of his teeth. It was not a kind look. A chill ran its fingers down your spine.

“You know why,” was all he said. He continued to stare at you, his hands tucked inside his pockets. Waiting, almost. Maybe even expectantly.

Your jaw tensed and when you swallowed, you could feel the dryness of your throat. Your gaze flicked over to your closed bedroom door, then back at him again. You did not like this.

“I’m working on it,” you whispered, momentarily closing your eyes so you could grip at the unsteady pieces of yourself and pull them together. Even now, you could still see all that blue, etched into your eyelids. Blue and gray and gray and blue. Soft and unfamiliar.

You sighed—long and deep and vaguely unsteady. Then you turned away.

Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rolled your shoulders and leaned over to grab your phone from the nearby nightstand. Clicking it on, you squinted down at the time. Shit. If you didn’t get a move on, you’d be late for work. You slipped out of bed, bare feet coming into contact with the cool floor. There was a certain grogginess that still lingered in your body and mind. You yawned and rubbed at your eye as you shuffled over to your door. But before you could open it, you hesitated and took a moment to listen beyond it.

There was nothing. Not a peep or a shift. Looking down at the crack between the door and the floor, you saw only darkness. No faint light seeping through it—like there wasn’t anyone there. Doubt was beginning to sink its unrelenting tendrils into your body. It was so easy to imagine that the room just past your bedroom door was vacant. That there was only your couch and your television and your coffee table. Still and lifeless. A breath being held before the inevitable chaos of morning.

But no, you told yourself again and again and again. This was real. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel the cool, hard texture of Sebastian’s hand in yours. The smooth metal of his ring as you ran your thumb over it. This was real, and you would keep repeating it to yourself for as long as it took to properly settle in.

You sighed, long and silent. Well, the day wasn’t going to wait for you to start.

Gripping at the doorknob, you quietly cracked the door open and squinted into the dim light of your living room. It was darker than usual—an explanation made imminent when you glanced at your windows to see their curtains had all been tightly closed. You could still see sunlight fighting to make its way through the thin material, so it wasn’t like it was completely dark. You just had not expected it, really.

Turning your gaze back towards the contents of the room, you noticed Sebastian had moved some things around. Not by much. The couch was pushed back a little and the coffee table was off to the side of the television instead of in front of it. All to make space for Sebastian’s large body—tightly coiled as it was in the spot between the couch and television.

You lingered curiously for a moment over the way his tail looped around like a snake to form a makeshift bed for him. And when you finally glanced over to his face, you saw that he was already watching you. Something in your gut jumped slightly when you made eye contact with him. Over his head like some sort of shawl was the blanket you’d gotten him last night—a defense against the yawning sunlight, most likely.

“Good morning,” you greeted to break the silence, though soft enough to not disturb the sleepy morning atmosphere.

“G’mornin’,” he murmured back at you, lifting himself up from his tail to squint blearily at you through the dim. His voice was raspy and deep with the edge of sleep. Fatigue. It made something in your stomach twinge.

He raised himself up, dropping the pillow he’d been hugging to stretch out his arms—strange to look at, honestly, with three of them attached to his torso—and tugged at the lure on his head to turn it on. You shuffled over to the bathroom to brush your teeth in the meantime and found yourself wondering if you should offer him a toothbrush. Not that it would do much, you thought to yourself as you ran the small bristles along your teeth. His teeth were large and sharp—jutting in his mouth like the jagged edge of a mountain. The teeth of a predator.

And wasn’t that strange to think about? You suppressed a shiver.

You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give him one, even though you were sure he’d probably have a difficult time holding the tiny thing in his hand. Might even accidentally break it, honestly.

After you finished refreshing up in the bathroom, you exited it and caught his eye almost immediately. He watched you in a nearly lazy manner, head propped atop a hand from where he was using his tail as a rest of sorts.

You jutted your thumb behind you at the bathroom. “There should be spare toothbrushes in the cabinet if you want to use one.”

Sebastian blinked at you slowly, then opened his mouth to purposely run a light blue tongue over the front of his teeth. He smacked his lips together and gave you a look.

“Don’t think you got anything that can deal with these nasty things,” he said dryly. You rolled your eyes at his response.

“It’s better than nothing,” you replied with a shrug and turned to shuffle back over to your bedroom to grab your work clothes. “You can at least use some mouthwash.” He only hummed after you, not moving an inch even as you could feel him continuing to follow you with his gaze.

Your clothes were thrown on in record time and you grabbed your work bag from the back of your bedroom door to head over to the kitchen. Rubbing at your chin, you opened the refrigerator and took a moment to peer at its contents. You had enough leftovers for another day, but that wasn’t accounting for Sebastian and his… larger form. You glanced over at your sink and saw that there were no dirty dishes in there from last night. It didn’t seem like he had eaten anything. You frowned. Maybe you should go grocery shopping.

“I think I’m gonna go to the store after work,” you called out at him as you grabbed ingredients for a quick sandwich to make for your lunch. “Anything you want in particular?”

There was a thoughtful hum—so low and close that you jumped slightly and looked over your shoulder to find that he had followed you into the kitchen. He loomed almost directly behind you, his hair slightly mussed from the blanket he’d had over his head. How you hadn’t heard him slip into the tiny space, you would never know.

He seemed to hesitate as you watched him, your arms full of bread and condiments. Then, “Actually, can you grab me a burger and a pack of Marlboros?”

You paused, processing his request in your mind. “Sure,” you eventually said, nudging the refrigerator’s door closed with your hip. Grocery shopping could wait for another day. “We can do takeout for dinner, I suppose. But…” It was your turn to hesitate, and as you took in the way he clasped two of his hands together—not quite able to meet your gaze—you felt your eyebrows crease. “You… still smoke?” You didn’t think he’d have access to cigarettes in a, well, underwater facility. It’d certainly force him to quit cold turkey.

He shrugged idly as you headed over to the tiny kitchen table to dump all your ingredients on it and start slapping together a simple sandwich. “Yeah, sometimes I was able to get a pack when they upgraded my living arrangements,” he said vaguely, his eyes focused on your hands. He turned to look out at the living room. “Helps take the edge off, y’know?”

Your head bobbed in some semblance of understanding, even as your lips pulled down in a frown. “Well, okay,” you told him warily, briefly glancing up at him. “Just… try not to make it a habit, alright?” Again, you mentally added.

He snorted and suddenly seemed very interested in toying with his lure. “Right.”

Your sandwich was made and packed neatly away into your bag. The ingredients were put back in their proper locations. You did a final pat down to make sure you had everything, then slipped out of the kitchen with a banana clutched in your hand as a meager breakfast. You had to scoot around the thick curls of Sebastian’s tail, the muscles just under his scales shifting as he moved to accommodate for your path. You didn’t want to step over him. Everything seemed so cramped, all of a sudden, and you weren’t sure how that made you feel exactly.

