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jzprncess · 2 months ago

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love language by sza

“help me understand how you speak your love language ”

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 1/2 next part

word count: 2,823

summary: a girlfriend of a successful f1 driver decides to learn Dutch to better understand her boyfriends world—his culture, his emotions, and the language he speaks—hoping to connect more deeply and navigate the complexities of their high-speed, high-pressure relationship.

note: first time writing a fan fiction so be nice please! i don’t know how to work tumblr to the fullest so if you want to requests anything, message it to me! this will be in two parts! please leave comments so i know im doing something right!!

　　　　　　 ❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

Out of all the unexpected turns her life had taken, learning another language was never on Y/N's radar. Yet, here she was, grappling with the complexities of Dutch, staring at her laptop screen during a Zoom call with her tutor, Anne. They had been chatting frequently, especially while Max was off competing in a grueling triple-header race weekend.

Before he left, Y/N had noticed the shadow of frustration in Max's eyes, a rare shift from his usually upbeat demeanor. It wasn’t lost on her—or anyone, really. The weight of the season’s challenges had begun to press down on him, making his once confident posture seem a little more hunched, his usual optimism now clouded by self-doubt. Everyone could see it. With the way the season had started, Max had envisioned triumph. But now, in October, his hopes felt distant. He hadn’t clinched a victory since June, and every reminder of that fact only seemed to add to his frustration. Y/N wished she could lift that burden, even if just for a moment.

In an attempt to brighten his spirits, she decided to do something special for him—a gesture that would help him escape the pressure he was under. The very day he departed, Y/N found herself scouring the internet, searching for someone who could teach her some basic Dutch. Max, ever the romantic, had always whispered sweet phrases in his native tongue—whether it was giving her a compliment or simply wishing her a good morning. And though she often required translations, Y/N thought, Why not learn the language myself? It couldn’t be that difficult, right?

And so, here she was, earnestly trying to master the phrase “I love you, handsome” in Dutch, yet somehow fumbling over the words.

“Y/N, your pronunciation is getting better, but you need to keep practicing,” Anne encouraged from the other side of the screen, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. The rhythmic sound of her typing seemed to fill the space between them, as if punctuating her words with gentle encouragement. “Have you taken my advice and started watching shows in Dutch? Immersing yourself in the language will really help you improve, especially with those tricky pronunciations.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and stared at the screen, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold back the exhaustion creeping in. She had been working hard at this—between the classes, the practice, the late nights watching Dutch shows, and the constant racing schedule with Max, it was all starting to feel like a lot. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to the TV like it’s my best friend,” she said with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, her voice sounding a bit weary. “The characters probably think I’m crazy by now. But, you know, I think I’m making progress? Or at least I hope I am.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised in an encouraging way. “Well, that’s the spirit! The more you immerse yourself, the more natural it will feel. Dutch can be tricky, especially with its sounds, but you’re not giving up, and that’s what matters.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. It had been one of those days—between working on the language and managing the quiet space Max left behind when he was away, the weight of it all was starting to wear on her. “I don’t know... I keep stumbling over the same words, Anne. Like, I feel like I’m so close to getting it, but then I hear myself speak Dutch, and it just sounds... off. I’m trying, but it’s hard to know if I’m really improving.”

Anne smiled gently from the screen, as though she understood exactly where Y/N was coming from. “That’s completely normal. Language learning isn’t a straight path. There are ups and downs, but the key is to be patient with yourself. Remember, it’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. You’re already doing so much more than most people would.”

“I guess so.” Y/N’s voice softened, her eyes drifting away for a moment, lost in thought. “I just wish I could see it, you know? Max always speaks so fluently, and when he says something sweet in Dutch, it sounds so effortless. I want to understand it all, to be able to speak with him like that without stumbling or needing translations.”

Anne nodded, her face sympathetic. “I get that. You want to connect with him in the language that’s so familiar to him, and that’s a beautiful thing. But don’t forget, language is just one part of communication. Max will appreciate your effort no matter where you are in your learning. It’s about the intention, the heart behind it. And besides, if you’re working hard at it, he’ll see that.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, leaning forward in her chair and running a hand through her hair. “I just want him to know how much I’m trying. I know it’s hard for him when the season gets tough, and I want to be able to understand him better, not just the words, but how he’s feeling... especially when he gets frustrated. I want to be able to share those moments with him in his language.” She looked back up at Anne, a mixture of fatigue and determination in her eyes. "But it's like I'm still learning a whole new world, Anne. It's a lot to take in."

Anne’s expression softened even more. “Learning a language is like learning a new way to see the world. And you’re doing it for the right reasons. Max will notice that. Even if you don’t think you’re where you want to be yet, he’s going to appreciate your effort, your commitment to him and to his language. And you’re already showing him that you care in ways most people wouldn’t.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, feeling the weight of Anne’s words settle into her. She took another deep breath, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “I hope so. I’m doing this for him, and... for me, too. It’s just hard to see the progress sometimes when you’re so deep in it.”

“Well, keep at it, Y/N,” Anne encouraged again, her voice gentle but firm. “The progress is there, even when you can’t see it. And remember, when Max comes back, you’ll have a whole new way of connecting. That’s something special. Now, how about we wrap up for today, and next time, we focus on a few of those tricky sounds you’ve been stumbling over?”

Y/N nodded, the exhaustion beginning to fade as she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her. "Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks, Anne. Really."

Anne smiled warmly, her tone softening. “Good night, Y/N. You’re doing great. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself.”

With that, the call ended, leaving Y/N in the quiet of her room. As the screen went dark, she sat still for a moment, letting Anne’s words settle into her. She still had a long way to go with Dutch, but now, she felt a little less weighed down by it all. She stood up from the desk, stretched, and with a deep breath, made her way to the kitchen. There was more to learn, yes, but she could do it. For Max. And for herself

This had become her routine for the past few weeks—immersing herself in a new language while navigating the emotional ups and downs of Max's racing career. Each night flowed into the next, filled with lessons and the hope that her efforts would spark joy in him when he returned. In a way, she couldn’t help but feel that this small adventure might not only help her connect with him in a deeper way but also serve as a reminder that even in tough times, he had someone in his corner—someone ready to support him and learn alongside him.

Time passed, and soon enough, the hectic three-race weekend was behind them.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Max would be home. The unpredictable nature of his F1 schedule made it hard to keep track of his exact arrival time. As the hours stretched on, she decided to make the most of the quiet afternoon. She started by tidying up the house, picking up scattered race memorabilia and smoothing out the couch cushions, which always seemed to get tossed around after a long weekend of travel. The kitchen was next—dishes stacked in the sink, a few crumbs left from breakfast, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. She cleaned with a kind of absent-minded rhythm, her thoughts drifting between the tasks at hand and the excitement of his return.

Not wanting to spend the whole day indoors, Y/N grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes, and decided to run a few errands to break the monotony. She mentally made a list of things she needed—a trip to the grocery store for fresh produce, perhaps a quick stop at the florist to pick up some flowers for the dining table. The gentle hum of the city as she walked outside felt like a welcome distraction. As she moved through the familiar streets, her mind kept drifting to Max—imagining his arrival later that evening and wondering how he would feel after the intense race weekend. With a small smile, she pushed the thought aside. There were errands to run, and time had a way of slipping by faster when you were busy.

After a while, Y/N decided it was time to head back home, the errands and quiet city stroll leaving her feeling a bit more tired than usual. The exhaustion crept up slowly, settling into her bones in the best way—a peaceful kind of tiredness that made the thought of being home all the more appealing. Once she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes by the door and shrugged off her jacket, instantly feeling the comfort of her own space wrap around her.

She sank onto the couch, letting the weight of the day melt away, but it wasn’t long before she found herself wanting to do something—something simple and familiar to bring a sense of warmth and routine to the day. The kitchen seemed like the perfect place. She stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space a comforting contrast to the quiet of the house. Her mind immediately wandered to dessert—something sweet to fill the silence. Pulling out her phone, she swiped through a few recipe sites, curiosity leading her fingers. After a moment, she typed "Dutch desserts" into the search bar. Her eyes quickly landed on appeltaart, the iconic Dutch apple pie. The thought of the rich, spiced apples wrapped in buttery crust made her stomach rumble. It was exactly what the moment called for.

With a smile, she set the phone down and rolled up her sleeves. The comforting hum of her favorite playlist began to fill the room, chasing away the silence and replacing it with familiar tunes. As the music flowed through the speakers, she started pulling ingredients from the pantry—flour, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. She paused for a moment, letting the soft beat of the song take over as she laid everything out on the counter. The scent of cinnamon already began to stir a feeling of warmth and anticipation.

With a deep breath, she moved into the rhythm of the recipe, the steady motion of measuring, mixing, and prepping grounding her. She could already picture the golden crust and warm, sweet filling that would soon fill the kitchen, and her heart swelled with a sense of simple joy.

As she hummed softly to the tune playing in the background, completely engrossed in the rhythm of her mixing and the warmth of the kitchen, she remained oblivious to Max stepping through the front door, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. Max paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he crept quietly toward the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. He peeked around the corner, his gaze falling on you as you worked your magic, your movements fluid and focused. A smile tugged at his lips as the sweet scent of apple pie hit him, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, comforting aroma that filled the air.

Max moved silently behind her, his steps light as he closed the distance between them. With a smile, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, savoring the warmth of her presence, before pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. As he inhaled the sweet scent of the kitchen, his lips brushed her shoulder, and he murmured in a low, appreciative voice, "Smells amazing."

The unexpected touch causes her to flinch, a small gasp escaping her as she instinctively tenses, but her body quickly relaxes when she turns to find Max standing there. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she meets his gaze. "I didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, her voice gentle and warm as she leans slightly into his embrace, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. She glances toward the counter, her hands still lightly dusted with flour, and then looks back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and pride. "I made apple—" Her words falter for a brief moment, and she pauses, taking a breath before finishing with a playful smile, "Ik heb appeltaart gemaakt." (i made apple pie) She lets the Dutch phrase roll off her tongue with a touch of pride, her eyes lighting up as she anticipates his reaction to the homemade treat and at the sudden Dutch.

Max chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Oh, dus je spreekt nu Nederlands?" (Oh, so you speak Dutch now?) His eyes narrow playfully as he takes her in, studying her with a hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. It takes a moment for her to process his words, the surprise registering on her face before a grin tugs at her lips. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she meets his gaze. “Leren voor jou,” she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her voice light and teasing as she repeats the phrase—"Learning for you."

Max hums contentedly into her skin, his voice soft but filled with affection. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" His words are a gentle murmur, as though he's savoring the moment. She chuckles, the sound warm and light, as she wipes her hands on a nearby towel. Without missing a beat, she spins around, her eyes sparkling, and wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I've missed you," she whispers into his chest, her voice filled with sincerity, as if the distance between them had only made her feelings stronger.

He gently pulls away, his hands lingering at her waist as he looks down at her, his eyes soft with affection. There’s a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that makes his heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, the words wrapped in a quiet vulnerability. He smiles, a soft, almost teasing glint in his eyes as he adds, "Mijntje," (my little one), his tone filled with both love and playfulness. With a tender sigh, he leans down, his face drawing closer to hers. As he lowers himself, he brushes his lips gently against hers, the kiss soft and lingering, a promise of everything he feels for her in that quiet, intimate moment.

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her breath catching in the space between them. Her heart races, each beat carrying the weight of everything she feels for him. Her hands rest gently on his chest as she searches his gaze, finding warmth, safety, and a quiet promise there. With a soft sigh, she leans in just a little closer, her lips barely brushing his as she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity, "Ik hou van jou."

The words, though soft, are heavy with all the emotions she can't quite put into words—years of trust, laughter, passion, and quiet moments, all wrapped in those simple yet profound syllables. His breath hitches, and a smile plays on his lips as he leans in, closing the small space between them with a kiss that feels like both a promise and a beginning. There’s a warmth radiating between them, an unspoken yearning that lingers in the air, electrifying yet restrained. The kiss deepens, lingering just a moment longer, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest—a taste of what could be. As they pull away, their eyes lock, and in that shared gaze lies a world of possibilities, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that awaits them.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list : @heluvsjappie

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #jzprncess

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lunarmoves · 2 months ago

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who i see, looking back at me (ch1)

pairing: sebastian solace x reader

mentions: post-urbanshade fic, no use of y/n or pronouns, u are his partner <3, hallucinations, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, ooc sebastian probably, i took creative liberties with his mom and siblings, check masterlist for fic summary

a/n: this is something i decided to write after scouring ao3 and tumblr for anything like it and finding nothing. i was just- (thanos voice) "fine i'll do it myself." hope you guys enjoy! i cant believe im simping for a roblox fish man in the year 2024, literally who am i.

word count: 9.5k+

masterlist

ao3 link

When your husband was executed for a crime he did not commit, you decided to move out to the seaside.

It was a way to just… get away from everything. Start fresh. His face was plastered all over the news after his death sentence. Everywhere you went, it felt as though people were staring at you. Judging you. Hushed whispers followed you just as much as the haunted look on Sebastian’s face when he’d taken his mugshot. It was—unbearable. You needed to get out and away from all the people who only saw you as the partner to a murderer.

His presence lingered everywhere, back at your tiny apartment in the city. From the framed pictures on the wall, to the green toothbrush next to yours, and the faint smell of cinnamon attached to your bedsheets. It was—overwhelming, in more ways than one. You itched and itched with the urge to get out. You stayed only as long as you needed to after his death to go through the process of moving out. It took a couple of weeks. The you from the future would applaud you for lasting longer than a few days, you were certain.

You didn’t know what to do with all of his things. You sold his expensive belongings unclaimed by his family, like his laptop, electric guitar, and gaming system. The more materialistic items were packed into bins to donate to charity—his old textbooks, binders of sheet music, clothes he seldom wore. The rest you separated into two boxes. One had some things you figured would be appreciated by his mother. The album of his family he kept tucked away in his desk. A small teddy bear he’d had since he was a toddler. Some of his favorite shirts and jewelry he’d been gifted from his siblings.

The other had things you could not bring yourself to part with.

You spent a while hovered over that box, tracing the worn edges of a red and black flannel that he always wore around your apartment. There was a small panda plushie that you won at an amusement park on one of your dates and decided to give to him when he said it was ugly-looking. A sketchbook he doodled in from time to time that you didn’t have the heart to open, but knew you would regret giving away. A crumpled piece of paper with hastily scribbled vows on them. Each and every item in the box held some amount of sentimental value—you wondered if it would ever haunt you, keeping them. Part of you already knew the answer.

When you dropped off Sebastian’s things at his mother’s house, you couldn’t help the way your heart sank deep into your chest when she opened the door. Maria was a beautiful woman, and you saw traces of Sebastian in her every time you saw her. The warm honey of her skin, the crinkle of her blue eyes, even the way she smiled. It made your eyes sting and ache with something fierce. Agonizing, even now. Especially now.

She looked at you with a sad smile, gratefully accepting the small box you offered her. “Gracias, sweetie,” she said, hands tightening on the edges of the cardboard. “I appreciate you coming out all this way.”

“It was no problem,” you told her, shifting slightly on your feet. You hadn’t seen her since—well… You cleared your throat, doing your best to ignore a pang of guilt and this ever so tightening feeling in your chest. “How are you doing?”

She hummed, a weary thing that matched the dark circles under her eyes and the new streaks of gray in her hair. She looked down at the box. “No muy bien,” she murmured, “but who would after losing a child so wrongfully? I can only hope it gets better to handle with time.” Her gaze lifted up to meet your own. “What about you, hm? Almost done packing?”

Blue eyes the same shade as his. You looked away, staring down at your shoes and her slippered feet. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Just gotta put a few more boxes into the car.”

“I do not blame you for wanting to get away,” she chuckled. “I would too, if I could.”

As though on cue, there was the sound of a crash somewhere behind her, immediately followed by raised voices. Sebastian’s siblings causing havoc, no doubt. Maria whipped around to shout into her house. “Isidora! Lucas! ¡Comportense!” After she got two distant apologies, she turned back to give you a look. “See what I mean?”

You could only manage a stiff nod, not quite trusting your voice. That feeling in your chest was growing by the second, and you were not sure how long you would last. Maria didn’t deserve this, but you couldn’t help it. You felt like you were being stifled under a large, unforgiving pillow.

You could feel the way she watched you—that same probing stare that Sebastian often wore when he could sense you weren’t feeling well. You continued to stare resolutely at the ground, not wanting her to crack you open like a book to see the way you just couldn’t stand being here right now. She sighed, and you had to suppress a wince.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” she finally said, turning slightly to head back inside. “No eres una desconocida, you hear? You are always welcome here.”

“Right,” you whispered, and when you finally managed to pull your gaze back up to her face, she only gave you a small, melancholy smile before gently closing the door. You stood there for a moment more, heart beating in your throat as you cursed yourself for being a coward.

The drive down to the seaside was only a few hours. It was relaxing, in its own way, as you passed by concrete buildings that slowly melted away into wide, open fields. Rolling hills and staggering cliffs. You could almost taste the change in the air the closer you got. The stale, musty scent of the city was replaced by a fresh, salty breeze. If you listened close enough, you could hear the distant roar of the ocean as its waves crashed against rock. And once you arrived at what would be your new home for a long, long time, you took a moment to just stand outside and breathe.

One breath in, one breath out. The seaside air felt cool on your heated face. Out here, you felt like everything could be put behind you. A breath of fresh air to chase away the way you hurt inside. You could finally shed the layer of muddled emotions and thoughts that had surrounded you for weeks.

If only it was that easy. Still… Baby steps, you reminded yourself.

The cottage you were moving into was a quaint thing, with just enough space for you to live comfortably on your own. It was more than a steal, and you were thankful that you’d managed to snatch it up before anyone else could—and at a reasonable price, too. It sat near the top of a small cove, overlooking miles and miles of open water. If you walked down to the shore—away from the cove—there was a small dock that jutted out into the sea like a pirate’s plank. It was old, though, covered in mold and made of rotting wood that creaked ominously in the breeze. You didn’t dare risk venturing out on it.

It took you most of the rest of the day to bring all your belongings inside and unpack everything. You stood in what would be your living room, a mess of boxes scattered all around you, and felt a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t make heads nor tails of. Your eyes landed on that small box of Sebastian’s things, and you turned away with this twisting sensation worsening in your gut.

Getting properly settled in and starting your new job in the nearby town’s clinic took up most of your time. Your energy and thoughts. But at night, when it was just you laying in a too small bed in a too small room, your mind wandered. The moon peering through the small, curtained window into your bedroom bore witness to the way you stared and stared and stared—unblinking at the popcorn texture of the ceiling. Always twisting the gold band that remained on your finger in absentmindedness.

There was a gnawing ache in your chest that waxed and waned, but it never truly disappeared.

You thought about those final days a lot. They didn’t let you see him. All you got was a single phone call, sometime before his scheduled execution. The contents of that call would follow you no matter how far you tried to run from them. How hard you tried to forget.

(The phone felt locked in your grip—your fingers tight and stiff. There was a silence that was broken by your name spoken on the tailend of a choked breath. Your teeth clenched so hard you felt a muscle spasm in your jaw.

“I-I didn’t—” Sebastian’s voice stuttered thickly, hushed into the microphone. Something sank down to the soles of your feet, then continued on in an endless spiral. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t.”

There was something so devastatingly helpless about talking to him like this. Divided across miles and miles, nothing but a thin connection between you and him. Your words his only comfort.

“I know, baby,” you told him miserably, raising a hand to palm at your wet eyes. “I know.”)

