#I have very low tolerance for that behavior; let me figure out what to do myself; block the other person or myself please | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azucanela · 4 years ago

Note

HI CAN I REQUEST?!? How would Keigo, Bakugou and Shinsou react to their s/o wearing a really low cut shirt, one that shows a lot of cleavage and they don’t seem to have any idea what they’re doing- like they aren’t trying to get they’re attention they just happen to be wearing it. And they like bend down next to them to tell them something.(i feel like this can be partially serious nsfw and partially major crack. 😂) thank you.

REACTING TO S/O WEARING A LOW CUT SHIRT HEADCANNONS + SCENARIOS

[FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI, KEIGO TAKAMI, SHINSOU HITOSHI]

SUMMARY: Y/N honestly didn’t think her shirt was anything special until...

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: mildly suggestive content, innuendos, kissing,

A/N: THIS REMINDS ME OF THE TIK TOK AUDIO THING SKLHDJKAH I CAN’T EXPLAIN IT

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

HEADCANNONS

will not admit it but he is appreciating everything he can see

katuski doesn’t seem like the type to drink respect women juice but he does, he drinks too much, thats why he DESTROYED uraraka in the sports festival, katsuki thinks everyone should get destroyed equally

if anyone at any point decides to point out that he is staring, katsuki is gonna commit death and will not look at you for the rest of the day, like he is avoiding you and your gaze no matter what

katsuki is definitely going to be watching everyone else, and one wrong move means he’s gonna blast them to bits sjahjkahdjk, like oh hey mineta? you spent to long even glancing in my s/o’s direction so TIME TO DIE EXTRA

if you guys are out in public and other guys are looking at you then the PDA shoots through the ROOF, Katsuki has his hands all over you and you don’t mind this is abnormal behavior um??

definitely glaring at anyone who looks your way, especially since you aren’t noticing all the attention your lovely outfit is garnering

will compliment you but is shy about it

“you look... nice.”

“thanks katsuki.”

intense blushing from him but he WILL deny it

if you bend down in front of him and give him a CLOSE UP he is going to die on the inside, externally he is going to seem mostly composed, there’ll be a lil blush on his cheeks and he’s gonna try to avert his eyes very quick peak

very quick

would never admit it happened but you’ll know because he’s gonna try and drag you away somewhere more private because it is unfair how flustered you are making him what the hell

then y’all,,,

ahsbdhjhksjdhakjs

you should wear that shirt more often tho like 👀

SCENARIO

Most of the time when Katsuki said he hated Y/N, he didn’t really mean it. In reality, she was one of few people he tolerated, and part of an even smaller group of people that he respected in their school. Also, he may or may not have been in love with her and dating her.

Not that he would admit that, yet.

Watching Y/N enter the room, in a low cut top, revealing far too much, Katsuki realized he hated this woman. His eyes following her figure as she made her way into the common room kitchen, Katsuki could practically feel Kirishima smirk, “what’cha looking at Bakubro?”

“Shut up.” He grumbled in response, tearing his eyes away from Y/N, who had begun to speak with that dumb Deku. Katsuki couldn’t help the jealousy that flooded his veins at the sight, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he attempted to keep his attention focused on the show Kirishima had selected.

In the corner of his eye, Katsuki could see that stupid Grape heading in Y/N’s direction. “Hey! Grape.” He called out, voice low. Mineta froze at his words, eyes widening in fear as he slowly turned to meet Katsuki’s piercing glare. “What did I tell you?”

It was common knowledge at this point, messing with Y/N L/N meant messing with Bakugou Katsuki, and only an idiot would do that. Katsuki had made it especially clear to Mineta that you— along with all the other girls in their class, though he’d never admit it— were strictly off limits, unless Mineta wanted to die a long and painful death at his hands.

Y/N seemed blissfully unaware of the fact that Katuski despises the lovely top she dons as she makes her way over to his spot on the couch, and the eyes on you that don’t belong to him. It seemed you hadn’t just caught his attention today. “Hey, Katsuki.” He’s about to say something in reply when Y/N rests her hands on his knees, leaning down to continue. “I was thinking we could go out today,” Y/N keeps talking, about the possible areas to visit, but Katsuki isn’t listening at this point.

Her upper body is dangerously visible and close to him, and Katsuki is doing his best to avoid staring but Y/N seems to be making that very difficult as she speaks. He’s forced to resort in looking away from her entirely, only to see Kirishima’s smug grin as he snickers alongside Mina.

This is why Katsuki grabs one of Y/N’s hands off his knee as he practically shoots up from his spot on the couch, “yeah. Let’s go now.”

Her brows furrow, but upon seeing the reddening face of Bakugou Katsuki, and Y/N agrees despite her own confusion, “sure, you have somewhere in mind?”

“Yeah, I have something in mind.”

Somewhere was his room, something was Y/N pressed up against the door. Her arms had wrapped around his neck, and she broke away from the kiss he’d initiated to speak, “what’s up with you?” There’s a grin on her face as his own begins to flush once more.

“Your stupid shirt.”

“What did my shirt do?”

“EVERYTHING.”

KEIGO TAKAMI | PRO HERO HAWKS

HEADCANNONS

blatantly checking you out, he has ZERO SHAME, keigo wants you to know that he finds you VERY ATTRACTIVE

“you look so good today babe. i love the outfit.”

always been very big on PDA though his agency and publicist do not approve, during dates he’s less touchy than he wants to be but seeing you in that top he is now 100% with PDA

if anyone hits on you or anything i feel like he’s the type to be a lil possessive because bird instincts, and he will have no shame just making out with you and feeling you up right there in front of anybody who flirts with you, much to everyone’s dismay

if someone points out his blatant stares he gonna be proud of it and be like yeah im looking

there is no blushing, there is no being flustered, yes he is going to be a little caught off guard that you are wearing that type of shirt, but aside from that he is going to enjoy it while it lasts

very much appreciates this opportunity like the perv he is

will wanna find somewhere provide just to have a little bit of fun, because he’s,,, hawks. you can’t tell me he isn’t gonna wanna make out with you or 👀 👀 👀

def most likely to have this happen with, purely because he knows it could be embarrassing for you if he just started making out with you in public, because at this point, keigo does not care

keigo simps and he has ZERO shame, definitely the most perverted, you cannot change my mind

SCENARIO

For once in his career, Keigo had managed to earn a day off, and he didn’t know anyone better to spend it with than his lovely girlfriend, Y/N L/N. Of course, he never expected her to arrive to their little hangout in such a wonderful outfit.

Keigo could not deny that he was appreciating everything. His eyes were wandering over her upper body, brow raised as she approached him, waving. “Hey, Takami!” She greeted, beaming at him.

“Hey, babe.” Comes his response, bringing a hand to her hip to pull her closer, Keigo brought his other hand to her cheek and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You look nice today.” He mumbled when they pulled apart, his eyes trailing over her figure once more, Keigo’s hand remained at her side as he pulled her through the streets.

“You’re very touchy today.” Y/N pointed out, though she brought her hand over his nonetheless, leaning into his touch as they made their way through the crowd.

He could feel the stares on the both of them, and he wasn’t necessarily sure if that was because two Pro Heroes were casually walking through the street, or if Y/N’s outfit was bringing in more attention than she’d expected. Regardless, Keigo didn’t like it. “What can I say, I wanna touch my amazingly attractive girlfriend.”

Y/N swats at his chest playfully as he brings her to an empty table in the food court, eyes scanning the area for something that sold chicken nuggets, that he happened to love. Though Y/N made fun of him for it frequently, referring to him as a cannibal, much to his dismay.

“Well, your amazingly attractive girlfriend,” Y/N pushed him down into the seat at the table, hands remaining on his shoulders as she spoke to him, and effectively giving Keigo quite the... view. “Is going to go get some chicken nuggets, do you want a drink?”

Wow, she’s perfect.

Keigo finds himself nodding absently, distracted by the sight before him as he forces his eyes to return to her face, which dawns a confused look, “yes please, babe.” He sits back in his seat, offering her a smirk.

“You’re so weird.”

“And you are so perfect.”

“Shut up.”

SHINSOU HITOSHI

HEADCANNONS

a respectful boy

does not look if he can avoid it, and if he does look, he is looking respectfully because shinsou drinks respect women juice

definitely the MOST flustered and cannot hide it because wow you look so good and you are his s/o, and oh-

“how do i look toshi?”

“uh,,, good. yeah you look really pretty today- not that you don’t look pretty everyday its just-”

not very big on PDA, does basic stuff like hand holding and will on occasion, kiss you, that’s probably not gonna change

if he gets jealous of all the people checking you out, he’s not gonna say anything, he’s just gonna hope you don’t dump him to go hang out with one them akshdkjashdjksa

gets insecure because this is a reminder of how amazing his lovely s/o is and wow you are just really hot and why are you dating him again? he doesn’t know, he’s gonna need a reminder

if anyone points out the fact that he’s staring at you he might cry kajshdjkahsdkj he’s definitely gonna be embarrassed and start blushing IMMENSELY it’ll be hilarious ngl

not the type to be possessive or jealous or anything

if you two somehow end up somewhere private then he probably will wanna make out with you but he’ll ask politely if he can kiss you and then things will escalate from there

overall a very respectful boy and will not look unless its an accident or explicitly given permission because he is also a very awkward boy please help him

you literally break shinsou with this outfit like he is flabbergasted shocked and simping for YOU

SCENARIO

When Shinsou heard the knock on his door, he already knew who it was. He and his lovely girlfriend, Y/N L/N had agreed to go out together today, and she was meeting him at his dorm.

“Come in.” He called out, leaning down to tie his shoes.

Shinsou heard the door open, and a smile found its way onto his face as Y/N greeted him, “hi Hitoshi!” Moving up to look at her from his seat on his bed, Shinsou is greeted by a shirt he has never seen before.

Oh no.

His cheeks flush as he averts his eyes, “hey kitten.” Shinsou clears his throat, straightening in his seat on the bed, “you ready to go.”

Y/N is grinning at him as she brings her hands to his shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek, “definitely.” This position was not helping him focus on the task at hand.

Shinsou nods slowly, blinking a few times as he focuses his gaze on her face, earning him a raised brow, “right, let’s go.” He moves to sit up, just for Y/N to press him back down onto the bed by his shoulders.

“What’s up with you?”

He falters, mouth opening and closing for a moment as he struggles to find an excuse, “you look really nice today.” Is what he manages to come up with, though the look on Y/N’s face only brings more panic as he continues, “not that you don’t look nice everyday it’s just that uh-” Shinsou makes an odd hand gesture, contemplating ramming his head into the wall as he finally makes eye contact with his very amused girlfriend.

“What makes you say that, baby?” She asks, tilting her head at him as her hands remain firmly planted on his shoulders.

Shinsou finds it hard not to cover his face with his hands as he replies, “your shirt.”

Y/N’s brows furrow, looking down at her shirt as though she’d forgotten what she’d worn that day, only for her face to morph into one of realization as her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. This soon becomes laughter as she looks to Shinsou, “I never expected that from you Hitoshi.”

“I-I’m sorry?!”

Y/N is laughing even more at his words, a small smile on her face as she brings her hands to his face to bring him into a kiss. Shinsou melts into this kiss, hands coming to her waist.

“I honestly can’t believe you actually-”

“I’m going to leave if you don’t shut up.”

“Sure you will.”

A/N: why was writing this so hard AND I MADE A GRILLED CHEESE FOR THE FIRST TIME I FEEL SO SUCCESSFUL

TAGLISTS[lmk if you wanna be added or removed via ask or reply]

BNHA: @shawkneecaps

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

Text

defender (g.w.)

prompt as requested by @a-vintage-kat: in your eyes, there was no tolerance for people who were unkind for no reason. that was one of the many reasons george weasley adored you so much.

paring: george weasley x fem! hufflepuff reader

warnings: harassment (that the reader sets MF straight), mild language (like two words)

word count: 2.2k

“That’s not fair, Georgie,” you laughed as George plucked the book from your hands, holding it above his tall stature. You were trying to enjoy the cool fall weather in the courtyard, reading under your favorite tree before George had disrupted your peace. “Give it here, come on,” you stood up and held out your hand, requesting the leather coated book to be placed back in your hands.

Instead, George placed the book on his head and balanced it as he walked carefully as to not make it fall. He jumped on top of one of the courtyard benches, pretending as if it were a balance beam as he walked its length with the book still perched on his head. George chuckled as you called out his name in protest, him walking further and further away from you.

“Georgie, come on, give it back,” you stood and folded your arms, feigning to be cross with him whilst he giggled around the courtyard, tossing the book in the air now and catching it.

He looked over at you and smiled at the disgruntled pout on your face. “Aw, is my angel upset because her doting boyfriend is giving her a good tease?” he made fun of you as you rolled your eyes, secretly holding back a smile. “You can’t do your work because your dashingly handsome beau is distracting you?” George cooed as he slowly approached you as you threw your head back with a groan in protest. “Give us a kiss,” he puckered his lips mockingly. “Then I’ll give you your book back. Just one little peck and it’s all yours.”

Giving him a hard time, you mad a mad dash in the opposite direction, running away from George. You hear him grumble under his breath with a cheeky laugh before hearing his footsteps not too far behind. You’re being chased now through the courtyard by George, giggling wildly as you run from him. But George’s legs are longer than yours, making him much more agile than you are.

Within mere seconds, you are scooped up into his arms as you squeal. “Gotcha,” he laughs before he drops to the grass, pulling you down with him. The two of you fall onto the lush grass, laugher, entangled in each other as you catch your breaths. George brushes your hair out of your face as you lay on top of him, propping yourself up on his chest. “Hello, gorgeous,” he smiles.

“Hi, Georgie,” you smile back. “My book please,” you reach for the book resting next to him.

But George grabs your hand before you can reach the book. “Ah, ah, where’s my kiss?” he raises his brows as you roll your eyes before smiling. “That’s my angel,” he speaks beneath his breath before grabbing your yellow tie and pulling you down to kiss his lips. You are smiling into the kiss as he tenderly cups your face, inhaling the crispy fall air. You pull away and look into his chocolate brown eyes and melt. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” George huffs as you pull yourself off of him and get back onto your feet.

You brush the grass off of your skirt as George comes back to his feet. “A sight for sore eyes who is not going to finish her reading assignment on time, thanks to you, Mr. Weasley,” you drop your left eye into a wink as George chuckles, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Walk me to class?”

George pulls your hand in his before placing a kiss to your knuckles. “My pleasure,” he tells you before grabbing your bag as you hold your two books in your other hand.

The two of you start down the corridors, making light chatter to each other as you lean into George’s side, smiling widely. There was a certain comfort that George brought you unlike any other. He felt like home, but also like a breath of fresh air. Regardless of the situation, George would drop anything if you needed him and that was reassuring to know that you had someone on your side no matter what. And you were fiercely loyal to him and his family. When it came to fights and drama, you liked to steer clear, not really engaging into animosity. But if it involved your friends or family, you would be the first person to defend them, coming in full force.

It was how George fell in love with you. You stood up for his family when no one else would. Ron, in typical fashion, was getting picked on by the Slytherin quidditch team and in the blink of an eye, you were standing in front of Ron, physically shielding him as you held up your wand defensively at Adrian Pucey’s throat. Your face was red with anger as you threatened to hex him, Pucey immediately halting his taunting as he walked the other way. You had turned to Ron, asking him profusely if he was alright or needed anything. George saw how much you cared for other people, even if you didn’t owe them anything. George admired how you always wanted to do the right thing, even if it put you in harm’s way.

Like now.

As you walked down the hall, you heard a familiar voice taunt someone. You stopped in your tracks and listened carefully, trying to recognize the voices speaking. “You alright?” George monitored your face as it contorted, trying to figure out what was happening. You held a finger to your lips, trying to signal to him to be quiet. But in typical George fashion, he could read the room very well. “What’s going on?”

“Shhhh, George,” you whispered as you let go of his hand, walking down the hall to see the scene before you.

Cornered in the hall was Hannah Abbot, a young Hufflepuff, clutching onto her book, knuckles white as Cormac McLaggen leaned up against the wall next to her. He spoke low as Hannah tried not to meet his gaze. “Come on, Abbot, I see the way you look at me during Potions. I think asking for a date isn’t unreasonable,” Cormac brushed back a piece of her hair as Hannah shifted uncomfortably.

Your blood boiled at the scene as you exhaled through your nostrils like a bull about to crash into a matador. It was quite obvious that Hannah, as she should be, was not interested in Cormac’s prospect, but this didn’t stop him from repeatedly asking her for a date, touching her gently on her face as she cringed. “Hold my books, George,” you growled.

George smiled with delight and anticipation as he grabbed the books from your hand as you pulled your wand out of your robes. George was highly excited to watch you kick some ass. “Glady,” he beamed. “Go get him, tiger,” he pat your bum in encouragement. George followed behind you in case you needed back up, but you usually didn’t in these situations.

When you got mad, which wasn’t often, it was a sight to see. You were usually very sweet and kind to people, but only to those who deserved it. To those who didn't, you became a different person.

“Oi!” you bellowed from down the hall, stomping toward Cormac and Hannah. Hannah’s face instantly relaxed when she saw you coming to her rescue, a relieved look washed over her face. Cormac on the other hand, spun around slowly and gave you a smirk that only made your blood boil more if that was even possible. “Can you not see that Hannah’s not interested in your offer?” you stopped right in front of him.

Cormac smiled at you, mocking you non-verbally. “This conversation doesn’t concern you, (Y/L/N),” Cormac spit as you took another daring step towards him. He took a step back.

You chuckled angrily, “Oh, I think it does. It’s quite clear by her body language that Hannah is uncomfortable. So how about you stop and walk away now before we have a bigger problem on our hands.” The grip on your wand was iron as you glared at McLaggen who just stood in front of you with his arms crossed. “You alright, Han?” you look at your younger friend with a concerned smile.

Hannah walks away from the wall and walks towards you and George, exhaling a held in breath. “Fine now,” she breathes. “Thank you,” she whispers to you before George takes her hand gently and asks if she needs anything before offering to walk her to class to make sure she gets there with no other interruptions.

Now you and McLaggen were alone and you could have your way with him.

“Well, you just cost me a date,” Cormac growls at you as you maintain your position, unafraid of the coward before you.

You lift your wand so it is aimed right at McLaggen’s chest as he gulps. “What I did was rescue a poor girl from your maniacal behavior. You are disgusting, you know that? A proper tool,” you spit at him as Cormac rolls his eyes and dares to try and walk away from you. Cormac takes three paces away from you before you call out with a flick of your wand, “Levicorpus!”

In an instant, Cormac yelps before being hoisted into the air by his ankle at the mercy of your wand. “What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?!” he screams out which soon makes a few students gather and laugh at the scene before them. “Put me down! Right now!”