No use deliberating it now. You were running late.

“Again, help yourself to anything,” you told him as you tugged on a light jacket by the front door and bent down to make quick work of your shoes. “I’ve got some books laying around if you’re bored and the T.V. remote should be somewhere if you wanna watch something.”

“I think I’ll manage,” you heard him reply, his voice low and amused.

You exhaled through your nose. Straightening up, you fixed your clothing—doing a final check of your reflection in a mirror you had hanging on the wall near the door—then finally looked towards him.

Him, Sebastian. As he curled in front of you a short distance away after following behind you like an ever present shadow. Hands clasped together with his half-lidded gaze and golden lure gently illuminating the space around you.

(“I’m out for work!” Sebastian called, his voice echoing through your apartment to reach where you were in the bedroom.

“Okay!” you called back, preoccupied with picking out what you were going to wear for the day. Hmm, beige or burgundy? “Be safe!”

There was a beat of silence. Then:

“Um, excuse me,” Sebastian’s disembodied voice said dryly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

You snorted and rolled your eyes as you set your clothes down on the bed. Exiting the room, you met his expectant look with your own amused one while you walked over to him waiting by the door.

He bent down closer towards you once you stopped in front of him, raven hair framing the sides of his face. Your hands found the collar of his jacket, where you fixed it properly so that one of the flaps wasn’t raised. Honestly, how did he not notice it before? There was a mirror on the wall right next to the door.

“Bye,” you told him purposely, tilting your head back so you could press a kiss to his waiting lips. He tasted faintly of nicotine and frozen waffles—a rather… interesting combo, you supposed. You could feel the way he smiled smugly against your mouth. He hummed into the kiss, and you broke away to give him a small grin. “That better?”

“Much, thank you,” he replied, a certain twinkle to his gaze as he stared adoringly down at you. His cheek dimpled on his right. “And don’t you ever forget again. There’ll be a price to pay and I’m afraid you won’t like it.” He paused, then shrugged. “Or maybe you will.”

“Oh shut up.” You slapped lightly at his chest and shoved him towards the door with a laugh.)

You took a deep breath. In, then out. Silent. It felt like an infinity resided in the few seconds you both stood there. Waiting.

Your lips pressed together, and you eventually gave him a small, unsure smile.

“…Bye,” you said, opening the door to let in a small stream of sunlight. His eyes squinted slightly at it, but you found you couldn’t quite look at him. How the tables have turned. “Be back later.”

The light of his lure dimmed slightly. “Have a good day,” he murmured with a gentle wave of his third arm, something indescribable to his gaze that you couldn’t quite make out before the door had already been shut in his face.

Your stomach churned, upset and tight.

As you drove to work, you just couldn’t get that image out of your head. Sebastian, in the middle of your tiny living room. Too large. Too much. His body held in a way where he seemed to be pulled towards you, yet also…. not. Subtle enough that any less observant person would not have noticed.

You sighed, a deep and long thing that did nothing to ease the tension lining your shoulders.

Work was busy, not allowing you to sink too deeply into your thoughts as you darted around the clinic. A reprieve, almost, from the events of the last couple of days. You were grateful, but by the end of your shift, you were back at square one. Always, your mind drifted back to him. Him, him, him. You knew nothing else.

Standing on line at the nearest fast food joint, you stared unfocused at the menu displayed on a small flat screen television behind the counter. How much did he even need to eat now anyways? You weren’t entirely sure, but even the size of his torso was so much more that you were certain it was nowhere near the amount you ate on a daily basis. Were there things he couldn’t eat anymore? Were there things he was partial to? There was a conversation to be had, especially if you were to go grocery shopping sometime in the not-so-distant future. You didn’t want to poison him by accident or something.

When it was your turn to order, you got a sandwich and fries for yourself. For Sebastian, you bought a triple decker burger, then—after pondering it with furrowed brows—you ordered another. And two extra large fries. And a couple bottled drinks. Hopefully it would be enough for now. If not then, well, he could raid your kitchen.

After a quick run into a convenience store for the rest of his requested items, you started on your way home. The drive was quick, the golden glow of the sun dipping to kiss the horizon casting itself gently through the windshield of your car. You pulled into the gravelly driveway of your cottage and grabbed your bags from the passenger seat. Then, you locked up your car and bustled over to your front door. The curtains you could see just behind the front-facing windows were still tightly drawn.

As you unlocked the door, you called out an “I’m home!” and shuffled properly inside. Silence greeted you. Closing the door was like pinching the flame of a candle to douse it, a fragile darkness taking over. You looked around, blinking in an attempt to get your eyes to adjust faster.

You could just make out Sebastian’s form coiled in front of the couch. He was staring down at something in his hands, but you couldn’t quite make out what, exactly. Toeing off your shoes, you gently placed your work bag on the ground next to them and picked your way over to him.

“Sebastian?” you murmured, your hands gripping at the fast food bag as you came to a stop somewhere to his right. Faintly, there was the smell of fish. It felt like you were standing in a bubble that resided outside of time—if you even exhaled too loudly it would pop and the moment would be lost forever.

His ear fin twitched slightly, and his head jerked like he was glancing at you from the corner of his eye before looking back down at his hands. You waited for him to speak, your gaze trained on the side of his face—unreadable as it was.

“What’d you keep this old thing for?” he eventually rasped out. You peered down at his hands to see he was holding onto the flannel you usually kept hanging on the back of your bedroom door. You hadn’t touched it in… a while. But it still hung there, unwilling as you were to pack it away out of sight. His thumbs smoothed over the checkered fabric. “Hardly seems worth saving.”

“It was your favorite,” you replied simply as you continued to observe him. He only grunted. The faint glow from his eyes looked airbrushed along his hands and arms. It made you feel as though you were underwater. You found yourself adding, “I kept some other things, too.”

“Did you, now?” He hummed and shot you a sharp grin. “Couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, huh?” It was a weak attempt at a joke, you knew.

“No,” you told him, gaze softening. “Never could.”

Sebastian exhaled, long and faint and vaguely unsteady. You held your hand out, and after one long, contemplative moment, he gently dropped the flannel onto your palm—his grip nearly mechanical as he released it. Your fingers curled into the soft clothing.

“Here,” you said as you offered him your other hand holding onto the fast food bag. “Go set the table. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He cleared his throat and carefully took the bag from your grip. With an unoccupied hand, he gave you a salute. “Yoooouuu got it, boss!” There was a cheer to his voice that you knew was forced, but you didn’t point it out.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and slowly made your way to your room, a soothing light flickering on behind you from Sebastian tugging on his lure. Well, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about your light bill now, you thought wryly to yourself. Shaking your head slightly, you hung the flannel back in its designated spot. Then, you beelined straight for your closet and spent a bit digging around until you located that box of Sebastian’s things. Unsealed and unassuming. You shifted it around in your hold, drumming your fingers along the cardboard thoughtfully.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you saw that Sebastian had neatly laid out everything from the bag onto the wooden table. Wrapped sandwiches, cartons of fries, bottles of drinks. In one of his hands resided the pack of cigarettes that you had tucked into the bag after purchasing them from the store. The accompanying lighter you got for them was in his other hand, and he rotated it around idly for a moment before pocketing it and the Marlboros in his jacket.