You couldn’t even host a proper funeral for him. His body was never released to his family—for what reason, you were unsure. It felt as though you never had any proper closure. You could scream and cry about the injustice of it all, but… no one would listen. It was done. It was over. There was no getting him back. It was a grim thought that you grappled with on the daily, always present at the back of your mind. At the front of your mind. Suffocated you in gallons and gallons of grief. You did your best to work through it all over time, but sometimes it felt like your best just wasn’t enough.

And then… a couple of years after his death… you got a call.

You were lounging around in your little living room after a long shift at work, a book splayed out on your lap as you relaxed. Your phone was sitting right by your legs, just out of sight. So when it buzzed with an incoming call, you did not bother to glance at the screen before you answered it.

It was Maria.

The tremble of her voice made you instantly freeze.

You couldn’t understand what she was saying—so rushed and stifled through choked sobs. You sat up, both your hands gripping at your phone.

“Maria— wh-what—” you stuttered out, a sinking feeling slowly making itself present in your gut. You stood up, barely registering your book falling off your lap and onto the floor. “What’s—”

“They— they were wrong,” she hiccuped out, breathless and hysterical. “We knew they were and they— they—”

“What are you—” You tried to make sense of her words, but she quickly dissolved into more incoherent crying. You swallowed thickly, a cold sweat erupting along your back.

It took you a few minutes to calm her down enough so that she could strangle out a “Check the news.” Your eyes snapped to the darkened television sitting against the wall across from you.

Your throat felt drier than a desert. The remote was wedged between the cushions on your couch, and you fumbled around for it before finally managing to press the power button. Channel twenty-one, the news. You punched it into the remote.

There was a picture of Sebastian on the screen. His mugshot, actually—black hair messily scattered across honeyed skin, dark eyes that glistened in the dim lighting, thin lips downturned into an unsteady frown. A ringing sound erupted deep within your ears, drowning out all else as your gaze narrowed in on the bold headline.

Innocent man wrongfully convicted for murder of nine.

A short, disbelieving laugh escaped from your lips. This was how you found out? They didn’t bother to contact you first? You almost couldn’t believe it. Two years after he’d already been imprisoned. Two years after they’d decided he should die via electric chair. You laughed again, and your phone slipped right from your fingers as you dropped onto your knees. You barely felt the impact—barely heard Maria’s questioning sniffle above the racing of your heart.

You laughed and you laughed and you laughed and you laughed because wasn’t that just the funniest fucking thing? They found out the truth after what had been done to him could never be taken back. After you and his family had fought so desperately to prove his innocence.

Funny! It was funny!

You bit at your bottom lip to suppress the way it violently quivered.

Years passed and you continued to live on without Sebastian.

You thought time would help you heal—would dull the ache you experienced at every waking moment of the day and night. But there were times where you just felt infinitely worse. It was awful. It was so utterly miserable, and you were tired. You were just… tired. You couldn’t think about him for too long before you’d feel that familiar sting to your eyes. So you tried not to think about him at all.

It didn’t work.

You were plagued by him. Awake or asleep—it did not matter.

“You’re still up,” he murmured into your ear at night as you laid curled up on your side. Like this, you could face the window of your room—where the moonlight filtered gently through your thin curtains to brush against the walls like the hand of a ghost.

You hummed in response, face partially buried in your pillow. You tried in vain to ignore the presence you felt at your back. Making the hairs prickle on your nape. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel light breaths against the side of your face.

“You’ve got work in a few hours, you know,” he said, matter-of-fact. His voice lowered, gentle and calm. “What’s bothering you?”

There was a pause. Distantly, you could hear the waves of the ocean as the tide rose and fell along the shore. A constant source of white noise.

“Nothing,” you eventually whispered back, closing your eyes momentarily to breathe in the faint smell of cinnamon. “Nothing at all.”

It wasn’t real, you told yourself. Over and over and over again. He wasn’t real. He wasn’t.

He didn’t stop there.

He sat across from you at your little dining table in the kitchen, grinning at you as you forked spoonfuls of pitiful dinner after dinner into your mouth. He was in the bathroom, sitting on the lid of the toilet as you showered or brushed your teeth. He was in the living room, sprawled across the floor in front of you as he gazed at you with his face propped atop his palm.

He accompanied you to work, a pair of blue eyes staring at you in the rearview mirror of your car as you drove. He lingered over your shoulder as you pushed paperwork or chatted to other nurses. Close enough to touch, yet never crossing that line. Always present. Sometimes silent, sometimes not. You weren’t sure which was better.

He was haunting you, and you could do nothing about it.

The only place where you seemed to have any kind of reprieve was down by the little cove or the shore. You liked taking walks along it—when the walls of your cottage seemed to loom too close for comfort. It was refreshing, being able to just… breathe in the sea air and take in the rolling waves from the sand. A healing balm for your enervated soul. It became a habit no matter the weather, every evening after work. Soaking in the sun, basking in the mist, watching dark clouds grow closer on the horizon. You were oftentimes alone, but occasionally you’d pass a few people also enjoying the fresh air. They never bothered you, so you never bothered them.

Once you returned home, however, he would be waiting for you at the door—all warm smiles and crinkled eyes that made your insides ache like they never have before.

You contemplated going to grief counseling many times. But something held you back. You just… didn’t have the energy to pick yourself up and go. Didn’t want to come to proper terms with it all, you supposed. Or maybe you were desperately holding on—afraid of letting go completely when you could look in a mirror and see him standing somewhere behind you. It hurt. It soothed. It was a push and pull that you learned to deal with as time went on.

You often caught yourself staring at the tiny closet in your room—where you’d buried that small box of Sebastian’s things so deeply, it would never see the light of day again. Most of the time, you could drag yourself away from it, pushing it to the back of your mind once more. But one night… you couldn’t help yourself. You caved. You just… needed to.

You pulled the box out from the depths of your closet and sat on the floor, eyeing it warily as you clutched a pair of scissors in your hand. It was just as you’d left it—flaps tightly sealed with packing tape. You hadn’t bothered to label it. You knew what was in there and that was enough.

You took in a deep breath and stabbed the point of the scissors into the box’s top to pry it open. Then, you stared down at its insides.

It simultaneously felt like you’d packed his things away in this box just yesterday and a hundred years ago. In any case, the tender ache at seeing it all still persisted.

The panda plushie, which you picked up gingerly and ran your fingers over its short fuzz before setting it off to your side. It used to sit on a shelf, back at your shared apartment, picked up only occasionally when he wanted to throw it at you to bother you.

(“Sebastian!” you shouted, startled out of your focus on your book when that goddamn panda nailed you directly on your face. You glared at him, setting your book to the side to snatch up the plushie when he laughed hard enough that he doubled over.

“Oh my god, your face!” he wheezed, swiping a finger under his eyes to wipe away an imaginary tear. “Come on, you didn’t see that coming? You’re losing your game here, babe.”

“Shut up, you ass! I was reading!” you fumed and stood up to pelt the plushie at him. It smacked him right on the arm, and he only laughed even harder.)

The sketchbook, rarely ever seen by your eyes because he was so protective over it. Abashed, more like, you came to realize a while ago. And for a good reason, you supposed, your lips twitching as you flipped open the thick cover.

There were some landscape drawings at the start—places you recognized at your old university. The café near the library, the statue at the center of the main quad. A few students walking around or sitting outside on benches. Some components from his engineering projects—designs with their associated dimensions, fluid mechanics calculations, free-body diagrams. You saw a handful of drawings of Lucas and Isidora, either fighting or sleeping against each other—gaping mouths and all.

And then… once you hit a certain point in the book, there were drawings of you.

He’d been so embarrassed when you caught him sketching you one day, though he’d tried to play it off. It was before he’d asked you out, you remembered. You’d thought it was flattering—at least what you could glimpse on the open pages. He’d slammed the book shut pretty quickly once he’d realized you were peeking over his shoulder.

It wasn’t until years later that he’d finally let you flip through the sketchbook properly.

Doodles of you sitting around campus, doing homework or looking at your phone. A sketch of you walking down the street or staring out a window. Upper body shots of you smiling, or laughing, or talking to one of your friends. The level of detail always blew you away—he managed to capture details about you that you never quite paid attention to yourself. The crinkle of your eyes or the pull of your lips.

You gently brushed a finger over a rough doodle of you and him—sitting back-to-back as you did your respective work—then closed the sketchbook to set down next to your legs.

Next was the crumpled, smudged paper of his vows—that you lingered over for a moment, reading it briefly with a small smile.

There were the silly ones, where he promised to be the best pain in the ass you could ever ask for. To make fun of you for being shorter than him or annoy you to smithereens everyday because he loved the face you made when you were mad.

Then there were the sincere ones, promising to always love you unconditionally. To take care of you whenever you were sick, or encourage you to be the best version of yourself you could possibly be. To hold your hand whenever you were scared. To always be by your side, no matter what.

You wiped at your eyes with your sleeve, sniffling slightly, and let the piece of paper flutter down to the ground.

And finally… you picked up the flannel.

Even after all this time, the material was still soft in your hold. You squeezed it between your fingers, tracing over the lines where patches of black met patches of red. If you closed your eyes and imagined hard enough, you could almost feel a warmth coming from it—like it had just been shucked off a warm body. Raising it up to your face to take a deep breath, you could faintly smell that familiar cinnamon. A comfort. A heartache.

“You know,” Sebastian started, and you lifted your gaze briefly to glance up at him standing a ways in front of you. “I’ve always liked how you looked in my clothes.” He wore a sharp grin that made his cheek dimple on his right. He winked down at you. “Always liked how you looked outta them too, but that’s neither here nor there. Go on, put it on.”

You rolled your eyes, but found yourself complying anyway. You stood up and slipped the flannel over your arms, fixing it properly over your shirt. Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You could almost imagine him embracing you. Something in your stomach twinged.

“There you go,” he whispered, a breath of air just barely out of reach in the fragile twilight of your room. “Just look at you.”

You only smiled sadly at the ground and hugged yourself tighter.

In recent years, the small dock by the shore was stripped down and built anew.

You saw them doing construction from your cottage’s window when the project was first launched and spent many nights fantasizing about dipping your feet into the water from the dock’s edge. And once it was finally complete—after months and months of waiting and watching—you did just that.

Your evenings were kept mostly the same with your walks along the shore or within the cove. But now you could trudge out onto the now sturdy dock and embrace the ocean in its entirety. You could let the tips of your shoes protrude off the far end of the dock as you breathed in and out. Salty air. The hint of rain in the distance. The spray of water against your face as the waves ebbed to and fro. It was refreshing. The perfect way to let the incessant buzz of your mind die down in preparation for a quiet night.

The dock, from what you could see whenever you were at home, was mostly used during the bright hours of day. A couple of fishermen during the afternoon. Teens from the town who wanted to jump off and swim to the shore. Either way, by the time the hush of evening fell as people prepared for bed, the dock was empty and perfect for some alone time.

It was nice, being able to sit down and soak your feet in the cool water when the weather was warmer. You liked watching the sun as it sank beneath the horizon, painting the sky in shades of burnt mandarin and dusty magenta. The last vestiges of gold light would make way for inky darkness that sparkled with hundreds and hundreds of stars. You were never able to appreciate the night sky in the city—so you took every chance you could to sit and stare up at it. Trying your best to identify constellations or just admiring it all until you got too cold to stay out for much longer.

Sometimes you ate your dinner out on the dock while you chatted with Isidora or Maria on the phone. Sometimes you brought along a book or sketchpad. You missed listening to Sebastian strum away at his electric guitar at times—always filling your apartment with music—so you impulse bought a ukulele and sat by the sea plucking awkwardly at its strings. The dock became a place to pass time. It became a habit that you stuck to for many years.

You were familiar with it all after spending evening after evening after evening out on its wooden platform. You could count the number of planks it was made of, the number of nails you could feel under your hands. You learned how to read the sea—when it hinted at an oncoming storm or calm night. In a way, it became a safe space for you, away from the stifling walls of your cottage.

So naturally, when something disrupted it, you noticed almost immediately.

You were sitting on the dock, half a sandwich on your lap that you’d scrounged up for a late dinner. Your feet idly swished through the water, cool against your heated skin. The dock was high enough that it only submerged your feet up to your ankles, but you did not mind.

You took another bite of your sandwich, then felt an odd prickling sensation on the back of your neck. Pausing, you noticed the hairs on your arms were standing straight up. It… felt like you were being watched. You glanced around—at the wide ocean before you, then the sandy shore behind you. There were a few stragglers in the distance, but they were far enough that you were sure they were not the cause for your sudden unease.

You swallowed your bite and decided it was probably nothing.

The following evening, however, it happened again. Then the next evening. And the next.

Like clockwork, almost, every time you sat down on the dock to relax after your shifts at work. It did not matter what you were doing, or how late you were there. Even for how long. You would always feel that prickle along your nape, and it would not leave until you walked back down the dock to make your way home. Sometimes it followed you up until you shut the door to your cottage.

You tried testing to see if you would still feel this way walking along the shore, or lounging on the sand of the cove. But even if you completely avoided the dock, you would still feel that familiar prickle of your hairs standing on end. It was… stupefying. You wondered if you were being paranoid. Or maybe you were losing it, just a little.

“If it’s any consolation,” Sebastian said one night, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you both sat at your tiny kitchen table. “You might have already lost it, sweetheart.” He only grinned at you when you told him to shut up.

After weeks of enduring this strange sensation, you decided it was best to just pretend it wasn’t there. You could ignore a little unease if it meant your routine would remain undisrupted. So you sat at the dock and minded your own business. Stared out at the rolling waves, read a book, laid back to stargaze. You were able to find peace again.

Then, one night, you noticed something.

It was by chance, really. You were staring out at the sea, watching as the waves crashed against an outcropping of rocks in the far distance. It was dark, the only lighting coming from the moon and the stars. It caused the waters to turn black—void-like, almost, if not for the gentle moonlight. Maybe that was what had ultimately allowed you to see it.

There, just behind the rocks jutting up from the sea like a jagged line of teeth, was this teal glow above the water.

It hugged along the wall of rock, barely visible from your vantage point. You paused and found yourself squinting at it, trying to make out what the hell it could possibly be. The moment you stared at it for a second too long, however, it ducked under the water before disappearing out of sight.

You were confused, yes, but you brushed it off as some sort of reflection. Maybe even a marine animal or bioluminescent plant of sorts, though you weren’t sure what.

You saw it again some nights later, this time just under the surface of the calm waters by the outcropping. It was oddly hypnotizing, in a way, even muted under the deep, navy waves. A constant presence, throughout the entirety of your time on the dock. You could even see it from your cottage window if you squinted.

The underwater glow became another upset in your routine that puzzled you to no end. You tried to ignore it like you ignored the prickle along your nape, but it was almost impossible to do so when it was so blatantly present in the water. No matter where you looked, the glow always lingered in your periphery. And it wasn’t like it stayed in the same place either. Some nights, it stayed near the rocks. During others, it seemed to draw closer. Farther. Closer. Closer. Farther.

Definitely not a plant, you concluded one night as you warily eyed the teal glow as it lingered several meters away. A trick of light? You cast a glance up at the vantablack sky dusted with twinkling white. But no, that would be impossible. It showed up no matter if the night sky was clear or cloudy.

Maybe you were imagining it after being on your own for so long. You grimaced as you thought about your cottage and the inhabitant waiting for you to return to it. Him. As real as your mind could make him.

In any case, the glow was not a priority. Not with the way the days cycled on—a twisting, gnawing feeling soon growing in your chest that you were well acquainted with by now. Though you wished desperately that you weren’t.

You woke up tired.

Not atypical for you, by any means. But this was a different kind of tired—that lingered deep within your muscles and tissue, even your very soul. It made every single motion feel as though you were lugging along hundred pound weights. You were slow in getting out of bed for this reason, taking a few moments to blink wearily up at your ceiling and rub at your temples in a vain attempt to ease the headache you could feel trying to manifest. Already you were not off to a good start.

Steadily, you sat up and immediately spotted Sebastian looming in the far corner of your room. Smiling at you with his hands shoved into his pockets. He opened his mouth to say something, but you lifted up a hand to stop him. Your throat felt like it was lined with cotton.

“Not today,” you told him, voice barely over a whisper. You closed your eyes, then reopened them to give him a weary look. “Just… Not today.”

He only closed his mouth and continued to smile at you.

Once you picked yourself up and trudged over to your bathroom, you took a second to regard your reflection in the small mirror. Dark circles that lined the area under your eyes. A small wrinkle between your creased eyebrows. A dullness to your complexion and a hollowness to your cheeks. You rubbed an eye and sighed, a deep thing that didn’t make you feel any better. The day must go on, as much as you didn’t want it to.

Your coworkers knew not to pester you too much once they saw you arrive at the clinic, so you were granted the relief of a somewhat quiet day. But that did not make things any easier for you—forcing you to be with the overwhelming spiral of your thoughts. You kept yourself busy with work around the clinic, but by the end of your shift, you somehow felt even worse than you had before.

On the drive home, you stopped by a store to pick up a couple of groceries you needed. And once you returned home and unpacked everything into their proper places, you whipped up a quick dinner and spent some time sitting at your little table poking at it sluggishly. You weren’t all that hungry, despite only having some crackers and water earlier. Your stomach churned, your chest ached. You feared if you ate too much, you would just end up throwing it all up.

It was quiet. You took your time to clean up and shower. Procrastinating, you registered faintly at the back of your mind. You slipped on some comfy clothes, then snagged Sebastian’s flannel that you’d never had the heart to pack away back into the box with the rest of his things. It hung on a hook on the back of your bedroom door, next to your towel. Forever a haunting presence in the corner of your world that you grew accustomed to with time. You slipped it on, the sleeves lolling past your hands.

Making your way back to the kitchen, you glanced out the window over your sink at the steadily approaching sunset. You’d gotten home slightly later than usual, but it was fine. You shuffled over to your fridge to grab a small, two-pack container of cupcakes and pried it open to take one out. You rummaged around in a nearby drawer for a few things, then slipped out your front door to make your way down to the dock.

It was a bit colder today, especially with the sun dipping closer down to the horizon to make way for night. You took a moment to stand at the edge of the dock and breathe. The fresh air helped, if only a little. The swell of the waves eased some of the tension lining your shoulders. You sat down, crossing your legs, and set the cupcake atop the small space in front of you.

Leaning back onto your palms, you watched as dusk bled across the sky until it was overtaken completely by night. The moon painted the waves in a milky glow that highlighted their crests and shadowed their troughs. You could faintly register an ache behind your eyes that worsened bit by bit every time you blinked. You leaned forward and rubbed your cold hands along your upper arms before deciding it was time.

From your pockets, you pulled out a single candle and a lighter. You stuck the candle into the top of the cupcake, then—with a flick of your finger—used the lighter to set it aflame. The tiny, orange bud of fire flickered in the gentle wind and washed its soft glow along your hands and legs. Your wedding ring glinted in its light. You stuffed the lighter back into your pocket and sank into a slouch as you stared at the cupcake.

Faintly, you could smell cinnamon.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your eyes stung, unblinking as they were. You swallowed and it was like choking down a bucket full of thorns.

He would have been thirty-three today, you thought miserably to yourself as you stared and stared and stared. The fact settled over you like a particularly suffocating blanket. That fatigue you'd felt earlier came back full force, accompanied by a wrenching feeling in the pit of your gut.

Thirty-three. Your face felt hot and cold all at once. You rubbed at your cheek and your fingers came away wet. You exhaled a shuddering breath.