With a devilish smile, you yell back, “What’s wrong with me? My problem is with you, McLaggen! You never seem to understand when someone isn’t interested. You are gross. Not only for the sake of other’s, but for the sake of yourself, keep it in your pants and hands off, you imbecile!”

Your taunting makes Cormac writhe, trying to get out of the hex, but to no avail. This only makes him look even more stupid, causing the now audience to point and laugh at Cormac which makes him blush in sheer embarrassment. “Put me down now!” he screams out, failing around wildly.

You hold him there for a few more seconds before George appears at your side. He looks up at Cormac’s position as starts wildly laughing. “Quite the pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, McLaggen!” George calls out as you laugh.

“Weasley, tell your girlfriend to put me down!” Cormac writhes again, fighting against the hex and clearly losing.

George wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your temple, pride swelling in his chest. “Eh, I think you should do as the man says,” George looks at you as you give George a twisted look. “Drop him.”

Your face lights up, Cormac protesting, knowing damn well what’s coming next. “Don’t you dare!” Cormac exclaims.

Before he can say much else, you flick your wrist and Cormac plummets to the ground with a thud. The audience before you erupts with loud laughter as Cormac groans in pain before making his way to his feet. “When will you ever learn,” you start, still holding your wand up as a threat, “that you are repulsive.”

Cormac fixes his robes and glares at you darkly as you stand there, triumphantly smiling. “When will you ever learn that you are just a dimwitted Hufflepuff who will never achieve anything short of failure,” Cormac speaks through gritted teeth before spitting at your feet.

This makes George furious as he lunges towards the younger Gryffindor, about to beat the life out of him. But you place a hand on George’s chest and speak simply, “No, McLaggen,” you smile. “I’ll be hot and successful, while you’ll just be boring, stupid, and bald.”

“Bald? What do you-”

“Calvario!” you cry out.

With a flash of green, all the hair disappears from Cormac’s head. His eyes go wide and he pats the top of his head, in shock that his luscious locks were now gone and replaced with a shiny bald top. The crowd is crying with laughter as Cormac screams in horror and runs the other way and towards the bathrooms.

You stand there in victory, relishing in it all as the audience files away, chatter erupting about how funny it all was and how you gave him what he rightfully deserved. George wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him as you started walking down the hall, “You are something else,” he shakes his head as you smile up at him. “I know you can defend yourself, but I still don’t like the way he talked about you and he’s gonna get a personal message from me about it,” George speaks through gritted teeth.

“I think he’s had enough taunting for the day, Georgie. The thought is sweet and although I would love for him to get what he’s owed, it’s okay,” you squeeze the hand that rests on your hip.

George sighs, “I just want you to know that I’m here to protect you as well. I may not do it as well as you, but I’ll protect you no matter what. I want you to know that.”

You smile up at your love and brush his cheek with your thumb. “I do know that, Georgie. Thank you,” you speak as he kisses your palm sweetly, resting his cheek in your hand lovingly. “You’re my person.”

“And you’re mine,” George speaks to you before ducking down to kiss you gently. “Now let’s get you to class before you get yourself into more trouble.”

#Fred and George #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x fem #george weasley x femreader #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine

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titan-fodder · 3 years ago

Text

Prima Vista Part VII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Warnings: dramatics, gaslighting, pining pining pining, drinking, attempted drugging, blacking out, vomiting, Nile and Hitch hook up, did I mention pining, one Greek word (thank you again, @cynnyc .)

It’s nearly ten PM as you climb the steps to the PKA house. The brisk October air makes you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and move toward the door faster. You probably should’ve texted your target first, checked to see if he’s even here, but you’re not about to stand outside and wait for a reply, not when you can just knock and ask a living soul.

It’s Reiner who answers, looking extremely tired with dark circles under his eyes. You idly wonder if he and the other new kids are being kept awake as another stupid fucking hazing ritual, but you don’t really have the time for small talk.

“Erwin here?”

The blond nods and steps out of the way. “His room. Might already be asleep.”

Shrugging, you walk inside, mumbling, “Just gonna have to wake his ass up then.”

Which you do, climbing up to the third story after Reiner tells you which room he’s in now. You knock on the door a couple times and almost feel bad when Erwin answers, clearly rumpled in pajama pants and bedhead.

He squints at you, and you snort. “Sleep before ten? You some kinda nerd or somethin’?”

“What do you want?” He gruffs, voice a little scratchy.

You can see part of the room behind him, looks pretty similar to the one from last year. That had been the only time you’d really gotten a close look into his space, and it had not ended well. You hope this time will be different.

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

Erwin scrubs a hand down his face then rests his head against his doorframe. “I’ll take a wild guess and say this is about Mike.”

You push your lips out in a pout and respond, “Maybe.”

He lets you into his room, catches you off guard when he asks, “Door open or closed?”

“Depends. You gonna come onto me again?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson last time.”

“You can shut it then.”

Taking up the chair at his desk, you watch as Erwin just crawls back under his covers and fixes cerulean eyes on you.

“Why haven’t you been talking to him?”

Something in your stomach flips, eyes growing as you splutter, “I haven’t been talking to him? He hasn’t been talking to me!”

Erwin frowns. “What? He’s been bitching to me incessantly.”

“And, I’ve been bitching to Hitch incessantly.”

Groaning into his pillow, Erwin holds out his hand, and you hear a muffled command, “Give me your phone.”

You do without hesitation, rattle off the passcode then sit and wait as Erwin scrolls through what you assume to be your settings or contacts. The thought that you should be a little scared crosses your mind—you do have some compromising photos in an unlocked folder—but judging by Erwin’s current mood, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except sleeping.

“That motherfucker,” he grunts.

“What?”

“You blocked his number.”

“What?” This time is much louder and panicked. “No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”

He tosses you the device back and gestures in a ‘see for yourself’ manner. “Someone did.”

Your blood begins to boil as you stare down at your short list of blocked contacts, Mike’s name right on top.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You quickly tap to remedy the problem, hands beginning to shake. “I don’t even know how—”

“My money’s on the shitty boyfriend,” Erwin mumbles.

You want to text Mike, but you have no idea what to say. Sorry we haven’t talked in over a month. Zeke figured out my phone password and blocked your number haha. You doubt that would fly.

If you had just come to Erwin sooner, most of this could have been avoided. You don’t know if you’re more upset at Zeke or at yourself.

Zeke. Definitely Zeke. That is some wildly possessive behavior. That’s isolation. The idea makes you nauseous. This is just another instance of him showing what you believe to be his true self. Between all the fighting and grudges, you’re at your wit’s end. Just the other day, the two of you had gotten into yet another argument when you happened to get a glance at the Tinder icon in his app list.

“Why do you still have that?” You’d asked with a frown. You really hadn’t planned on it turning into an ordeal.

“Have what?”

“Tinder.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, right in front of your eyes, he had deleted the app. You saw it, but that didn’t stop Zeke from looking at you with a straight face and telling you, “I think you’re just confused, babe.”

That’s when it turned into an ordeal. That’s when you got defensive and incredulous. That’s when he just kept telling you that you were wrong, that you were just seeing things, and after a good thirty minutes once you were nice and high strung, he actually had you halfway convinced.

Because he always sounds so sure of himself, always makes it so that his word is law. You had doubted yourself—you’re still doubting yourself.

“Jesus, I can’t believe this,” you breathe, leaning back in the rolling chair and staring up at the ceiling. You can believe it, actually, you just hadn’t expected him to sink that low. “What do I even say to Mike?”

Erwin finally pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. Seems like he’s just resigning himself to being awake. “Whatever it is, you should probably talk it out in person.”

“Probably.”

“Might be a little difficult now, though.”

Heaving a sigh, you mutter, “Yeah, I assume he's pretty pissed at me.”

Erwin hums, but his voice comes out a little unsure when he says, “Well, that, but also…”

You're suddenly sitting straight up. “Also what?”

Making a face, the man across from you enlightens you to the fact that, “Mike is kind of seeing someone. I think.”

You blink at him, trying to process what he’s telling you. Mike is… With someone? You feel sick.

But, you shouldn’t because he’s allowed to branch out. You surely did, and you hurt him in the process.

“It, uh… It gets worse.”

Swallowing, you try to hide the lump in your throat when you rasp, “How?”

Don’t cry. Do not cry. You have no right to cry.

“I’m about ninety-nine percent positive it’s Zeke’s ex.”

Every muscle in your face suddenly relaxes, but it isn’t in a good way. Instead of frowning, your brow softens into its normal position. You release the tension in your jaw, the teeth that were just clenched falling away from each other as your lips part. Erwin moves in and out of focus as your gaze becomes blurry, hot tears gathering at your waterline, and now you don’t even try to stop them from falling.

Fucking Rhi. She had been nothing more than an annoyance before, a peppy little annoyance trying to grab your boyfriend’s attention. But, now… Now, you’re ready to fight. Parking lot brawl, throwing fists and pulling hair, and screeching—you want to destroy her.

“Oh.” You sniffle then wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s good. I mean—” a quiet cough, “—that’s good for him. I’m glad.”

Erwin snorts. “No, you’re not,” his volume rises a bit. “So, don’t pretend like you are. God, why are you guys so bad at this?”

You let out a humorless laugh and shrug. “‘Cause I have shitty timing, I guess.” You bite your lip and look back to the ceiling, trying not to weep too openly, but your lungs are burning, preventing you from breathing, and your heart is bruising your ribcage, and you think your bones just might shatter inside of your chest.

There’s a rustling on the bed, and when you look back at Erwin, you find him laying down again but holding the blankets up in front of him.

��Come on.”

“W-what? Erwin, that is literally the last thing we—”

“I’m not trying to fuck,” he says, eyes heavy as he stares at you. “You need to relax, and I need to sleep, so just come on."

You consider for a while, looking from Erwin to the mattress. You’re really not that close, would barely even call him your friend, but you did come to him tonight. You had chosen to confide in him. He makes some pretty questionable decisions sometimes, but you still believe that ultimately he’s a good person.

“Fine, but put a shirt on.”

“Then, grab one. Second drawer. Make sure it’s soft.”

You roll your eyes but do as you're told, running your hands over a few t-shirts until you find one that he should be pleased enough with. He tugs it on then collapses back on the bed, and you kick your shoes off then slip out of your jacket and under the covers.

You’re facing him, trying to keep a few inches between yourself and his chest, but as you think about the position you’re in—why you’re in it, the tears start flowing freely again, and you’re holding back little whimpers, shoulders shaking at the effort. Erwin breathes in deeply then uses the arm he isn’t laying on to pull you to him, shushing you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades with a warm hand.

“We’ll get it sorted out,” he promises, voice quiet as he starts to doze.

It’s not how you expected to end the night, but you suppose there are worse ways.

Mike learns a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Nile meets him outside of the fitness center to give him the scoop, trying to look casual as he walks, but Mike can tell he's nervous.

He starts by asking if Mike has talked to you at all recently, and no, he has not. So, Nile tells him that you broke things off with Zeke and apparently it got messy.

"Something about him being a manipulative bastard," Nile waves a hand.

"Doesn’t surprise me. Took her long enough."

You've been hanging around the Pike house again, sometimes by yourself and sometimes with Hitch—"Who's really fucking cute, by the way." Obviously Nile and Marie are in the 'off' portion of their relationship cycle. "And, you would know all this if you would just start coming around again. It's stupid to pay dues and not actually engage with the frat, dude."

"I've just been busy with school," Mike tells him. It's only a half lie. His senior courses are kind of kicking his ass, but he's also been busying himself with Rhi who is… tolerable.

"Whatever. Halloween party is in, like, a week. If you don't show up, I'm gonna be real pissed."

"I'll be there, Nile."

"Okay, then lemme prepare you for one more thing."

Mike stops walking and looks at the smaller man who inhales deeply then blows air out through his teeth.

"So, uh, she's hanging around again, right? And, you're not there, so it seems like she's sort of, uh, latched onto…" He makes a face, and Mike leans back.

"Don't fucking tell me."

Nile cringes. "Yeah. I don't think they're fucking or anything. I haven't heard them in his room like I used to hear the two of you."

"She goes into his room?" Mike has to flex his hand by his side, but the brick wall of the library they've stopped in front of is looking mighty nice. Break a few bones, bleed a little, it'll feel good.

"Yeah, but, like, they're nowhere near as close as you and her."

"How close we used to be. It's been so fucking long since we've even talked, dude. And, any time I try to catch her on campus, the dickbag is with her—"

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Yeah, now I just have to worry about her fucking my best friend. Fuck, she just—" Mike growls in his throat, contemplates turning to go back to the gym because he needs to get this energy out somehow. "She drives me fucking crazy."

"Yeah, I know, man. I just didn't want you to be surprised at the party when you see 'em all buddy-buddy."

"I'm gonna punch him," Mike states. "Just lay him out in front of everyone."

"Please don't," Nile sounds genuinely worried. "Maybe use the party as a way to, I don't know, talk to your girl? Like an adult?"

"Obviously not my girl, and I've been screwing around with Rhi anyway. Maybe it's just time we went our separate ways or whatever."

It physically hurts to even suggest, but he's trying to put on a brave face for his friend—act annoyed rather than fucking crushed, but god, he is aching. His stomach has opened up into nothing, his chest feels void of everything that was once inside, and he knows he's being dramatic, but fuck fuck fuck, first Zeke and now Erwin? What is it that Mike doesn't have? What can't he provide you with that they can? Just tell him, and he'll fucking fix it.

"Yeah, I think we both know that's not gonna happen. Plus, you do realize Rhi is probably just using you to make Zeke jealous."

"I'm not fucking stupid, Nile, of course I know that." But, Mike is really tired of his love life revolving around that asshole, like he has to wait for Zeke to call all the shots. "I'm using her as much as she's using me, so—"

"As a distraction?"

Mike lets his head loll to the side, peering down at Nile from the corner of his eyes. "What do you think?"

The other man gives him a light punch to the shoulder and once again suggests, "Talk things out. Just pull her aside at the party."

It's easier said than done. When Halloween rolls around, it's a little insane. It's too big and too loud with a flashing strobe that hurts Mike’s eyes. There are all sorts of costumes, making it hard to recognize anyone. The jungle juice is a mystery, one Mike doesn't plan on touching but that many people will. He has a feeling that more than a few party-goers are gonna end up sick, probably passing out in various locations of the house.

Mike has opted for an easy costume, the tacky tourist complete with his pink Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat, sunglasses, and a fanny pack. It's so awful, it actually made him laugh, but Rhi, clad in a spandex tiger suit, is not nearly as amused. She probably wanted him to go the sexy cop route or something equally as cringey, but Mike just doesn't have it in him tonight.

Nile is a shirtless cowboy, Hitch is a Catholic schoolgirl, Gelgar is Freddy Krueger with a pompadour, Reiner is a werewolf, the list goes on and on. Sexy, bloody nurses, superheroes, Harry Potter, and so on.

When his eyes land on you for the first time that night, Mike comes close to drooling his drink. Lola Bunny in her skimpy basketball uniform and a rabbit ear headband. Your face is painted, and you're carrying around one of those foam balls kids use to dunk into Fisher Price hoops, and he has no doubt the prop will be lost by the end of the party.

Mike thinks back to Spring Break, to you wincing at his movie choice then trying to sleep through it. You had woken up to him flipping through the photo album, then chose to finally open up to him.

So, why this costume? Why "torture" yourself like this?

And, speaking of torture, you're sticking to Erwin just like Nile said you would. The blond is in a tailored suit, his face painted like a skull. It's both classy and creepy, and Mike hates him for it. In fact, it calls for another drink.

Rhi finds him in the kitchen after making her rounds, taking up her former place on Mike's arm as he uses the counter to pop the lid off a fresh bottle. They watch the game of beer pong playing out in front of them, but Rhi doesn't seem content to just sit.

She has to stand on her tip-toes and shout into his ear, "Wanna walk around some?"

No. He really doesn't, but he can placate her, especially if it means getting laid later tonight.

They trek back to the main room, observing the debauchery taking place. People are grinding and stripping to Monster Mash. Several couples are spread out in the chairs or up against the wall getting pretty close to full on exhibitionism.

They stop to talk to "Officer" Marie for a while then move on to Nile and Hitch to whom Rhi spills everything she just heard from the busty redhead. They joke with Gelgar and his catch of the day, some of the pledges—Jean, Reiner, and Eren—who are just trying to survive, and then at last… you and Erwin.

Mike sees the way your chest rises with a deep breath, how your fingers tighten around the little basketball. Your eyes flit from Rhi to Mike, flashing when Rhi greets you.

Oh, you don't like her.

"Love the costume," she tells you. "Who are you supposed to be again?"

Mike chokes on his drink, and you suck your teeth before replying, "Lola Bunny. The Loony Toon."

"Oh, is that, like, Bugs Bunny's girlfriend?"

"Kind of?" You try.

Rhi looks to Erwin who visibly cringes when she asks, "Why aren't you dressed as Bugs then?"

Mike wants to turn around, to put as much distance between all of you as possible.

Erwin clears his throat. "Because that would be a couple's costume, and we're not…"

Mike knows his expression is skeptical, cold even, and when he settles it on you, you give him a little shake of your head that he doesn't really believe.

"Oh, alright," Rhi concedes only to chime, "'Cause I heard—"

"Wrong," Erwin cuts her off. "You heard wrong, Rhi." A hard, blue stare lands on Mike, unforgiving when he tells him, "I think it's time you two talked."

"I don't think that's really—"

"Oh, fuck," your swear gets everyone's attention, and Mike takes in the shock written all over your face then follows your line of sight to the entry way where Zeke god damn Jaeger is making his way through the crowd.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Erwin spits.

"You and Nile decided this should be an open party, dumbass," Mike reminds him with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, so we're name-calling now? Jesus Mike, grow up. You're just assuming shit!" As he rants, Erwin takes hold of one of your arms and pulls you behind him, snatching the furry headband from you so the ears don't stick out.

For a split second, Mike thinks he's trying to protect you from him, but then he nods to bring Mike's attention to the approaching figure behind him, and Mike understands.

He turns his body to face Zeke who's walking over, fragmented by the strobe, his icy eyes piercing straight through his glasses. Mike, despite his anger toward you, feels the primal urge to protect you.

"The fuck do you want, Jaeger?"

"Woah, calm down, bud. Just looking for a brat—about yea high, spreads her legs for any athlete she comes in contact with. You guys seen her?"

Mike steps toward him, but he's stopped by a hand that fists in the back of his shirt.

"Ah, there she is," Zeke smirks, and Mike looks over his shoulder to see you now in front of Erwin with your fingers clutching the pink material across his back.

"He's not worth it, Mike."

Mike thinks he is, though. He feels like he keeps getting whiplash, going back and forth between who he wants to hit at any given moment because it seems to change by the second.