You noticed he had moved one of the chairs away from the table to take its spot, his tail coiled underneath him. You guessed it was just easier for him to avoid any furniture at all, given his size. Especially a small table chair like that. You walked over and set the box down on an unoccupied surface of the table.

“It’s not much,” you said as you pushed it slightly towards him. His gaze flicked down to eye the partially open flaps. “But well… I just couldn’t give them away.”

“What’d you end up doing with all my stuff anyways?” he asked curiously as you wandered over to the sink to wash your hands—stepping carefully around his tail occupying the space of your kitchen. There was a light shifting sound as he poked around in the box that stopped almost as soon as it had started. The light illuminating the kitchen dimmed ever so slightly. His tail twitched behind him.

“Sold them,” you replied as casually as you could, drying off your hands and making your way back to the table. “Or donated. Gave your mom some things too.”

As you sat down, Sebastian lowered himself so that he wouldn’t tower over you from where he was positioned across the table. It didn’t do much. You still felt like you were sitting before a minor giant, forced to lean back in your seat lest you strained your neck looking up at him. You had to suppress a frown. He tapped his fingers atop the table’s surface. You noticed the box was no longer sitting where you’d originally placed it. In fact, he had set it on the ground—out of sight, out of mind. You did not acknowledge it.

“Did you give her my guitar?” he asked, maybe a little hopefully, but you shook your head. He frowned. “My Xbox?” Another shake of your head. “Damn. Lucas didn’t want them?”

“Nope.”

“My most prized possessions,” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gone, just like that.”

“My bad,” you said dryly, reaching out to grab your sandwich and unwrap it. “I should’ve known to keep them for when you would obviously return.”

He clicked his tongue. “Shame on you for not having the foresight to do so, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh shut up and eat your food.”

He smirked and grabbed one of his sandwiches. Even a triple decker seemed so small in his hold. How was that supposed to satisfy him? You frowned into your sandwich as you took a bite, trying not to make it obvious you were watching him as he carefully tore off the wrapping with the tips of his fingers.

He held the burger close to his face, peering at it with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t even remember the last time I had a burger,” he murmured and turned it this way and that. Inspecting it thoughtfully. Some of the mayonnaise slapped into it seeped out of the sides as his grip tightened.

The glow of his lure was like a spotlight as it illuminated everything beneath it. You and him, crowded around your little table in your little kitchen. Nothing else existed outside of it. How strange, you mulled to yourself. You could feel something stir in the pit of your stomach—following the haze of a distant memory that felt just a tad too out of reach.

You hummed, eyeing his upper body as he finally took a bite that was large enough to demolish half of his burger at once. A lithe torso with lithe limbs attached to it. A looseness to his clothing. Even a gauntness to his face if you paid close enough attention to it past his scarf. The implications of it all settled around your neck like a noose.

“What did they even feed you?” you wondered, gesturing at him slightly with your partially eaten sandwich. He did not tell you much, in hindsight, about his time trapped underwater. What he did on a day-by-day basis. It was purposeful, but still, you were morbidly curious.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re assuming they fed me at all,” he said as he grinned that shark-toothed grin of his.

You paused to take in his words, then felt yourself give him a concerned look. Worry creased your eyebrows together. His grin faltered minutely—so minute, in fact, that you almost thought it hadn’t at all.

“Kidding!” he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes crinkling and smile stretching in a way that did not reassure you one bit. “I’m kidding! It was mostly fish.” You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. It only made your frown deepen. You were doing that a lot tonight, it seemed.

“…Right,” you said, unconvinced. You nibbled on a fry, the salt deliciously coating your tongue. “I’m guessing you’re pretty sick of it, then.” Mentally, you crossed fish off your list of foods to buy at the grocery store.

“You have no idea,” he muttered sullenly, polishing off the rest of his burger and reaching for the second. There was a glob of mayonnaise on his cheek. Your gaze softened.

(“Baby,” you said amusedly, watching him shovel the last bits of dinner into his mouth. There was marinara sauce all over his mouth. “You’re a mess.”

“Well that’s just rude,” he huffed, eyeing you haughtily, “you don’t see me attacking you outta nowhere like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You picked up a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and gestured at him. “Come here.”

He tilted his head at you but complied, leaning in closer across the table. You carefully wiped at his mouth, running the napkin tenderly over his lips and chin. You made sure not to tug too harshly on his lip ring; he’d told you before that it still bled pretty easily. He watched you with all the focus in the world, his gaze trained on your face. And when you deemed him clean enough, you gave him a little smile and tapped at the tip of his nose with your finger. His eyes crossed to look at the motion.

“There,” you said, satisfied, as you leaned back in your seat. “All clean.”

He mirrored your movement, then set his chin on top of his fist as his eyes crinkled warmly at you. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grinned sharply.

You only grinned back. “Not really, no.”)

“You’ve got a little—” You gestured to your face. When all he did was blink at you rather obliviously, you huffed out a little laugh and grabbed a napkin. For a moment—a short, inconsequential moment—you hesitated. Then, you offered it to him. “Here.”

He looked down at your hand. And after another short, inconsequential moment, he reached out so he could take it, extra cautious to ensure his claws didn’t catch on your fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled and wiped at his face. You only offered him a smile.

“So!” You snagged another couple of fries, ready to push all of… that behind you. “Anything you can or cannot eat? I’m thinking of doing groceries tomorrow.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his third hand’s fingers tapping at the table while his other two focused on unwrapping his other burger. “Not really, no. Surprisingly I kept most of my ah, digestive abilities, you could say,” he told you dryly. “Although, I seem to crave more of a, mmmm, meat heavy diet.” He smiled strangely and took a bite of his sandwich.

“Meat heavy, got it.” You took a mental note of that. “Got any food requests, then?”

“Completos,” he said immediately, looking at you rather intently. “God, fuck, I’ve never craved anything so badly. Barros Lucos, too.”

You nodded, adding all the ingredients you would need to your list. Hot dogs, avocados, tomatoes… “Anything else?”

The two of you spent a while coming up with meals to make over the next few weeks—which essentially amounted to Sebastian listing things he had missed or wanted with the faintest of rasps to his voice. Spaghetti, butter chicken, quesadillas. You had to grab your phone so you could make a proper list or you’d forget it all. With each one, you could feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your chest. An ache you were all too familiar with reared its ugly head. And you didn’t know how to deal with it.