All those years of missed opportunities and moments. No waking up to his slumbering face or to his gentle kisses on your eyelids. No playful teasing or hugs that stole the breath right out of your lungs with how tightly he squeezed. No midnight dances in your little kitchen, swaying back and forth to an imaginary tune. No being loved by him.

Your heart ached.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you whispered out into the still air, closing your eyes momentarily as your jaw trembled. “I miss you. So, so much.”

You leaned forward and blew out the candle.

Then, you buried your face in your palms. And you cried.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, hiccuping into your hands. It hurt, god, it hurt so much. It always did. You were sure even years down the line, you’d find yourself trapped in the same wallowing pit of despair. The pain dulled, yes, but ever so sharp and present when the time lined up perfectly—as much as you dreaded it. Your chest hurt with the way you suppressed your pain.

When you finally managed to pull the shaking pieces of yourself together, everything felt numb with cold. Your head was stuffy, your eyes were bleary. You sniffed and had to choke back another sob. It truly never got easier, even after all this time. You needed some painkillers and a long, long rest.

Sighing, you plucked the cold candle from the cupcake along with its paper wrapping to toss into your trash later. You stood up and hugged yourself, giving the lone dessert another long glance before turning on your heel to head back into the warmth of your cottage. Come morning, the birds will have eradicated all traces of the cupcake from the dock, as they tended to do.

As you walked, the back of your neck prickled all the way up to your door.

In the following days, you noticed the teal glow you’d been seeing underwater was growing closer and closer—even moreso than it had been before.

This would not have alarmed you too heavily—after all, it wasn’t like it hadn’t been going back and forth in terms of distance for a while—but it was getting to the point where it was only a few meters away. You could slip into the water and swim over easily, you mused, as you warily eyed the glow. Just in case, you decided to avoid sticking your feet into the water for now.

You couldn’t kid yourself anymore. It was weird—really weird. Pair up the glow with the ever present prickle along your nape and Sebastian’s haunting presence at home, and you had a recipe spelling out… well… mental disaster. It was all you could do to hang on. There really wasn’t much you could do about it anyways, you figured. These days you were just too tired to care.

Currently, you were sitting cross-legged in your usual spot on the dock, aimlessly scrolling through your phone’s notifications as you enjoyed the night air. You had a couple of messages from Maria to respond to—you’d been trying to get better at maintaining contact with her every so often. It was a work in progress, but at least texts were easier for you to deal with than phone calls.

You thumbed through the rest of your notifications. Lucas had sent you a meme around one in the morning last night that you’d missed. He was in his last year in university, you mulled. How time has flown. You remembered when he was still an annoying preteen, bugging Sebastian to use his no doubtfully expensive guitar. It was difficult to get Sebastian to ever part with it. The thought made you smile slightly to yourself, then you sobered upon remembering you’d had to sell it. In hindsight, Lucas’ guitar phase hadn’t lasted all too long—or maybe he hadn’t wanted something that reminded him of his older brother so much. Sweet memories turned sour after the execution. You sighed and sent him a meme back after liking the one he’d sent. Something about weird-looking cats.

Oh, one of your coworkers wanted to grab dinner in a couple of days. Hmm. You checked your calendar, then sent off a response text in agreement. The distance you were from the nearby town was not large by any means, but it was enough that you rarely sought exchanges outside of work. You really needed to get out more. Most of your other interactions were online, especially after moving from the city and away from everyone and everything. It certainly was not doing you any favors.

As you typed up a comment on one of your older friend’s social media posts, you noticed something.

Just over the top of your phone screen—reflected in the dark water of the ocean. You paused and lowered your phone to stare at it.

It was the teal glow, brighter and closer than it had ever been before. You eyed it for a moment, apprehension taking root in the pit of your stomach. But there was also this sense of tentative curiosity. You leaned forward just enough to peer down at it beyond the dock’s edge, submerged as it was beneath the gentle waves. It was almost underneath you, oddly hypnotizing as you tilted your head at it. You felt as though you could be sucked right into it, lulled into a trance as the glow encompassed all that you were.

Brighter and brighter the glow grew. There was the distant thought in the back of your mind that maybe you should be more wary—maybe you should lean back or stand up to gain some distance. But all you could hear were your steady breaths, feel the way your grip tightened on your phone. Maybe you could see if what you were seeing was really an animal of sorts or just some figment of—

There was a head. Sticking out of the water.

You froze immediately, breath caught in your lungs.

For a moment, you couldn’t process what exactly you were looking at. But then you realized you were staring at a gray-blue face framed by raven hair stuck to its sides. A rather large face, in fact, nowhere near the size of a regular human’s. A… mermaid? You weren’t entirely certain, and even then, there was a lot to unpack with this realization that you were in no way prepared to do.

There was some sort of lure attached to the top of the creature’s head that drooped down into the water in front of it. Two—no, three, you noticed—eyes were trained intently in your direction, pupils indiscernible in a way that made it difficult to tell where precisely it was looking at. The back of your neck prickled.

Ah, you thought faintly as teal light gently washed across the nearly black surface of the water from the creature’s eyes. That’s what that was.

You weren’t sure how long you and the… mermaid… stayed there, staring at each other, but eventually something had to give. You were just surprised it wasn’t you first.

The mermaid’s jaw seemed to tense. It regarded you with an unreadable gaze that you could feel flicking over your face. Then, it parted thin lips to say a quiet “Hey.”

It was like getting punched in the gut—harsh and utterly unforgiving.

It sounded— It sounded just like Sebastian. Raspier, maybe. A little lower in timbre. But unequivocally him. It was unmistakable—his voice so deeply cemented into your mind when you lived day by day listening to him speak over your shoulder. You felt like you couldn’t move a muscle, couldn’t force the air you so desperately needed into your lungs.

He seemed to take in your silence, appraising you for a moment before speaking again.

“I know this has gotta be… weird as shit…” he said slowly, voice stiff and slightly stilted. “But I”—he swallowed thickly—“I can explain.”

You weren’t sure what expression you were making, but you saw the way the skin above his eyes seemed to crease together. You wanted to force yourself to spit out something, anything, but you could not hear yourself think over the rapid ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump of your heart in your ears. The vice-like grip on your insides with how much this mermaid sounded like Sebastian. How it made you hurt. How it made you ache.

What the hell was going on right now?

“You—” you eventually choked out, your eyes taking in what was before you. A membranous fin at the side of his head flicked slightly at the sound of your voice. “You— I—”

He said your name quietly, and it was like another vicious twist of your gut. The sounds of the sea became white noise, distant and weak. “It’s me. Sebastian. You know? Love of your life?” His face scrunched up, sharp mouth turning into a strained grin as he stared at you with wide, imploring eyes. “Come on babe, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”

Just like him. He talked just like him.

But that couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be right. He was dead. He was—

Something suddenly clicked in the far recesses of your mind.

“Ah.” The syllable dropped from your lips like a rock from a high place. You slumped like you’d been cut from a few taut strings struggling to hold you up. “I get it now.” You exhaled deeply, willing yourself to gain control of your mind and your heart. You knew exactly what was going on here.

No need to panic. You were in control.

“...Do you really?” he asked warily after a minute or two. You ignored him to focus on yourself.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You released the tight hold you had on your phone—line etched into your palm from the pressure—and shoved it into your pocket so you could lift your hands up to rub at your temples.

You were tired. Of this, of everything.

“I thought this was supposed to be a safe space,” you grumbled under your breath, your eyes closing in a vain attempt to stave off the building headache you were experiencing. “You had to follow me out here too?”

Sebastian made a sound—a questioning, confused little thing that made you open your eyes to gaze down at him. He looked hurt, almost. “I— What?”

Your hands dropped from your temples, and you leaned back onto your palms so you could look out at the calm sea. A few clouds passed over the moon from above, temporarily casting a shadow over you and him. You eyed him after a moment of letting yourself relax from the previous adrenaline spike.

“You’ve never looked like this before,” you eventually mused as your eyes traced over the shadowed line of his nonexistent nose. The way his skin glistened in the dim lighting. “Did something change from yesterday?” You didn’t think you were capable of imagining him like this. Inhuman. No honeyed skin or rough scar bridging his nose. You wondered why it was happening now, of all times. If maybe it was the result of staying by the sea for so long, alone to deal with everything that had happened.

He opened his mouth as though to respond. But then he closed it and just… stared at you. Observing you. Analyzing you for something you were not privy to. A probing gaze that made something under your skin itch. You watched him back, then found you could not hold his gaze for much longer. You looked away and cleared your throat.

“I’m thinking pasta for dinner,” you remarked casually to fill the silence, eyes shifting skywards in thought. “The alfredo we made last week was pretty good. I got the sauce on sale at the grocery store.”

Another pause. Another moment where your skin prickled with the sensation of being picked apart, piece by piece.

And when he spoke, his voice was barely over a murmur—a grim realization to his tone. “You… You’ve really lost it after all this time, huh?”

You made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Don’t be mean. I’m— well…” You gave him a smile, something melancholy lining your lips. “Doing just fine.” The words were bitter across your tongue. He only gave you a look like he didn’t quite believe you, something indecipherable in his gaze.

“Right,” he snorted. “Like I’m gonna believe that after whatever the hell you just said.” A hand lifted from the water to gesture at you, gray-blue just like his face.

Rolling your eyes, you shifted on your feet and stood up, brushing off your pants as you shoved your hands into your pockets. You hadn’t realized, but there was this twinge building in your stomach with every minute that ticked by. You needed to sleep this off… whatever this was. You sighed, long and weary. “I should not be entertaining you.” But it was so hard to resist—has been, for years now.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sebastian muttered to himself, pinching at the bridge of his nonexistent nose with two large fingers. When you only raised an eyebrow at him and took a step in the direction of your cottage, intending to head back to get started on dinner, he lurched forwards in the water. “Wait. Where are you going? Y-You’re leaving?”

You didn’t intend on answering him, so accustomed to ignoring him in your cottage whenever he spoke into the air. But when this Sebastian snapped out your name in a warning tone, you gave him a look. “I’m not leaving, silly. I’ll see you inside, won’t I?”

“God, do you even hear yourself right now?” he rasped out, voice betraying a certain incredulity as he lifted himself up in the water just enough that you could see what looked like a waterlogged scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. “Listen to me. I’m here. I’m real.”

Real, huh?

You closed your eyes and thought about a figure standing in the corner of your living room, watching you with a small grin. You thought about the endless nights of him standing near your bed or hovering just beyond your shoulder, whispering at you to close your eyes and sleep. You thought about a lot. You thought about nothing.

And so you hummed, a distant thing that you did not quite register as you started to turn away, unwilling as you were to continue this. But before you could make it even a couple of steps back down the dock, Sebastian made a noise—ragged and disbelieving. There was the sound of rushing water directly behind you. The roar of a small waterfall, almost. It made you turn back and blink in surprise as your head craned back.

The wood beneath you creaked and groaned in an ominous manner.

“We are not done talking,” Sebastian growled as he loomed over you. Like this, you could take him in his entirety—from the brown jacket covering his torso that was dark with seawater, to the three arms he had that held himself up atop the dock’s surface. The shirt he had on was translucent enough to appear gray in color. If you looked close enough at the sliver of his unclothed body before it disappeared beneath the dock’s edge, you could just barely make out the shine of scales.

This was—like nothing you have ever seen before.

Your lips parted when a drop of water landed on your cheek, startling you for a moment. A glance up at the sky showed clear skies above you. Maybe you’d imagined it. You shook your head slightly and focused back on Sebastian.

Water continued to run down his body, each drop soaking into the wooden planks of the dock, before it eventually eased into a trickle.

“What is there to talk about?” you asked lightly after contemplating his words.

His grip tightened on the dock, enough that you could almost hear something splinter. “Much, in case you were not aware.” He surveyed your open face with narrowed eyes, a soft teal glow dusting across your features. It was like you were being held open like a book, all of your innards exposed for him to analyze. You weren’t sure what he found there, but it made him suddenly soften like butter atop a warm stove.

“I just…” He sighed, something long-suffering that came from deep within his chest. “This wasn’t how I’d imagined things would go, believe it or not.”

You cocked your head at him and watched him slouch from his rigid position. Still dripping water. Still with that raven hair plastered to his face. There was a sort of exhaustion to him that you’d never noticed before. It made something pang in your chest—caused you to clench your hands into fists in a vain attempt to focus on anything else.

There was the pungent smell of fish, raw and metallic.

Not real. This was not real.

Sebastian shifted, and the hand attached to his torso—smaller in size and covered sloppily in stained bandages—raised as though it was going to reach towards you. Your heart nearly skipped a beat at the motion. But then he stopped, staring down at his palm. Big and gray and consisting of four thick fingers with sharp ends. There was the glint of something gold around his fourth finger. Your own hand twitched inside your pocket.

Always just out of reach. Never crossing a line.

His hand clenched into a fist, and he lowered it back to the dock with a quiet thud.

He said your name. “I know this is difficult to hear, but… It’s me,” he whispered, voice strained like it was on the precipice of breaking. “It’s really, really me.”

You swallowed heavily, feeling as though the world was unraveling by the seams beneath your feet.

This was not him. It couldn’t be.

Why would you ever imagine him like this?

“No, it’s not,” you eventually said bitterly, breaking eye contact so you could glance back at your cottage. You closed your eyes, then reopened them as you turned your back to him. And when you spoke again, your voice teetered like you were one step away from falling into a never ending pit. “You’re dead.”

And then you walked away.

Each step you took felt like eternity, something heavy weighing you down. He called out your name. First so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, a tinge of something fragile to it. Then again with frustration lining his voice—louder and aggrieved. There was a sharp crack of something behind you, but you were determined in your march back home.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Your jaw clenched to suppress the tremble you could feel working its way throughout your body. You refused to look behind you, and you succeeded right up until you stood before the door to your cottage. With one hand on the metal knob, you twisted around to look back at the shore—the dock you could see a ways behind you.

It was vacant, not a soul in sight.

Your lips pursed together, and you opened the door to slip inside with a heavy, grim feeling taking root in your stomach.

Sebastian was waiting for you already, sprawled atop your couch as he grinned at you wide enough that you saw each and every one of his white teeth.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said amusedly, one of his hands raking through the wavy mess of hair on his head. His voice lowered, gentle and sincere. “Maybe take a break from the dock, yeah?”

You only slowly shook your head and moved past him, suddenly feeling queasy and lightheaded and so frazzled that you couldn’t bear being awake for much longer.

Your thoughts lingered on the shore. Teal eyes and the sound of breaking wood that felt so real in that instance. You forced yourself to breathe.

It was fine. It was fine.

You would deal with it as you always have.

part two

#i didnt take spanish since middle school so i had to use google translate for it LOL sorry for any inaccuracies !#shay scribbles daydreams #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure x reader #pressure x reader #who i see au #edit: fixed the spanish ty to ataga on ao3 for helping me with it LOL

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starsinmylatte · 8 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧

Yet another wonderful request as part of my JJK Fic Readers Supporting Noury event!

This fic is a gift for @starlitnotes (who Tumblr is apparently against me tagging, so I will DM her 😅) Thank you so much to everyone who has supported my event and my writing so far 💜

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Afab!reader x Hiromi Higuruma Rating: Explicit (18+ minors DNI) Word Count: 9k Request: Yakuza bosses Nanami and Higuruma

Click here to join my taglist!

Warnings are found below the cut!

Warnings (besides what it says on the request): Use of pet names (darling, baby, etc), threesome, oral sex, cum swallowing, praise kink, breeding kink, masturbation, Double penetration (vaginal), cervix fucking, etc.

“Excuse me, Miss?” An unfamiliar voice rang out from behind you as you scoured hardened syrup from the wooden surface of your coffee bar.

You whirled around, tossing your rag aside and snatching a spatula off the other counter. The cafe had been empty five minutes ago, and you knew that you’d already locked all the doors. No matter how polite your intruder was, he shouldn’t have been able to get in.

“Don’t come any closer,” you warned, clutching the spatula like a lifeline and pointing it toward the voice. Even though it was just a small silicone and wood tool, you felt safer with it in your hands.

A tall young man in a well-cut black suit seemed to melt out of the shadows that lined the back exit hallway. He calmly walked closer as you brandished your “weapon” at him, running a hand through his unruly brown hair and smiling sheepishly.

“I swear I’m a friend; I’m not here to hurt you.” The mystery guest raised his hands placatingly, showing you that he was unarmed. “My name is Takuma Ino, and unless you want to be arrested for conspiring with the yakuza…. please come with me.”

There was a loud, booming knock at your front door as if on cue, and another unfamiliar male voice yelled. “This is Detective Zen’in with the Tokyo Police Department! I’m here about an urgent matter. Please open the door so we can speak.”

Ino bristled at the sound of the detective’s voice. He immediately grabbed your upper arm and attempted to tug you towards the back door, but the sudden action spooked you. Your reflexes completely took over, and you slammed the wooden handle of the spatula against his fingers with a resounding crack. The young man barely suppressed a yelp of surprise, snatching his hand back and hissing in pain.

“Owwww,” he groaned quietly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, but we have to go now.”

The detective knocked at your front door again, and you flinched, feeling very much like cornered prey. Ino nervously rubbed his fingers, trying to soothe the sting as he glanced at the front door. “Please, Miss….. Look, you can bring that thing and hit me again if I make you feel uncomfortable in any way, but please just come with me.”

The knocking grew more insistent, and the detective yelled again, “Ma’am, we know you’re in there. If you do not comply, we will forcefully open this door.”

Ino looked at you frantically as he mouthed another silent plea and gestured toward the exit. A potent, white-hot mixture of fear and adrenaline shot through you as you realized that you had no time left; you had to decide now. You could only hope you wouldn’t regret your choice as you nodded at Ino, grabbed your purse, and followed him out the back door into the night.

As soon as the two of you reached the back alley, Ino motioned for you to stay put. He glanced around, scanning the other small, connecting road. Due to the lack of foot traffic behind the stores, there were only a few street lights in the alley, and you could barely see anything beyond your feet. Ino seemed frustrated, muttering under his breath until suddenly, lights flicked on inside a sleek, expensive-looking black car near the road. Your savoir sighed in relief as he ushered you towards the vehicle, throwing the door open and nearly tossing you in.

It all happened so fast that you barely had time to think before Ino slammed your door closed and vaulted into the passenger’s seat. The driver instantly shut off all the interior lights and revved the engine, leaving you scrambling to buckle your seatbelt in the dark. Your fingers scraped over supple, well-conditioned leather as the car shot forward, hurtling through the back roads and away from the cafe. Ino and the driver carried on a hushed conversation across the front seat as you tried to process everything that had just happened, but there was one primary concern on your mind.

“Ino-san….” you spoke carefully into the dark, “Why do the police think that a Cafe owner is involved with the Yakuza?”

“It’ll make more sense when you meet the Oyabun… er, well, both of them. They can explain everything,” Ino offered, exchanging a look with the driver. You felt so frustrated; they had left you literally and metaphorically in the dark. All you could do was sit there in the quiet luxury of your surroundings, more questions and concerns brewing in your mind as the car sped off into the night.

You passed the time by staring out the window, trying to retain some bearing of your surroundings, but the car was traveling too quickly for you to read the names of any streets or buildings. Soon, the blurry grey cityscape disappeared altogether. Lush trees began to fill your vision as moonlight poured into the car. The treeline grew thicker and thicker, seemingly stretching on forever as the road began to incline steadily. You realized the two men were taking you deeper into the mountains outside Tokyo, and an icy chill shot through you.

“Oh, god…. They’re going to kill me out here, and no one will ever find my body.”