He's just been so incredibly frustrated for the past few months. Lacrosse doesn't help, and the gym doesn't help, and fucking Rhi doesn't help. Mike has just been stewing, letting everything fester during the radio silence between the two of you. He's mad at so many people including himself, and all he wants to do is shove his way out of this stupid fucking party and take off his stupid fucking fanny pack and be alone in his apartment under his dumb fairy lights.

He shrugs out of your grip, figures the best thing he can do right now is get away from all of you. Zeke stumbles when Mike shoulders into him forcefully. He's not even a little surprised when Rhi doesn't follow him, choosing to vie for Zeke's attention instead.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Mike gets another drink in him.

He tries not to watch the way the heated conversation turns out, the way you bow up to Zeke and Erwin has to once again put himself in between you and the other blond. He tries not to smile at the fire in your eyes, that blaze he's seen so many times (usually when you're annoyed at him), and yes, there's that pain again, barely overshadowing Mike's anger.

You yell something at Zeke. He yells back. Erwin feels the need to add his own opinion, but the music is too loud for Mike to be able to make any of it out. Whatever is shouted makes Zeke huff and walk away. Rhi prances after him, and Mike resigns himself to the fact that he probably will not be fucking her after this shit show. He could always find someone else, but that takes effort (not much, but still), and then they usually get clingy afterward, and he just can't be bothered with all that right now. Mike can't be bothered with anything right now.

So he drinks.

He keeps an eye on Zeke who doesn't actually leave the party, and he drinks. He stares at you from across the room, bunny ears back in place, and he drinks. Somewhere between Boom and Beer Pong, he loses the fanny pack, looks down at some point and finds that it's just no longer there. All he had in there was a lighter and a couple condoms, so he isn't too broken up about it, but he does wonder—

Mike isn't sure what makes him look over at the counter where all the different drinks are set out, but he does, and it's just in time to see Eren hunching over the bowl of jungle juice like some shady motherfucker, and when Mike makes his way over, world spinning just a little bit, he sees the younger Jaeger brother emptying a little plastic bag of green pills into the punch.

"What the fu—" Mike has him by the collar before he can even finish his own question, tosses the kid away from the counter so that he actually falls to the floor. It causes a few people to hop out of the way, their drinks sloshing and spilling on the tile. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Eren looks up at Mike with wide, panicked eyes, like he's scared and waiting for someone to save him.

"I—I don't know what you think you saw, man—"

"I know exactly what I saw, you little creep!"

Everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of them as more people trickle in.

"What even was that? You trying to roofie the whole fucking party or something?"

"No!"

"Just one person, then? That one special girl," Mike hisses.

He walks back to the counter and grabs the large bowl of juice, carrying it over to Eren who's still on the ground. The kid covers his face just in time for Mike to empty the contents over his head, drenching him so that red drips from his hair and trickles down his arms.

"Drink up, bitch," Mike snarls before throwing the bowl so that it bounces off Eren's head.

Naturally, a bigger crowd has gathered, and Nile shoves his way through, shouting over the music, "What is happening?"

Mike leans over to yell in his ear, "Saw him pouring pills into the punch."

"Are you serious?"

Mike nods but steps away when Eren pushes himself off the wet floor and nearly throws himself at Nile.

"I didn't do it! I don't know what the fuck he's talking about!"

Nile arm-bars Mike when he tries to move toward the little twerp, lips pulling back from his teeth because it has been a shitty night. A shitty week. Shitty month. And, now his fury has shifted yet again.

"Did anyone else see it, Mike?" Nile asks.

"Probably not since everyone is fucked up—"

"Including you."

Mike looks over at his friend in genuine surprise because it's starting to sound like Nile doesn't believe him.

"Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?"

"Maybe because he's Zeke's brother," Nile suggests.

Mike is heated. He can feel the blood underneath his skin cooking his god damn insides, frying his brain so that all he can think about is throwing a punch or two (or twenty).

Jaw sliding, Mike shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself, to stop his hands from shaking as he tries to figure out when his friends started looking at him as some unhinged freak.

"What are you doing—the fu—dude, stop!"

Opening his eyes again, Mike sees that Gelgar has inserted himself into the situation and has Eren pinned against the counter as he shoves his hands in every one of his pockets. He's growling something at the younger man, keeps shoving his face down against the linoleum any time Eren squirms, and after about a minute of people watching and gasping and making crude remarks about the position the two are in, Gelgar straightens up with a plastic bag identical to the one Mike saw Eren emptying into the jungle juice.

"It's just Adderall, I swear!"

Gelgar scoffs. "This is definitely not Adderall. Believe me, I'd know." He tosses the pills to Nile who takes a long look at them before glaring at Eren.

"Get the fuck out before I call the cops."

He should call them anyway, Mike thinks, but he understands Nile's hesitance. There's a lot going on at the party—underage drinking, party drugs in various rooms, etc. Eren wouldn't be the only one taken into custody if the police showed up.

Another voice rings out, asking the same question everyone else has, "What the hell is going on?" and Mike comes close to hurling the closest bottle at Zeke as he makes his way to his brother. "Why are you…" He gestures nebulously as his eyebrows pull together. Rhi is close behind him, and further still, you and Erwin are peeking into the kitchen.

"They think I drugged the jungle juice!" Eren looks at Zeke with puppy eyes that probably worked when he was a kid, might still work judging by the way the blond whirls around to face Mike and Nile.

"Have any proof, or are you just trying to—"

"Pipe down, Jaeger," Nile cuts him off, holding up the bag and explaining, "Mike saw him dropping these in the punch."

Zeke is silent for a few solid seconds before rounding on his brother again and grabbing him by the shirt right where Mike had previously held him, and everyone watches in rapt attention as he steers Eren through the crowd, shouting at him the entire time.

Having both of them leave is a relief, but Mike is a little disappointed that he didn't get to fight either of them. It would have been nice to feel a nose break under his fist, but he supposed it's better this way.

"Hey, thanks for catching that, dude," Nile says, slapping Mike's back.

It doesn't make him feel good. If anything, it pisses him off. Mike would understand if his friend had been skeptical of one of the pledges or second years making the accusation he had, but Nile is one of his best friends. They were inducted at the same time, were hazed side by side. Mike never would have thought Nile had such a low opinion of him, that he’d believe Mike’s little broken heart would cloud his judgement to the point of slandering someone without cause.

"Whatever," he shrugs before grabbing another drink.

He should just go back home. He isn't having a good time. He's angry at just about everyone he looks at. When Rhi decides he's worth her time again, Mike actually tells her to fuck off. He's lost the accessories to his costume, and he's about to lose his mind.

It's getting late. Mike isn't sure how late because as the night progresses, he gets steadily inebriated. He tries to avoid anyone and everyone in his fraternity, hanging out with people he knows from lacrosse or his classes instead. They play a few drinking games, take body shots off some sorority girls (or maybe it's the same one, he can't tell anymore). The music becomes bearable, and the strobe light stops hurting his head, and eventually, Mike just… forgets.

He forgets about Nile's lack of faith. He forgets about the fuckhead Jaeger brothers. He forgets about you and Erwin walking around and laughing together oh, ha ha we're so close now. He is finally spared from all of his negative thoughts.

Mostly because somewhere between shot number seven and beer number who knows what, Mike pukes into a plant (maybe?) and blacks out.

"God dammit. Erwin," you tug on his jacket sleeve and point to the corner that is home to a fake ficus that Mike is currently throwing up in.

Erwin groans, "Oh, Jesus Christ," and starts making his way over with you hot on his heels.

A few people are making faces as they glance at Mike, moving away as he coughs, straightens, then bends over again.

"Mike, come on, buddy," Erwin pats his back, waiting for Mike to pause in his retching so that he can duck under his arm and support him. "Gotta get you to a bathroom."

"No bath," Mike snorts. "No green there, no…"

You take a place on his other side, not that you can help much in getting him down the hall and in one of the downstairs restrooms, but you at least support his other arm and steer him in the right direction.

"Why is he talking about green?" Erwin grumbles as you both lower Mike to the tiled floor in front of the toilet where he promptly pukes again.

"The leaves maybe? I don't know, dude. Just…" You cringe as you notice the way Mike's shaggy hair hangs down into the toilet bowl, subject to all kinds of splash back. "Do you have a hair tie on you?"

"Literally why in the fuck would I have a hair tie on me?" Erwin asks incredulously, and you laugh because a couple weeks ago, he never would have used that word in this context since it's wrong, but the more you spend time with him, the more he picks up on your vernacular, and that really doesn't matter right now because—

"Water," Mike croaks, voice echoing off the ceramic.

"I don't think you'll be able to drink any right this second, man," Erwin tells him, squatting beside him.

Mike shakes his head. "Wanna feel—feel water. Cold."

"He sounds like a fucking caveman," you snicker.

You're really just trying to stay calm, masking the sick feeling in your stomach with amusement, but you've been watching Mike all night as he downed beer after beer, mixing various liquors as he took shots and licked salt off some chick's stomach. You figured he would get sick, but there wasn't really much you could do about it. He had made it pretty clear he isn’t interested in speaking to you. Still, you had purposely remained mostly sober just in case something like this happened (also because you make bad decisions when you get fucked up at frat parties).

"Yeah, he definitely won't remember any of this."

"Waterrr," Mike tries again, and you look at the way his arm is dangling over the side of the tub, the faucet on the opposite side, and glance at Erwin at a loss.

He shrugs, eyes darting around until he sees the plastic cup upside down on the shower rack. He grabs it, turns the water on and fills the cup, then dumps it over Mike's hand.

Mike groans, slowly wriggles his fingers under the stream, and drawls, "Thaaaank."

You shake your head and motion for the cup, talk loud enough to be heard over the faucet, "I can handle this. You go back outside."

"What? No."

"There's no reason both of us have to be in here. He's just gonna puke his guts out for a few hours and then pass out."

Erwin doesn't seem sold on the idea.

"Come on. You've gotta go back. You're vice president or whatever."

"So?"

"Erwin."

He stares at you for a while then deflates. "Fine. Do you have your phone on you?"

"Always." You gesture to the elastic waistband of your shorts, phone pressed to your hip as it hangs on the inside of the material.

"Text me if you need help, alright?"

"You got it, boss."

He leaves just in time for Mike to violently retch into the toilet, one hand clutching the bowl as his spine curves. You fill the cup back up, pour it over his hand once again, and repeat the action over… and over… and over.

His face and hair are gonna be a mess, probably his shirt too which is actually a blessing because you'll finally have a legitimate reason to burn it. Pepto Bismol pink and sketched palm trees stare at you as you sit on the edge of the tub, and all you can think of is the first time you saw Mike wearing the terrible shirt, how that had ended up, how you left with it the following morning.

How had the two of you gone from that to this? Sure, you weren't super fond of him at the beginning of it all, but he grew on you. A lot. He's your best fucking friend. Through the last couple months, through this weird fight you're having, he is your best friend. It's why you're here right now taking care of his drunk ass.

It'll pass. This phase will pass, and you'll make up, and you'll get your chance to be honest with him, to tell him how you feel about him. It may have taken you a little too long to arrive at your destination, so to speak, but better late than never. Soon, you'll both be able to look back on this and laugh.

People knock on the door here and there, and you scream at them to go away, eventually getting tired of it and just clicking the lock into place.

Any time you stop pouring water over his hand, Mike whines and attempts to say something, choppy words that don't make a ton of sense. You wonder if you need to call an ambulance, look for the signs of alcohol poisoning, but he doesn't feel cold, his breathing is even between bouts of vomiting, and his arms aren't curling in that tell-tale way.

More than likely, he just made himself sick. He knows better, too. He's been partying for a long enough time to be well aware of the mixing rules. Beer before liquor and all that shit. He may have just not cared tonight, though. From what Erwin has told you, Mike has just been in a generally bad mood for a while now (and Erwin has not tried to be subtle about why). He's barely around the Pike house anymore, he keeps getting called for personal fouls in lacrosse, and he's sleeping with Rhi which is nobody's business but is also strange considering her history—some kind of mutualistic symbiotic relationship that nobody is a real fan of.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, you think to yourself, emptying another cup from your place on the floor now. The ceramic was starting to hurt your ass, and you know your arm will probably be a little sore tomorrow, or later today since it's nearing three.

Fatigue is beginning to set in, and you know Mike is exhausted because he keeps dozing off on the toilet seat so that you have to nudge him back awake. Until he can speak in mostly coherent sentences, he's not allowed to sleep.

Sitting in the bathroom gives you ample amount of time to think. You go over some mental flashcards for a while, notes you took with the help of Mike's magic textbook. Then you think about going to your mom's for Thanksgiving and how much you aren't looking forward to it. Then you think about Zeke showing up only to have to escort his shady brother from the house. God, you had not been happy to see him. You'd been a little afraid, if you're being honest.

After figuring out that he had, in fact, blocked Mike's number on your phone, you had stomped into his apartment and initiated a screaming match. You got loud, he got louder, called you a stupid bitch and punched a hole in the drywall. You had decided that was a pretty good time to leave, both the apartment and the relationship. He's been lurking on campus around your most frequented spots—the science building, the library, but you've been doing a good job of camouflaging yourself in groups of other students. Even if he can see you, he can't do much about it.

You've thought about reporting him to campus police, but you know nothing will come of it. The golden boy can do no wrong. It's why you've been spending so much time at the PKA house again. You know most of them have your back, and you are absolutely not above asking any of them to walk somewhere with you to fend off your angry ex.

You can't wrap your head around what his fucking deal is. Surely he didn't treat Rhi like this after they split. There's no way she would still be so infatuated with him if he had. Is it just because you're the one who dumped him? He had to have seen it coming once you started putting the pieces together, the way he constantly tried to make you feel guilty, isolating you from your friends, invading the privacy of your phone to not only block Mike but also to turn your fucking location on so he could track you (you had found that out after that first trip back to the frat house to talk with Erwin. It had not been pretty).

It's hard to believe you put up with it for as long as you did. It was only five months, but that's still five months too long.

Mike is quiet for several minutes, and you sigh when you see that his eyes are closed once again. He makes a noise of displeasure when you use your foot to gently shake him, grumbling, "Sto-o-op."

"Nope. Gotta stay awake, Miche. Can't have you fallin' into a coma or something'."

"Nooo. No Miche."

"Yes, Miche," you laugh.

He scrunches his face up, shakes his head, but the motion seems to make him sick again.

When he finishes gagging into the toilet, he lets out a deep, "Gu-uuh," then sniffs. "No Miche. Jus' she—she—...Jus' her."

You can figure out the rest, but you can't decide if you want to smile or cry. Only you can call him that. Well, you and his mom. You miss her. And his dad. And Scout. You hope to see them again.

"Okay. Just Mike then."

He hums in confirmation then shakes his hand in the tub so that you'll douse it once again.

"You're a needy drunk, you know that?"

Mike doesn't respond to that, just takes a few deep breaths as his eyes close yet again.

"Sleep now," he mumbles.

"No, no sleep now."

"Sleep now."

"Oh my fucking god."

His mouth drops open a little, and the first thing you think to do is splash him in the face with the cup of water.

He spits and splutters but doesn't shift much, still wrapped around the toilet. You try not to look inside when you stand and reach to flush what's already gathered, trying to shield some of Mike's face from any flying droplets. Then you wash your hands and sit back down. You figure you'll be here for at least another couple of hours. The sun will be coming up soon. Thank god it's a Saturday.

Both Erwin and Nile knock on the door for an update, and you yell that you're okay. Mike isn't throwing up as often, and when he does, nothing is coming up anymore. He's gonna be in a world of pain when he returns to his normal self.

So fucking stupid. He's so fucking stupid.

He mutters nonsense on and off. Sometimes you can translate what he's trying to say, but other times not so much.

"President… dumb boyyy."

"Hy-poc-risy an' jealous… Hypocrite… I…"

"Hand… wanna hold…" but when you grab it, he just gurgles, "Waterrr."

There's really no pleasing him.

"Why-y-y… dick… Erwin."

"Volcano books… n' space jam… come an' sam… an'... to the jam."

You laugh too loudly, and Mike cringes at the noise, but the corner of his mouth still lifts. You don't think he knows what he's doing or saying yet—isn't downloading any new memories—it doesn't matter because you will remember this for the both of you.

"You're fucking ridiculous."

Mike pushes himself back from the toilet to sit against the wall, hissing and clumsily rubbing his chest. His shirt is wet and disgusting, and he must know on some level because he says, "Shower," and starts pulling himself over the tub.

"Jesus Christ, Mike."

He's too tall, dangling an arm and a leg over the side and sinking lower.

"Water, pleeeease."

He apparently isn't aware of the faucet that is still on. Whoever has to pay these bills… You feel sorry for them.

"No, dude. I am not letting you drown."

Mike fucking giggles, "Lifeguard," then tries to take his shirt off. He doesn't have the motor skills to handle buttons and looks to be confused by them anyway, so his next solution is to just rip the material down the middle.

"Yeah, okay, I guess that works."

The showerhead is turned on, and you sit on the edge of the tub again, shivering when the cool spray blows toward you while keeping an eye on Mike. Reaching over, you turn the temperature up a little, knowing that the alcohol has dropped his body temperature some. You're almost tempted to slide under the water with him, but there's no room, and you're not about to just make yourself comfortable on top of him.

So, you just sit and stare and think about how tired you are. Physically and mentally and spiritually tired. You just need some time to not exist—just a few days. It feels like this semester has been nothing but drama so far, and it is exhausting. Maybe that's why Mike did this to himself. Maybe he just needed to not exist.

He starts to sit up a little in the tub, but his hand falters and sends him sliding back down. "Fuck."

Not caring about getting wet at this point, you simply stand up between his spread legs, the shower drenching you immediately, and grab his hands to tug him upright.

"ευχαριστώ."

"Come again?"

"Means thanks," he mumbles, slumping forward.

You think of his family again, how he and his mother had just fallen into Greek as soon as you'd stepped into the house, leaving you surprised and impressed and warm in several different ways.

Squatting, you tilt your head to catch his half-lidded gaze.

"You back with me yet?" It's been nearly four hours—Fuck, why is there music playing still—but he might need more time.

"Dunno."

"Can you tell who I am?"

Mike does his best to roll his eyes. "'m drunk, not a amnes—amnesic—"

"Amnesiac," you supply with a smirk. Smartass.

"That," he nods, pointing at you with a finger gun.

He can actually understand you now, so that's good, don't have to worry about him dying anymore since he's making progress.

Opening his mouth, Mike catches some water in it, swishes and spits. You expect him to tell you that you can leave. He can take care of himself, doesn't want to see you, all manner of hurtful things he has every reason to feel.

Instead, he blinks at you, extends his arms, and makes grabby hands.

"Can I help you?"