At one point, though—while telling you the ingredients so he could make Charquicán—something seemed to shift within him. You weren’t sure what happened. Only that he quieted down and took on a more… ruminative air. You didn’t press him when it occurred. You just offered a few other options for meals, then let a silence settle between you both as you finished up your meals.

Eventually, though, you decided to gently prod him. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Sebastian slowly blinked down at the table. Then, his eyes seemed to flick up towards you and off to the side. He snorted out a laugh, but you could tell it was half-hearted. “Gonna take a lot more than a penny for them,” he tried humorlessly. When you only patiently waited for him to continue, he sighed and his third arm wrapped itself around his abdomen.

He avoided your gaze, raven hair partially covering his face. “Do you… still talk to my mom?”

Ah. That explained it. Your tongue suddenly felt dry in your mouth. “I do. Your siblings, too.”

His head snapped towards you, and for one split second—he looked hopeful. His mouth opened, then closed. And he hesitated, expression scrunching slightly as his hands fidgeted with each other.

You took the chance to gently ask, “Do you… want to see them?”

“I— of course I do. Is that even a question?” he blurted, then seemed to reel himself back in. He looked apprehensive, his lips pressing together. “It’s just… I…” he trailed off. Unwilling to voice the thoughts that swirled around in his head. It didn’t take a genius to guess what they revolved around.

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” you told him in a soothing manner. “Lucas won’t be free until next month anyways. I can invite them over around then. We have time.”

“Right,” he forced out. He twisted the ring around his finger. “Right. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you echoed back at him. And after taking in his closed off demeanor—his reluctance to fully face you—you decided a distraction was in order. “Alright, how about we watch a movie?”

He agreed—lost in thought as he was—and you shooed him off to the living room while you cleaned up in the kitchen. You set the chairs back in place at the table and noticed the box was gone from where Sebastian had placed it on the ground. And when you walked over to join him by the couch, you saw that he was holding that panda plushie in one of his hands. The box sat innocently on your coffee table, flaps wide open. His thumb ran repeatedly over the plushie’s short fuzz, a distant look on his face.

You grabbed the remote and plopped yourself down on the side of the couch he wasn’t sitting in front of. His tail curved out to the side so that it wouldn’t be in the way—a hulking mass that reached towards the front door with how he positioned it. You took a moment to compare his upper body’s presumed weight with the sturdiness of the couch.

You cleared your throat, and he tore himself away from the plushie to look at you. “Y’know, you could probably sit on the couch if you wanted. I think it can hold your weight.” Or some of it, anyways. Definitely not with the rest of his lengthy tail.

He made a face, disbelieving. “Are you sure about that?”

Your head swayed side to side as you considered. “Mmh, yeah. Like ninety-seven percent sure.”

“And the other three percent?” he asked flatly.

You shrugged and had to suppress a smile. “Well, in the event that you did break the couch… it would be pretty fucking funny.” You grinned at him when he gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on, have trust in my couch. She hasn’t failed me yet.” You gave the cushion next to you a little pat.

He eyed you and the cushion dubiously, then seemed to cave when you only patted it a little harder. “Alright, fine. But I sure as shit am not paying for it if it does.”

You watched as he lifted himself up—the muscles of his tail tensing underneath his scales—and carefully eased his weight onto the couch. Not too close, not too far. Just enough for there to be a foot’s worth of space between you and him.

The moment he stopped holding himself up completely, his form sinking into the couch cushion, you felt your body inadvertently tilt towards him—off balance with the additional weight. You made a surprised sound as you caught yourself before you could fall onto him, your hands grasping at the armrest of the couch you were closest to. You scooted yourself closer to it, heart beating wildly in your ears. A low warmth crawled up into your cheeks that you willed away.

The couch creaked as Sebastian finally settled in. And after a second of you both holding your breath and waiting, you exhaled and shot him a smug look. “Told you so.”

“I don’t remember you being this annoying,” he said, though the lightness to his voice told you he was messing with you. “Were you always this annoying?”

You scoffed and had to resist the urge to reach over to shove him. Not that it would do anything. “Shut up. What do you wanna watch?”

He shrugged. “I’ve got years of movies to catch up on, I don’t really care.” After saying that, though, he seemed to mull it over in his head. And then quietly—so, so quietly you had to hold your breath to hear it—he mumbled, “D’you… got any new favorite movies?”

You turned his question over in your head. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Let’s watch those, then.”

“Hmm.” Your gaze softened while you watched him, a warmth settling deeply in your stomach. He didn’t turn to look at you, instead electing to stare down at the plushie still in his hold. “Okay.”

You managed to stay focused on the movie you pulled up for about a quarter of its length. And then you got distracted with stealing glances at Sebastian. He paid attention to the film for the most part—the glow of his eyes stark with him having turned his lure off—but every so often you caught him staring distractedly either at the box sitting on your coffee table or the plushie in his hand. Quiet. Contemplative in a way that was haunting.

You debated saying something. Part of you wanted to just pretend you hadn’t picked up on anything—for his sake or your own, you weren’t sure. But eventually you gave in when he seemed too deeply lost in thought, vacant look to his eyes.

You cleared your throat and made a show of warily eyeing the plushie in his hand. Memories from a time long passed flowed through your mind. “I hope you’re not planning to do anything with that.”

Sebastian blinked back to the present. “Huh?”

You nodded at the panda plushie. He looked back and forth between you and the plushie for a bit until he realized what you were implying.

“Well I can’t do it right now,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s gotta be when you least expect it.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “When I least expe—”

Bap!

Stunned, you blinked at Sebastian as the plushie fell to your lap. There was the leftover feeling of fuzz in your mouth. He immediately started to wheeze, one of his hands slapping over his eyes while he shook with laughter strong enough to mildly shake the couch. In hindsight, you should have expected that.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the second time so far. I need to keep a tally,” he cackled, breathless and delighted. Well, at least he wasn’t in his prior funk anymore. That was all you could ask for, really.

“Some things never change, huh?” you said dryly. You picked up the plushie and tossed it at him. He chortled some more when it harmlessly bounced off his shoulder.

Letting out a gentle sigh, you glanced over to the television to see the movie was almost at its end. Fatigue from the day’s events was starting to press against your eyes. Ahh, you should brush your teeth and shower. Standing up, you stretched out your arms over your head. The muscles in your shoulders and back moved with the motion, your shirt riding up ever so slightly. You tugged it down and turned to look at Sebastian, his teal eyes already trained on your form—faint smile still lingering on his face from his previous laughter.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” you told him and grabbed the remote to toss in his direction. “You can put something else on if you want.”

“Aw, already?” He pouted, not bothering to pick up the remote just yet. “It’s not that late.”

You snorted. “It’s not, but I have to get up early tomorrow. Again. Y’know, like people with jobs tend to do.”

“Right, right, my bad. How could I forget?” Sarcasm oozed from his words. “Well, don’t let me hold you up.” He made a shoo-ing motion with one of his hands.