The driver must have sensed your quiet fear, and he sighed deeply. “Ino-kun, please tell me that you explained at least some of the situation to her.”

“I figured that the Oyabun would want to tell her most of it,” Ino grumbled, still nursing his hand, “We didn’t have a lot of time with that weasel of a detective outside her door, so I just told her to come with me if she didn’t want to be arrested, and that she could hit me with that spatula again if I scared her.”

The exhausted-looking driver removed one hand from the steering wheel and slapped it against his forehead, wincing and rubbing his eyes over the rim of his glasses.

“What!?!” Ino protested, throwing his arms out dramatically. “It seemed reasonable enough to me. That thing hurts, and besides-! She’s safe, and that’s what matters!”

In any other situation, you probably would’ve found the scene hilarious. The other man gave a long-suffering sigh, pointedly ignoring Ino as the young man continued to try and explain his reasoning, complete with a dramatic re-enactment of you smacking him. The driver slowed the vehicle in the middle of the road and pulled off to the side without another word. Your hand crept towards the door handle, just in case.

“Please…. don’t.” The driver clicked on the cabin light and turned around, looking at you tiredly as your fingertips brushed the only barrier that stood between your freedom, “I give you my word that it would be a mistake to leave now; please let me explain more thoroughly.”

You gazed back at him warily, moving your hand away from the handle just enough to signal that you’d hear him out. The driver had a kind but somewhat pinched and anxious face; for a yakuza driver, he seemed strangely considerate.

“My name is Kiyotaka Ijichi, and this is Takuma Ino. We both work for the Kintatsu-ikka, and our Oyabun-”

“Our boss!” Ino supplied helpfully, turning to give you a lopsided grin.

“We received a tip that you were wrongfully associated with two different Yakuza groups and placed in danger. That detective who arrived at your Cafe is not a good man; if he had reached you first, you’d likely be jailed over false charges. The Oyabun of our family sent us to pick you up and bring you somewhere safe.” Ijichi explained calmly, adjusting his glasses.

“That still doesn’t answer why they think I know you people.” You snapped back, a little more forcefully than intended. Hot, angry tears welled up, threatening to spill over at any moment as you huffed. “I’m innocent. I don’t associate with criminals.”

“Don’t panic,” Ijichi reassured you gently. “I may not have the answers, but I’m taking you to people who will. It may not mean much coming from me, but our organization is different than what you think. Let us prove to you that we aren’t just ‘criminals.’”

“It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice,” you sniffled, toying with the hem of your sleeve.

Ijichi smiled at you, the expression softening his face and lightening the dark circles under his eyes. “We aren’t too far from our destination, but please try to relax some.”

He left the light on as he started to drive again, quickly pulling back onto the road with smooth precision. You sighed, suddenly aware of the massive amount of tension in your shoulders and back that wasn’t there an hour ago. Ijichi leaving the light on was a small gesture, but it did help you relax. Ino remained silent in the passenger seat, and every so often, you could see him glance at you using the rearview mirror, but the atmosphere was no longer tense. Still, you couldn’t shake all of the anxiety from your mind as the car traveled on.

After a few more minutes passed, Ijichi turned the car down an almost-hidden road, and the massive outline of a house appeared through the dark curtain of trees. As you drew closer, the soft glow of lanterns lined a well-paved stone driveway, growing brighter and illuminating more of the multi-floored house and surrounding gardens. Your mouth parted in a silent exclamation as you stared out the window. It was gorgeous…. dark and sleek, like a modern mansion, but heavily influenced by the style of a traditional Japanese home. Like many other people who lived in Tokyo, you’d only ever lived in a tiny, very drab city apartment; there was no way you could fathom anyone owning something that massive.

You tried to stifle your amazement, quietly reminding yourself that you weren’t here to ogle some crime boss’s home as Ijichi pulled up and around to the front steps. Ino stepped out, opened your door, and offered his hand with a small smile. As you looked out, you were distracted by two massive stone dragon statues that flanked the steps. Their teeth were permanently bared in a protective snarl as a warning for those who entered, and you shivered.

“Kintatsu-Ikka,” Ino reminded you coyly.

Tentatively, you accepted the young man’s help, and he led you onto the beautiful wooden engawa that surrounded the entire mansion. He didn’t even need to unlock the door; he simply pushed it open to lead you inside.

Your jaw dropped despite your best attempt to keep a neutral expression; the interior was somehow even more beautiful than the exterior. Moonlight entwined with lanternlight pooled through massive floor-to-ceiling windows, shining on dark, polished wood floors. A crackling fire burned in a glass fireplace beside a common area furnished with plush-looking leather couches and chairs.

Notably, the central couch was occupied by a young boy in the most rumpled suit you’d ever seen. He was completely sprawled out in a position that made your back hurt just to look at, watching a cheesy action movie on a glossy, widescreen T.V. that probably cost more than your entire yearly salary.

Ino chuckled at your awe-struck expression, “I know, right? I think everyone had that reaction the first time they saw the place. Our Oyabun has good taste.”

The young boy perked up at the sound of Ino’s voice, nearly falling off the couch as he tried to stand up. “Kyodai! You’re back!”

He bounced onto the floor with youthful zeal, altogether abandoning the movie he had been so engrossed in and running up to the two of you. “Hi, I’m Yuji. Who are you?”

Yuji cocked his head at you in curiosity, the sudden movement causing his strawberry-pink hair to flop to one side. You smiled and introduced yourself, charmed by the sweet boy, but your inner thoughts only grew more complicated.

“This sweet boy is supposed to be a criminal?? Why do none of these supposed Yakuza act or look anything like the stories?”

Of course, you had heard more than your fair share of stories about the shady criminal organizations that Japan was so infamous for. Yakuza were supposed to be malicious gangsters who only pretended to follow an honor code. They were supposed to be rough, low-life criminals who had simply been given a spit-shine and a suit, but the young boy who stood in front of you seemed like an overeager puppy, energetic and harmless.

Yuji’s eyes shone as he recognized your name. “Oh! You’re-”

“Can’t talk now, little bro. She’s got a meeting with your dad.” Ino interrupted him, pulling you past before you could register what he said.

Ino led you past a few rooms where the glossy wooden floors gave way to traditional tatami mats. You turned down another hallway, passing more closed doors and what looked like a sizeable library before the two of you arrived at the end of the hallway, where one more door waited. The soft glow of lamplight shone out from the frame, signaling that it was occupied. Your stomach fluttered anxiously as Ino stepped up and knocked softly. A low, delighted chuckle came from inside, and your heart stopped as the door finally swung open.

“N-Nanami-san?!?” You managed to squeak out, almost dropping your purse in surprise.

You had no idea who you had expected to meet, but it certainly wasn’t one of your favorite longtime customers. Moonlight shone down on Nanami Kento's tall, well-built figure, further softening his sharp features as he sat behind a massive wooden desk on the far side of the room. Despite the late hour, he was still dressed in the tan suit and spotted tie he always seemed to favor. A few stray strands of Nanami’s beautiful golden hair framed his face as he nursed a glass of whiskey, raising the crystal highball glass to his lips for a taste of the amber liquid. He let his gaze wash over you, almost as if he was savoring your presence alongside the alcohol.

A low chuckle came from behind the door, and a raspy, darkly intelligent voice teased. “Oh? I didn’t think you’d ignore me…. I’m hurt.”

Your heart had stopped earlier, but now it just left your body entirely as Higuruma Hiromi stepped into view. As always, he was almost the visual opposite of Nanami but no less handsome in his black suit. Hiromi walked towards you, tall and lanky, darkly attractive with mussed hair and a near-permanent look of exhaustion hidden behind a small grin.

“Don’t badger her, Hiromi. She’s had a long day.” Nanami chastised firmly.

Hiromi adjusted the sleeves of his crisp dress shirt and gave you a lopsided grin that made your stomach churn. “Sorry, sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood.”

The two men were night and day from each other, but they were both your favorite patrons by far, each visiting the Cafe on the same day every week. As certain as night became day, Hiromi showed up on Monday mornings, and Nanami visited you every Thursday. You had grown to cherish their company, even allowing them to come and visit with you in the early hours before the Cafe actually opened, something you had never let anyone else do. However, neither man had ever mentioned the other, and you had never seen them at the same time. You had absolutely no reason to think the men had known each other.

A memory flashed through your mind as you stared at Nanami, gasping for air.

He had come to visit even earlier than usual one morning, walking in while you were tending to the pastry dough in your small professional kitchen.

Nanami had poked his head in to find you listening to an old song on your small radio, swaying your hips and humming along to the infectious tune. You were in your own little world, completely oblivious to his presence as you systematically filled croissant dough with chocolate and plopped them onto an awaiting tray.

You moved to place the tray into the oven but tripped over a rag on the way over, crying out as you braced to hit the hard tile floor…. but the pain you had expected never arrived. Instead, you landed against a broad chest and surprisingly muscular arms that broke your fall. The pastries hit the floor with a loud clatter, but it didn’t matter as Nanami chuckled in your ear, his low, rich voice bringing a deep flush to your cheeks as his hand stroked your waist.

“Careful, now.”

Only a few weeks later, Hiromi knocked on your front door one morning and stumbled in, tired and exhausted from “a long night at work,” but he had come anyway, wholly unwilling to miss his visit with you.

“You’d worry too much if I didn’t come,” he’d grinned at you, teasing but infuriatingly correct.

You had steadfastly ignored him, instead choosing to chastise the exhausted man for not taking better care of himself. You made his usual order from memory while making him swear that he’d get more rest. As you pushed the warm cappuccino into his hands, Hiromi’s clever fingers brushed against yours in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Anything for you,” he had said, looking into your eyes with a smile that made your knees weak.

You lurched back to reality as Hiromi led you to a plush leather armchair and gently helped you sit back. Your movements were slow and robotic, but you didn’t pull away from the warmth of his hand.

“What… what the fuck is going on?” You suddenly felt breathless, like you were drowning in the deep end of a pool. Hurt and anger flashed through you like wildfire. You had let these men in. Not only that, you had trusted them and grown to care for each of them.

“I’m sorry. We should have told you sooner.” Nanami sighed, “We both agree that keeping you in the dark was wrong, but please give us the chance to explain. The last thing either of us wanted was to hurt you.”

Hiromi reluctantly pulled away from your side, returning to take his seat next to Nanami. He nodded in agreement with the blonde man’s words and took a deep drink from his wine glass before he spoke. “We may not have been completely forthright with everything, but I promise that neither my brother nor I ever lied to you.”

“But… I thought you were a salaryman, and I thought you were a lawyer?? You didn’t ever mention each other, but now you’re brothers? I thought I knew you. What are you… Who are you?” You questioned furiously, gesturing between the two men.

All the stolen touches, all the charged glances, and honeyed words... Were they all a lie?

You’d wanted one or both men so desperately that you’d deleted the dating app on your phone, praying that eventually, you’d work up the courage to ask one of them out. At night, you dreamed about how they’d touch you; in your wildest dreams, you even thought about what having both of them at once would be like.

Both men had the decency to look ashamed as a single, angry tear rolled down your cheek. Hiromi tugged at his tie as if it had grown too tight, and Nanami sighed deeply, bowing his head. “We aren’t brothers in the literal sense, but we are ‘brothers’ because Hiromi and I joined the same Yakuza family when we were young. You may have heard Ino refer to another member of the Kintatsu-Ikka as ‘shatei’ or ‘little brother,’ which is the same concept.”

Hiromi finished fiddling with his tie, leaving it undone around his neck. “As for your other question, I am still a lawyer, and he does have some salaryman duties; Kento still handles a lot of booking-related concerns because he’s too damn good with numbers. We both started our careers in administration….” he paused, selecting his next words carefully, “...before we decided that certain things in our organization needed to change.”

You stared at the desk, steadfastly refusing to look at either man as Nanami continued, “Our family split into two rival factions, and Hiromi and I each took control of one side. We reshaped both organizations but left them separate because it allowed us a certain advantage over other, much less savory groups. My men became known as the Kintatsu-ikka, and Hiromi formed the Kageakuma-Kai.”

The names bounced around in your brain, and suddenly, something clicked. You had heard of them; some of the other shopkeepers around your district had specifically purchased protection from one of the two groups. They told you that the men were kind and honorable and could help you if any other Yakuza families tried to trouble you.

“Why didn’t you tell me who you were in the first place?” Your cheeks flushed hot, and you drew your arms around your body, desperate for some comfort from the way your heart ached. “Were you wanting to play with my emotions… to make me look like a fool?”

Both men looked instantly mortified.

“No. Absolutely not.” Hiromi said firmly, frowning as he set his wine glass down with a soft clink.

“That is the last thing we wanted,” Nanami’s handsome brow furrowed deeply as he agreed.

“You must understand that in our line of work, we don’t meet many genuine people,” Hiromi mused, studying how his red wine swirled against the glass. “Most people we meet either instantly fear us or they want something from us. You…. were an outlier; you were kind, warm, and just-.”

“Lovely,” Nanami murmured, finishing the raven-haired man’s sentence. “You were lovely. By the time we realized that we needed to tell you, neither of us knew how to. It isn’t an excuse, but we do want to make it up to you.”

“W-what am I supposed to do now?” You stammered. “Ijichi-san mentioned that the detective who showed up at the Cafe today was a ‘bad man.’ What does that even mean?”

If you had any doubt that the two men in front of you were telling the truth about being Yakuza, it immediately vanished as their expressions hardened in an instant. Nanami’s normally warm, brown gaze carried the full weight of scorched earth, and Higuruma’s dark irises glinted like obsidian.

“Don’t worry; he will be taken care of,” Hiromi muttered, staring intensely over the rim of his wine glass. His tone had a dark, glittering edge, and the implication behind his words made you freeze.

“The two of you… You hurt people, don’t you?” You questioned softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Hiromi and Nanami looked at each other briefly before the weight of their combined gaze settled back on you.

“We do, but only people who deserve it,” Nanami said plainly as if he were discussing the weather. “Both the Kintatsu-Ikka and the Kageakuma-Kai are groups that actively follow the code of bushido. We practice honor and restraint but do not show those virtues to those who do not deserve them.”

“That weasel knows that you likely have nothing to do with our organization. He’s a corrupt cop that another Association bought with their blood money; you’re innocent, and he’s trying to hurt you.” Hiromi spat darkly.

Both men radiated a fiercely protective aura that filled the room and made your heart skip a beat. You had been absolutely terrified earlier, and you had even felt betrayed by both men. They had certainly made a mistake by keeping you in the dark about their identities, but they had also done their best to fix it by helping you and answering all of your questions. A warmth began to blossom in your chest, replacing the fear and anger that previously resided there. With the intensity and honesty of your conversation, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that both Nanami and Higuruma would walk through fire to keep you safe.

“So…. What do I do now, then?” You questioned with a soft smile, trying your best to extend an olive branch.

Their intensity faded, giving way to sheer relief as Nanami exhaled softly, and some of the tension left Higuruma’s shoulders.

“I’d like for you to stay here, at least for a little while,” Nanami responded gently. “This house is safer than almost any other place in Tokyo.”

Higuruma huffed into his wine glass, “I think you’re vastly underselling it, but I agree. My place would be the other option, but it’s in the middle of the city, and I don’t think it’s safe for you to re-enter Tokyo just yet.”

You looked down at your coffee-stained clothes and then back to the two men, trying to figure out how to ask what you’d do about basic necessities. Nanami caught on to your dilemma quickly, and he simply smiled and waved his hand. “Oh, don’t worry. One of the guest rooms is already fully set up and we can have anything you need brought in tomorrow.”

“We’ve caused you enough stress,” Higuruma acknowledged with an apologetic smile. “I can easily speak for both of us when I say that we’d like to take good care of you while you’re here.”

The lamplight reflected off his dark eyes, which were slightly hazy from the wine. You blushed and swallowed nervously at his words; your frustration had evaporated, leaving you painfully aware of the feelings you still harbored toward both men.

“You’re to treat my home as your own while you’re here,” Nanami added softly. “Ino and Yuji will keep you safe if we have to step out during the day, but both Hiromi and I will be here all night, every night. We will do everything in our power to resolve this matter and keep you safe.”

The two men shared a pointed look before turning back to face you. Higuruma and Nanami gazed at you with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“It must be obvious by now that both of us… care for you,” Hiromi murmured, his black eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “If you allow us, we want to make up for our mistakes. We want to care for you- honestly, we’d both like to spoil you rotten.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Nanami nodded in agreement. “We both just want to see you safe and happy.”

“Thank you. I feel much better now with both of you here,” you murmured, desperately trying to keep your voice from shaking.

It was true. You did feel much better, but you were also completely exhausted from the day's harrowing events. Your body had held so much stress and tension over the last few hours that almost every inch of your skin hurt.

Hiromi noticed your discomfort, frowning slightly. “Kento, let’s save the rest of this for later. She’s beyond exhausted.”

“How about a hot shower and some sleep?” Nanami suggested softly, and you nodded in vigorous agreement.

“That sounds lovely.” You murmured wistfully, already imagining how the hot water would soothe your aches and pains.

Without further fanfare, Nanami and Higuruma got up to escort you from the office. Your legs were wobbly from sheer exhaustion, but you managed to stand and follow the two men without any major issues. As they led you through the house, it was empty; everyone else had either gone home or had long since gone to bed.

“This will be your room, and the one next to it is mine. Hiromi is on your other side, and my son sleeps across the hall,” Nanami said with a smile, gesturing at each door in turn. If you need anything, please let one of us know.”

“I will,” you murmured, returning his smile.

Both men studied you carefully in the dim lighting. They seemed reluctant just to leave you alone, but Hiromi finally broke the silence rather awkwardly. “Er, well, I can only think of one more thing you’ll need to know. We wanted to give you clean clothes to sleep in, but we don’t have many women around… Anyway, we both left you a few choices that should be comfortable enough.”

Hiromi’s voice was raspier than usual as he looked to the side and scratched his head sheepishly. A light flush had spread across the lawyer's cheeks if your eyes weren’t tricking you in the dim lighting.

“Ok….?” You said tentatively. Part of you questioned his reaction, but the tired half of your brain just decided to go with it.

“Good night, then. We are glad that you arrived safely.” Nanami whispered with a small smile as the two men headed off to their respective rooms.

Unsurprisingly, the room they had you staying in was no less beautiful than the rest of the house, but you were far too tired to inspect it thoroughly. All you cared about was the large, soft bed and the attached bathroom as you opened the door, threw off your clothes, and immediately jumped into the shower. The warm water felt just as good as you’d thought, and the spacious bathroom was stocked with any luxury product you could ever need. When you were ready to get out, your skin felt soft and wonderfully pampered.

You still didn’t fully realize why Hiromi had been so sheepish until after you had toweled off and stepped back into the bedroom. A small, multicolored mountain on top of the dresser caught your eye, and you audibly gasped when you realized that it was entirely made up of men’s clothing. There were luxuriously soft sweatpants, pattered pajama pants, socks, hoodies, and many different styles of well-loved T-shirts, all laid out for you to choose from. Honestly, there were enough clothes in the pile that you could easily have pajamas or comfortable loungewear for an entire month.

Eventually, you decided on a pair of lovely knit socks, some soft grey sweatpants that were clearly from Nanami’s wardrobe, and one of Higuruma’s old law school shirts. It was almost unfair; the clothes smelled like a perfect mixture of the two men. A heady blend of leather, aftershave, tea, and tobacco clouded your senses, and you blushed, realizing that you’d be wearing their clothes and nothing else since you had no clean underwear to put on. As you dressed, a shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn’t from fear; no, this was a shiver of pure need.