He doesn't say anything, just keeps reaching for you. He could grab you without issue. His fingers are already brushing your knees, but he either doesn't notice or wants to wait for you.

"Mike, I can't get any closer," you laugh.

Switching tactics, he pats his chest.

"Oh, no. I am but about to put myself in the line of vom just 'cause you wanna cuddle or some shit."

Truthfully, you would also like to cuddle, to feel Mike's body against yours again, trace your fingers over his skin and listen to his heartbeat, but…

Not like this.

"Please. No more vom. Promise."

"I don't think you're in a state to make promises like that."

He says your name followed by one more, "Please," and you give in, letting out a long breath and grunting as you find a way to lay between his legs with your head on the lower part of his sternum. You're curled a little awkwardly, one foot up against the ceramic while the other is curled beneath you. It is not by any means a comfortable position, but it's what Mike wants.

A few months ago, laying like this would inevitably lead to other things. Talking and joking would lead to giggling, maybe some well aimed prods to your ribs. You would bite in retaliation, his shoulder or, if the angle was right, his nipple, until he pulled you up further to sit in his lap, hot mouth finding yours, and so on and so forth.

This is different on every possible level. Neither of you are speaking. Your hands are unmoving on each other's bodies. There's no heat save for the water that's pouring down on both of you, plastering your silky costume to your skin.

Still, it's enough to lull you into a drowsy state, the ache in your eyes urging you to close them, but as soon as you do, Mike speaks.

"'m mad at you."

Your stomach drops. His words don't come as a surprise, but they still sting.

"I know," you sigh. "I'm mad at me too."

Your head moves with his chest, a gentle up and down that could—and has—put you to sleep.

"Still love you."

You bite your lip, fingers lightly digging into Mike's warm skin as you remind yourself that he's drunk, and he hates you, and he probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway. There's no reason to get emotional over it. No reason.

"I love you too, Miche."

Silence closes in around you once more. You drift in and out for about half an hour until a loud knock jolts you awake.

You scramble off of Mike and hop to the door, leaving puddles and drops behind you. Both Nile and Erwin look panicked in the hallway, the shorter man nearly shouting, "Is he fucking dead in there?"

"Not deeeead," Mike calls from the tub.

Erwin peers over your shoulder at him, then at you, then takes on a disappointed expression. "You didn't. Come on, he's so drunk."

"What do you—" You frown as you piece together his implication, then squawk and shove Erwin with two wet hands. "I didn't fuck him, you perv! What is wrong with you?"

He chuckles and bats away your hands. "I never know with you two! You can't blame me!"

"You're disgusting."

"Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" Erwin raises his eyebrows. "Less bunny and more… I don't know, ghoul?"

God, you had completely forgotten about the face paint.

"Shut up, yours isn't much better." His black and white paint is smeared in several places like someone ran their fingers through it. The collar of his shirt is stained, and his hair is tousled. You can't tell if it's the result of getting frisky or falling asleep.

"Stop flirting in front of meeee," Mike whines loudly, sitting up and pushing the shower knob a little too hard to shut the water off.

"We're not—" You and Erwin start at the same time.

Nile interrupts with a drawn out, unconvinced little note and informs both of you, "You guys get a little flirty sometimes. Sorry to break it to you."

You frown at the blond and he frowns back, then you both frown at Nile who shrugs. "I'm just saying. There's a reason people are thinking things."

It's not important, and you'd rather not dwell on it because you know the truth, and Erwin knows the truth, and Mike will if he'll just fucking listen, but he's fucked up right now, so that's a problem for another day.

"Whatever, we'll work on it, but for now…" You watch as Mike tries and fails to pull himself out of the tub.

"He looks like the girl from The Ring," Erwin snorts.

"Yeah, if she was giant. And, a guy," you add.

Wet hair is hanging over Mike's eyes, still sopping wet and dripping. He's all awkward angles as he hoists himself up, kicking a leg over and swearing.

"We should probably help him," Nile says, fighting his own smile.

"Probably."

Between the three of you, you manage to transport Mike from the bathroom to Erwin's room on the third fucking floor which is no easy feat. Nile waits for his friend to be dumped onto the mattress, then announces that Hitch is waiting for him to come back to bed. You don't know how long that will last, but your friend falling into the same frat boy trap you did is mildly hilarious.

It leaves you and Erwin to make Mike comfortable. You wrap his head in a towel you found poking out of the hamper, murmur, "Hope this doesn't have anything gross on it," to which Erwin responds with an unamused look.

You peel the ruined, tacky shirt from Mike’s shoulders and toss it into a corner but you let Erwin take care of the rest. You've seen everything Mike has to offer, but that doesn't stop you from feeling weird about seeing his dick when he can't really stop you. So, like Mike did last year when he spilled water on your shirt, you turn your back to allow him some privacy.

There's some rustling and grunting, but when Erwin tells you it's safe, you look to find Mike in a pair of gym shorts, hair still wrapped, looking more disgruntled than you've ever seen him.

"'m still wet."

"You sure are, big guy," Erwin agrees, slowly guiding him to lay down on his side and explaining, "You need to sleep like this, alright? Otherwise you might choke and die."

"Erwin!" You throw your hands up in the air. "Why would you even—?"

"Know how it works, dumb… butt."

"Oh, dumb butt. That's a good one," Erwin grins. "Very creative."

"Don't panotrize me!"

You have to cover your mouth to keep from cackling, and Erwin shakes his head, corrects, "Patronize, Mike. Patronize."

"That's what I said!"

It takes a while to get him relaxed again. Apparently, Mike's favorite thing to do while drunk is run his mouth to Erwin, so while he's busy dealing with that, you raid Erwin's closet for a shirt and then his dresser for boxers. Once you are mostly dry, you snatch the towel from Mike's hair to wipe your face and toss it away, then step up onto the bed near the pillows, urging Mike to shift so that you can sit against the headboard.

He immediately rests his stubbled cheek on one of your thighs, then wraps both arms around the other, his fingers melting into the fat just below your ass as he grunts, "Mine."

"All yours, buddy," Erwin assures with a grin before glancing at you. "I'm gonna pass out in the chair—" he gestures to the one in the corner of the room, "—if you need me for anything, just wake me up, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." Then, "Hey, Erwin?" He hums in response. "Don't tell him about tonight, like, me staying with him."

"Why?"

"I don't want him to stress out about what he may have said or done. 'Cause I know he will."

"Whatever you say," Erwin shrugs, collapsing in the chair without even changing or washing his face. All three of you are gonna look like characters from a horror movie whenever you wake up, and the thought makes you smirk as you card your fingers through Mike's damp hair.

It's getting longer. He could probably put it up if he wanted to. He's been letting his beard grow a little too. You aren't sure if it's laziness or just trying a slightly different look, but whatever the case, it's hot.

He keeps your leg clutched tightly to him like some kind of stuffed animal until he drifts off to sleep. It's nearing five, and you know you probably won't get any quality rest while you're here, so you figure you'll just doze for a while until you can safely extract yourself from Mike's grip. He probably won't appreciate waking up like this anyway. No matter what he's said to you and Erwin—declarations and staked claims—it'll all be worthless in just a few hours.

A symphony of snores plays through the room, Erwin splayed out in his chair like he's passed out in a cheap Vegas hotel while Mike drools on your thigh, and if it was anyone else, you'd be disgusted and shove him away, but since it’s Mike, it’s weirdly endearing. He can slobber on you all he wants, it won’t bother you in the slightest.

Eventually, the sun shining through the window becomes too bright for you to even fall into a light sleep, so just as you planned, you gently untangle yourself from Mike, pausing when he grunts and frowns, but when he doesn’t stir any more than that, you manage to slip out of the bed.

Grabbing your phone and costume, still a little wet and cold because of it, you leave as quietly as you can. Your shoes are still in the downstairs bathroom along with Mike’s shirt, and you have a legitimate mental debate over whether you really should just toss it, but as much as you hate it, you decide against it.

You have to step over several bodies to get to the front door, more than usual which is concerning since the punch Eren spiked was thrown out (or really, thrown all over him), but you’re able to make it out without tripping.

The drive to your dorm feels too long, sun beaming right into your itchy eyes the entire way. You nearly cry in relief when you finally fall onto your mattress, already well aware that most, if not all, of your day will be spent under the covers. You’re more than fine with it, allowing yourself to just not exist for several hours exactly how you wanted to.

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #tw manipulation #tw vomit

183 notes · View notes

joviewinchester · 4 years ago

Text

“You’re absolutely positive you can’t come with me?” Y/N asked Matt.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I work that day. Maybe you can ask Ty or Stefan or something.”

“Yep. Been there done that. Stefan has plans to hang out with Caroline and Tyler has another wedding to go to by some stupid twisted chance of fate. I hate June.”

“You can…well, I’m not even going to suggest that torture.” Matt said cutting himself off.

“What? Anything is better than the torture of my family trying to set me up with someone.”

“You could ask Damon, but then again, he’s literally the worst. I guess pick your poison. Damon Salvatore or wedding set up. Personally I’d go with the latter.”

Y/N patted Matt on the shoulder and sighed. “You don’t know my family.” She exited The Grill and reluctantly drove to the Salvatore Boarding House.

She knocked, and Damon immediately opened the door. “You know, I was wondering when the tension would catch up to you.” He smirked.

“That is not why I’m here, Damon. I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

Y/N sighed and took a deep breath before starting her rant. “I need a date to my relatives wedding, and i’ve already asked literally everyone else i know, so i know you probably hate me, but please say yes. Otherwise they’ll try to set me up with someone, and they have awful taste.”

“And what do I get out of agreeing to this?”

“Um…I don’t know? The wedding is literally tomorrow and I have no other option so…I have no clue. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, huh? I’ll let you know when I figure out what that is. What time does this wedding start tomorrow?”

“Wedding’s from 5:00 to 6:00 and the reception’s from 6:30 to 10:00, unfortunately, I have to help with setup, so I have to be there three hours early, it was almost five luckily I got out of that, but I’m not going to make you deal with that, so I’ll leave from there early, come pick you up around 4:30. Dress nice…but not too nice. You’re already going to outshine the groom. My cousin does not know how to pick em.”

“That was a very trivial way of you saying you think I’m attractive. I’ll be ready, and don’t think I’ll forget that you owe me.”

“I wasn’t saying that! And I didn’t think you would forget. Not even for a second. And one more thing, please don’t eat any of my relatives.”

“Oh I’m not that bad. Why would I eat one of them when I could eat you?” He said eying her from head to toe.

“Stop making everything sexual! I’ll see you tomorrow!” She exclaimed as she brushed her hair to cover her red face.

He watched her as she walked back to her car, because let’s be honest with ourselves, he loved to see her walk away, then he shut the door and poured himself a glass of bourbon.

“Did Y/N just ask you to her cousin’s wedding?” Stefan asked walking downstairs.

“Why yes she did, brother.”

“Then you’re welcome. I don’t actually have plans with Caroline tomorrow. I told her that so she’d ask you. Don’t screw it up.”

“Really Stefan? I could’ve gotten the girl on my own. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Y/N is different. She likes you, but she doesn’t like you just because she wants to sleep with you. She likes you because she wants to be in a relationship with you. If you don’t want that, then don’t lead her on. Promise me you won’t lead her on.”

“Do you really think that low of me, Stef?” Damon asked placing his palm over his chest.

“I won’t hurt her. Believe it or not, I actually like her, and tomorrow I’m going to be a perfect angel around her family, and she’ll have no choice but to invite me to another family event. I will be the best fake boyfriend. Mark my words.”

The next day was absolute torture for Y/N to say the least. “Y/N, Mark and Angela have to be seated near the back. They have not earned the status of front and center. Move the cards.” Her cousin, Allison, was normally really sweet, but she was an extreme bridezilla.

Y/N rolled her eyes but did as she was told. She expected for Allison to follow her every order when her wedding came around.

“So, Auntie Bethany has invited a really cool guy to set you up with. His name is Reggie and he’s so much nicer than the last one.” Allison said taking a minute to rest, which did not bother Y/N one bit.

“First of all, I’m eighteen which is freshly out of high school, I don’t know why she thinks it’s so urgent for me to settle down. Second of all, mom is going to be real disappointed because I actually have a boyfriend now and I invited him. I mentioned him a few weeks ago to you.”

“Now that you say that, I remember you mentioning it.” Yeah, she didn’t say a word, but Allison bought it and that’s all that mattered. She’d been pushing her to get a date since the wedding was announced.

“Speaking of which, it’s 4:00 and I told him I’d be there to pick him up at 4:30. You don’t mind me leaving a bit early do you?”

“No. Of course not. Chloe, Lilly, and Amy will help me finish my makeup then I should be all ready! Can’t wait to meet this mysterious boyfriend of yours.”

Y/N waved at the other bridesmaids, who all glared back at her for leaving them alone, and got in her car to get Damon. She knocked.

“Just a minute!” She heard him call. He opened the door a couple minutes later.

She smiled brightly. “You look great.” She said.

“Yeah, and you look…gorgeous. Your cousin was very generous with the bridesmaids dresses.” Damon commented.

https://shoplook.io/outfit-preview/2847398

“Come on. If we’re late I will not hear the end of it.”

Once they arrived, there were literally like five minutes till the start of the wedding. “Shit.” She muttered. “Just sit down and avoid eye contact at all costs. I really wish she hadn’t made me a bridesmaid.” Y/N muttered the last part and got to her place.

The ceremony lasted forever. The only thing that made it tolerable was watching Damon mess with the dude sitting next to him.

“Oh my god. That was literally the longest wedding ever. Why the hell did she force us to wear heels?”

“On the bright side, you were definitely the hottest bridesmaid up there.”

She elbowed his side playfully. “Oh shut up. Now come on, we need to get going. If we’re late to the reception, my mom will kill me. I haven’t even got to talk to her yet.” Y/N to practically dragged Damon to the car.

Of course the reception was about as cliche as the ceremony. It was held in a big old barn decorated with fairy lights.

“There’s my mom. Come on, act coupley or whatever, and be on your best behavior would you?”

“Oh, Y/N I’m hurt. When am I not?” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling slightly at his antics.

“Hey, mom.”

Her mother looked kind of upset. “Come on, Y/N. You should’ve told me you were bringing a date. Reggie is going to be disappointed.” Her mother motioned backwards towards a guy who was already making out with another bridesmaid.

“Yeah…that him? He doesn’t seem too upset. I wouldn’t worry about it. Mom, this is Damon, my boyfriend.”

They shook hands. “Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N. It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much, and can I just say, you look lovely this evening. Speaking of which, where’s the lucky man?”

“Oh, he’s just over there talking to the groom. I’m glad that Y/N has finally gotten a boyfriend. I was starting to think she was going to be single forever.”

“Mom, cool it, will you? I’m eighteen years old. I just enrolled in college. I’m not getting married anytime soon. I know that’s how people in our family usually do it, but I don’t want to be married and have three kids running around by the time I’m twenty five. Okay?”

“You may feel that way now, dear, but wait until the baby fever catches up to you.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I need a drink.” She mumbled with hostility.

“Y/N Y/M/N! You are not drinking any alcohol!” Her mother scolded after her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble. You just have fun. Raising a girl with that attitude must have kept you away from fun quite a bit.” Bethany laughed.

“You have no idea.”

Damon followed Y/N to the open bar, and found her with a wine glass filled to the very top.

“Dude, first of all you aren’t even of age, and second of all, do you really want to get drunk at a relative’s wedding? Answer, no. No you don’t.”

“You don’t know what I want, Damon. Just go charm off the pants of another middle aged woman.”

“I’m trying to be a perfect fake boyfriend so your mom will get off your back. Did you already drink one of these?” He asked taking the glass from her hands and swirling it around.

“Yeah, duh. Did you meet my mom? She makes it her mission to control every aspect of her life. I love her, but some alchohol would really help me love her even more. Here gimme that.” She said grabbing the glass from his hand. She downed the whole thing in one go as if it was just a shot glass.

“Y/F/N! No! You are banned from this bar for the rest of the night. Come on.” He hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Damon...what are you doing? You’re supposed to be the least responsible one in this fake relationship.” She whined.

“No. I’m supposed to be like a real boyfriend which means I have to keep you out of trouble and do everything I can to make your parents like me which is what I’m doing.”

“Come on. Just let me walk. I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”

“No.” Y/N huffed.

“Fine. If you want some douchebags looking up my dress then whatever.”

“Fine! Okay fine. I’ll put you down, but only because I’m your douchebag, and I don’t want anyone thinking otherwise.”

They ran back into Y/N’s parents.

“Did you get her away from the bar before she went psycho?” Mrs. Y/L/N asked.

“No. I took away the wine glass and she took it back and chugged it.” Damon said glaring at her.

“I’m fine. See?” She walked in a straight line.

“Oh come on Bethany. Lighten up. If you think she isn’t too young to get married then don’t you think in that mindset that she isn’t too young to drink alcohol.” Her father, Chris, said.

Y/N snapped and pointed at her dad. “Yeah. He’s totally right? Ready to admit that eighteen is too young for someone to get married?”

“Fine. It’s too young. Now no more drinks for the rest of the night, missy.”

She smiled triumphantly, but then she started sulking again. “Rest of the night? As in I have to stay here for the rest of the night and not drink anything?”

“Fine. You can leave like an hour early, but come talk to me before you leave. Have fun, but not too much fun.”

Y/N smirked. “I thought you wanted grandkids?” Her dad choked on his drink.

“Y/N!”

“Kidding. I’m obviously kidding…mostly. Bye!”

“You’re a lot of fun when you’re not avoiding being killed by some type of villain. I like you when you’re not in serious mode.”

“I’m so so sorry that I don’t have any witchy woo or an immortal life, but you do have to admit, I am amazing with a crossbow.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure you are. Even though you’ve almost hit me multiple times.”

“Exactly. I’m amazing with a crossbow. By the way, Allison wanted to meet you. We should get that over with.”

“Okay. That was uncalled for. You can’t just change the subject after admitting to trying to murder me multiple times.”

“You would have healed. What do you want me to do? Fall at your feet like Elena?” Y/N asked clearly passive aggressive.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. Stop walking for a second. Are you jealous of Elena?”

“What?! No. Why would I be? I don’t…I don’t even like you!”

“This wedding has proved that statement otherwise. Come on. Admit it. You. Are. Jealous. You want to get with all of this! You want to go for a ride on the Salvatore train!”

“No! No! No! I don’t! I don’t like you! I don’t want you! You... you infuriate me to no end!”

“But you like that don’t you? You like it when I get you all flustered. And don’t think I didn’t catch you blushing earlier when I called myself yours, given I said I was your douchebag, but you still blushed. Not to mention the fact that you put my hand back on your waist when we were walking back from the bar. You like me.”

“No I don’t! Everything that happened here was for show! It was for show.” She defended.