You snorted again and turned on your heel to head over to your bedroom. And once you were inside, you paused once you grabbed your towel from its place behind your door. Usually, you would change your clothes in your room after showering, but… Did you really want to walk around in only your towel right now? You glanced out the door at Sebastian—who looked like he was painstakingly trying to browse other movie options using the tiny remote. You looked back down at your towel, squeezing the soft material.

…This was stupid. You were overthinking the smallest things, it seemed. You pinched at the bridge of your nose. And after standing there feeling like your innards were knotting themselves together over and over, you forced yourself to gather up your necessary nightwear. Then, you made your way to your bathroom for the quickest shower and redress of your life.

As you went to brush your teeth, you noticed another toothbrush sitting in the cup you used to hold your own. The bristles were, well, not destroyed exactly, but they stuck out all over the place instead of in their neat lines. A peek into the tiny trash can you kept in the bathroom revealed the remains of a toothbrush snapped in half—the bristles on that one utterly destroyed. Your bottle of mouthwash was also significantly emptier than it had been this morning. You had to suppress a smile. Mentally, you added more to your list of groceries, as well as a better toothbrush for Sebastian to use.

Upon exiting the bathroom, your towel slung over your shoulder and dirty clothes in hand, your eyes landed on Sebastian. With his lure still off, the light from the television painted the living room in shades of navy and purple. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie he’d put on, still running his thumbs repeatedly over that plushie. You cleared your throat, and his head snapped towards you.

“Well,” you said lightly as you walked over to your room, “I’m heading to bed. Ni—”

“Wait—!” he cut across you, his eyes widening as he lurched slightly in your direction. One of his arms raised halfheartedly. One beat. Two beats. And then he hesitated, lowering his arm as he slouched down into the couch. He sighed—quiet, weary—and turned back around so he could stare absently at his box of things once more. “...Never mind.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You lingered outside your bedroom for a moment, waiting to see if he would say anything else. But when he didn’t, you gave him one more look, your lips pressing together.

“Good night,” you whispered, one of your hands resting on the edge of the door frame.

“G’night,” he murmured back. He didn’t look at you. This felt infinitely worse than last night.

When you finally slipped into your room for the night—heart weighed by something you could not define—you made sure to leave the door slightly ajar.

The following morning passed similarly to the previous one, with you shuffling out of your bedroom to find Sebastian already awake. He gave you a sleepy “Morning,” and took to watching you sleepily as you scurried around getting ready for work.

“I’ll probably be back a little later than usual,” you told him hastily as you tugged on your shoes and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up if you get hungry.”

“Mmmkay.” He gave you a lazy wave from his coiled lounging in front of the couch. The pillow you’d given him was pressed to his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around it. “Have a good day.” You offered him a quick smile, lingering for only the most minuscule of moments before you slipped out the door.

You were hoping for an easy shift at work, especially with all the shopping you’d need to do afterwards, but it was not kind to you. Fatigue weighed heavily upon your shoulders as you left the clinic. There was an itch behind your eyes that you knew would only worsen over time. You huffed and buckled yourself into your car. The quicker you could get this done, the better.

You’d intended to visit your regular grocery store, but upon deliberating it while driving down one of the main roads, you decided to go to your town’s warehouse store. Buying items in bulk would probably be better for you and Sebastian. And your wallet.

With one hand holding onto your phone and the other pushing around a cart, you went hunting for all the things you’d need. Plus some more items that your eyes caught onto and you figured wouldn’t hurt to bring home. A giant box of granola bars, for one. A couple rotisserie chickens. A container of honey crisp apples. Honestly, you could probably buy anything and he would be happy with it. He never was much of a picky eater.

You spent some time in the cleaning supplies aisle, looking at various brushes used to scrub sinks or pans. You picked one up, weighing it in your hand and peering at the thick bristles attached to the rectangular head. A traditional toothbrush was clearly out of the question. This would have to do for him. You’d probably need way more tubes of toothpaste as well.

At one point, you passed by a clothing aisle and took a moment to stare at various shirts and sweaters. You picked out a particularly large, black shirt and tried to imagine if it could fit over Sebastian’s long torso. Probably not, especially with his extra arm. You frowned as you hung it back up. You might have to look online for larger sizes. It was something to discuss with him later.

After making your way through the store, ensuring you got everything on your list, you headed towards self-checkout. And as you scanned each item and placed it on the large scale attached to the monitor, you were hit with just how much you bought. It was… a lot. Almost triple the amount of groceries you typically got biweekly. You nervously eyed the receipt once it was printed, then decided you shouldn’t worry too much about it. You had your savings, and if anything, you could always pick up extra shifts at the clinic.

Once everything was packed away neatly into the trunk and backseat of your car, you drove back to your cottage. By now it was dark outside, the roads lit up by street lamps that glowed with sleepy cream-colored light. There was the smallest scattering of stars overhead, most of the sky overtaken by cool gray clouds passing lazily by.

Eventually, you pulled into your driveway and killed the engine. Grabbing some of the items you could carry from the backseat with one hand, you rummaged around in your bag for your keys and made your way over to the door.

“I’m home!” you called out once you opened it, letting the dim moonlight seep into the darkness of your living room. As you dropped your work bag onto the floor and gently set down the items in your hand next to it, a golden light flickered on.

“Welcome back,” Sebastian greeted smoothly. A quick glance upwards showed him steadily making his way over from the kitchen. “Was wondering when you’d return.”

“Admittedly, that took me longer than I’d expected,” you said with a sigh. You gestured down to the groceries on the floor. “Do me a favor and pack these into the kitchen? I’ll bring everything else in. Just shout if you don’t know where something goes.”

“Alrighty,” he agreed easily, and you turned on your heel to make your way back over to your car to bring in everything else. The quicker this was done, the quicker you’d be able to finally relax.

It didn’t take too long with the both of you working together, but it was a lot of groceries. Sebastian was able to carry quite a few items to the kitchen on his own—something that would have taken ages on your lonesome. It meant he had to move back and forth between the front door and kitchen, though, and you could see his tail curved all over your cottage. Over the couch, around the coffee table, looping about the kitchen. It really put into perspective just how long he was. And well, it was certainly something to ruminate on.

He didn’t seem to have any issues with putting things in their proper places, thankfully. It wasn’t like it was all too different from how you both organized things way back when. Bread in the fridge, fruits in the little basket on the counter, cereal on top of the refrigerator, potatoes in the cabinet under the sink. It was a major help to not have to pack everything up by yourself, you had to admit.

Finally, you grabbed the last few items from your car’s trunk. The large box of granola bars and a few other frozen boxed items that you stacked on top of it to make the trip easier. Holding it all precariously in one hand, you locked up your car and carefully made your way over to the front door.