Both Higuruma and Nanami had been recurring visitors in your dreams for many months, and you had only grown more desperate to know how they’d feel and how they’d taste. You wanted to know if they’d be rough, pressing you into the mattress with deep, almost brutal thrusts, or if they’d be slow and sensual, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you with their tongues and fingers, making you beg to feel their cocks. Maybe they’d switch between the two, or maybe they’d want you on top. Honestly, you couldn’t even tell what scenario you wanted more.

Your desire for both men had grown to the point where they were all you could think about. No porn quelled your appetite; no erotic novels brought you relief from the deep-seated desire that throbbed deep in your core and refused to leave for hours at a time. Honestly, you felt like it was driving you insane. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost swear the two men sent you into some kind of feral heat because you were always obscenely wet every night, nearly sobbing in frustration as your pussy begged for something more than your own fingers.

You’d tried overstimulation, erotic ASMR, vibrators, plugs, and even lube meant to replicate cum… literally everything you could think of. You tried to stuff your aching cunt full of every toy imaginable, desperate to find some relief, but nothing truly worked. Sure, you’d eventually orgasm, but it was never as satisfying as you needed it to be, and it did nothing to sate your desire. If anything, it was like only being able to swat at an itch instead of scratching it outright.

Tonight was even worse than usual; the way Nanami and Higuruma had been so protective of you earlier had only added fuel to the fire. You clenched your thighs together in sheer desperation as you slid into bed and slipped your hand underneath the waistband of your—no, Nanami’s—sweatpants with a whimper.

“Both of us care for you…. We want to spoil you….”

Their earlier words rang in your ears as you slid a finger through your folds teasingly, biting the swell of your lower lip to stifle the next pitiful whine that escaped. Your poor little clit was already throbbing, so puffy and sensitive that you had to turn over and bury your face into the pillow as you circled it with your fingers. The men you had fantasized about for so long were literally on either side of you as you touched yourself to thoughts of them, and you could only pray that you were being quiet enough-

There was a single, sharp knock on the door before it cracked open, catching you right at the moment your fingers slid into your soaked cunt.

You could hear Hiromi’s muffled voice, his tone urgent as he asked, “Are you okay? We heard you cry- oh.”

Two sets of footsteps entered the room and approached you on the bed as you slipped your hand out from between your legs, threw the sheet over your head, and prayed to somehow evaporate on the spot.

“Is there something you want to tell us, sweetheart?” Nanami rasped, voice low and thick with barely restrained lust.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy,” Hiromi purred, drawing another whimper from your lips. “We want to help you.”

You babbled an incoherent mess of words into the pillow, and Nanami slowly pulled the sheet back from your body. He hooked a thick finger under your jaw, gently pulling your face away from the pillow.

“Need you to use your words for us, darling.” The blonde man murmured.

“‘M so sorry… just need it so bad. Please, I need you both.” You sobbed shamefully, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you clenched your thighs together in desperation.

Something instantly snapped in both men. You felt the bed dip behind you as Nanami crouched down to pull you into a searing kiss. Hiromi slotted himself between your legs, pulling them apart, and you whined desperately against Nanami’s lips as the man between your legs pressed his gorgeous, hooked nose directly against your still-clothed cunt.

Higuruma inhaled deeply, luxuriating in the scent of your arousal as he growled and cursed under his breath, “Fuck, she’s so goddamn wet already.”

Nanami sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping it lightly with his teeth as you moaned again, completely lost in your desire. Hiromi licked greedily at the damp patch of fabric that separated his hot mouth from your cunt, shoving his face even further in between your legs like he intended to devour you through the fabric of Nanami’s sweatpants.

“Ngh, ‘Romi,” You whined against Nanami’s lips as you kissed him sloppily, drawing a deep chuckle from the blonde.

“What about me, hmmm?” He teased. “If he gets to taste your pretty little pussy, what do I get?

Nanami trailed his lips across your jaw and down the corner of your neck, licking and biting at your pulse point before making his way up to coo against the shell of your ear, “I think I have an idea.”

You had never been so aroused in your entire life. All you could do was lay there as Nanami stepped away to undress, and Hiromi pulled you backward. He ripped off your clothes and coaxed you to your hands and knees, stroking your back and sides and whispering hoarse praises as you forced your jelly-like limbs to support the weight of your body.

As soon as you had all four limbs solidly planted on the bed, Hiromi’s patience snapped, and he lurched forward, sinking his tongue into your dripping cunt. The lawyer moaned shamelessly against your folds as he explored every inch of you with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your labia before reaching forward to stimulate your puffy little clit.

“Kento, she tastes so fucking good.” He groaned, leaning back to kiss and nip at the pillowy, soft skin of your inner thighs. You shook above him, back arched in pure hedonistic bliss as Higuruma devoured you like a man starved.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Hiromi wrapped his hands around your hipbones, encouraging you to thrust back against his eager mouth. Nanami groaned at the sight of the raven-haired man devouring you as he returned to the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and your eyes fluttered open again. Suddenly, you were treated to the sight of the tall, blonde man completely nude and kneeling in front of you.

Moonlight shone through the window, once again illuminating Nanami Kento's form, and your mouth went bone-dry. Sure, you had noticed how broad his chest was and how his suit jacket clung to his form, but now you could watch the way his muscles rippled and flexed with every move. Certainly, nothing had prepared you for the massive, golden dragon proudly inked over his entire right arm. It started at his wrist, wrapping up and around his shoulder to bare its fangs in a ferocious snarl across his pectoral. Your gaze trailed further down, past defined abdominal muscles to where his erection stood proudly against his belly. It was certainly larger than average, but what stood out the most was how thick his erect cock was.

You whimpered, and your cunt throbbed around Hiromi’s tongue as your gaze traveled to the swollen tip that was already starting to leak pre-cum. The raven-haired lawyer pulled back from your thighs, chuckling hoarsely, “I think our pretty baby likes what she sees, Kento. You should’ve felt the way she just squeezed me like a damn vice.”

Nanami’s large hand cupped your jaw, stroking it with his thumb as he leaned down and pulled you forward into another bruising kiss. In doing so, he accidentally pulled you forward and away from Hiromi’s mouth, causing him to growl in displeasure.

“Don’t worry, we’ll learn to share,” Nanami whispered against your lips, trailing his hand down to palm your tender breasts. “Are you going to let me feel that pretty mouth, sweetheart?”

“Please…. Wanna taste you.” You nodded rapidly, already almost salivating in anticipation as the golden-haired man rose and shifted his hips forward. Without any further encouragement, you licked his swollen tip, swirling your tongue around it to taste the heady musk of his pre-cum. His thick cock twitched, and Nanami groaned your name softly, guiding his shaft towards your plush, kiss-swollen lips with one of his hands.

You greedily sucked the thick tip into your mouth with an audible pop as Higuruma continued to torture you with his tongue and clever fingers, still completely drunk on your taste. Nanami cupped your cheek with one of his large hands before moving that same hand into your hair, entwining his fingers with the strands. From the look of intense concentration on his face and the way his abdomen twitched, you could easily tell that he was fighting the desire to sheath his cock in your throat all at once.

“Fuck, sweetheart…. you have such a perfect mouth,” Nanami groaned hoarsely, reflexively tightening his grip on your hair.

You moaned around his cock in response, causing even more of the thick shaft to slide in.

“Perfect, hah, beautiful…. Divine.” He growled more praises as you slowly took more and more of him until, finally, you nuzzled your nose against the coarse, honey-blonde hairs that trailed up from the base of his cock.

You had never felt so perfectly and deliciously used as Nanami began to thrust his hips shallowly, sliding his thick cock in and out of your throat. Hiromi’s clever fingers kept circling your engorged clit in the most delicious way, and you launched higher and higher into ecstasy between the two men.

The band of pleasure in your stomach began to tighten uncontrollably, causing you to moan and drool even more. You could actually hear how aroused you were as Hiromi drilled his fingers into your soaked cunt, easily rubbing against the spongy spot that had you whining like a bitch in heat.

“Please cum, baby. Need to feel you cum.” Hiromi groaned reverently, almost like he was praying. He reached down to squeeze the base of his own cock hard, trying to keep from cumming in his pants.

“You're doing so well for us. Please, sweetheart.” Nanami joined in as his thrusts became shaky.

You wanted to tell them that you would, that you were trying, and that you were so close to the best orgasm you’ve ever had…. but you didn’t even get to finish the thought before your bliss hit you like a falling star, sending you shattering over the edge into hedonistic oblivion.

You cried out around Nanami’s cock, soaking Hiromi’s face in your arousal as your orgasm was ripped out of you. A shaky curse tumbled from Nanami’s lips as he felt his swollen balls clench hard. As if you’d started a chain reaction, thick ropes of his cum filled your throat, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered Higuruma’s hoarse cry as you greedily swallowed every last drop of Kento’s cum.

After a few minutes passed, Nanami gently pulled you off of his softening length. He held you against his broad chest, pressing reverent kisses to the top of your head and whispering praises against your skin. Hiromi remained pressed against the mattress for another moment, left completely spent from his own unexpected orgasm, but eventually, he slid up behind you, pressing kisses to your shoulder blades.

“Beautiful girl, you did so well for us,” He murmured hoarsely, allowing you to slide into his arms as Nanami passed you over and slid out of bed to run the three of you a bath.

You looked at him with eyes half-lidded in complete exhaustion. “‘Romi, didn’t get to make you feel good,” you fretted.

“Oh, but you did,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to each of your eyelids. “You tasted so good that I came in my damn pants like a teenager.”

—

After that night, you rarely went more than two days without warming the bed of one or both men. True to Nanami’s word, he and Hiromi spoiled you rotten with anything you could ever want, and both men quickly became excellent at sharing you. You lightened up their lives in a way that did not go unnoticed by those around them, but the three of you hadn’t yet discussed what would happen with your relationship when you were entirely safe and able to return to the city. The uncertainty weighed heavily on your mind for a few weeks, and you finally decided to ask the two men.

A few nights after you’d made up your mind, the opportunity to ask presented itself when the three of you went to the onsen late at night. Both Nanami and Hiromi used the spa and the attached bathing facilities almost religiously, finding it an excellent way to relax from the stress of their day. Like other Yakuza, their tattoos barred them from entering any public bathhouse, so they simply built their own far away from prying eyes.

“Ken, Hiromi, I’ve got a question for the two of you,” You murmured, slipping into the warm water of the sizeable, man-made hot spring.

Higuruma chuckled, pulling you close to nibble the shell of your ear playfully. “This could be trouble,” he teased, passing you to Nanami, who chose to press a soft, affectionate kiss to your cheek.

You smiled at the two men, lightly smacking Hiromi’s arm for the quip. He growled at you playfully, surging forward to chase you around the small pool. Eventually, he caught you and tossed you over his lithely muscular back like a sack of potatoes, giving you a perfect view of the black, swirling Oni mask tattooed across his skin.

He returned you to your rightful place between him and Nanami as the blonde man scoffed at him, although both of you knew the stern dragon secretly loved your antics.

“You were saying, sweetheart?” Kento asked pointedly.

“Mhhmmm,” you nodded slowly, “I… I wanted to know what’s going to happen when it’s time for me to return to the city.”

Both men looked at each other pointedly, just as they had on the night your relationship actually began.

“Well, we’ve been discussing that, actually,” Hiromi started with a small smile. “Kento and I have concluded that it’ll be beneficial for the Kintatsu-Ikka and the Kageakuma-Kai to officially rejoin forces.”

You stared at them blankly, “That’s good… I think?”

“Yes, it is,” Nanami murmured smoothly. “Funnily enough, we both seemed to conclude that most important alliances are forged through marriage.”

“And we aren’t planning on marrying each other, so, naturally, the best option would be to find a willing third party to act as a proxy.” Higuruma grinned at you.

Tears of joy pricked at your eyes, “You know…. if you’re asking me to marry you, you may want to ask in slightly less legal terms.”

Nanami slid up behind you, pulling you back against his muscular chest. He leaned down to kiss your shoulder reverently, cradling your body as if you were the most precious jewel.“Then allow me. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Hiromi grew more serious, but his smile never faded as he knelt in the water in front of you and cupped your hand in his, “And I would also like to ask for your hand in marriage. Let us make you the happiest woman in the world, darling.”

You pulled both men in to embrace you as tears of pure happiness rolled down your cheeks, splashing into the steaming water. “I love you both so much.”

Nanami and Hiromi wound their arms around you, completely interlocking your body with theirs.

“There’s one more thing you’ll need to know, love,” Nanami murmured next to your ear.

“Oh?” You purred.

“If you agree to marry us, there’s a certain…. competition we will need your help with.”

“And what would that be?” You asked curiously, glancing between the two men.

Nanami gently reached his hand to trail over your lower stomach, and your breath caught in your throat as you realized what they were about to ask.

“We want you to give both of us children, darling,” Hiromi husked, roaming his hands over your body, “But instead of planning who will go first… we want it to be a surprise.”

“You want to see who can get me pregnant first?” You asked in a daze. Both men inhaled deeply at your words, and you could feel them start to harden against you almost instantly.

“We’ve both seen the way you dote on the babies who visited the cafe… and the way you look at baby videos on your phone with that soft little smile on your face,” Nanami murmured, “Yuji could use a sibling or two… Just say the word, and we’ll give you a baby of your very own.”

Your face flushed hotly at the idea of growing round and full with their children, and you had to bite your lip to stifle a whimper. The three of you could likely fill this spacious mountain mansion with children, and you knew that Hiromi and Kento would make the perfect fathers. They both knew when to be stern versus caring, and they’d protect their family with their lives if needed.

“Fuck, you’ll be such a pretty mommy,” Hiromi groaned, palming the swell of your breasts in the water. “We’ll get to see these all full and heavy…”

“If I say yes…. Can we start now?” You ask breathlessly, drawing a hoarse laugh from Nanami and a pleased grin from Higurumua.

“I think it’d be a shame to waste any time,” Kento said, picking you up bridal-style and carrying you from the pool deck with Hiromi hot on his heels.

–

In no time at all, you were lying on your back in Nanami’s spacious bed with both of your future husbands hell-bent on bringing you to the pinnacle of bliss. You’d already cum twice, and now Kento was sprawled out between your legs with your knees hooked over his shoulders, softly lapping at your clit as Hiromi kneaded your breasts with his clever fingers. Every so often, the lawyer leaned down to pop one of your hardened nipples into his hot mouth, sucking on the bud until you cried out.

“Ken… ‘Romi, nnngh, it feels so good….. too much,” You whined desperately at the blissful almost-pain of overstimulation.

“C’mon, baby. Make another mess for us, yeah?” Hiromi begged shamelessly, leaning up to kiss you deeply. He swirled his tongue into your mouth at the same time Nanami swiped his tongue across your clit, and you saw stars, wantonly moaning into the kiss.

Nanami repeated the movement with his tongue, and your hips bucked off the bed, but the strong man simply pinned you back down with a growl that made your clit throb.

“Darling, darling, fuck- so beautiful. You can do it,” The raven-haired man praised you desperately, and your back arched off the bed as your clit throbbed pitifully. Every nerve ending in your body lit up at once as your orgasm ripped through you, causing you to shudder between the two men.

Nanami pushed himself off the bed and back onto his knees as he wiped the visible traces of your arousal from his chin and licked them from his fingers, smiling down at you in a manner that made you shiver with anticipation.

“We’re going to fill you up now, darling,” he purred roughly, “One of us is about to get you pregnant, so what do you say?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you mumbled over and over as Hiromi turned you over and laid you against his chest, making sure your legs were hooked over his. He palmed his erection between your legs, using his fingers to coat his thick shaft with your arousal before slowly sliding you down onto his length.

You moaned in tandem with the raven-haired lawyer as he bottomed out inside you. He was only slightly less thick than Nanami, but his cock was beautifully long. The swollen tip greedily rubbed against your cervix, almost pleading for it to accept his babies as Hiromi tipped his head back, panting heavily. You had to claw at the sheets on either side of him to keep from moving your hips.

“C’mon, Ken… ‘s not easy to stay still.” Hiromi groaned.

Nanami chuckled roughly, positioning himself behind you and threading his legs over Higuruma’s but under yours. “Baby, do you remember the word if we need to stop?”

You nodded frantically. “Please… I remember; just please, Ken.”

With another long groan, Nanami positioned his swollen cock next to Hiromi’s, doused himself with lube, and very slowly began to push in. At first, it felt as if you were being completely split in half by the two men. You were well past properly aroused, but the intense stretch of taking two thick cocks at once simply took time. Fortunately, both men were more than willing to be patient.

“Good fucking girl,” Kento moaned as he finally sank all the way in, his balls resting against your plush ass and his cock nestled directly on top of Hiromi’s as they took you at the same time. You sobbed against the dark-haired man’s chest, and he cursed loudly in return; the pressure and heat and delicious friction were almost too much for everyone involved to last any proper amount of time.

Nanami began to slowly thrust in and out of your core, which was now soaked with a hedonistic mixture of your cum, a generous amount of lube, and the pre-cum from both men. Every thrust sent him rubbing against Hiromi’s cock, creating delicious friction for both men and giving you the overwhelming feeling of being obscenely full.

Miraculously, the three of you managed to last another three minutes before you came unbelievably hard, convulsing between the two men as your vision turned white. As soon as your core began to flutter around Hiromi and Kento, both men were gone. They each came with a hoarse cry, painting your womb white with their combined seed as your cunt greedily milked it from their swollen balls.

Eventually, the two men slowly recovered their senses, but you were still absolutely floating. Hiromi pulled out of you first, motioning to Nanami to keep their cum tucked safely inside you. The blonde did so happily, gently keeping you plugged with his cock and fingers until the other man returned with enough clean pillows to prop your hips up properly. After sorting out your positioning, they quickly cleaned themselves off and returned to your side, ready to spoil completely rotten you once you woke up.

“Oh, and may the best man win.” Hiromi lazily jabbed at Kento, who simply scoffed with his own satisfied grin.

“The way I see it, we both already won.”

Tagging some friends: @pseudowho @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty @unoriginalidea @cindyneko-strider @markleeisdabestdrug @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @akiiireix @tojispookiebear @dangoank0 @ifuckinghateschool @barryatsumu @voids-universe @mahgyu @themoonmonologues @byul9158 @starlitnotes @makingtimemine @mischiefmanaged71 @galactict3a @dreahmdere @mirrors-musings

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torialefay · 3 months ago

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I feel like Chris would be the type to say 'you're my baby' too in the bedroom *bites fingers*

I 100% think Chris likes to be called 'daddy' in the bedroom too but not in an age-play or dd/lg and just use it as a 'term of authority/endearment' like you would with 'Sir'.

WHY??

Because that man is on TikTok's all the time/ has a tumblr account/scours through bubble messages and there's the INFAMOUS channie's room.

Chris knows stays call him 'daddy' and he has had YEARS to go online and say 'hey pls don't call me daddy, I'm uncomfortable with it' and he HASNT??

Plus now that he's pushing 30- I wouldn't be surprised if he starts leaning into the 'daddy' vibe more because he knows stays will slurp it up.

He's one unhinged day away from making an entire stadium beg for him.