“The only reason you didn’t want to invite me to this wedding is because you knew that I would get your heart racing. Yeah. I can hear that.”

Y/N ran her hands over her face in frustration. “Oh. Don’t mess up your makeup. I can do that for you later.” Damon smirked. So what? His plan to be perfect didn’t last very long, but this plan seemed to be working just fine.

“Stop. Stop saying stuff like that.” She whisper shouted.

Damon leaned in. His mouth was only inches away from her ear. “Why? Does it…frustrate you?”

Y/N gave him a glare and crossed her arms, huffing. Damon smirked. She grabbed his wrist and took him outside.

Damon still had a smug look on his face. “You wanna know how you really make me feel? Yes, Damon! Yes you fucking frustrate me! You make me question my existence on a daily basis and sometimes I even wonder why me?! Why does he like me?! I’m no Elena. I’m not the perfect annoying ass girl next door, and I still don’t know the answer, but you know what?! Since you’re deciding to push me and push me until I explode, I love you, Damon Salvatore! I fucking love you!”

After seconds of tension filled silence and staring at each other, Damon smashed his lips against hers. She immediately kissed him back. She felt his hands gradually slide further down her back, until they were groping her ass. She pushed him away out of spite. “No.” She stated crossing her arms defiantly.

“Really? You’re going to be like this? Now?”

“Yes. Yes I am. Say it back and maybe I’ll be more lenient.” She sassed.

“I thought it was a given. I’ve literally been flirting with you and pining after you for months, Y/N. Of course I love you.”

“Was that so hard?” She joked. She leaned in to kiss him again, this time resting his hands on her butt. He squeezed her ass making her gasp, and slipped his tongue in her mouth.

“Woah. Woah. Woah. This isn’t your honeymoon Y/N.” Allison had walked out of her own reception looking for her.

“Oh, shit. Sorry Alli. So what’s up?” Y/N asked slightly out of breath.

“Well, I was promised that I could meet your mystery man, but you were nowhere to be found. I decided to look for you myself. Aunt Bethany was complaining about your grandkids joke earlier. I didn’t think you were serious.” She joked.

“So, this is Damon. Damon this is my cousin, Allison.”

“Nice to finally meet you. By the way Y/N, I connected the dots, and I realized after getting out of the point where I was completely freaking out, sorry about that by the way, that this is the same Damon that you literally used to call me just to complain about on the daily.”

“Hey, now. Let’s not bring that up, especially the things that I said…” Allison cut her off.

“She used to call me and talk about how annoying you were. I believe one time she called you a flaming douche nozzle? That sounds about right. Every single call always ended with her saying he is so infuriatingly attractive. It’s not even fair.” She knew she was embarrassing her cousin, and to be honest she loved it.

“Hey! He doesn’t need an ego boost! Trust me. I would know.”

“Okay. Okay. All jokes aside, if you are leaving, your mom and dad wanted to talk to you. Oh, and I won’t tell them about this little encounter. I know how they can be.” Allison winked and walked back in the building.

“Was it just me, or did we just get permission from the bride to leave? Come on we have got to hurry up and talk to my parents so we can get out of here.”

“What’s got you in such a rush to leave?” Damon winked.

“None of that. Stop. No. No. Bad.” She said pointing her finger at him.

“Relax. I won’t be myself, but only for you.” They walked back into the reception making a bee line to her parents.

“Hey mom, we’re about to head out.”

“Y/N, your lipstick is a little smudged.” Her mom said. Damon had to look away to stop himself from laughing.

“Huh. Is it? Must’ve been from where I got a drink. Anywho I love you guys and we will see you later.”

“Wait a second. Damon would you like to come over for dinner this Friday?”

“Of course. I’d love to Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Great. We cannot wait to see you again. Alright. I won’t keep you. Have a nice night.” They both waved goodbye to her parents and headed back to the Salvatore house. They walked in, and Damon poured a couple of glasses of bourbon.

“I have been accepted by your family. I’d say this calls for celebration.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to drink, dad.”

“Oh shut up. You can do whatever the hell you want when your parents aren’t there to witness it.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and flopped on the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep no matter what you say.”

“Come on then.”

“Where?”

“If you’re going to sleep then you’re coming with me to a comfy bed, not the couch.” Instead of waiting for her to reapond or get up, he slug her over his shoulder and took her upstairs.

“Goodnight, Damon.” She said sleepily.

“Goodnight, sleeping beauty.”

#damon salvatore #the vampire diaries #matt donovan #the vampire diares imagine #tvd imagine #tvd #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore x reader

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lovethisletters · 4 years ago

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Poly MC! hc for the: Demon Brothers!

This is my first time writing anything about poly relationships! So I'm a bit nervous! I took the time to do a bit of research about the subject...however I still have a lot to learn; if you find anything that might be offensive please let me know! Just know I didn't do it with any ill intentions and I'll make sure to correct my mistakes!

Also I didn't knew if you refered to a poly MC who is in a relationship with all of the brothers or how each individual brother would react to MC coming out as poly to them and later starting a poly relationship and how they behave in said relationship...so I did the latter bc I found it to be a bit more easy to write and the first option would have been way too long and I was worried it might come off as boring because of it :c (but maybe I'll try to edit it and then upload it...some day...idk)

so...here it is!

Keys: MC = your main character name

Summary: MC comes out as poly to the Demon Brothers and how they behave in a poly relationship!

Additional notes: MC is gender neutral!

TW: small mentions or implications of jealous/possessive behavior (they're very minimal, but still...just in case)

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Lucifer

Lucifer is probably the one you're the most nervous to talk to.

But when you finally find the courage to do so it goes...to put it mildly, a bit... weird.

He stares blankly at you like you just said to him that water is a liquid or something, he's not very...responsive.

His reaction might come off as rude, considering you spend all this time trying to figure out the "best" way to come out and talk about the possibility of starting a poly relationship.

But the reason why he's not talking much is because he's trying to avoid saying anything he might regret later, you see... he's trying to process his own feelings towards the matter.

Lucifer is someone who has lived for a long, looooooong time, so it's more likely than not that he's already experienced being in a poly relationship.

thing is...such relationship was more experimentation rather than something serious.

And now he has you...someone for who he'll be willing to die for...

He won't say it but deep down he feels like his pride has been bruised.

He just doesn't want to "share" you, you're his and his alone!

But when he looks up at you, and see just how nervous you are, waiting patiently for any kind of reaction from him.

He realizes he's thinking of you as an object and not a person and mentally kicks himself in the face for it.

Lucifer reaches for your hand and offers you a small smile.

After a long conversation where you two express your own desires and worries, you two agree and decide to give it a try.

At first... I'm not gonna lie...it would be quite... difficult...

The man is possessive and struggles to see you giving any kind of affection to any of his brothers.

However I think he genuinely wants this to work, he wants to see you happy and knows that just because you also love his brothers doesn't mean you love him any less.

So he'll sit down and talk to you whenever he feels jealous, he knows communication is key and it honestly makes him feel a bit better.

With time Lucifer comes to accept it; He loves you and he loves his brothers and it makes him happy that they all can share such bond with you.

Mammon

I think he's the one who'll have a harder time adapting to a poly relationship.

I'll even go as far to say Lucifer's jealousy pales in comparison to Mammon's and I think this is due to his low self-esteem.

He won't accept it but he's jealous af when he sees you "getting cozy" with any of his brothers.

He'll even interrupt the moment by placing himself in the middle of whoever you were getting close to or think about some lame excuse to take you away.

This makes things more difficult and tense for everyone, so if Mammon continues his shenanigans expect a LOT more arguing from the brothers...(yes...more than normal...)

You'll have to sit him down and talk to him about his insecurities.

The first times he won't be very open with you, I think he might even get a bit angry if you even imply he's jealous and act all offended and walk out of the room.

Surprisingly the one who makes him understand how toxic he's being and how much this affects you is Asmo!

He'll have a serious talk with him, and just the fact of seeing his often bubbly and cheerful young bro being all serious is enough for Mammon to realize that what he's been doing and how he's been acting hurts you and his brothers.

He'll apologize...the Mammon way...

But ultimately he now makes an effort to respect whenever you're close to one of his brothers.

Just like Lucifer. Mammon will come to accept you love him and his brothers all the same.

He'll sometimes even suggest places you all can go together for a date.

Please, be patient with the avatar of greed with time he will come to accept that love exist in more than one way or form.

Leviathan

Surprisingly, unlike his older brothers, your favorite shut-in-otaku has an easier time adapting to a poly relationship.

Easier, however does not mean problems are inexistent...

He has a low self-esteem and sometimes might get the feeling that you're ""picking favorites""

However he won't tell you anything about it, and he'll just try to pretend like nothing is wrong.

Fortunately for you, Levi is quite easy to read so you immediately notice whenever he's feeling sad.

But all you have to do is have a little gaming session with him, and as the two of you "game" the night away he'll eventually open up to you about whatever is bothering him.

All it takes is a little reassurance and saying "I love you" to the avatar of envy from time to time and he'll be all good with you showing affection to the rest of his brothers.

Satan

Uhhhh...this is a tricky one...

You see...Satan is probably the second brother you came out to and perhaps you didn't even realized that you did because it just happened so natural.

The two of you were talking and it just slipped out of your mouth and he was like "hahaha, right?" And continued the conversation as normal.

He genuinely doesn't care, (don't get me wrong I don't mean that in a bad way) but all he knows is that he loves you and he wants you to be happy, and if expanding the love that the two of you have to his brothers makes you happy, then so be it!

However... remember I said this was tricky?

Satan has no issue with you being affectionate with his brothers...all of them except for Lucifer...

When he sees you getting close to Lucifer he won't say anything, he won't make a scene or a passive-agressive remark, he'll just excuse himself and exit the room. (Neither he will confront you about it later when the two of you are alone)He won't say anything at all; he'll just stay silent and pretend like nothing is wrong.

However you'll be able to notice Satan's true feelings whenever Lucifer has a small present or gesture with you.

Oh? Lucifer gifted you a $300,000 coat? Well, Satan will give you another coat but this one is $600,000.

Lucifer treated you to dinner at ristorante six? Well, darling... guess what? Satan will reserve the entire building just for you!

At some point he will notice how bad this makes you feel, since he's turning a relationship into a competition and that's no good...

He'll eventually take a step back and realize how childish he's being, how his behavior hurts your feelings and might have even made you feel guilty or responsible for his beef with his older brother.

Before you even decide to talk to him about it, he already knows what you're trying to say, so he'll be the one to sit you down and apologize for his wrongdoings.

You're someone who he values dearly and all that he wants is for you to be happy, so he'll be willing to make the effort to get along or at least be a little more tolerant of Lucifer.

There might be times where they still fight and stop talking to each other for long periods of time, but the two of them will take the time to let you know that this has nothing to do with you and that there's no reason for you tu feel guilty.

Because if there's something in wich both, the avatar of pride and wrath agree in... Is in how much they love you.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus (definitely) was the first one to know about you being polyamorous.

He probably knew before you even said anything, let's be honest here...

He's probably the one who you're more comfortable talking about it.

The brothers accept you, yes...but Asmo understands you!

He knows that the world can be quite cruel to people who love differently to what our society stablish as "normal".

Whenever he expressed his liking for more than one person he was shamed or labeled as someone promiscuous who'll never be deserving of "true" love.

It happened in the celestial realm, in the human realm, and even sometimes here in the devildom.

Angels where expected to only focus in the lord and nothing else, some humans are close minded and shame whoever is different from them, and demon's often confuse love with obsession and get easily tangled up in possessive behavior, often viewing their partners as objects rather than individuals with their own goals and desires. (his brothers are the perfect example of that)

So he just knows how difficult it might have been for you to find acceptance.

So he gives it to you; acceptance, reassurance, however many times you need to.

He'll be the one to encourage you to talk with his brothers, he'll be there to support you if you ever feel nervous, and he'll be the one to call his brothers out on their bs whenever they start to show any signs of toxic behavior.

He knows in all relationships communication and trust in your partners is key to a successful relationship, so he reminds this to everyone and even goes as far as to make plans where everyone feels included.

Overall the avatar of lust is the voice of reason in this relationship, because he knows better than anyone else that love is something that can't and should never be limited by what others believe or expect "true love" should look like.

Beelzebub

You weren't sure how Beel would react once you told him.

But still you were pleasantly surprised by Beel's reaction!

He was so accepting from the beginning and even thanked you for trusting him enough to share this with him.

He's happy that you want him to form part of this relationship.

He knows his brothers love you as much as he does and that you love them back, so he sees this as the perfect option for everyone.

He even thinks this relationship has brought everyone closer together.

Over all the avatar of gluttony is more than happy to be with you and share your affection with people he holds equally as dearly.

Belphegor

Belphie, much like Lucifer struggles to understand why would you want such a thing?

Is his love not enough for you?

It takes little more time for him to understand you, and learn that love doesn't just limits to one person.

He can be a bit insensitive some times, so he might accidentally say something hurtful to you about it.

And that's when Asmo has to intervene...

He'll have a talk with his younger brother and make him realize that there's more than one form of love and how his words might have hurt you.

He'll apologize...(much like Mammon) in his own way...

After thinking about it for a while, he realizes he's happy whenever you show affection to Beel, and wonders if it would be the same with the rest of his brothers.

Slowly but surely, Belphie it's more open to this new relationship.

There'll be times where he might try to monopolize your love, but he'll stop once you, Beel or Asmo call him out on it.

His favorite thing of this new relationship is whenever you spend time with him and Beel.

Please be patient with the avatar of sloth.

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If you find any grammatical errors let me know! I'm trying to improve my english and that would help me so so much!

I will forever thank you if you go check out my other profile: @aileysmirnov where I post things about my OC: edits, one-shots, imagines, art, etc. If you like Greek mythology and the bat family maybe you would get to be as fond of her as much as I am!

Anyway, thank you for reading!

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 4 years ago

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WHY WE'RE GOING TO DECONSTRUCT THE PREVALENT MISCONCEPTION THAT LAN WANGJI IS THE POSSESSIVE AND/OR OUT OF BOUNDS ONE AT THE START OF MDZS ON THE PART OF THE AUDIENCE SINCE WEI WUXIAN ALREADY HAS PRECONCEIVED BIASES

As it says, we'll start right after the Dafan Mountain hunt. We are already shown the direct opposition between Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji in regards to trying to deal with Wei Wuxian. Remember, this was after both had walked away once before until Wei Wuxian, as he is apt, gets himself caught up from something he could have walked away from. His proclivity with summoning Wen Ning is what set of the realization for both men. Jiang Cheng to want to torture him into admittance of being Wei Wuxian, while Lan Wangji keeps up the pretense of him being Mo Xuanyu and taking him as a witness of the Mo Manor arm.

A moment ago, Jiang Cheng was certain that this person was Wei WuXian, and all of the blood in his body started to boil. Yet, now, Zidian was clearly telling him that he wasn’t. Zidian definitely wouldn’t deceive him or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn’t mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It’s impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I’ve done things like this in the past anyways. After thinking it through, he made a gesture. The disciples understood his intention and came over.

Wei WuXian hurriedly jumped behind Lan WangJi with the donkey, and exclaimed while holding a hand over his chest, “Ah! What are you going to do to me?”

Lan WangJi gave him a look, putting up with his extremely discourteous, noisy, and exaggerated behavior.

Seeing that he would not move over, Jiang Cheng spoke, “ Lan-er-gongzi, are you purposely making this difficult for me?”

These two scenes are barely moments apart Wei Wuxian thinks he has one upped both enough to get away, but Lan Wangji and Sizhui seem well-versed with Jiang Cheng's methods.

As expected, Jiang Cheng’s face darkened, “Oh, really? Then, may I ask which type you’re interested in?”

Wei WuXian replied, “Which type? Well, I am very much attracted to people like HanGuang-Jun.”

Lan WangJi would never tolerate this sort of frivolous and foolish joke at all. If he felt disgusted, he would definitely draw a line between them and keep his distance. Disgusting two people at once—this was killing two birds with one stone!

However, as Lan WangJi heard this, he turned around.

His face was emotionless, “Mark your words.”

Wei WuXian, “Hmm?”

Lan WangJi turned back, speaking in a mannerly yet resolute way, “I will take this one back to the Lan Sect.”

Wei WuXian, “…”

Wei WuXian, “…Huh?”

Lan Wangji here is already shaking up Wei Wuxian's past expectations of him. He has already turned Wei Wuxian's jokes against him in a subtly sarcastic way, just as Wei Wuxian was hoping to pull against him.

Given that the Lan by default are one of the Sects that do help commoners Sizhui and Jingyi point out word for word just why "Mo Xuanyu" has been brought to Cloud Recesses on Lan Wangji's say.

Lan SiZhui tried to reason with him, “Mo gongzi, it was for your sake that HanGuang-Jun brought you here. If you do not follow us, Sect Leader Jiang will not be willing to let the matter go. During these past years, there were countless people whom he has caught and took back to Lotus Pier, and none of those people were ever let out.”

Lan JingYi spoke, “That is right. You’ve seen Sect Leader Jiang’s methods, haven’t you? They’re quite cruel…” He paused here, remembering the rule that stated “talking behind other people’s backs” was prohibited, and subtly glanced at Lan WangJi. Seeing that HanGuang-Jun didn’t show any interest in chastising him, he was bold enough to mumble on, “It’s all because of the unhealthy trend that the YiLing Laozu started. There are so many people who copy him and cultivate that foolish method. With Sect Leader Jiang being so suspicious of everyone, is it even possible for him to catch all of them? Just look at you and your flute skills… Heh.”

Lan Sizhui and Jingyi affirm again just why Wei Wuxian was brought with them, for being part of the debacle of the arm as well as a form of safety from Jiang Cheng who is implied to still follow demonic cultivators he suspects.

This trend continues as Lan Wangji keeps Wei Wuxian with him as a form of protection. Wei Wuxian is still under the assumption he is passing off as Mo Xuanyu to Lan Wangji, until they are separated. Wei Wuxian to tend to Jin Ling and Lan Wangji to catch the spy. Once he does move to rendezvous he runs into Jiang Cheng who had been the one Lan Wangji was trying to keep him from.

The black-haired spiritual dog sprinted over from the other end, passed Wei WuXian, and threw herself toward Jin Ling’s legs, affectionately brushing him with her tail.

With the dog appearing here, it must have meant that Lan WangJi had already caught whoever was spying near the stone castles and went to the point of rendezvous that they settled on earlier. However, at the moment, Wei WuXian had no time to think about any of that..

As he ran, he just happened to end up right before Jiang Cheng, Jin Ling, and a bunch of other Jiang Sect disciples.

This is the first time now that Lan Wangji is not present to help Wei Wuxian. Who, has already become used to being under Lan Wangji's care and has quickly begun to stop questioning the reasons why. He is already comfortable enough to associate Lan Wangji as actual protection from Jiang Cheng as he had been warned earlier.