“This is the last of it,” you said as you stepped into your cottage and used your foot to close the door behind you. It was difficult to see where you were going with all the boxes in the way. You toed off your shoes and headed towards the kitchen. “Did you finish packing ev—”

Your foot caught on something.

You let out a yelp, lurching forward as you lost balance. The topmost boxes slipped down to the floor, landing with nearly consecutive thuds. Your heart leapt in your chest, but before you could really brace yourself for impact, something snatched you by the back of your jacket and tugged you slightly into the air.

“Shit! Watch where you’re going!” Sebastian chastised you as you dangled above the floor for a bit before being set gently down. You blinked rapidly, still not quite processing what had happened. “Coulda busted your head right open.”

“Sorry,” you said automatically, then glanced down to see you’d tripped right over a part of his tail—that was already shifting out of your way to make your path to the kitchen clear. You swallowed. “I— Sorry.”

“Jeez,” he grumbled, bending down to swipe up the boxes you’d dropped. “And to answer your question: Yes, I did finish. Though I dunno where you want this to go.”

With his third arm he brandished the sink brush at you, already having removed it from its plastic container. You blinked at it once, then gave yourself a mental kick to the behind to snap yourself out of it. Focus. Here and now.

“Ah. That’s your new toothbrush,” you told him as you forced yourself to continue on to the kitchen.

There was a tiny pause. “You’re joking,” he said incredulously as he followed behind you—the low shifting sound of his body your only indication.

“Nope. You’re welcome.”

“You expect me to brush my teeth with this?”

“Ordinary toothbrushes weren’t gonna cut it for you,” you told him amusedly as you slipped the box of granola bars atop the refrigerator and opened the freezer. You gestured at him to hand you the boxes he was holding and he complied, though he was still frowning at you like you’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world. You rolled your eyes. “It’s better than nothing.”

“That’s what you said about the regular toothbrushes,” he said in exasperation, then sighed. “I should have expected this,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the brush some more as he rotated it about in his hands.

You closed the freezer door and turned to look up at him. “Did you put away the toothpaste and mouthwash, too?”

He jabbed a finger over to the bathroom, still scrutinizing the brush. “I put them on the counter.”

“Okay, I’ll put them away. Give me your toothbrush, I’ll put it in the cabinet.” You extended your hand, waiting for him to stop being so dramatic. He ran a hand down his face and huffed, but eventually dropped the brush onto your palm. You had to suppress a smile. Looked like you won.

You made your way to the bathroom and exactly what you’d said you’d do. Sebastian’s brush went into the cabinet behind the mirror. The extra toothbrush sitting in your cup—with its destroyed bristles—went into the garbage can. The mouthwash and extra toothpaste were both tucked neatly away into the cabinet under the sink. You washed your hands and rolled your shoulders with a silent sigh.

After exiting the bathroom, you tossed your jacket into your room and wandered back to the kitchen. That same fatigue from earlier was starting to make a reappearance. It laid heavy hands along your shoulders and the back of your neck. You chewed at the inside of your lip as you glanced at Sebastian—who was sweeping his own gaze across the kitchen—then at the clock on your stove.

“I am way too tired and it is way too late to make something,” you admitted as you rubbed your hand over your abdomen when your stomach gave a little rumble. “Did you eat the rest of the leftovers?”

“For lunch, yeah,” he replied as he flicked his head to the dish rack. The associated containers and utensils sat there drying.

You hummed and slipped carefully around his tail to reopen the refrigerator. Might as well use some of the things you bought today. “How do you feel about cereal for dinner?”

“Don’t care, either way.” He shrugged and glanced up at the top of the refrigerator, where the boxes of cereal stood. “I saw those Reese’s Puffs you bought today. Feels almost targeted, honestly.” He sniffed.

You grinned as you walked over to the cabinets. “That’s because it was.”

After you grabbed a bowl and spoon for yourself, you turned around to compare it to Sebastian’s hand size while he moved one of the kitchen table’s chairs to the side again. There was no way he’d be able to comfortably use such tiny things. The bowl alone was more like a cup for him. You rubbed your chin and bent down to grab a basin and a pot spoon, the metal of each reflecting the light coming from Sebastian’s lure. This would have to do.

You set everything down on the table, then grabbed the Reese’s Puffs, your own preferred cereal, and a gallon of milk—juggling them all in your hold carefully until you could drop them on the table. Sebastian snorted when he saw the basin and pot spoon, but didn’t say anything else. You sat down with a sigh, suddenly acutely aware of your own aching feet and pressing itch to your eyes.

And so there you both were again. Sitting across from each other in your little kitchen.

Still strange. Still unfamiliar.

You wondered when you would grow accustomed to it all.

Sebastian cleared his throat as he reached for the Reese’s Puffs to begin pouring it into his bowl. “So! How was your day?”

You shrugged at him, copying his actions with your own cereal. “Tiring, I suppose. How was yours?”

“Boring when you’re not here,” he said immediately. He poured milk into his bowl, then gestured at your own so he could fill yours as well. You pushed it closer to him and watched the stream of milk as it splashed against your cereal. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “It is?”

He nodded and recapped the milk jug. “I told you all about me,” he said simply, “now I want you to tell me all about you. What have you been up to all this time?”

There was a warmth settling itself in your stomach—like you’d just swallowed a spoonful of hot soup. You tried not to let it affect you so much. “I’m… not sure if there’s really much to say,” you said, a small frown splayed on your lips as you picked up your spoon.

Sebastian flapped a hand at you. “Pssht, bullshit! There’s always a tale to tell. Come on, don’t hold out on me.” He grinned at you suddenly, sharp. “Unless you’ve got something to hide?”

You gave him a look. “Right,” you said flatly, “like my secret job I do after working all day at the clinic.”

He snapped his fingers. “Now we’re talking!”

You snorted, then hummed thoughtfully as you swirled your spoon through your bowl. “Honestly, there really isn’t much to say,” you told him quietly, thinking back to the years and years of grief and solitude. “I work. I come home. I read or watch T.V. or play shitty songs on my ukulele.” You chuckled. “Occasionally I text some friends still living in the city. Or call your siblings or mom. Maybe I hang out with coworkers very seldomly. But mostly I just…” you trailed off, thinking about the evenings spent lost in thought at the dock or within the cove. Thinking about him, mostly. Mourning him. You shrugged. “I dunno. Daydream, I guess.”

The gaze he pierced you with made you feel like you were being picked apart and analyzed, piece by piece. “Hmm, I see.” You were certain he knew you were not telling him everything.

Well, you thought to yourself wryly, that makes two of us.

It was okay, though. There were some things that were just better off left unsaid.

“How about any work stories?” he asked after shoveling his spoon into his mouth to crunch noisily down on his cereal. “You said you work at a clinic, right? You gotta have something from your time there.”