Chris is one insomniac deprived night away from commenting 'good girl' on Bubble- I just know it.

there is absolutely NOTHING anyone can tell me to make me think chris wouldn't 100% eat it up when you call him daddy.

but i don't think he'd ever explicitly ask you to call him that... at the beginning.

the first time he hears it, he's been fucking himself hard into you. he didn't think things could get any better, but then you lose your breath and call out for him. "daddy," you breathe. and at that very second, he loses it. like literally loses it. heart jumps out of his chest, totally consumed with how you'd just responded to him. he didn't think his dick could get any harder, but suddenly, he's gripping your waist so he can push you down onto him, gripping so tightly that he's leaving bruises. he's a groaning mess, his face looking angry. as he heaves, he throws his head back.

any more and he knew he'd lose it. but he couldn't help wanting the high that he got from listening to you call him that name. "say it again," he'd say, trying to act tough when you could tell there was a subtle whine in his voice. he wasn't going to hold it together.

you smiled a little before a soft moan left your mouth, the scene in front of you becoming too hot to bear. "yes daddy," you panted, watching the way his face contorted as the words came out.

he let out a low growl, any anger he had in his body now channeling into you. a few more pumps and he was quickly going to cum. "ahh fuck fuck fuck-" he'd yell before quickly pulling out. as soon as he was, cum began shooting out onto your stomach. he groaned as he continued to rub his cock until everything was out and resting on top of you. all he could do was shut his eyes, trying to take everything in.

"everything okay?" you giggled, finding him cute all flustered.

"yes baby," he let out a deep sigh, opening his eyes. "i need you to keep saying that... in the future."

"keep saying what, daddy?"

tldr: he loves being called daddy and idc what anyone says. he leans into that "father figure" role these days bc he knows what he's doing. he wants to be OUR daddy, and by god is he giving it to us 🥵🥰

#torialefay asks #bangchan #bang chan #chris bang smut #chris bang #bangchan smut #skz smut #skz #stray kids

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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Maybe a drabble in which our Lamb meets Chimaera Reader, the maker of all crowns? Like, he stumbles upon their lair, and sees all types of the crowns, big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed, etc.? Maybe even a little inter actions between the Reader and the Red Crown in which it recognises them as their maker?

Sorry for my English, it is not my native language-

Also sorry if this request repeats, tumblr May have doubled it-

I swear I'm gonna turn this into an OC one day because I LOVE the concept of a crown maker in the COTL universe

........

'Where am I now..?' Lamb pondered as they stepped into a cavern--one most unfamiliar to them.

It was strange, considering they've scoured nearly every corner of the Old Faith for resources, potential rival cult activity, and even martyrs for the Bishops.

But this area was entirely new to them.

With their weapon drawn, they cautiously ventured further inward, eventually arriving into a larger room that was almost entirely cloaked in darkness. They could barely see a thing even with the few torches scattered around lighting the way.

Then suddenly, they saw a bunch of eyes opening up on all sides of them, varying in shape, size, color, and number. And they just stared down at the little sheep.

While they were accustomed to having so many eyes on them, this was completely different.

These eyes certainly didn't belong to any follower of theirs.

What if this was a trap?

What if-?

"Welcome, little Lamb! Promised liberator of the Old Faith!"

Looking upwards, they could see you descending from the darkness. You looked like a tradition chimera: a lion, goat, dragon, and snake all mixed into one. Both of your heads smiled as you took a seat upon your throne, although you frowned a bit upon realizing how poor the lighting must have been.

"Oh forgive me, it is awful dim in here, isn't it? Hold on one moment." Your lion head breathed out a small blast of fire, aimed towards a nearby candle that lit up.

That set off a chain reaction which lit up dozens of other candles around your lair, and burned the torches bright enough for Lamb to see what all those eyes belonged to:

Crowns.

So many crowns.

Big and small, black and white, one-eyed and two-eyed..and even multi-eyed; some sported horns and some did not. Others had bare surfaces while others were decorated with jewels or marred with scars from time.

It was an astonishing sight, and when Lamb looked back up at you, they could see a crown on each of your heads--snake tail included.

Not to mention your seat was adorned with four familiar ones...

"So you..take crowns from fallen gods?"

"Do I take them?" You repeated, before laughing uproariously. "No, but I can see why you'd assume that. I'm [y/n], Maker of the Crowns."

They blinked. "You created the crowns?"

"I have since the first gods ruled over these lands." You chuckled, taking the Green Crown into your paw. "I mold them into a design of my liking, give them life, and then send them off into the world to find a worthy host. They're like my children, so I do get sentimental at times...but I know they'll do great things."

'Huh...Leshy did say the crown found him..' Lamb mused.

"Of all the ones I've created, though, I never thought to see the Bishops' crowns again. But they were in such terrible condition...falling apart, barely able to keep their eyes open....I couldn't believe it." Your gaze shifted down to the sheep. "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?"

They tensed. "...well...um-"

"Haha! I only jest, Lamb. I know everything." You smiled reassuringly. "I've sensed strong spikes in their energy, and I'm well aware they've been used as aids for the bishops after Narinder's betrayal. Speaking of whom...."

Pausing, you outstretched your paws towards them. "I see the Red Crown has found a new master."

"It's a long story, but--hey!!" All of the sudden, the Red Crown slipped out of their hands, morphing back into its normal form as it began floating up to you. They were shocked and angered, feeling extremely vulnerable without it. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing, little one. It came to me all on its own. Welcome home, my darling." With the crown nestled into your paw, your smile grew as its eye stared back up at you with happiness. You sighed and brought it closer to your cheek, allowing it to nuzzle up to you. "Oh how I've missed you, mighty crown of Death. I'm glad you have not forgotten me."

"Give it back!!" Lamb snarled, baring their sharp teeth as they tried storming up to your throne. But their little hooves kept slipping on the skull pile that served as its foundation, and they eventually tumbled downwards, landing on their rear. "I need it back right now!"

"...are they always like this?" You muttered to the Red Crown, who just rolled its pupil in response. "Huh, I thought so. Arrogant, entitled, paranoid....just like your first master-"

"Don't compare us." They scowled. "Narinder was worse than arrogant...he would have destroyed this entire world, along with you and all these crowns if I returned it to him! We are NOTHING alike."

"Hm, I see I've touched a nerve. My apologies. I just wanted to take care of this little chip in its horn." Smiling, you manifested some black ichor to seal the crack you discovered on the crown, before sharpening up its horns a little bit. "There. Much better."

"....thank you. Now may I have it back?" Lamb put their hand out, growing more anxious with each passing second they were separated from it. 'Why isn't it returning to me?"

"It doesn't see why it has to right at this very moment...and quite frankly, I don't either. It's not connected to your lifeforce. You're still standing without it-"

"Because I'm its new master! I gave it new purpose. I gave it freedom...and it should be obeying me unconditionally and I don't understand why it's being so stubborn. That crown wouldn't be anywhere NEAR as powerful if it weren't for-!!"

"Choose your next words carefully," you tutted, shaking your head as you gestured to the walls. "My children do not look it, but they too have ears."

Falling silent, they looked all around, noticing that the crowns were now glaring at them. They tensed up, a feeling of heavy discomfort and embarrassment washing over them as they slowly realized how childish they were acting.

And in front of the crown creator, of all people?

"Tell me..do you see the crown as nothing without you? Or perhaps you feel like you are nothing without the crown?"

"........"

"Your mistake, little lamb, is that you see crowns as simple tools to do your bidding. A conduit for your godhood. But do not forget, they are also living breathing creatures like you and I." You chastised. "As such, they deserve respect. I figured you would've been more grateful to meet their maker...such few have the privilege to enter my lair and receive such a warm welcome."

The Red Crown bobbed up and down in agreement, before it scowled down at Lamb, as though to say "you better listen to them and treat me better".

They just looked at the ground, unable to form words as shame creeped up their spine.

You sighed softly. "I understand your worries as a new god. The mere thought of separation from it drives you to rage, especially after what happened between you and Narinder. But I have no desire to take it from you. Not when you've fought so hard for it. All I wish is that you continue caring for it."

"....I'm sorry, Great Crown Maker.." Lamb muttered, finally letting themselves be humbled. "I don't mean to act like I did. It's just...he's been annoying me all day today, shouting about "divine right" and making my life a living hell. He still can't accept that it chose me over him.."

They felt the familiar and comforting weight of the Red Crown returning to the wool atop their head, but they only looked up at you with respect. "Thank you."

"Of course, young one." You nodded, smiling once more. "Narinder has possessed that crown since he was a wee little kit, so it's going to be quite a long time before he lets that grudge go. Perhaps in a hundred years, give or take."

"I understand...so.." Lamb looked around. "Do you have any wares?"

"Oh, plenty!" You clapped your paws together. "Feel free to take a gander! Since this is your first visit, you may have one of the tarot cards over there on the house. But just know that the crowns aren't for sale."

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl lamb x reader #cotl lambert x reader #platonic

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if-whats-new · 9 days ago

Text

Meet the Team!

Who are we?

Just a few Interactive Fiction enthusiasts who love sharing their interests with the rest of the internet!

But we're also:

-=-

Heyo! I'm Aj (she/her)

I got into IF through the app called Choices way back in 2017 and since then there was no turning back. It wasn't until last year when I got into text-based IFs. A friend on tumblr reblogged 'Defiled hearts', it caught my interest and here I am deep down in the trenches of IFs.

Listing my favourites isn't an easy thing cause there are so many I love. So I will list some that have been on my mind for a while: Infamous, Press Play, College Tennis: Origin Story, Drink your Villain Juice, Golden, The Golden Rose, Our Life Now and Forever, We Wretched Creatures, TWC , The Lonely Shore, Blood Choke and Midnight Sun.

I mostly help out with finding IF news and game updates in the wild.

-=-

How you doing?!? I'm Bex (she/her) *on hiatus

I started my journey with Voltage (now Love365) and dating sims or Otome games on my PSP Vita *sheds a tear*. I honestly don't know how I came upon IF, but I fell in love with Our Life: Beginnings & Always around 2021?

My favourites? Hmm, currently it would be: Love and Leases, Adoriel's Tears, The Abyssal Song, Keyframes, Our Life 2 and a bunch of Kickstarters that I can't wait for!

Personally, I'm married with no kids! And I work full-time as an administrator. Boring, I know.

In regards to the Zine, I normally do the formatting. Basically taking everything the peeps have found and putting it all into the Zine. I try and write some of the Highlights and try to dabble in the Editorial (if my work doesn't get edited).

-=-

Hello!!! This is Briar! (she/her)

I am one of the interviewers!

I got into IFs this year, and boy, my eyes were opened, and I got so obsessed that I decided to write my own (The Mighty Shifter). My personal favourites are TWC, Infamous, God-Cursed, and Viatica.

I am a uni student who is studying English literature. What else...? Have an amazing day/night!

-=-

Hey, hi and hello! I'm Dion (they/he)

I started my journey into IF through Episode, but due to poor non-female MC representation, I soon began to look for something else. My friend then introduced me to text-based games through The Wayhaven Chronicles and Mind Blind. I've been going deeper down the rabbit hole since!

I'm literally majoring in interactive media. IF is my life now, send help. (/j)

Some of my favourites would be: Mind Blind, Shepherds of Haven, Reanimated Heart, Seven days in purgatory, Chronicles of Taldun: The Remainder, seekL, LLLLL (aka LATEX, LEATHER, LIPSTICK, LOVE, LUST) and a lot of the stuff DOMINO CLUB does. (There isn't only IF, but that's what I usually go for. Definitely check them out if you're into creepy indie stuff!)

I'd call myself the jack of all trades concerning the zine. As of now, my main job is to be the social media guy and to do the different exports (playable Zine, Tumblr, PDF/.txt). But I also help out with news-searching and compiling + editing stuff for the editorial, column, highlight, letter and thanks portions.

-=-

Hey all, this is Jenn (she/her)

I am a youth sports coach (fútbol, softball, basketball) based in Los Angeles. I am in the process of applying for a master’s program (Sports psychology).

I did write and code a couple of IF games but never finished. I am a perfectionist and I couldn’t publish something not up to my standards. I started reading IF a couple years ago and I couldn’t possibly name my favorite. Some of the most memorable IFs are: The Exile, TWC, Crown of Ashes and Flames, Infamous, WWC, Zombie Exodus: SH, The Golden Rose, The Fernweh Saga, and Crown of Exile. I can definitely add more…

Basic responsibilities: Scouring the internet for IF news and frequently updating our existing database. I honestly enjoy the challenge. On a good day I can find upcoming IF titles and newly released demos. It’s so exciting to find new IF because I know someone will eventually see the same potential I do in that new IF.

-=-

Ssuuuupppp, I’m Sir tuskhany (He/Him)

I am one of the lovely interviewers who’ll be asking questions, you know grilling fellow authors on their IF, WIPS and favourite characters. The usual. As to why or how I started, I gotta say its cause of books and great authors like Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson. And their respective series wheel of time and basically the whole Comsere universe. I tried following in their footsteps writing a few books of my own. But like every writer most of these ended up being WIPs I either abandoned or stopped. Still I didn’t let that stop me and started posting some of them, I am the writer of Borne of the sands a static webnovel with a few chapters and Dusk and Dawn my current ongoing project(Still a work in progress so forgive the grammatical errors. T-T).

My favourite series are the Keeper of the Day and Night, Infamous, Wayhaven Chronicles and Blood Moon.

The current story I’m working on was inspired by these however most of my inspiration came from static or interactive cyoas like the Slayers v4, Supernatural Investigator, Demigod v4, A Traveller!s Tale and Universal War. If you haven’t heard of them please give them a go they are amazing.

Have fun and stay posted!

-=-

#the Team #if-whats-new #interactive fiction #new short intros

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teethondafloor · 1 year ago

Text

Bill Kaulitz x gn!reader ~ Taking off Bill's makeup after a show.

________.✮.________

Year : 2006

Summary --

You and Bill have been best friends for over three years now and are completely inseparable. You two are partners in crime, ready to mock and poke fun at each other any chance you get, and even more ready to comfort each other right after. Tonight, the band happens to have a gig in your hometown, where you and Bill first met. You attend the concert and text Bill after, thrilled by the band's electric performance, when Bill has other plans in mind...

Bill Kaulitz x gn!reader

Cute friends to lovers arc

Warnings --

basic fluff (touching, kissing, etc)

Note --

This took me way too long to write but IM SO EXCITED TO POST IT AA. this is my first tumblr fanfic (I'm sadly a wattpad user) so sorry if it's bad :D

________.✮.________

{{y/n}} : dude! That was awesom! You rocked!

{{BILL}} : I hope. My throat hurts lol. Where r u?

{{y/n}} : headin home. U?

{{BILL}} : WTF no! I want to c u b4 u leave!

{{y/n}} : cope. Where r u??

{{BILL}} : backstage dressing room. I can sneak you in!

{{y/n}} : I will get caught!

{{BILL}} : no! I am comin for u. Where r u?

{{y/n}} : at the exit doors :P.

{{BILL}} : STAY.

{{y/n}} : OK.

________.✮.________

Standing near the exit doors of the venue, I wait for Bill to emerge from his post-show hideaway as I look around the empty room, which just moments ago was overflowing with screaming fans. I gaze up at the dim lights above, now painting the room in a slight yellow wash which my eyes peer at weakly after standing in the dark for almost 3 hours. The air-con is blasted through the room, the cool air brushing up against my bare arms and slapping me in my face momentarily as it passes me and continues lingering around the room.

After spending some time taking in my surroundings, I snap out of my thoughts and feel the hair on my arms rise, reacting to the cool air circling the area. At the other side of the room near the stage, I hear a sudden rummaging sound coming from the corner, casted with a dark shadow. I squint my eyes a little, wondering if it's Bill that's making all the noise. From the loud clanks and banging sounds, I can tell that the person is struggling through their journey. Must be him, I smile to myself. I slide my hands into my front jean pockets, continuously glancing over to the security who are stood by the doors, surprised that they don't hear the ruckus. I look back at the noise, which now grows fainter as I hear soft footsteps tiptoeing into the concert venue.

As I hear this, I notice a tall, dark figure slowly emerging from the dark corner, the black fog lurking behind it. I smile and take my hands out of my pockets, knowing that its Bill from his giant spiky hair sprouting from his head, which is the first thing I see as he steps into the room. He takes a few light steps closer, just enough to keep himself hidden from the security guards scouring around the area. As he comes closer, his face is lit up by the soft lights above us, making the ends of his dark hair glow beneath the light, and revealing his wide smile as he sees me at last. He's so bad at sneaking around, I scoff gently.

Not wanting to be seen by the employees, Bill stays behind the stage and out of their sight. I look up and see as he nods to the ground beneath him, signalling me to walk over to him. My eyes widen and I look over to the security, trying to communicate to Bill that I can't just walk up to him without being stopped. A puzzled look washes over his face and he bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. I point at the watch that's tied to my wrist, knowing that the doors will soon close for the night and I will be kicked out of the building if we don't hurry. Bill looks down at the ground before turning back to me and nodding, determined to get me backstage with him. At once, He runs back into the black void behind him, leaving me alone in the room again. I inch forward a little, wanting to run after him, before I stop myself, trusting that he has a plan.

One of the security guards at the doors notices me when I shuffle forward and calls to me form afar. "Excuse me, we need you to leave right now." Shit, I think. I freeze up for a second as he calls to me, glancing over to the corner for any sign of Bill one last time. Agitated that he fled, I look down at the floor and back at the guard. "Yeah sorry, I thought I lost something." I lie as an excuse for my long stay. Just as I'm about to take my first step towards the exit, all of the lights in the room shut off by the click of a switch, the dark swallowing everything and everyone in the room. All of the sudden, I hear firm and heavy footsteps running towards me from the opposite side of the room. Before I can even put my other foot on the ground, the footsteps are cut off and I feel as someone grabs my hand and pulls me, running back with me latched onto them. As I feel their hand in mine, I instantly know it's Bill, his many bracelets which cover half of his forearm rubbing up against my wrist as we sprint ahead and disappear behind the stage. The security guard is left clueless when the lights shut off, and speaks to the black void, only getting the sound of his own echo in response "...did you find what you were looking for? Excuse me?..."

________.✮.________

With a tight grip on my hand, Bill leads me into a tight alleyway, between the back of the stage and the dressing room which he climbed through before. The space is shielded from any light and trashed with clutter from previous bands performing at the venue. We giggle as we stop before walking through it. "Hey" he says with a smile, huffing from laugher. I can tell he is facing me, even in the complete darkness that surrounds us. "Hey" I say, lightly breathless from the excitement. We both peer through the tight gap, trying to spot an obstacle to look out for from afar, however, the shade absorbs any object inside, turning them invisible. I hear Bill turn to me again, his breath on my forehead. "Follow me, come on!" He giggles as he lifts up our hands which are still in a warm clasp. "Go!" I whisper whilst still laughing, nudging him forward playfully. Bill starts taking long and cautious steps through the alleyway, hesitating a little when he hits any object beneath us. I follow his lead, being cautious myself. I run my hand across the wall as we walk to keep myself balanced. Halfway through the black tunnel, I hear as Bill kicks an object at his feet. Still walking, I bump into his back, causing me to flinch a little. "Dude. what is it?" I whisper to him. I hear Bill rummaging gently through the junk with his feet, clearing a path for us to walk through. He laughs "I don't know, it scared the shit out of me" We both try and hold in our laughter and continue through the gap.

As we reach the end of the alley, a streak of light peers through a crack in the wall, revealing some of the junk that is spread out on the ground around us: Magazines, cigarettes, a white laced bra....I turn my head to the back of Bill's as I speak. "What is this? your sex dungeon?" I say, smiling with sarcasm in my voice. I hear Bill scoff and smile. "If it is, it's definitely not mine." We both giggle quietly. At last, we reach the end and I step back as Bill lets go of my hand and starts messing with the crack in the wall, which to my surprise, turns out to be a secret doorway to the venue's dressing room. He pushes on the heavy object which blocks the doorway, sliding his fingers under it, trying to shuffle it to the side. Seeing him struggle, I step forward and push the object forward to help, successfully forcing it out of the way.