Seeing that the large, snarling dog closed in on him in less than a second, his ears were full of her low growls and his entire body numbed. He had forgotten about much of his early years of wandering on the streets. The only things he still remembered was the terror he felt as he was chased by dogs and the slicing pain of teeth and claws digging into his flesh. The fear that had been planted deep within his heart couldn’t be overcome or eased no matter how he tried.

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng glanced sideway at him, “Whose name did you call?”

Wei WuXian was in such a state of distress that he couldn’t remember whether or not he called someone’s name at all. He only managed to pull himself together after Jiang Cheng commanded the dog to back away. After a moment of hesitation, he abruptly turned his head away. On the other side, Jiang Cheng left his seat. There was a whip attached beside his waist. With one hand on it, he bent down to look at Wei WuXian’s face. After a pause, he straightened up and asked, “Speaking of it, since when have you been so close to Lan WangJi?”

Wei WuXian immediately understood whose name he had unconsciously called out.

Jiang Cheng smiled menacingly, “It really is quite curious how far he went to protect you, back on Dafan Mountain.”

A moment later, he corrected himself, “No. You weren’t necessarily the one whom Lan WangJi was protecting. After all, the GusuLan Sect couldn’t have forgotten what you did with that loyal dog of yours. How could someone so celebrated for his righteousness tolerate the likes of you? Maybe he’s familiar with this body that you stole instead.”

His words were cruel and sinister. Every sentence seemed well-meaning on the surface, but was actually derogatory. Wei WuXian couldn’t bear hearing it any longer, “Watch your language.”

To Jiang Cheng his assumptions of Wei Wuxian being alive are correct, yet, he thinks that Lan Wangji is protecting him due to assuming he has some sort of relationship with Mo Xuanyu. Wei Wuxian seemingly subconsciously voices his objection of Lan Wangji being spoken of in that way. This is the first major step post-resurrection of Wei Wuxian speaking up vocally in Lan Wangji's defense and Lan Wangji has been physically protecting Wei Wuxian.

Lan WangJi knelt down on one knee to examine his leg. Wei WuXian was rather shocked, “N-n-no, HanGuang-Jun. You don’t have to do this.”

Lan WangJi raised his head slightly, the pair of light-colored eyes boring into him, then looked down again and continued to roll up the leg of his trousers. Still under his grip, Wei WuXian could do nothing except to look up at the sky.

His entire leg was covered with the black bruise of the Curse Mark.

After staring at it for a while, Lan WangJi spoke in a bitter voice, “… I only left for a few hours.”

Wei WuXian shrugged, “A few hours is a long time. Anything could have happened. There, there. Straighten up.”

Once more Lan Wangji reiterates his stance of keeping Wei Wuxian safe and Wei Wuxian's penchant for taking on trouble.

Lan WangJi looked in the direction of a signboard that stood in front of a shop far down the street. Wei WuXian continued, “Let’s deal with the stone castle issue first.” He then walked toward the shop. He didn’t notice before, but his leg felt a bit numb, probably from Zidian. It was a good thing that Jiang Cheng controlled Zidian’s force so that he wasn’t made into a scorched corpse that had been struck by lightning.

Lan WangJi stood behind him. He suddenly called out, “Wei Ying.”

Wei WuXian paused. A second later, he pretended as if he didn’t hear the name, and answered, “What?”

Lan WangJi, “This was transferred from Jin Ling’s body, was it not.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Wei WuXian didn’t say anything. Lan WangJi spoke again, “You met Jiang WanYin.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out due to the mark that Zidian left on top of the Curse Mark. Wei WuXian turned around, “As long as both of us are alive in this world, we’d meet for sure, sooner or later.”

Lan WangJi, “Do not go…”

Wei WuXian, “If I don’t go, how am I supposed to leave? Are you gonna carry me on your back or something?”

“…” Lan WangJi looked at him in silence. Wei WuXian’s smile froze on his face, just as a foreboding feeling crossed his mind.

If had been Lan Zhan from back then, he would definitely be shocked speechless by these words, and either leave with a cold expression or completely ignore him. However, it’d be hard to say how the Lan Zhan now would respond.

And finally Wei Wuxian takes it in stride that Lan Wangji knows exactly who he is while continuing to let Wei Wuxian follow him for his safety along with his own interest in the case. Only being baffled as to why he is helping him as he believed Lan Wangji never liked or approved of him. Of his own volition though he stays close to Lan Wangji due to the sense of safety and help Lan Wangji has already offered. As a give and take of equality between them as they try to hunt down the body parts that turned into a bigger case than what it was supposed to initially be. Turning into something larger than just keeping away from Jiang Cheng himself. This is also keeping in mind, Wei Wuxian as the one to still initiate any physical contact and sleeping in the same bed with Lan Wangji even after his ruse is revealed.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #and his preconcieved notions #people grow up Wei Wuxian #lan wangji #lan wangji has done nothing wrong ever #this is long and no I will not say sorry #don't mind me

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years ago

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lately i feel taehyung is a straight man and his vibez is much more masculinity i mean not to mention taehyung straightly said to jimin he like him most and no offense for me it's just assurance about something etc and i don't feel like in romantic way but much more because he is best friend for life. i mean before you can assume he is kind of gay but lately i feel like he's more focus on masculine way and much more straight man.

Admin 1: Let’s do a little exercise which I think will help us answer this question, as well as showcase why reading it annoyed me so much, especially as queer person myself. Okay, here are nine different men, all of them athletes (why did I pick them? Because idols are basically just as athletic as them and chances of you knowing all nine are low), and now please try to guess which of them (if any) are gay/queer:

…

Do you have your guesses?

…

Okay, as example, if you guessed only the one first row second from the left then, well, you are partially correct. That man is Johnny Weir, former American figure skater, who is, in fact, gay, yes. But you are wrong in saying that out of all the men in those pictures he’s the only one who is queer. Because all of them are. You can read more about them here if you’re interested.

What does this tell us? Easy. The manner in which someone presents themselves (or the vibe, whatever that’s even supposed to mean, that they give off/give you), traditionally masculine, feminine, more androgynous, or anywhere else on the spectrum, has no correlation whatsoever with their sexuality. A gay man can dress in a way that is traditionally seen as more feminine and that’s fine. He can dress and look more typically masculine, and that is fine as well. He can dress and look however he likes and that doesn’t make him any less or more gay, or any less or more valid.

The main thing I would like for you to take away from this answer is this: please do not buy into stereotypical, basically fetishizing, portrayals and assumptions of what constitutes a “gay man” visually and behavior wise. There is no checklist full of boxes a queer man, or any queer person for that matter, needs to fulfil in order to be queer and valid in their queerness. There is no unified look a gay man has to showcase in order to be gay. It’s the 21st century, the year 2021, can we leave finally lay these things to rest?

As for Tae, if you want to know my thoughts about BTS and the LGBT community, I have an entire post about it which you can read here if that’s something that interests you. If we look at how Tae currently looks like, which you’ve defined as more “masculine” (and therefore straight), I will agree that he has gained muscles, if that is what you think is a necessary checkbox for masculinity, but really, all that really tells us is that Tae is healthy, that he looks great, handsome as ever, and that he is an idol of whom it is expected and required to be in a good physical shape, especially with comeback being quite literally just three days away which means a lot of performances, dancing, and hard Bangtan choreographies.

Your taste in fashion and how you feel most comfortable with your body looking like has no direct correlation with your sexuality, and neither does it with Tae’s.

Lastly, how is Tae saying he likes Jimin most on national TV somehow proof of him being straight? What else was he supposed to say? What would he have to say for you to not question his bond with Jimin? Is there a possibility we’re wrong and they’re just platonic, of course, but at the same time, looking at how Jimin said that Tae is a honest person, how Tae basically wears his heart on his sleeve, and how he’s written a song all about falling in love with his best friend, whom we know is Jimin, and we know Tae writes songs based on his own feelings and experiences, I do have a hard time believing that we are wrong. But, of course, we won’t know for sure until Tae or Jimin, or both, tell us themselves.

You are free to believe whatever you like but at least don’t project gender and LGBT stereotypes (most of which have been created and are perpetuated by straight people) onto Tae, and the other members for that matter. Or any queer person really.

Admin 2: I admit that after what I’ve recently observed on various sns platforms, no question will surprise me anymore. In fact, I'm sure I know where this question came from.

The most annoying thing is that despite so many "steps and demonstrations" on BTS' part, there is still an army trying to put people into individual boxes and number those boxes and give them names.

Do any of us have our sexualities written out on our foreheads? Can you see if we are sexually interested in women, men, or anyone else? And how can you know that?

I think a lot of people know Adam Rippon, for example, who is a former American figure skater and Olympic team bronze medalist. Yes, Adam is gay and has a very handsome partner, fiancé actually, who looks like a young god. He's fit, look at his photos on Instagram, Jussi goes to the gym, runs and is even in the process of builds a house himself, like a "real man", a "typical" man ... but he's gay!

If you look at this example, you can clearly see that there are no stereotypes that would indisputably define the appearance of an LGBTQ+ person! Indeed, in the last century, attempts have been made to give "gay" people the weird appearance of only ever being feminized man who are always sassy and the side kick in movies/shows, the stereotypical "gay best friend". It the past century it was designed as such to portray queer people, and especially gay men, in undesirable ways, as jokes and as something "bad", but I thought we grew out of it a long time ago as modern and tolerant people.

Kim Taehyung has to practice and exercise as a member of BTS. That’s a fact. To meet the requirements of their choreographies, whether you like it or not, you must be in an Olympic physical form. Not just him, the entire team must basically be at a near peak physical condition and health. Tae has to exercise, he has to take care of himself, and he has to look great. I have to admit, I've noticed that "gay" men pay more attention to their looks than a normal, unshaven straight guy! (I'm basing this on a joke Adam Rippon once made where he apologized to his followers for looking like an "unshaved straight guy" after he'd just woken up)

What do I mean by that? I want to express the fact that the way you look and take care of your appearance and physical condition are not an indicator of sexuality!

As for the "I like you the most" statement, I'll admit that I've observed many people in many ways trying to use this statement to twist it into whatever those people wanted it to be, instead of taking it for what it actually was, especially since it appears to be something like a thorn in the sides of those who ship other ML pairings.

I'll be rather blunt here now, instead of beating around the bush.

I think this whole question is another attempt at ripping down the Vmin sails and belittling their bond and its possible implications once again.

If we remember how the scene played out, remember Jimin's reactions, his nervousness, how flustered he was, said that things are getting dangerous, and the fact that Taehyung's letter was only for Jimin's eyes. Is that really how "bros" behave? Just a couples of besties?

I doubt that normal best buddies on national TV would feel the need to write mystery letters just for a friend's eyes and tell each other that they like him the most? I'll say more, "boyfriends" don't force their lover to admit that he is copying him in his dance style, only friends do.

It is strange that this "copy" situation was "perceived" as highly romantic, and yet Taehyung's words to Jimin were relegated to "best friends only, nothing else".

However, it doesn't change the fact that Taehyung said what he said, he wrote 95z is love and Jimin confessed that he would love to spend his life with his lovely Taehyungie. Do "only best friends" (best friends that are straight) behave like this?

#answered ask

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ms-rampage · 4 years ago

Note

Hello. I have a little request on the Supernatural. Y/n is an Archangel. After y/n gets pregnant and gives birth, she tries to live a quiet life. Lucifer lives with them. You can ask imagine, where Y/n is forced to look after not only her restless child, but also Lucifer, who behaves like a big child. Please.

Sure!! That sounds like something I would enjoy writing!! 😁😁. I hope you enjoy!!!. Also the baby is he/she.

A Baby's Need

Lucifer & Female reader

Note: Since the reader is an Archangel, and so is Lucifer. I made them two brother and sister. Also I put a bit of Y/n's back story as an Archangel.

Also: This made me want to write a series if there were a 5th (female) Archangel that I'm gonna post shortly.

Requested: by @aida690adriana

After you had baby AJ, you had to live your life on the down low, get away and raise your child. Being an Archangel and also a single mother is something you'd thought you'd never have.

The first few months of the baby's life were pretty tough, you were constantly changing diapers, fed the baby every 2 hours. Little AJ was completely restless. You're living out in a rural area in Colorado several miles away from the city. Your closest neighbor was a mile in a half away from your home.

Your child, AJ, who you're 100% sure is a Nephilim, is 9 months old. You'd never thought you'd get pregnant because you're an Archangel, and when you found out, you had to get away. Away from Heaven, away from other angels, away from Chuck. Live a quiet normal human life.

Fornicating with humans is a big no-no, completely frowned upon in Cloud City. Everything was going great in your life, before you had the baby and a bit after you had the baby, then your big brother Lucifer found you and your son/daughter. Practically moving in with you, and now you have to deal with two babies. For the love of dad *face palm*.

He maybe "The Devil", and "The Fallen Angel" but he happens to be a bigger baby than your actual baby. A literal child. Without his powers he's completely helpless.

"Y/n!!!!" he whines from the living room, as you feed AJ his/her bottle at the kitchen table, "Y/n!! Y/n!!! Y/n!!!".

You sigh, setting the bottle down and get up to see what he wants. "What is it Lucifer?!?" you ask.

He looks up at you with a pout on his lips, "I'm bored!" he whines, flailing his arms. Stomping his feet like a child. Seeing the mess he made from whatever it was that he was eating. When was the last time this man child left the house? .

You just shrug, "Okay? What do you want me to do about it?".

"I don't know, I'm just bored!!" he continues to whine, slouching on the couch. His hair a blonde, frizzy mess.

You sometimes can't believe you're related to this celestial. Yeah he's your brother and you love him, but he's just a pain in the ass. At least with Gabriel, or even Castiel they would try to help you, their sister, and raise their nephew/niece.

"You know Lucifer you didn't have to come looking for me" you tell him as you sit down on the couch, still holding AJ, "I'm capable on taking care of myself and my child".

He gives you a mocking look, "Welp, I got tired of being in Heaven and I got bored in Hell. So I wanted to go look for my little sister" he tells you, playfully nudging your arm.

You roll your eyes, and scoff "Did you though?".

He nods, "Yeah!".

You narrow your eyes at him, "Did you though?"

Rolling his eyes at you, drooping his shoulders back, "Yes I did!".

You give him a "serious" look with a raised eyebrow "Lucifer? Did you though?".

He scoffs, playfully hitting your shoulder, "You're annoying".

You retaliate, hitting him back "You're annoying".

"You're annoying!" he says, poking your shoulder.

"You're a child!" you tell him, poking his shoulder. He sticks his tongue out at you, "See you're a child!".

You two go back and forth with the "You're annoying's" "You're a child" and hitting/poking each others shoulders.

You and Lucifer always had a good brother, sister relationship before he was cast out of Heaven, after that you lost communication with him until he found you and AJ. When he found you, he was low on grace and you had to take care of him. Nurturing him back to health, all that while taking care of your restless baby and now your older child brother.

You're the youngest out of the Archangels, and to top it off the only female. First was Michael, then Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel then you, Archangel Y/n. Technically you and Gabriel are twins but that's another story for another time. It's debatable according to Chuck.

You figured you have 4 older brothers and thought they'd be protective of you because you're their little sister. Wrong!, sort of. You still remember the day Chuck introduced you to your 4 older brothers before all the other angels were created/born.

Michael didn't really seem fond of you, neither did Raphael. Gabriel was just glad he wasn't the youngest but you two had an inseparable bond, Lucifer kept his distance from you but you grew on him, but he still saw you as the annoying little sister.

When he rebelled and was about to be cast out of Heaven, you came to his defense. Surpised that you defended him, and tried to convince your father, God, to let him stay in Heaven.

After he was cast out, you and Michael were at each others throats. Telling him that he betrayed his own family, defending Lucifer with every chance you got, if it weren't for Gabriel you probably would've gotten cast out too.

You two were both tired of seeing your brothers fight. Then Gabe left Heaven, leaving you behind not even asking you (his twin, possibly) to go with him, Raphael was disconnected from everything, and you left Heaven not long afterwards. You knew the consequences but you took the leap of faith and left.

Trying to adjusting to a human life, trying not to use your powers unless it was 100% necessary, then you met a nice guy, you two bonded, you had sex for the first time and then next thing you knew you were pregnant. You didn't know what to think of it and you told him the news.

The dude panicked, and bailed on you, leaving you by yourself. Just like your brothers and father did. Scared and not used to the human life, you hid away from everyone and everything. You made yourself forget about that man because you knew his time will come eventually. Afraid of the angels getting to you and your child.

When Lucifer found your whereabouts, he tracked you down and eventually found you, because he knew his brothers wouldn't want anything to do with him, neither would Heaven, but he knew you would. The one who came to his defense centuries ago, the one who tried to convince their father to let him stay.

"Why don't you be an uncle and hold AJ" you tell him, holding out your son/daughter to him.

He sneers at the infant, but grabs him/her holding him/her in his arms. Looking back and forth from you and your child.

"What am I supposed to do?!?" he asks, confused. Furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"Talk to him/her" you tell him, then you get up to go clean the kitchen because that's what humans do apparently.

He looks at AJ not knowing what to do or say, "Hey how's going?" he asks the infant. Making his/her typical baby sounds. Cooing and fussing in his hands.

"Can you speak?" he asks, "Talk. Speak to me! C'mon tiny human". He continues to babble to him/her, trying to get the 9 month old infant to speak to him.

You hear him talk to AJ from the kitchen, and a smile grows on your face. From hearing your big brother bond with his nephew/niece.

"Talk to me goose!" he continues to get the baby to talk to him, "What do you know of your speices?".

You laugh a little to yourself, then you hear him groan in disgust.

"Oh my dad!" he exclaims "Y/n!!!".

You go to the living room, and see him holding AJ away from him. Looking grossed out.

"Humans are disgusting!" he groans, "Why!!".

You take AJ from him, who is laughing and giggling. You check his/her diaper, Lucifer mocks the baby's laughter which only makes him/her giggle more.

"He/she pooped" you tell him, laughing. He gags in disgust, acting like a child who ate nasty vegetables for the first time. Crossing his arms, pouting on the couch.

You changed AJ's diaper, and since Lucifer is incapable of taking care of himself because of his lack of powers. You're practically forced to take care of your big brother, making sure he eats and sleeps. You still have some of your powers but you refuse to use them unless its necessary to do so.

You sometimes ask yourself if you're the 2nd eldest Archangel because of how Lucifer asks, like a child, a giant man celestial child. Him and AJ have a lot in common they're both babies, they make messes, they sleep a lot and they wake you up from your sleep.

They also constantly need to be bathed, but Lucifer can do that on his own. You learned how to cook from YouTube videos and recipes off of Pinterest. Wash clothes, and all other human activities and chores back when it was just you and AJ.