You mulled it over in your head. “Well, there was this one time…”

For the rest of dinner, you recounted what tales you could remember from your job. Dramatic coworkers, strict bosses, strange patient interactions. You didn’t think some of them were all too interesting—maybe just a way for you to rant or express your incredulity at dealing with people—but Sebastian listened raptly either way, his ear fins flicking every so often. He offered his own little sardonic quips from time to time (“No way,” he drawled when you told him a patient stopped taking all their medications then was surprised when they felt awful afterwards), and it made you realize later on just how… normal things were between you both. Right then and there.

Sitting at a too little table, in a too little kitchen. You and him, like it had always been before everything happened.

It made you crave more. Sunk its talons into your body and filled you up with a want want want.

Addicting.

You watched Sebastian scrape up the last of his second helping of cereal onto his spoon, sleepily blinking at him in the quiet, comfortable aftermath of your last story. Your gaze caught onto the long sleeves of his jacket, then traced upwards to the scarf still wrapped loosely around his neck. Faintly, you recalled wandering past the clothes section at the warehouse store you went to earlier. Right.

“What size are you?” you found yourself asking, eyeing up his jacket and trying to estimate how long it was.

Sebastian let out an offended gasp, dropping his spoon into his bowl while his third hand raised up to his chest in shock. “Why I never! Babe, you can’t just ask someone that!”

You snorted. “I was talking about your clothes and you know it. So?”

“Why are you asking?” he asked warily, shooting you a narrow-eyed look.

“I was thinking we should order you some new things to wear,” you told him and leaned back into your chair. “You’ve gotta be tired of wearing the same fit every day, right?”

He shrugged, his head flicking to the side slightly like he was staring out at something other than you. “I got used to it.”

Your gaze softened. “Well, I think you deserve at least a new shirt. Maybe a sweater.” Then, to lighten the atmosphere and give him an easy out, you said, “Besides, what if I’m tired of seeing you in the same clothes, huh? What if I wanted to see you in something nicer? Ever think about that?”

Sebastian looked back at you, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he processed your words. His lips tensed together when you only smiled knowingly at him, and his cheeks darkened minutely. He opened his mouth, paused, then after appearing to consider what to do next, his lips twisted into a feigned grimace. The edges of his lips twitched. You had to hold back a laugh.

“Eugh, are you flirting with me?” he asked, one of his hands reaching up to tuck his hair vainly over his ear fin. His face scrunched up like he was wrinkling his nonexistent nose, though his lure got a smidge brighter. “You should know, I’m a married man.” He wiggled his third arm’s fingers at you, his ring glinting in the light from his lure.

You rolled your eyes. You did that a lot with him, you noticed. You opened your mouth to respond, then found yourself darting your gaze past his torso when something blurry moved in your periphery.

Fake Sebastian leaned against the door of your refrigerator, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he smiled widely at you. Uncanny, almost. His eyes crinkled into crescents that still seemed to pierce right through your body like an arrow. A reminder. And for one short, inconsequential moment, you froze.

(Teal eyes. Fingers like knives. Body covered in scales. Pungent smell of fish.)

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You forced yourself to look back at actual Sebastian, who watched you with slightly furrowed brows. Appraising you, almost. Evaluating. You smiled at him, willing your stomach to stop twisting itself into heavy knots. You were working on it. “So? Size?”

If he found your lack of a retort suspicious, he did not make it known. Instead, he sighed and leaned back away from you. When had he gotten closer?

He picked at the material of his jacket sleeve. “I dunno. This shit was all custom made probably.” He moved his third arm around, bringing your attention to the sleeves it had both from his jacket and undershirt.

You frowned, tapping your finger against your chin. “Guess we’ll have to take some measurements. Gimme a sec.” You stood up, your chair making a little scraping sound as you pushed it back and beelined for your bedroom.

Rummaging around in your closet, you let out a little “aha!” when your fingers found purchase on the cool metal of a small measuring tape. You pulled it out and scurried back over to Sebastian, your fingers already pulling at the little metal tab at the end to stretch out the flimsy tape.

“Okay,” you said as you stood next to your chair and pulled the tape out until it was a few feet long. “This shouldn’t take too long. Let’s—”

But you found yourself hesitating as you looked up at him.

You’d… fully intended on helping him measure his waist, chest, and torso length but… As you peered at his face with his glowing eyes trained on your hands, you were suddenly struck with the startling memory of his snarl—snapping at you as he lurched backwards from your touch. The sinking pit in your stomach it caused, and the way he turned away from you like he just could not bring himself to look at you.

“Not yet,” he’d said, strangling out the words like they were suffocating him. “Not yet.”

Your grip tightened on the measuring tape. He continued to watch you, his mouth deepening into a frown when you didn’t say anything else. It shook you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat and abruptly loosened your hold on the tool.

Not yet, you told yourself. Time, you just needed time.

For him and for you.

“Actually,” you said in as thoughtful a manner as you could, hoping against all that your expression was schooled into something similar. You let the tape retract into the metal body of its container and set it on the table to slide it over to him. “Take your measurements. I’m gonna clear the table and grab my laptop in the meantime.”

When you grabbed at your bowl and his own larger basin, it looked—for one, terse moment—like he wanted to say something. It was in the way his gaze seemed to dart down to the tape, then back up at you. The way his jaw tensed, then relaxed just as quick.

He sighed, long and quiet.

“I don’t think you’re gonna find anything that fits… this,” he grumbled as he picked up the tiny measuring tape with thick, careful fingers. One errant flex of his hand and he could crush it rather easily. It was as unnerving as it was captivating.

You made a noncommittal sound as you placed the dishes into the sink and grabbed the sponge to scrub them down with soap. “Eh, who knows. There might be sizes large enough on certain websites. And if anything, we can probably custom order something for you.”

He only grumbled something indecipherable, the sound of the measuring tape being stretched out filling the air. You busied yourself with rinsing the dishes, quietly ruminating on the strange proportions of Sebastian’s body.

His torso was quite long—almost as long as your entire body, honestly. Any shirt you got him might be… a bit short on him, but that was fine. Your one concern was how lithe he was, in addition to his length. It might cause him to get utterly swamped in whatever you would purchase. Not to mention you’d most certainly have to cut a hole in the material to allow his third arm freedom. You’d probably also have to buy shirts made of stretchable material, particularly so he could get his big head through the neck hole in the first place.

Ahh, this was more complicated than you’d originally thought.

It was fine, though. Anything to make him more comfortable.

Drying your hands off on a nearby towel, you glanced over to see Sebastian still measuring his chest’s circumference—his eyes squinted in focus as he carefully pinched the tape around his body. You let him be so you could scavenge around for your laptop. You couldn’t remember where you last left it.

Once you found it—tucked underneath the couch, of all places—you went back to the kitchen to plop yourself back down in your chair at the table. The measuring tape was already set on its surface, and Sebastian watched you silently with his arms crossed over his chest as you powered on your laptop. You placed it in the middle of the table, so that you both could see its screen properly.