Before stepping into the dressing room, we take a minute to catch our breaths; I lean on the wall next to me, and look at Bill as he pants. We lock eyes and burst into quiet laughter, still a little breathless. "I need to see this stupid fucking room" I say, smiling. I step away from the wall and finally enter the dressing room. The overhead lights gleam, almost blinding me as I step in, forcing me to raise my hand and shield my eyes from them. I look around, never had been backstage of a concert venue before.

A faint smell of cheap makeup and pungent nail polish lingers in the room, the sharp chemical scent burning my nostrils as I inhale it. I admire the lit up mirrors lined up along the wall, covered in stickers left behind by other musicians however long ago. Bill's and his bandmates' belongings are spread across the room, creating a small pile of clothes and bags on a large bean bag, pushed into the corner of the room. "Where are the others?" I say, referring to his bandmates. I turn my head to look back at Bill who steps into the room with his head titled down, before looking around the room himself. "They're at some party right now." He slides his hands into his pockets.

"They went without you?" I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, knowing Tom would not leave him out like this. "no no...I didn't want to go...I don't even know where it is, and I'm exhausted." He says as he stretches his arms out gently. "Dude!" I exclaim "We could've went there!" I punch him on the shoulder playfully, causing him to shoot his hands up to his face in defence. "You can go! I'm not going" He says with a judgemental look, teasing.

I hover around the room and view the splash of graffiti on one of the walls, seeing the signatures of hundreds of bands and musicians from the past, piled on top of each other into a barely legible scribble. "How did you even find the sex dungeon?" I'm still looking at the wall when he takes off his leather jacket and throws it at me without warning, as he says with a smile "I got bored waiting for Gustav to set up." a look of surprise bursts onto my face as I catch the jacket in my hands, which I then throw onto the pile with the rest of their junk, laughing.

"So, how do you like my dressing room?" He gestures his arms, showcasing the space and waits for my response. "You are really living the life here...I mean damn. "My eyes follow the walls, stopping to observe the space again. I raise my eyebrows. "You can't help but make it a shithole though." I say sarcastically, picking up a pair of boxer shorts I saw hanging from a chair next to me. He gasps and laughs, stepping towards me and snatching his boxers from my hands before throwing them onto the pile in the corner. I snicker when I see his red cheeks, blushing furiously from embarrassment as I infect him with my laughter. "Shut up! They're gonna hear us in here!" He whispers with a smile stretched wide across his face, still blushing. He walks over to me and gently grabs me by my shoulders, shaking me to stop me from laughing. As he holds me, I put my hand up to my mouth, covering it and muffling out the sounds of my giggles. I then push him away playfully, to which he steps back. "Stop touching everything, you're gonna break something." He whispers in a joking tone.

"Especially not your trunks." I huffed from laughter. Bill blinks slowly, visibly annoyed from my teasing. "I'm serious though, don't break anything because they'll make you pay for it." I notice how he avoids my eyes and tries to change the subject. "Oh come on...I'm not that clumsy. They should make you guys pay for trashing this room so bad." I smile. He looks down, smiling at my comment, his red cheeks growing fainter.

Bill walks over to the vanity across from us, cluttered with his makeup and endless hair products. He sits down, adjusts himself on the chair slightly and looks into the mirror, which reveals a tired face, caked in makeup and hairspray, looking back at him. I walk over to him and sit on the counter next to the mirror, kicking my feet which hang from the tall surface. I take a moment to look at him, as the vanity's warm lights glimmer in his eyes.

"The concert was unreal." I say, breaking the thin silence between us. "I'm glad you came back to play here. You're everything anyone talks about round here since you got so famous." I look over to him, rubbing my arm that is propping me up on the table. I feel a little bitter-sweet about Bill's fame. On one hand I am so proud of what him and the boys have accomplished, in like what...a year? It's insane. Though, I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss just hanging out. Being able to sit for hours and do nothing together. They always have something to do now, with no time to sit in the moment. The guilt of this pools inside me. It makes me feel like a brick wall that's cutting him off on his path. My biggest fear however, is Bill not knowing how to break down this wall, quietly tolerating my burden instead. "Really? I noticed so many people from school there, I really didn't want to fuck up." He says, now looking up at me with his head resting on his palm. "I'm pretty sure I saw Leon all the way at the back, poor guy got pushed out of the crowd." We laugh.

"As much as I like traveling around and playing, this feels better. I can't explain it." He smiles as he begins to stumble over his words. "I don't know, it only feels right to perform here you know?" He looks to me.

"Nah I get you, and we're glad you did." I smile at him and my eyes are suddenly drawn to his eye makeup, now rubbing off on his cheeks after every blink. "What?" He says and quickly turns to the mirror, now seeing his smudged eyeshadow. His eyes widen in shock, seeing how messy he looks after a show. "Dude, you look insane." I burst out laughing, placing my hand over my mouth as I holler. "Shut up!" He groans, laughing with me "I'm too tired for this".

I control my laughter and wait a moment before nudging one of the chairs at the vanity with my leg, sliding it closer to Bill. I hop onto it, now directly facing him. "Come here." I say. He turns away from the mirror as I grab a dry cotton pad from a pack on his desk and drip some makeup remover onto it, watching it absorb the chemicals. He inches towards me, pushing his hair away from his face to help me, and closing his eyes slowly as the cotton pad touches his cheek, working away at his pale foundation. We sit in silence for a few seconds, enjoying each others company while I scrub at the cosmetics, washing away the excitement and fatigue of the long night that has soaked into it. "Did you really want to go to that party? We could still go if you're desperate." Bill says quietly, breaking the silence.

"Nah..." I whisper "I'd rather be here with you." when my hand grazes over his face, I feel a thin smile spread across his cheeks when he hears my words. He peers at me with his eyes half shut and backs away a little. "Look at you being all sappy..." he smiles.

"Shut up and give me your face." I say, taking a hold of his jaw and pulling his face closer to my reach. He lets out a short exhale, charmed by my boldness. I run the cotton pad across his face, quickly rubbing it over his lips playfully. He smiles again now with his teeth. "That was so on purpose..." He says with his eyes still sealed shut. "What?...no.." I say sarcastically.

After dirtying the cotton pad with his foundation, I grab a second one and move up to his shadowed eyes. "Keep your eyes closed...I need to sort all this out." I scoff, laughing as I poke fun at the mess painted on his eyes that has now somehow travelled up to his eyebrows. I take the pad and a wet wipe for good measure, massaging his eyelids. He swallows quietly "I've really missed you" he says out of nowhere. A little stunned, I continue cleaning him. "Me too." My tone suddenly shifts and you can hear a faint sadness in my voice. "I'm sorry I've been going away all the time, I would take you with us if I could..."

"Don't worry about it...I'm always back here if you need me anyway."

"Well I...don't want you only when I need you, I want you everywhere with me." I'm shocked by his sudden sentimentality, not really knowing how to respond since our usual way of showing love is by bullying each other until one caves in. "I know I know, that's not what I meant." I reassured him.

"I know, it's cool." he whispers "You know...sometimes I wish we wouldn't have to travel for so long, I've missed this." he pauses "Y/n...what if I stay?" He falls quiet, waiting for me to say something to fill in the silence. I look to him, a subtle face of worry crossing my face as I pull myself together. "Dude, stop." I say "Don't be stupid, this is...a crazy opportunity. Getting to travel around Europe and sing, that's nuts....don't let me hold you back...please."

"You're not "holding me back" y/n-"

I cut his sentence short "But what if I am? And you're just not realising it?...I don't want to be that." I blurt out.

"What?..." He opens his eyes, takes me by my wrists and holds me, preventing me from moving. His eyes glare at me. "No...don't do that. You're not in my way, do you understand?" His tone turns more agitated, worried that I'm giving myself a hard time because of his absence. A sudden silence falls between us like a transparent wall piling up and separating us, numbing me to his touch. This time, I'm not the wall. "Have you been worrying about this while I've been gone?" he looks to me hoping I'll say no, but already knowing the answer before the words leave his mouth. "Yeah...a little....a lot." I correct myself "You can't blame me though...I don't see you for weeks, sometimes even months. I know that's not your fault, but I'm allowed to be upset." I say, standing my ground.

"I know, it upsets me too." He lets go of my wrists and slides his hands down to mine, gently holding my hands with care. He smiles softly as he holds me, rubbing the top of my right hand with his thumbs, which makes both of us smile. We take time to comfort each other, acknowledging how hard the situation is for the both of us, yet we pull through. "Well you're here now." I sigh "You're stopping here for a while I heard, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we're taking a break here until we tour in the East." He says "And I'm glad I'm spending it with you." His eyes admire me as he speaks. I shift my hand a little, making him let go, and I return to his smeared eye makeup.

"So how's life without me at your hip?" He smiles as I exhale and roll my eyes, teasingly. "Better than ever." I say, with a sarcastic tone, making Bill gasp. "School's ok I guess, it's a teensy bit more bearable than last year at least." I take a short pause "...I won a writer's award two weeks ago..." I hold my breath as I wait for the buckets of Bill's compliments and praise to flood the room when he hears of my accomplishment. His eyes shoot open and his neck tilts forward in awe, his lips apart. "Are you kidding? That's amazing y/n! Why didn't you tell me??" He pushes me lightly on the shoulder.

"You expect way too much of me..." I shake my head and smile.

"I knew you would win! I told youuu..." he makes sure to rub the fact that he believed in me in my face before congratulating me "Well done, I'm really proud of you y/n..." He gazes into my eyes and gently places his hand on my knee. I observe his movements and quickly glance away, smiling. "Ok you can shut up now."

"Never. How can I when I'm being taken care of by a future author! Maybe I'll let you write my biography when you're as famous as me ;)" He teases, knowing I don't know how to handle compliments, yet he never fails to praise me anyway, just so I know. "Ok enough! Fine, I'm... proud of myself too I guess!"

"That's the spirit!" he taps my knee lightly, taking his hand away and resting it back onto the arm of his chair. I smile and shake my head, a little flustered from his admiration which, I hate to admit, I secretly love. "So how's tour so far? Are you eating well?" I ask with nurture in my voice as gratitude for his compliments. "Of course I am...you care way too much." He smiles.

"And you're right." I reply, playfully.

"I love that you care so much...even when you pretend you don't." His voice quietens.

"What does that mean?" I scrunch my eyebrows at his words.

"I don't know...you're just so...thoughtful. You always know what to do and say and-"

"Yeah right." I smile, a little overwhelemed by the flood of compliments. "Thanks though, I really do try my best."

"And that's enough for me." He whispers, his cheeks turning a faint pink. "You make me good...or feel like, at my core, I am good. I love it." without teasing or poking fun at him for once, I let him spill his emotions out onto the table where we both can see . I sit and listen, gently wiping his eyes with care. "It's so hard to leave you here, stuck in this village. It's so hard to not hear you laugh and sing and dance beside me... It's so hard not to love you for all thise things" I feel his tender fingertips brushing against my knee as he talks, slowing my pace. Before I can reply, his other hand shifts to my second knee and he holds it delicately. "Bill..." I whisper, with a little confusion but an unexpected sprinkle of excitement rushing through me. he bites his lip, pondering what to say next and trying hard not to stumble over his words. He opens his eyes and gazes directly into my mine, seeing all of me. He takes my hand. I feel butterflies nibbling on the walls of my stomach, their fluttering wings tickling me as they desperately want to flee and touch and love. In the moment, I don't know if it's wrong to feel so much love and desire for him, this ravenous craving that eats me from inside. I can only do what feels right, and so I let the butterflies feed.

He swallows gently "I want to care for you just like you do...I want to..." His hand raises to my face, holding me and caressing my cheek with his thumb in small circles. My hand laches onto his wrist gently, weak to his tender touch. The room falls silent, the only sound in the room coming from the lights above us, buzzing, humming on one note to our intimate moment. "Can I..." His voice fades out slightly and cracks from nervousness. "Can I kiss you?"

His words ring in my head, bouncing off of my ear drums and into my throat, leaving me speechless. I hold him for a while, our hands sharing each other's warmth through touch. I glance down at his lips that are slightly open, breathing in the little air between us; inhaling the glass wall that not moments ago parted us. With desire and lust, my eyes look back into his, and I nod gently. He takes a second to process this, before cupping my face in the palm of his hands and pulling me closer to him, until the wall turns to paper and our lips are inches away from each other. As I close my eyes, I feel his plush lips on mine, sharing our sweet taste. The butterflies in me settle when we collide, and the walls around us feel as though they are caving in, trapping us in each other's arms. As he holds me, I feel cared for. Safe. Warm.

He kisses me delicately and then again with more passion, before pulling away to let me breathe. As he leans back, his mouth curves into a sweet smile, his lips now stained with my light lipstick. I laugh as I notice his red tinted lips, stained with my evidence. I take his hand again, locking my pointer finger with his. "Looks like I'll have to clean you up again..."

"What a shame..." Bill whispers sarcastically, a wide smile pulling apart his rosy cheeks, now matching his lips.

________.✮.________

Tysm for readingg :)) <3 this was so much fun to write

I'm currently working on a 12 part Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader fic on wattpad and I've published the first part!

teethondafloor on wattpad

Zuźka

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puzzleglum · 1 month ago

Text

I wrote a theory for the webcomic The Glass Scientists almost 2 weeks ago. Originally posted in the Disqus comment section underneath last week's update. Before another new page drops on Monday, I figured I might want to share it here on Tumblr, too! If only for my own satisfaction in archiving.

Some small parts aren't quite relevant anymore, I think, but we'll see whether the conclusions hold up, soon. My best guess would be within the next update or two. In the meantime, enjoy!

*******

THEORY TIME!!

I’ve stayed awake one night early last week thinking about what Jekyll could possibly be planning, thoughts swirling. And I think I figured out a solid possibility. Before I get to that, though, I first want to lay down ALL the pieces that brought me to my conclusion. Every piece of supporting evidence I could think of is here.

(Warning: this got pretty long.)

EXHIBIT A:

Whatever he’s planning has to deal with all of what he talked about here:

I want to pay particular attention here to Jekyll conflating his own reputation with that of the Society. In his mind, the two are inseparable. And for good reason, but I’m not about to summarize the whole comic’s events. My point is, his plan HAS to save his, and by extension, the Society’s reputation somehow.

And it doesn’t matter WHAT it takes. He was willing to lock Hyde away (for a few weeks, mind) to save the Exhibition and the Society, after all. SOMEONE had to take the fall for the street fire. He didn’t want to have to do this, but he was pushed into a corner.

Now, his first plan, when his form became unstable and the sudden transformations started, was to go to his office and search for a spare potion he missed. But that plan is right out the door, cause he scoured the entire place:

Now he’s pushed into a corner again, with the WHOLE Society at stake. If the public finds out Jekyll’s secret, they’re both ruined.

And now?

Only a matter of time until the world finds out his secret.

Time for EXHIBIT B:

Jekyll’s plan, I think, is unlikely to be an Un-Hyde potion of some sort. He didn’t even know how the original potion worked exactly! And since he doesn’t have any of the old potion left, he probably can’t make a modified version of that either. But, if he still had SOME of the ingredients left, but not all, perhaps he could make a different sort of potion. Perhaps.

But my main point is that I don’t think Jekyll’s plan is a potion to get rid of Hyde. I also think it would be too convenient if he suddenly figured out how to make an Un-Hyde potion that works. On a narrative level, it would be too easy. That’s not his plan. No easy outs for our dear Doctor.

EXHIBIT C:

We know there is going to be a moment that will reflect this chapter’s cover. Sage told us so!

Right here, at the last sentence:

Obviously, it’s not going to be a literal parallel. It’s more about intent, I think. Jekyll is going to do Something, and that Something is NOT going to be good for Hyde. But, and this is key here, it’s not going to be good for Jekyll, either.

They both go down together. I can’t stress this point enough. Jekyll is not planning on coming out of this unscathed. But, remember, his plan HAS to save the Society’s reputation somehow. The world can’t know the truth.

(EDIT: my thoughts on the details of the parallel have evolved since. Now I think it will end up being a lot more literal than I initially thought. See this reply I wrote for more details on that. The key point of this Exhibit remains the same, however.)

EXHIBIT D:

This page feels like Jekyll is saying goodbye, somehow. Not only is he not coming out of this unscathed, I get the strong sense that he’s not planning on coming back at all. Clearly, he doesn’t want to do this. But he feels like he HAS to, for the sake of the Society. He’s resigned to it.

Someone has to take the fall.

Now, you’ve all been reading my reasoning thus far, probably wondering where I’m going with all this. Don’t worry. I only have three exhibits left, and then I will try to bring it all together. Thank you for your patience. I mean it.

EXHIBIT E:

Remember this very interesting bit about how Jekyll and Hyde’s mindscape works?

And a moment later, Hyde’s inner monologue says this:

“Only, I have a funny feeling that, once I went all the way down, I wouldn’t be able to find my way back up again.”

You may or may not already see where I’m going with this. :)

EXHIBIT F:

Remember this tweet by Sage? Since I first saw it a year ago, I’ve never forgotten it.

Now, I’ve seen different people theorize whether this is Hyde or Jekyll in Hyde’s body. Well, I’m going to make THREE (hopefully reasonable) assumptions:

1: This is Hyde, not Jekyll in Hyde’s body.

2: This panel will take place in THIS chapter, the one we’re still in, or early in the next.

3: Hyde’s distraught, despairing expression is caused (at least in part) by whatever Jekyll did. His plan.

(There is one more assumption I could state here, but I’ll save it for later. Keep this panel in the back of your mind for a bit if you want.)

And for the FINAL, EXHIBIT G:

Remember the trick Hyde used to force Jekyll to take control again? Forcing a transformation?

And now, remember THIS PAGE?

It’s probably safe to assume that this, too, works both ways. :)))

And NOW? I’ve run out of exhibits! Well! Well well well!!

(This panel is not relevant, I just wanted to use it. :D for fun!)

(Also, thank you so much to anyone who’s read this far?? Seriously! This thing is way longer than I planned!!)

My theory is that, quite simply, Jekyll is going to sacrifice himself to save the Society. To save his reputation, and thus, the Society’s.

I don’t think he can get rid of Hyde. But he doesn’t have to. He just needs to preserve his secret, because nobody in the overall public can know that Jekyll and Hyde are the same.

And in order to do that, his form needs to be stable. Remember Exhibit A? The big secret is in danger because he keeps transforming back and forth with no volition. Well, he’s got a solution for that.

Jekyll just needs to let Hyde take control. Permanently.

How? By going into the deepest parts of their mindscape, forcing Hyde to be at the front. Never to be seen again, never to return. His secret will disappear with him.

In order to “stabilize” their form, their body, and stop the sudden transformations, Jekyll doesn’t have to get rid of Hyde. He most likely can’t. But he can get rid of himself. He can certainly try, at least.

If Hyde will never stop fighting Jekyll, then he just needs to let him "win."

More than that, he can let Hyde take the fall for his own disappearance. Remember the will Lanyon found?

Lanyon straight up thought Hyde was blackmailing Jekyll because of this!

Picture it. In the public eye, if Jekyll disappears, or thought to have been murdered, and it looks like Hyde’s fault, that’s just unfortunate! Jekyll would simply be an innocent victim! Hell, the public might be inclined to show the Society sympathy because of it.