You clean up after both of them, because The Devil is still a rookie at cleaning up after himself and cleaning in general, not taking the human life very easily. He whines about everything but luckily you tolerate and put up with his childish behavior.

#supernatural #spn lucifer #spn lucifer fanfic #spn lucifer x reader #mark pellegrino #lucifer #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #spn fandom #my writings #spn family #supernatural x y/n #spn fluff

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dear-yandere · 4 years ago

Text

[ terror eyes ]

yandere! risotto nero x reader. commissioned.

› word count: 2.8k. › warnings: consensual kidnapping, delusions, dependency, implied familial abuse, graphic gore and murder. › art credit: 39805470.

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.” — Kait Rokowski, Alight

he didn’t expect to feel this way. he didn’t expect to lose himself in you.

it’s the way your eyes shine when you look at him — the fleeting glances, the lasting smiles. it’s the way you say his name — the unexpected tenderness, the excitement on your face. it’s the way his heart beats wildly in your presence, the way he’s reminded of its existence. it’s the way you remind him that he is human, not the monster he’s made himself out to be.

when he looks in the mirror, he sees a void, a blackness so thick he’s afraid it will devour him whole. of all the things risotto nero does not fear, he fears himself most. and yet, when you look at him, there is hope, light, the very opposite of what stares at him from the mirror. you look at him like there’s something worth adoring, something worth loving — emotions he never imagined could be directed at him. it’s a foreign feeling, something he hasn’t felt in years. nothing short of a nuisance at first, the way your gaze would pin to him like a fan adores their idol or a disciple worships their god. being the source of admiration is nothing new to him — many a man look up to him with a mixture of awe and fear, some groveling for mercy and others joining his cause. risotto nero is accustomed to being watched, to having eyes on him from every angle and direction: from diavolo, who both trusts and distrusts him; from the capos, who look at him with awe and scorn, and from his own underlings, who both fear and revere him. risotto nero is a force to be reckoned with, and yet, the way you look at him like a lover is enough to unravel his layers, as if there was nothing to fear at all.

it’s hard not to feel naked around you, to not feel vulnerable, as if you’ll figure out his deepest desires and worst fears if you so much as tried. vulnerability is not to be shown in his line of work, even you understand this much. despite the way you look at him with such ardor, you keep distance. whether it’s out of fear or respect, he doesn’t want to find out. it’s better this way, to keep you at arm’s length; you aren’t supposed to be alive. that thought rings true in the recesses of his mind, a reminder of who you truly are, who he truly is, of how this relationship was fated for end from the start. but even he isn’t immune to selfishness and desire.

“welcome home!”

your voice holds the universe together, its stars and planets localized entirely to the house you both call home. there isn’t this urgent need to be careful around him — to feign happiness, to pretend your heart hasn’t been shattered so many times you’ve lost track of its pieces. there isn’t this urgent need to put your guard up around him, ensure it’s airtight, ensure it can take another beating. there isn’t this urgent need to be afraid around him. not anymore.

you don’t wait for a response, you never do. he never speaks without purpose, and you’ve grown accustomed to the way he wears silence like a mask. bounding up to him with a skip in your step, you attach yourself to his arm and lead him to the living room, the same conversation on your tongue as yesterday, the day before, and every day before that.

“how was work?”

a trivial question, considering his occupation; work is never good nor bad, because to him, taking life is neither good nor bad. it’s normal, it comes as easy as breathing. but for a moment, he feels the normality of it all wash over him. the catharsis that an ordinary life brings, one where he is married to a loving spouse, someone who greets him when he arrives home, someone who dotes on him at his highest and comforts him at his lowest. for a moment, you are his home, and for a moment, this is normal.

but moments are fleeting.

his heartbeat reminds him that this is real, that you are real. but there’s an ache in his chest and a longing for something else — for something more. he wonders if this happiness isn’t enough for him. if he was good, would he be capable of love? if he was good, would he be worthy of love? of your love?

how foolish... murderers aren’t meant to dream.

“i was so lonely without you, even the little metallica got bored...” you rub the smooth head of the stand, a little part of his soul perched atop your shoulder. a means to keep track of you, but you insist on treating it like a friend. as much as he pretends to find disinterest in your affection, he feels your touch vicariously through the little being and silently revels in it. “you didn’t get hurt did you?” your eyes scan his chest, searching for any visible wounds. when you find none, you look up at him with a smile that reaches your eyes. “i know you have a high pain tolerance, but i know basic first aid, and...”, you hesitate, heat dusting your cheeks like stardust. should you finish that thought? it’d not like he particularly cares for what you have to say, or so he lets on.

“and i want to be of use to you.”

he stares at you, a sense of affection flickering through his gaze. his heartbeat quickens and he searches your eyes only to find that same brilliance, that same hope worn proudly like armor. a reminder that you are blameless in all this. there are still things you don’t understand, things you couldn’t possibly understand. the true nature of his job, the truth about his past, all parts of him remain shrouded with uncertainty, parts of him that will forever remain a mystery. never does he speak of the thoughts weighing him down. you wish you could understand and he wishes he could let you, but his heart does not allow it. you are better off in the light.

“aha, forget i said anything. i was just joking...” your laugh is sardonic and forced, and yet it is still music to his ears. “but rely on me if you need anything, okay?” the question is rhetorical, you don’t expect an answer nor do you expect him to ever need your help, but you offer yourself on a silver platter nonetheless. it’s the least you can do for the man who saved you.

risotto laughs through his nose and corrects that earlier thought: you may belong in the light, but you’re better off here. he tells himself that anyways, convinces himself that what he did was for purely for your benefit. and even then that sentiment feels foreign, his behavior like a man possessed. who is he? that day he saw you, that day he killed your parents, who did he become? he’s heard that some change when they meet a lover, that they become someone else. a sick yet romantic concept, to change into someone else entirely as easily as changing clothes, as if love is enough to change the depravity of humans. tragedy and hatred was never foreign to him, the better part of his adult years spent wallowing in contempt and resentment; a shameful part of him, one he looks back on with disgust. how he used to wish that were true, that the scum who killed his cousin would seek forgiveness and repentance. but life is no fairy tale. and yet, when he met you, he became someone different, someone better.

and it still isn’t enough to make him worthy of you.

you are not red. when he met you, you were pure, untouched, unsullied by the red that surrounded you. unaffected by the red of your parents who hurt you, by the red of your family who let them, by the red of your friends who left you. despite the sea of blood you used to live in, you were anything but. anything but that wretched color, anything but the color of blood. you were his realization, his epiphany: his world has been dyed red for so long, he’d forgotten the beauty underneath.

you make him feel alive again.

“you’ll tell me if something’s wrong, won’t you?” there is no need for words, but you speak in hopes of giving assurance. you want to be his shoulder to lean on and to cry in, even if that offer will forever go untouched. but he can’t. as much as he longs for that companionship, to fall apart in your arms and let you the collect the pieces, he can’t. he doesn’t know what he needs. he doesn’t even know if he needs you.

but you need him. “if it concerns you.” his reply is blithe, far too scathing a response for a lover’s concern, but you show no signs of quarrel. this isn’t the first time he’s brushed you off, especially when this false game of house has become commonplace: go to work, come home, be greeted a woman who’d happily be your wife if you asked, rinse and repeat. “i can take care of myself.”

you nod like you always do, but he knows you’ll fuss over him come his return from work tomorrow. a familiar smile is directed at him — a display which still feels foreign — and the gentle musings of a woman smitten with love follow as you guide him to the couch with the promise of dinner being ready soon. as he seats himself, the worries of the day roll from his shoulders like rain. how you fell for a man like him is beyond his understanding. even if he did save you from a far worse fate, from a family who would sooner be your undoing than the catalyst of your betterment, he is undeserving of your love. what he sees when he looks at you is hope and misguided truth — you’re too bright for him.

“we’re running low on groceries,” you call out from the kitchen, broaching the topic carefully, scared he’ll think you’re eager to leave. in this situation, you suppose most would assume that much, but you... you want to stay here. you want to be with him, to be around him more, not just when he returns from work. you want him, and you know he wants you too if only he’d let himself indulge. “i... i know you usually pick it up yourself, but i want to come with you,” you try to explain, confidence melting away like ice under his gaze. will your words get through to him? “n...next time, i mean, if that’s okay...” you meekly clarify.

if you didn’t admire him, the way he looks at you now would make your legs buckle. his eyes have never scared you, not like he expected they would, but there’s a certain terror they inflict when he looks at you as a nuisance rather than a lover. piercing red on black, the eyes of a demon rather than a human. and yet, he is your guardian angel, the only man who’s ever saved you. you know you’re safe with him, he wouldn’t hurt you like they did. the thought has flitted through your mind from time to time, memories of your abusers’ bodies mangled and torn apart from the inside. explanations don’t come easy to risotto, so you’re still left in the dark about your own parent’s deaths. not that you cared much for their passing, you were more concerned with the nature in which they died. tiny slits had opened on all corners of their body, as if they’d been instantaneously cut from the inside. you still remember their screams, guttural like the dying wails of animals, infused with the intense smell of iron permeating the air. you want to learn more about him, to understand him, and this... this power is the best place to start. why did he save you? why does he keep you? will there come a day where he leaves you too?

“it’s dangerous.” his eyes peel away from yours and you allow yourself the luxury of relaxation. “passione is still looking for you. your parents had an outstanding debt that your disappearance alone isn’t enough to tide over.” he notices the way your shoulders slump in his peripherals. if his lies weren’t for your own good, he might have felt some semblance of regret. “things will settle down, it’s pointless to keep asking,” he adds with a tone of finality. he’s never been one for consolation, so he doesn’t dwell on the sadness that permeates your being. you’re safer here, even you realize that; you don’t put up a fight.

“i see...” you turn away, hands busying themselves with a nearly-finished dinner. the smell of a home-cooked meal imbues the air with warmth, a reminder of his childhood. how long has it been since he’s enjoyed the presence of another, a meal made by someone who loves him? even when he treats you harshly, keeping you in the dark about your own safety and the reality of your situation, it’s never held against him. the love you pour into his meals is palpable, carrying a certain sweetness even where the dish has no place for it. if he’s being honest, it’s... addicting. to feel normal again.

his earlier reasoning isn’t a complete lie, more of a... half-truth. upon learning of your home life, of how much abuse you endured at the negligent hands of parents who refuse to let you leave, he’d intended to kill you too. put you out of your misery. leaving the children of hits alive is problematic for a number of reasons, the biggest being that grief drives people to extremes. risotto has always been keen on finishing jobs thoroughly, but even he could see that something inside of you was... broken. the way you watched your parents being ripped apart, mauled by something you can’t see nor begin to comprehend... amidst the guts and gore, he wasn’t able to place an emotion to it at the time, only that it was visceral, animalistic. realization only came later: the look on your face was one of pure happiness. surrounded by the blood of your own family, you were happy, relieved, hopeful. to see them finally suffer as much as you had, to see them finally gone from your life; you were so much like him, and yet so far removed all the same.

regret is lost on him. he doesn’t regret ‘saving’ you. your parents had it coming; their presence in the underbelly of naples had become troublesome for passione, the pair even going so far as to try to escape their debt to the mafia. a last-ditch attempt akin to the behavior of animals who’ve been cornered, risotto almost felt pity upon learning of your existence. the onus of repaying their debt would have fallen on you, a tactic even he didn’t quite agree with. but passione was never known for their lenience; this was the life risotto had chosen, after all. a life of crime and of murder, a life befitting a monstrous stand like his. at some point, he’d lost all sense of sympathy for his hits, their faces replaced by that of the drunk driver who killed his cousin. that scum’s sentence was far too lenient, and risotto has seen first-hand the trouble leniency can bring.

but he felt sorry for you. coming to terms with the sudden onslaught of pity was nauseating enough, but he’d offered to hide you until things settle down. the don was enraged that you’d ‘escaped’ before risotto could finish you off, but it was easy enough to let it go: you’ll ‘turn up’ eventually, and the debt your parents owed is the back burner for the time being. and, whether or not you preferred to die at the hands of your savior, you still followed him without quarrel when he took you. under normal circumstances, perhaps it’s better to say he kidnapped you, but you’ve always insisted that he did just the opposite; he freed you. for the first time in his life, he saved someone. where he couldn't save his cousin, he could save you.

“i’ll stop asking, but... maybe we can go together one day?” you pipe up, already setting a fresh plate of food before him. a model housewife, if this had been under normal circumstances. despite your attempts to hide any sadness, you wear a blissful expression when you glance up at him, head curiously tilted with the weight of your admiration for him. when you speak, he feels your love for him in every word; when you speak, he feels like he can love again. “as a couple,” you suggest, your smile genuine.

no, he doesn’t deserve you. not in the slightest.

“...i’d like that.”

but maybe one day he will.

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lluvguts · 3 years ago

Text

Cool Blue ; Chapter Six

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

a heart could come so undone

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

☽ warnings: internalized homophobia

☽ fic masterlist

☽ a/n: thank you all so much for 2k hits on ao3! this all means so much to me and it really empowers me to continue with this story, even if i don't want to at times :) i would really appreciate any of my tumblr readers to go and leave a kudos or a comment just to tell me if you liked it, and make me smile <3 my ao3

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

Alberto was a storm quietly brewing beneath a thin façade of calm. His pinched brow and frown being the only signs of his mulling, his stewing, as the sun beat with ruthless fervor down across his back, already peeling and burnt, while he rowed back to Portorosso. To the real world. A life that made sense, one filled with humans and cars and houses, a bustling busy that progressed as the town woke up.

One that wasn't made for him.

He looked back to the island as he pushed the oars roughly in front of him, rowing back, and grimaced without thinking at the crumbling tower at its top. Signora Aragosta had told him that island belonged to her and her beloved, a haven for a young girl and her sea monster to sit and talk and discover themselves. He had stood in the remains of that tower, only hours before speeding down the steep, grassy slope of the island to Luca, his sea monster, and observed what little traces of their lives that were left. Children's books with frayed spines (when Signora Aragosta had told Alberto she'd taught her how to read) cracked flower pots with their centers hollowed out and small inscriptions Alberto could carefully trace on the convex cobblestones of the tower wall. Writings, words and phrases and, Alberto realized with a flush of heat, love poems that her Concetta had scribbled in messy, mostly-faded scrawl along the stones. But there were other parts of the tower, less beautiful signs of aging. Mounds of tree branches and rubble dusted over the tower floor, where time and bad seasons had caused parts of the inner walls to cave in. Sunlight drifting through the insides, illuminating those professions of love along the walls and warming Alberto's toes until he had to pull them away to stop thinking about it.

She said that they loved that place...so why did they abandon it so quickly? It was a different time then, Alberto must have known, but even still the sea folk and the human world were unable to coexist--let alone love each other.

His muscles gripped and shuddered in his stomach involuntarily and Alberto clenched the oars to keep his lips from trembling.

Then again, Alberto mused with little humor as he continued to row and glare into the waves, she had said a lot of things, but none of her comforting words had prepared him for what had really happened.

At this time in the afternoon the waters were calm, just a lazy caress on the boat's sides like old lovers and cast dim reflections of the sun in alternating lines of cyan along Alberto's forearms. The gentle waves were endless, if Alberto looked down he didn't think about his face staring back at him but rather what was beneath the surf, or more so who.

Was what Luca had done, what he had said, the same as those words on the tower walls?

His behavior was so...animal. It wasn't like him. But did Alberto truly know what to expect from someone that wasn't human?

Something landed into the ocean with an inaudible plink and Alberto saw in the reflection of the deep waters that he was crying. He hated himself for what he had felt, only an hour earlier. Absolutely dreaded thinking over it.

Luca's touch, so curious and bashful in the beginning. That was normal, that was something Alberto could understand. He had only grinned at their playful banter back and forth, like they'd used to. But as soon as he'd let his stupid fingers wander just to touch Luca's scales he knew every second after that moment was going to happen much too fast.

Alberto didn't even know what he was doing at the time, or why he chose to torture Luca like that. The boy was whimpering at his hands on him and had practically collapsed into Alberto's lap, so obviously it was only fair that Luca had freaked out and went full on sea monster. All he heard in his ear were Luca's uneven breaths mixed with his own, and the warm press of his teeth on his neck, with just a trace of saliva from Luca's tongue.

His stomach twisted at the memory, making his legs ache and that dull throb return in his shorts.

"Damn it," Alberto huffed, closing his eyes tightly and breathing through his teeth.

Alberto didn't know what he meant himself, when he pushed Luca off of him either. His own reaction to the touches had surprised him so thoroughly that he was afraid of what would have happened if he'd let it continue, and let Luca's words sink into his brain and maybe his skin, too.

Portorosso was fast approaching, and Alberto hopped off one side of the boat, tugging it along in the shallow waves to moor it to the dock. He tied the ropes in haste and bit his tongue when the old cord rubbed painfully along his already-sore palms.

"'Berto! You idiota! You couldn't hide from me for long!"

Alberto jumped at the voice, immediately thinking of Ercole, but as he looked up from his raw hands he only saw Giulia above him at the metal railing, waving her arms around.

"I wasn't hiding from you!" Alberto called up. "I was...out doing something!"

His word choice made him cringe. Giulia narrowed her expectant brown eyes and reached out a hand once Alberto had walked up the stone incline to greet him. But instead of a hug, Giulia used Alberto's hand clasped in her own to hold him steady and slap his cheek.

"Shit! What was that for?" Alberto cursed, freeing his hand in a jerk and pressing it to his hot cheek.

"For keeping secrets from me! Papa told me all about your girlfriend!" Giulia was near-shouting, and a few people wandering the streets turned. Alberto's face reddened another degree, if the handprint left by Giulia wasn't enough to show for it.

"She's not my girlfriend, Giulia!" Alberto spat. He craned his neck over at the boat just to double check then followed her down the seaside railing to their house.

"So what, you made up a fake girlfriend then to fool Papa? Is that it, Alberto?" Giulia looked at her brother out of the corner of her eye, smiling to herself. Her tone was light, so Alberto had no need to worry that she was being serious...probably.

Alberto spluttered. "Why would I lie to Papa? When have I ever lied to you or him, ever?" His heart was beating at a frantic pace in his chest, and if Giulia saw the sweat on the back of his neck he was done for.

"Let's see," Giulia stuck her tongue between her teeth, then counted off her fingers. "You lied about the orders that one time just so Papa let you go play soccer in the courtyard...you lie about your chores all the time. I think the amount of times he lets you get away with it is worse though."

"I do not lie about my chores! How can I lie about those when he sees the numbers every evening?"

Giulia swatted the air, and then actually swatted at Alberto, before letting out a shriek.

"Oh! Did I tell you that Luna, Machiavelli's mistress, is going to have kittens!" She splayed her hands out in front of her to emphasize the excitement, and it was just like her to lose her focus even if it was originally about teasing her own brother.