“Alright,” you said once it booted up and you opened the notepad application, “what’s the verdict, chief?”

He told you his measurements, and you typed them up for reference. Then, the search began. It wasn’t all that hard to find a website that sold clothes for individuals on the taller side, honestly. What sucked was finding one that had a size chart that matched his own measurements well enough. Either his chest measurement was way too small, or his torso length was too long—it was just as you’d predicted. You’d have to compromise.

Sebastian was… well… quiet, as he watched you scroll through numerous sites. Not melancholy, really, but… resigned, almost. Maybe even tense. You weren’t sure how to define it. His gaze just seemed distant whenever you glanced up at him to get a read on what he was thinking. It was not an expression you wanted to see on him—that you liked seeing on him. You cleared your throat.

“I hear baggy, almost-crop tops are the new look,” you joked as you gestured to the size chart on one website that seemed like the best option out of the others. “What do you think?”

“Hmm?” He blinked as he seemed to come back to himself and glanced briefly down at you. With your expectant gaze on him, his own darted to your laptop and he focused in on it with a squint. “Oh yeah, they’re right up there with skinny jeans and fedoras.”

You huffed out a laugh. “It’s the best we’ve got that’ll kinda fit you. We can buy a couple to test them out. I can return them if anything.”

“Whatever you say,” he said vaguely. It made your lips twitch slightly into a frown.

“Are you… okay?” you hesitantly asked him, turning your body in your seat so you could face him properly. You hadn’t noticed until now but his lure had dimmed. Not too much to be stark, but enough that you glanced briefly up to it in concern. “It’s just… you seem out of it.”

He didn’t reply. He only stared down at you. A quiet permeated the air, broken only by your soft breaths. The hum of your laptop’s fans. His mouth opened slightly, just enough for you to hear the small inhale he took. Then— he seemed to snap back to himself, his body going from stock still to sudden motion.

“Just peachy~” he crooned, his eyes crinkling into upturned crescents as he shifted closer to your side of the table. “What options do they have? I’d kill for a turtle neck.” He peered at your laptop with a curious hum, lowering himself down so he’d have a better view. One of his hands braced gently along the edge of the table.

This close—mere inches of space between you and him as he hovered just over your shoulder—you could smell that poignant, fishy odor. Stronger than it had ever been before. That sank itself into your senses and reminded you of just what you were dealing with.

Inhuman inhuman inhuman inhuman.

Your breath got caught in your lungs for a second before you forced yourself to breathe normally. You willed yourself to focus on something else, anything else. Anything other than the blatant lack of cinnamon or gentle musk you were accustomed to. Had been accustomed to.

Deep breath in.

Faintly—your brain inadvertently registered—beyond that piscine scent, was the smell of your detergent. The gentle, clear scent was so different that it was almost jarring. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, latching onto the sleeve of his jacket. It looked… clean. Soft.

Not the point, focus!

Deep breath out.

“Here, see for yourself,” you said as casually as you could as you shifted your laptop better towards him. He was deflecting, but so were you. It was as clear as a sunny sky after days of rain. There was nothing you could do about it. Or rather, nothing you wanted to do about it at this time.

Eventually, though, you would have to.

But not yet.

“I can’t—” Sebastian cut himself off with a clear of his throat. You craned your head to the side to look properly at him, the way he purposely stared at your tiny laptop and not at you. “I can’t use a touchpad, I fear. My hands are, ah, too cold. And hard.”

“Oh,” was your response, dropping from your mouth like a rock. You… hadn’t even considered that, actually. You frowned and looked at the tiny arrow keys. His fingers were too big to even properly use those, as well. It didn’t help to eradicate the coolness that was starting to spread throughout your body. You pulled your laptop a smidge closer towards you. “That’s okay. We’ll look together.” It was the only reassurance you could think of to say.

You thought he’d be pickier with what shirts he wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind the ones you pointed out. There was still that… aloofness to his voice, but he seemed to get better when you found some AC/DC and KISS shirts to add to the cart. You didn’t want to buy too much in case they ended up not fitting him at all. In any case, it was a good start.

You also ended up looking around for a website that did custom sizes after ordering from the first one. You did find one—a tailor that said they would use the customer’s measurements to adjust the clothes they had to fit their size—but you were unsure how it would work with someone like Sebastian. In any case, the two of you agreed to test it out with one of the displayed flannels on the tailor’s website, hoping no one would say anything as you punched in Sebastian’s frankly eyebrow-raising measurements and submitted the order. Maybe it would be chalked up as someone wanting a robe, or something.

When that was all said and done, you leaned back in your chair while your laptop powered off and scrubbed at your face. You were tired. You could feel it in the heaviness of your eyelids and shoulders. You were so ready to hit the—

“So!” Sebastian clasped his hands together and slithered away from you to give you some space to stretch your arms. He looked at you expectantly. “Movie?”

Ahhh. How could you say no to him after all that?

You suppressed a tired sigh. At least you didn’t have work tomorrow. “Go pick something. I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

“Yippee!” He gave you a thumbs up and snaked his way into the living room. You took a moment to rub at your eyes, then scooped up your laptop to head to your bedroom for your nightly routine.

Once your teeth were brushed and your nightwear was slipped on, you trudged over to the couch and flopped down next to Sebastian. Not too close, not too far—just like yesterday. Your eyes caught onto the box of his things, still sitting innocuously on your coffee table. Its flaps were sealed shut. You didn’t linger on it.

Sebastian already had a movie queued up on the television, and as soon as you gave him the go ahead, he carefully pressed play on the remote with the tip of his finger.

“What movie is this?” you asked as you let yourself slump into the cushions. Your legs stretched out in front of you, your heels resting on the carpet you had on the floor.

“Pacific Rim,” he replied, reaching up to tug his lure off. “I remember wanting to watch it in theaters, but then… Well.” His voice lowered into a grumble. “Never got the chance.”

You hummed. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

He let out an “mmhm” in agreement.

You didn’t even make it past the introduction.

You could already feel yourself nodding off even as an action scene played out on the screen. The darkness of the living room paired with the comfort of your relaxed body was a deadly combination. You vaguely registered movement somewhere behind your head and shoulders, but you were too far gone to really process what it was.

There was a cool sensation on your cheek that prevented your head from slipping to the side any further.

And when you woke up, hours later in the middle of the night, you found yourself tucked neatly into bed. Blanket wrapped comfortably around your body and gentle moonlight drifting its ghostly hand across your sheets. You blinked hazily up at your ceiling, then looked over at your open bedroom door.

The quiet drone of the television just outside followed you back into your dreams.

part four

#still not over the whole lactose intolerant thing LMAOOO so i made him eat cereal. he deserves it <3 #sebastian solace x reader #shay scribbles daydreams #sebastian solace x you #pressure x reader #roblox pressure x reader #who i see au

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