No secrets revealed, no ruined reputations. Hyde goes to prison, and that’s that. The Society itself is saved. All at the cost of both Jekyll and Hyde. And a good leader would do whatever is necessary…right?

The End.

This is Jekyll’s final, desperate gambit. And that’s my theory.

One final bit. See it as an afterword!

Lanyon seems about to rush in and try to stop Jekyll from whatever he’s doing in the office. But me, I think it’s already too late.

When he runs in there, all he’ll see is Hyde, and, perhaps, a broken mirror.

(That’s the other assumption I’m making about the panel with what’s supposed to be Hyde picking up glass shards. Just picture the drama of it all!!)

AND THAT’S ALL, FOLKS!!! Thank you for reading!!! :DDDDD

I’d love to hear what others think! What did I miss? What do you agree, or disagree, with? Feel free to tell me all of it! I love discussing what might happen next!!

EDIT: There is now an Addendum to this theory where I clarify some things I plain forgot to when I first posted it. PLUS, there's an EXTRA Exhibit I came up with later! Link to the comment here, in case it might get lost in the replies.

*******

That's where the original post ends! I'd like to say one more thing. I already addressed this in the Addendum, but I'd like to state it here too: this is ONLY a theory for what Jekyll's plan is. That was my intent, anyway.

By that I mean, I think this plan would FAIL in reality, in several key ways. Mainly, I think Lanyon and the others are going to intervene before Hyde would actually get arrested. Together, they may work to find a solution to both bring Jekyll back (if he's already deep in the unconscious) AND to keep their secret safe. I have hope they'd figure it out!

I'm also planning to post a more general thematic analysis of the whole comic, soonish. With a particular focus on the character arcs of Jekyll and Hyde. Look out for that! I'm still working it out, but it should be done sometime next week.

After that's done, I'm going to share my theories for how I ACTUALLY think the comic might end. Cause I sure as heck don't think it will end as I described above.

That's all! Thanks for reading!! :DDDDD

#tgs #the glass scientists #fan theories #tgs theories #tgs meta #webcomics

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musingsofasidechracter · 4 months ago

Text

Image from Pinterest!

*Author’s Note! Please forgive any format issues, this is my first tumblr post literally ever! I decided that if I’m going to scour this site for all the things I love to read, I could contribute as well! Please enjoy the mess inside my head!*

Pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader

Content Warning: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, like two swear words, reader is insecure but the boys make it better!

Missing Piece 🧩

Selfish… That’s the only thing to call this feeling. Because how else does someone describe a feeling of longing when every dream you’ve had for yourself has come true. You were surrounded with love, on every side. Quite literally.

On your left was the calm to every storm life has thrown your way. Your peace, and the only thing you need after anything brings you even slightly down. Your Remus. Your head on his shoulder, one of his hands playing with yours in his lap, attention more or less on the book he was holding. You could feel a chuckle rumble through his chest every now and again, a clear sign he was enjoying the story that Sirius had picked for him.

Oh, Sirius… The man who makes you brave. Who has fought for everything this life has tried to take from him, and who has come out the other side stronger than ever. He makes you feel beautiful and seen. With a lazy smile, or a mischievous glint in his eye, or a rarely serious set of his jaw, he always knows exactly what you need in every moment. Like now, while you show no outward sign of distress, he somehow knows you need a gentle hand in your hair, calmly running his nails over your scalp, in a way he knows brings you immense comfort. He was doing it almost unconsciously, while talking with James about one thing or another.

And James… sunshine incarnate. Always with a smile on his face, his mouth built with a natural upturn. A wicked sense of humor and love to spare. He was so free with the love he gives. Never an hour going by without the words falling from his lips. Like if he didn’t say it enough, his essence would cease to exist. Love shining in his eyes for just about everyone he speaks to. Warmth radiating from him always, like the sun itself. The center of the group you’ve created with these men, pulling you all together. Even now, sitting on the floor in front of the three of you, you notice how your bodies all face him, without a single one of you meaning to do it.

With you in the middle, most people would feel like absolutely nothing could be better… so why, why did you feel so out of place. From the moment you met these three, they have made it clear they wanted you. From that first night out, in a random pub in London…

It was your first true night in your brand new home. You’d moved to London a full week ago, but that was filled with moving boxes, and paperwork, and trying to find the best place to buy all the necessities for your apar….flat… they call it a flat here. Today you opened the last of the boxes that had littered your home, and you felt that was reason enough to celebrate. You called the one person you know on this continent, your cousin, Catherine. She had convinced you to move like she had a year before, and she picked a pub close to you, The Black Dog. You should have known better though, ever the social butterfly, it wasn’t long before Catherine was pulled away by some man hoping to take her home, and you were left at the bar alone. You wouldn’t call yourself an introvert by any means, but a brand new city can be overwhelming enough, and you were content to take it all in rather than dive headfirst into the scene around you.

You ordered your drink, something strong and fruity and moments later it was delivered. It was somewhere between pink and red, in a tall glass, with oranges on the side and cherries sitting on top. You took your first sip, and let out a small noise of appreciation. It was a bit loud in the pub, so you were surprised when the man beside you noticed the sound you made. He turned toward you, smile beaming in a way that almost hurt to look at. You noted then, that this man was like the sun…little did you know how right you were.

”That good, love?” A chuckle fell off of his lips with his words, and you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face. Maybe it was the shots Catherine had convinced you to take before you left for your evening, or maybe it was the smile that was infectious on his face, or maybe it was the confidence you’d decided you had now that you were brave enough to move across the pond, but something inside you made you respond, “Wanna find out for yourself?”

You held out the drink for him to try. The man’s smile (somehow) widened, and his eyebrows shot overtop of the round glasses on his face. He leaned forward, just in your space, and took a sip from your straw. You noted the curly hair then, that sat messily on top of his head and the fact that whoever was sipping from your drink was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. He made a noise similar to the one you had made moments ago and a laugh tumbled out of the both of you. “Seems like it’s that good indeed!” You laugh again at his little joke, sticking your hand out for him and told him your name. “James!” he said in return, but rather than take your hand for a shake, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side for a hug. Warmth spread across your body, and for the first time since your plane landed you felt like your were truly home.

He pulled you across the crowded room, arm still around your shoulders as he lead you to a couch with two other men. The curly haired man at your side introduced you to Sirius, the long haired one with a cocky smirk on his face, whose arm was around the other man, who you were told was Remus.

“Like the werewolf story?” He seemed to pale at that, and had you had a bit less liquor in your system you would have noticed. “Like the story of Remus and Romulus! Well, I suppose it isn’t a true werewolf story, the babies were just raised by wolves…at least I think that’s how the story goes, and then they go on to found Rome, so your name is in good company” His shoulders relax at that, and later you would find out just why those words made him antsy around you at first. He chuckled, and stood to shake your hand. Sirius looked to James, a bemused expression on his face, “Where did you find this little dollie, Prongs?” Remus leans into James before he can reply and said just loud enough for the four of you to hear, “I don’t care where you found her, but I kinda want to keep her.” The boys chuckled at the blush that littered your cheeks, and your night went on filled with these three ridiculously attractive men, that you took no time at all to fall in love with.

You often remember that night. How deeply you fell for each of the three men you had met. Months later, as your friendship grew, and you were made aware that the three were all involved in a romantic relationship, they all came to you to express their love for you as well. They asked you to join their relationship and the rest, as they say, was history.

After a year of being together they shared with your their little secret of magic, stunning you into amazed silence as they used it to make your anniversary the most special thing. Later that night, as you sat in bed with them, basking in the glow of your night together, Remus was in tears as he shared with you his “furry little problem” as the boys would refer to it. You joked that you were in too deep at that point, so even if you had wanted to walk away (you hadn’t considered it for a second) you wouldn’t have been able to leave them. A week later they had asked you to move in with them. James and Sirius both came from money, lots of it you had gathered, and so the home they all shared was more than big enough. Catherine had joked with you that you had scored bigger than she ever could as she helped you to get settled into your new life with the men you loved so much.

Here you were a month later, and selfish was the only thing you felt that you could put into words. Because even though you were the happiest you had ever been, with three men to love you and a life that was more perfect than you could have imagined for yourself, you felt…wrong. Maybe this was just the honeymoon phase wearing off, but you couldn’t help but notice the cracks you felt forming around you. You couldn’t quite explain it, but you felt…other. Separate. You knew you were solidly a part of the group around you, but you felt still somehow on the outside. Like the last book in a series, written decades after the original trilogy. You hated feeling this way, and you hated more that you didn’t know how to fix it. You were on your own in your head with it though, wholly unwilling to bring it up to your lovers, afraid to point out what they seemed oblivious to. What if, once you pointed it out, they wouldn’t be able to ignore it any further. They’d realize how out of place you were with them, and it would be the beginning of the end for you and them.

“Dove, would you care to tell me why you’re crying?” Remus whispered in your ear. You hadn’t even noticed the tears falling from your eyes. “I know Pads and Prongs are droning on about nothing, but that’s no reason to be upset.”

Sirius and James looked up at this, hearing their names more than what else Remus had said. A slightly offended, “Hey” fell from James’s mouth before he caught onto the tear tracks coming down your face. He moved to his knees just in front of you and took your hands in his. Sirius straightened up and turned his whole body towards you, his full attention on you now, the hand that was just scratching your scalp now resting on the small of your back. Three sets of eyes looked at your face, while you were unable to meet any one of them.

“Doll, what the hell is going on?” Sirius’s tone was firm, edging on panic. Of the three of them, he was the most sensitive to negative emotions (thank you very much Walburga Black), and the curse fell from his lips, not out of anger, but agony at seeing one of his lovers anything less than happy. “You’ve been off for a few days, is it all coming out now?” Being that emotionally intelligent was the work of James and Remus over their many years together. While Sirius hated seeing a negative emotion, he was often the one to realize the root of it.

“I…” you didn’t know what to say to these men you loved so much, and instead of words, sobs ran out of your mouth without ever being told they could. The three all but suffocated you with their love. Remus pulled you to his lap and moved to the middle of the couch, making room for James to join you off the floor. Two more sets of arms wrapped around your body, and words you couldn’t quite make out surrounded you. Sweet nothings and words of encouragement, you were sure. Not an ounce of judgement could be felt in the room, and for that thought alone you cried for longer.

Once you were settled down, finally pulling your face out of the crook of Remus’s neck where you had found strength and comfort, you were finally able to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“Nothing to apologize for, love…” A hint of a smile hit your lips at the nickname for you that James had never quite dropped since first meeting you. “We’re just worried for you, but that’s no reason to say you’re sorry. Should… should WE be apologizing…?” That brought more tears to your eyes, though you were able to let them fall quietly this time. You hated that James jumped to something they might have done wrong, as if they could ever be less than perfect to you.

“No! Never, my love. You’ve all been so amazing to me, always…from that very first night. It’s just…” You couldn’t help but notice the way their shoulders relaxed at that, though their attention never wavered off of you. You knew then that you had to come clean. You couldn’t be the reason they felt they were anything less than perfect.

“You’re all so perfect for each other… and then there’s just me. I mean, you’ve all had years together, and you have so much history. Like all the way back to high school, history. And before that! You’ve known each other since you were eleven, and you’ve BEEN together since, what seventeen or eighteen? That’s more than a decade of falling into a rhythm together and then I show up and just… I don’t know why you needed me. I know you love me, don’t get me wrong. It would be impossible not to feel the love you all have. But I just feel like… a piece of a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit…”

The three were uncharacteristically quiet. They didn’t know what to say to let you know how wrong you were. After a full minute looking at you, hurting to see you hurt, it was no surprise that Remus was the one to speak first.

“Dove, can you please… give us an example? I don’t think we quite understand what you mean.” You thought about it. You needed them to see that it wasn’t their fault, that it was you that was wrong. You tried to remove your emotion from it, to use what you thought was logic about the situation.

“Okay…an example… Last week, when that black envelope showed up at the window, and none of you blinked at the fact that an owl was delivering mail at night . James didn’t hesitate to take it and throw it in the fireplace, while Remus walked straight to you, Sirius and just hugged you for a while. I still barely know what that was about. I just sat there wondering why the mood shifted in the room, and the three of you fell into this routine that I didn’t even know needed to happen.

Or every month, when Remus needs some taking care of. I know I can’t go out with the three of you, but when you got back from that night a couple weeks ago from wherever it is that you need to go, you fell into a routine I didn’t know how to join into, again. Sirius grabbed the weird bottles from the cabinet I can’t reach, and James got the first aid kit that Remus always keeps stocked and you went into the big bathroom and took care of what needed to be done. And then you all fell into bed together, and even when you pulled me into you, James, I felt like I had no right be there, and interrupt the way you were taking care of each other.

Or even when we all sleep together in that giant bed… You three had a way of crawling into bed and moulding yourselves around each other, and before it was a fun sleepover, but now that I live here, I’m just interrupting that every night. We have to think about who is next to who and who’s turn it is to be next to who and its just… I’m the difference. I’m the one who disrupts all those routines and the one who doesn’t get the inside jokes and the one who needs to be told how magic works… and I just…” Three sets of eyes met each other and, as if to prove your point, had a silent conversation without you.

“That’s just what I mean!” You stood up, unable to be in between them, cutting them off from each other for a second longer. Your hands dragged through your hair, and down your face as you tried to keep yourself calm while already missing the warmth of the three of them. “You all just had a full conversation and didn’t have to say a single word. I can’t do that with you at all, but you shouldn’t have to explain it to me after the fact…that’s not fair to you. I should just… get it.”

Sirius stood and took a step toward you. You wanted to step away, tell him to go back to the men on the couch, but if you were feeling selfish tonight, then you supposed you could be one more time before they decided you were right. He took your hand and pulled you into his chest, and his next words broke you.

“You’re right…” He felt your body tense, and heard the intake of air in your lungs and was quick to clarify his meaning. “Not about most of that, not about you not fitting, but about a couple of things. The lads and I do have history together. History that we can’t make go away, and no matter how much we might want to it’s history we can’t fit you into. We can’t help that my love… but that and your second right point go well together. We can have a conversation without words, but we’re always more than happy to pull you into that loop. And would you like to know what we were just thinking with one another?” You nodded your head from his chest and looked up at him. He turned to James, who had tears in his eyes at the sight before him, and came to take you into his own arms.

“Shortly after we graduated and we were in our very first flat together,” he said in between kisses to your hairline, “Remus all but had a panic attack. It was terribly tough to see him suffer through some kind of emotion Sirius and I couldn’t understand. He himself found it hard to put into words what he was so upset about. We got him calmed down and when he was finally able to put his feelings into words, the only word he could think of was incomplete.”

You looked to Remus, a question written all over your face and he stood and joined you. You were passed into his arms this time and he pulled you into the crook of his neck again. He started swaying to some music only he could hear, and he spoke low and calm, with some other emotion lacing his voice. “I just felt that we weren’t done yet… the three of us. I couldn’t explain it, and I felt like a right idiot for even thinking it. I was surround by two loves of my life, who gave me every bit of themselves, who I hoped to share every part of myself with, and I felt that, for some reason, part of my heart was still missing. But because, like you said, we’re all so in sync with each other, the moment I could say what was on my mind, they told me they’d been feeling it too.” Sirius wrapped his arm around the both of you, joining you in your sway. He spoke barely above a whisper.

“There is an area of magic called Divination, and witches and wizards hold varying degrees of belief in it, but it looks to the future. A GOOD Seer can tell you what hasn’t happened yet . So James here, decided to call one up. He needed to know if anything was meant to happen that could take this feeling from us away. He felt it too, but he couldn’t stand to see Remus so out of sorts over something we weren’t sure was meant for us. But he went and found something out, that he kept a secret for a long, long time.”

James himself spoke up at this, a cheery, prideful tone to his voice, “Hardest thing I had EVER done, keeping that from these two! But finally the time came for me to spill, on none other than the night I saw a pretty girl in a bar making the sweetest, happiest noises at a drink in her hand. The Seer confirmed that something was missing in our lives. That three was never enough for our group, and that the love we had to spare for each other, wasn’t spare love at all. It was meant for someone else. She described to me… so perfectly now actually. Hang on…”

He left for his office, a room you rarely go in for lack of understanding anything held there. Remus moved you back to the couch, but it was Sirius who claimed you for his lap. He whispered low in your ear, “You’re going to love this next part, dollie…” You smiled a him, a proper one this time. You had a feeling you knew what the rest of this story held but you waited to hear for yourself. James returned moments later and handed you a worn piece of paper. You could tell it had been folded and unfolded many times. He continued this story holding the paper in your hand until he was ready to let you open it.

“The Seer described, and even sketched for me, the thing that was missing from us. I didn’t understand it at all at the time, but all was clear to me that night we met. I felt so drawn to you, from that first little noise you made and the second I saw you, my breath was stolen. I had to drag you over to meet the others, I had to make sure they were as drawn to you as I was. And then that night, after we were home, with the most ridiculous happy tears flowing, I told them what I had done years before and I showed them what you have in your hand…” He let your hands go, and signaled you to open the folded paper. You looked to the three of them, making eye contact with each of them, and in their eyes you saw the same thing: love, admiration, and pure joy. When you looked to the picture in your hands a very different set of tears sprung from your eyes.

A white snake wrapped around a black crescent moon, with stars scattered around it. To anyone else this would have meant absolutely nothing, but to you it shifted the world on its axis. You had gotten this exact image tattooed just under the bend of your elbow during the last week in your home town. Catherine had convinced you to get it, while she had its sister marked on her own arm. A tattoo you had gotten on a whim, to commemorate the changes you hoped to come in your future. You breath caught, and you were unable to form words. It was Sirius who finished the story for you.

“After that night at the pub, we talked about you the whole way home. We all decided we were just taken with you. Your wit, your sense of humor, how wicked smart you are, how well you were able to take our shit and throw it right back at us. We all knew life wasn’t going to be the same any more, and we were all so excited for the change the winds were bringing. And when we heard what James had done and saw the picture of that tattoo we’d spent minuets discussing with you, everything clicked for us. We were half in love with you already, and that just confirmed that we were always meant to have you. So that… that is what you mean. You mean completion for us. Wholeness. We were never done, not until you breezed into our lives. You were the missing piece of us, and you fit so, so right. The rest of it will come with time. We’ll teach you how to help Moony when we get back from the full moon. I’ll explain all the black envelopes I can’t look at to you. We’ll make more inside jokes that anyone but the four of us would never have a prayer of understanding. The magic will become mundane for you one day too. And for heavens sake, the only reason there is a debate on whose turn it is to sleep next to who, is because we’re all so jealous when we’re the one who can’t be right next to you, and Remus says we aren’t allowed to just dog pile on top of you because we’ll ‘suffocate’ you.” You laughed at that, a real one this time.

You looked around at the boys, and noticed how well they had formed around you. For perhaps the first time, you saw it too, how well the four of you fit together. Sirius was right, with time you would have a rich history with them as well. One you would be able to look back on with joy and love in your heart. You met their eyes again, and leaned in to kiss each of them one at a time.

“Thank you for loving me so much. I could never have imagined myself with three different people to love, but now that I have it I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else, and I couldn’t imagine a single day without the three of you to make it better. Thank you for telling me that story. I needed it, my loves. I’m sorry I was feeling some type of way. I really can’t remember why now…”

“It’s okay, dollie, sometimes I cry just for the attention too,” Sirius said with a smirk.

#poly!marauders x reader #mauraders x reader #reader insert #muggle!reader #no voldemort au

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