Alberto shrugged. "Papa isn't going to like it."

"Papa will come around in time, fratello. Besides, Luna's owner was very...understanding."

"Oh?"

Giulia nodded, her cheeks were flushed from her anger and the summer sun, but instantly darkened. "Yeah. There's a girl who lives a few houses across from us, by the Gelataria with her aunt. We met last week, but I saw her again this morning when her cat was looking for Machiavelli, but he was pent up in your room, cause you're stupid and left the door closed."

"Machi actually likes my room, unlike yours." Alberto said indignantly.

"I wouldn't call that liking. I think he tolerates being around you because you feed him."

"Ugh, Giulia! Stop changing the subject and just tell me about this stupid girl and her cat!"

Giulia flung out her hand and punched Alberto in the gut. "She is not stupid. She's...she's..." She trailed off, looking at the sand stuck between the stones beneath her sandals.

"Lovely."

"Giulia, you're blushing."

"Yeah, so?" She countered, glaring up at Alberto with her cheeks a deep rouge. "She's pretty. But you wouldn't understand...I don't think, um, Papa would approve if I liked her. As more than, you know. A neighbor."

Alberto felt so relieved he could cry. But he laughed instead, a short nervous giggle that dissolved into a long, airy chuckle that came from deep within his tightly-wound heart.

"What's so funny, hmm?: Giulia, despite her height, tried to size Alberto up by shoving his shoulder and leaning forward to get into his space. "Y'know, I wouldn't have told you if you were just going to laugh at me."

"No, Giulia! This, this is perfect!" Alberto didn't know exactly what he was doing, but all of his previous tension ebbed away as he took Giulia's hands and squeezed them with glee in his own.

"Me having un cotta with the girl across the street?" Giulia frowned at him.

"God, no." Alberto laughed, bringing his sister closer to look into her eyes and make sure she was listening. "Lucia isn't...uh, she's not, she's not a girl."

Giulia's light eyebrows were pulled low at that, as she curled her lip up in confusion and stared at Alberto's face. "What do you mean? Lucia can't not be a girl, her name is...oh....Oh. Alberto! You really were lying to Papa!"

He figured that was enough confirmation of Giulia's understanding and nodded slowly. She placed her palm where she'd slapped him and rubbed her thumb along the welt, breaking her gaze away to think.

"For once, I think I'm okay with you lying," Giulia mused. "But just this one time, Alberto! And I mean it! You'll have to make up for it by letting me meet him. What's his name, anyway?"

"You didn't tell me her name, so why should I tell you his?" They were standing outside the gate of their backyard, but Alberto stood in the way of the latch and beamed down smugly at Giulia.

"It adds mystery, alright big guy? Maybe I like that you don't know her name. Then you won't tease me about it."

"Fine then. I won't tell you Luca's name either."

Giulia beamed. "Luca! What a beautiful name! I bet he's very handsome, Alberto."

He bit his tongue and jammed one free hand into his pants pocket.

"N-No! I didn't say anything," Alberto gasped and clamped his hand over Giulia's mouth. "Don't tell Papa okay? I'm not...I don't think I'm ready."

Giulia licked Alberto's palm with a devilish grin and he groaned in disgust and pulled back.

"That's okay, I'm not really ready either." Giulia grabbed Alberto's slobbery hand and guided them into the side yard, swinging their arms.

So pretty...you smell so good, Alberto.

He almost stopped in his tracks, but Giulia was pulling them along so he trailed behind her, attached by their intertwined hands.

Luca's tail had twined around Alberto's ankle in such a quick and demanding way he felt his breath catch.

Please. I need you.

The words still trickled through his head, and soon the phantom feelings returned too. Cool scales dripping in sea water soon replaced by the feeling that Luca was burning up, swallowed whole by his own desperate pleas and touches.

"You okay, Alberto?" Giulia had stepped into the house, but Alberto's feet were pressed to the stone steps, unmoving. He thought that he could hover here at the threshold of the doorway with Luca's scent still lingering on his skin and the immense weight of odd passion forever, just so he didn't forget. Was this what Signora Aragosta had talked about when she first knew? When she first knew?

Alberto shook his head for Giulia, smiling and apologizing. "Yeah, we're good."

#luca #luca movie #luca fanfiction #luberto #luberto fanfiction #luberto fanfic #luca paguro #luca x alberto #alberto scorfano #alberluca #luca and alberto

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jd-loves-everyone · 4 years ago

Text

UNO

➤ Recording your newest youtube video and talking back to your boyfriend, Chan, ends up getting you into a lot more trouble than you expected.

➤ genre: smut

➤ wc: 2.3K (well this got long)

➤ warnings: dom!chan, sub!reader, minor preparation (be very careful or you could get hurt), use of the color system, dirty talk, power imbalance, finger sucking, explicit language, strength/size kink(?), mentioned aftercare.

➤ a/n: Yes I have a youtube channel. No, I am not self-projecting (maybe just a little bit :)) Also, please tell me what you thought about this because I haven’t written smut in nearly a year so I’m not sure if I like this, plus english isn’t my first language so let me know if anything doesn’t make sense :)

Perhaps pushing your boyfriend, Chan, wasn't the best idea. No matter the situation. But, in your defense Felix had taken you telling him to "suck my nonexistent dick" quite well, so what you told Chan wasn't THAT bad. At least in comparison. But perhaps it had been the seemingly endless build up to it that made him blow a fuse.

You had recently found out that videos of playing Uno with friends were not only fun, but also extremely popular. So it seemed like a great way to spend your Friday afternoon with Chan, Felix and Jisung, while also recording a video that would no doubt be entertaining.

It was no secret to anyone that all the boys were quite competitive (in various degrees, but all very competitive nonetheless), and to anyone that watched you play any sort of game it was also no secret that you were very competitive as well.

So, everyone you had invited to participate were people who could: speak English, were competitive and got frustrated quickly, which would all hopefully make for a pretty funny video. What you didn't account for was your own (unexpectedly) short temper and unfiltered vocabulary, all probably due to the presence of a microphone.

And so, with Chan in the next room in your house, you in your office and Felix and Jisung in their own houses, the game began. It started pretty slow, with everyone getting used to the setting and the game, but all eventually loosened up after the first "f bomb" was dropped. From there followed many minutes of frustrated yelling that rapidly grew in volume every time someone screwed someone else over. It seemed most prevalent between you and Chan though. And with every card he played to make you lose, your playfulness dissipated. Chan had tolerated your bratty behavior for most of the game, but that statement was the last straw.

“That’s it. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” You deadpanned amidst Felix and Jisung’s booming laughter, after your boyfriend made you pick up 4 more cards just as you were about to win. The silence that followed from his side should have made it clear to you that a line had been crossed. But you barely noticed as Chan seemed to go back to his normal self not long after.

The game continued normally and you ended it after getting enough footage for a video, ending the recording and saying goodbye to your friends and moving to Chan’s office.

Upon seeing him sitting in his chair, facing his computer, you decided to move towards him quietly to surprise him, given your current good mood. As you reached him you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the side of his neck and filing it with loud kisses.

The last thing you expected was for him to grasp your wrist tight enough to make a point: that he wasn’t pleased. With something you had done, most likely. Most definitely, otherwise he’d be telling you about his frustrations and not keeping vice-like grip on your hand.

“Chan?” You asked, oh-so innocently. It almost made him snicker. Instead he turned his chair around, tugging you forward to stand in between his spread legs, staring at you with fire in his eyes. Meanwhile you wracked your brain for the reason as to what you had done to make him mad.

“I’m a little disappointed with my baby girl today. You know why?” His voice was dangerously low, and suspiciously devious. You were almost sure he was doing this just to toy with you because he knew you loved it.

You furrowed your brows in concentration. What could it have been? None of what you had said or done seemed unusual or out of line. Maybe his patience was running low today? Perhaps there were simply so many little things that could be considered “mistakes” on your part, for you to figure out what the catalyst was.

"You don't know, do you?" He chuckles mockingly, his hold on your wrist loosening, lulling you into a false sense of security.

“I’m disappointed with my baby girl, because she was being a brat all game. Talking back to me with that attitude, trying to convince everyone you were in control. But we both know you’re not. I even let most of it slip since it was for the video, but I feel like perhaps you forgot who’s in control here. I also think that you were enjoying being on top for once, too much.” Chan spoke huskily, rising from the chair and looking down at your form.

“Maybe I need to show you who’s in charge.” He said absentmindedly, placing his hand on your cheek and stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, smiling softly when your lips parted to let his finger through. You licked it softly, hoping to please him. He saw right through you immediately, smirking as he pressed his thumb down on your tongue, making your mouth open wider. Saliva pooled at the bottom due to the dominant presence he exuded and the darkness in his gaze which promised an eventful night.

"Go to the bedroom, take your clothes off and maybe I'll think about going easy on you." He whispered, stepping back to give you space. Strangely enough, without his scent surrounding you, you felt dazed and somewhat cold.

But you hurried to carry out his order. Part of you wanted to push him just a little more, just to test him. But another, bigger part, just wanted to be his good girl.

You felt exposed and vulnerable as you stood in front of the bed, naked and waiting for Chan to step through the bedroom door. As he did, you felt goosebumps appear all over your skin as he looked you up and down appreciatively. You tried covering yourself as he made his way to you. He had seen you naked before (and in much more compromising positions) but the way his predatory gaze traced every one of curves, taking you in as if it was the first time, every time, just set fire to the blood in your veins and cheeks.

“Why are you hiding, baby? You seemed so confident just a few minutes ago. Where has all that attitude gone?” Chan taunted, taking his clothes off painfully slowly before sitting against the headboard, watching you with those keen eyes. Even if you were both naked, you felt nowhere near out of his grasp. All the muscles now exposed to you made your mouth water, just at the sight of his statuesque body that he worked so hard for, covered by marble-like skin.

“Come closer baby. Don’t get all shy now.”

You moved forward meekly, crawling until you were knelt in front of him, trying so hard to not let your eyes drop down to follow his v-line down to his cock. It was so enticing every time that it took all your willpower to keep his lustful gaze. He smirked, as if noticing your struggle.

"You're in the wrong spot, baby. I want to sit right here." He said as he patted both his thighs. "Since you like being on top so much, I want you to ride me. You do all the work this time. Because you're only coming tonight if you work for it."

The cockiness in his voice made you shiver in anticipation.

You crawled forward once more, straddling his lap and squirming at the feeling of him rubbing against your already dripping folds. Even though this persona of his never failed to get you wet enough for him to slide himself in smoothly, you knew the stretch would still be a bit painful, which perhaps was his intention.

He cupped your cheek in his hand gently, looking at you with unveiled concern despite his lust-blown pupils.

“Color?” He asked carefully, stroking your flesh soothingly as you leaned into the touch, making him smile fondly.

“Green. But, please go slow.” You replied once the fog in your mind cleared, looking your loving boyfriend in the eyes, deeply appreciative of his carefulness. He patted you cheek softly, nodding, before the switch flipped and he was back to his darker self, no more gentleness left in his gaze, hands grabbing you hips tightly and jerking you against him slightly. You jumped in surprise, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his hard member against you. He sent you a look as if to say: 'get to it'.

You slowly trailed your hand down your body as Chan stared unabashedly, before he grabbed your hand.

"No no. You seemed so eager to finish during the game. So why don't you just get to it?" He said lowly, scratching his nails on your thighs before groping the flesh harshly.

Not wanting to contradict him anymore, you grabbed his cock in your hand, spreading your essence on him, before positioning him at your entrance.

As you slowly sat on him, his breathing became harsh and labored, and you winced and whimpered at the stretch. It burned slightly but it wasn’t nearly as painful as the first time had been since you were going slow enough to adjust to his size. But it seemed as if Chan was struggling quite a bit,

He leaned his head back, neck on full display as his jaw clenched, trying his best to hold himself back from thrusting up into you. You realized that this was not only a punishment for you but also for him. Perhaps his plan backfired? Or perhaps he had planned this but realized he actually wouldn’t be able to hold himself back in a few minutes. Only time could tell.

Your eyes locked onto the prominent veins just under his fair skin, looking so inviting that you just couldn’t resist the urge to suck a blot of red onto his neck making him groan as he moved inside you as you leaned towards him. His grip on your hips tightened.

“Fuck! You’re so tight!” He said breathlessly, easing the grip he had on you to let you move.

And as you felt as if the pain had passed, you held onto his shoulders tightly and started moving up and down. The feel of him rubbing against your walls was almost too much as you could feel every bump and vein of his cock as you clenched experimentally. It made Chan let out a startled moan, probably louder than he intended as his cheeks reddened for more than exertion, eyes rolling back at the feeling.

Upon seeing the effect you had on him you got a sudden boost in confidence, riding him with fervor, determined to do your best and get more of those delicious reactions out of him.

The room filled with the sound of skin slapping as you bounced on his lap making more euphoric noises spill from Chan’s throat. You were in a similar state, the position allowing him to hit every sweet spot inside you, making you emit countless moans and whimpers.

You felt your orgasm build, tears gathering in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling of being so close but so far from the finish line, but being unable to reach it as your thighs became sore from smacking against Chan and fatigue started to weaken your limbs. You let out frustrated whimpers as you held onto his shoulders tight enough for your fingers to go white from pressure, which made Chan groan.

“Chan please! I can’t… anymore…” You begged breathlessly as your movements slowed down.

“Ah, fuck it.” He said, taking hold of your hips before flipping you onto your back without separating your bodies. He settled between your widely spread legs, pushing his hips forward with all the strength he had been holding back, grunting with effort.

“Poor baby. Can’t even make yourself cum without my help, huh? Not strong enough to handle it, are you?” He spoke smugly as your moans became louder and louder at his words.

Your breasts moved in tandem with his movements, attracting his attention which made him lean forward to take one of your enticing nipples into his warm and wet mouth. With the way your voice kept rising in volume, you knew your neighbors couldn’t be too happy.

“Are you close baby? Are you gonna cum for me?” He said as he took his mouth off of your chest, revealing the erotic sight of his saliva covering your nipple sloppily.

“Y-Yes! So close, Chan please.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for but Chan seemed pleased with your response as he pressed his lips against yours, trying but not fully succeeding in muffling your noises, as his hand trailed towards your center to rub your clit harshly which gave you that extra push.

As you tipped over the edge, barreling towards an overwhelming orgasm that made a few tears spill from your eyes, you clenched impossibly tight around Chan’s cock making him break the kiss, moaning and groaning openly into your mouth as you did the same.

Your breathing slowly returned to normal as you felt Chan’s sticky essence drip out of your hole as he pulled out, an image wished seemed to have captured his attention as he openly gazed at you red and spent pussy. Despite all that you had already done, and with the haze of lust no longer present, you blushed at his laser focused eyes set on your dripping core.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” He whispered almost to himself, smirking at your flushed and pouty face.

“Let’s get cleaned up, alright baby?” He said as he kissed your forehead gently.

“Just one thing Chan.” He tilted his head cutely, to show that he was listening. “Next time, try to not be such an asshole and maybe I’ll be nice in return.”

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Heat (Part 1)

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Tabaxi/Male Human/Fem-Intersex Tiefling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Babies, Mention of Pregnancy, Children, Kids, Tabaxi, Tiefling, Intersex, Pregnancy, Fatherhood, In Heat, Mating Cycles, Contraceptive Words: 4311

Rings goes into an intense heat and decides to isolate herself to prevent conceiving a child, whereas Ebert goes on a quest to find rare components to create a stronger contraceptive for her. Commissioned by @ocsmutpocalypse!

Rings had been acting weird. More weird than normal. And her normal weirdness was… pretty weird, by anyone’s standards. She spent a lot of time camping in the woods and snapped at anyone who came near her, including Ebert, Reverence, and her sister. Buttons couldn’t be in the same room as Rings, hissing and spitting at her before scrabbling for the door in a frothing rage.

Ebert hadn’t realized the change in her behavior at first, since Ethrik was a year and a half old, and Ebert’s second child had just been born a few months before, which took up all his attention. The child was like Reverence in that they were between genders and were not old enough to decide which gender they most identified with. Ebert and Reverence decided to name them Evo, short for “evolving,” and figured that they could change their name when they were old enough to choose.

So it was a few days before Ebert noticed her odd behavior and pointed it out to Reverence.

“Ah,” Reverence said, breastfeeding Evo. “Maybe she’s in heat.”

“Heat?” Ebert said, confused. “She’s never gone into heat before.”

“Well, not since you’ve been here, but that’s only been two years. It’s happened twice before, and they were random. Her sister says that Rings normally takes some sort of suppressant which works well enough typically, but every once in a while, the urge gets too strong and her body rebels against her.”

“Huh,” Ebert said. “Well, she takes the birth control medicine that I make, so she should be alright, right?”

Reverence shook her head, patting Evo’s bottom as they suckled. “Biological imperative in her species can be pretty strong, and no birth control is 100% effective. Rings hates the idea of having children more than anything, so the possibility that she might conceive is something she simply cannot tolerate. It’s why she normally secluded herself during her heats. Which is unfortunate for her. The last one was two months long. She came back in very poor shape; it took weeks for her to recover.”

Ebert frowned. “That’s disconcerting. Can nothing be done to help her?”

“According to Spring, if she copulates, the heat passes in a matter of days, but Rings won’t risk it. The idea of motherhood repulses her.”

“I know that all too well,” Ebert said. “I’m going to go to the cottage and see if I can work on something for her. I don’t like the idea of her being isolated for two months, especially since winter is coming soon.”

Reverence nodded and kissed him goodbye, and Ebert trekked into the woods and to the cottage where he did is magical work. As he was walking up, he heard glass break inside the cottage.

Taking out a short sword he’d been given and preparing a fireball, he called out, “Declare yourself!”

“Fuck off!” He heard in response, Rings’ annoyed voice loud enough to rattle the windows in the frame.

“Rings?” He said, dropping his sword and letting the fireball spell fizzle out in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing in there? What did you break?”

“Who cares? Go away!”

“I need my workspace!” Ebert said, putting the key in the door, but it refused to open. He had a feeling Rings was sitting in front of the door. “Reverence told me you’re in heat! I’m going to try and make a new contraceptive for you!”

“What do you know?” Rings yelled, banging against the door as he pushed on it. “Go ask Cassandra! She knows more about herbs and medicine than you do, you quack!”

Ebert grimaced, but he knew she wasn’t wrong. Cassandra was an aasimar and alumnus from his old academy, one who actually graduated and hadn’t committed a crime against nature, like he had. She and her lover had settled in the village less than a month previous.

Her specialty was prophecy and soothsaying, but she was also well versed in magical medicine and herbalism. Ebert was a good physician, but he wasn’t much of an apothecary He’d deferred to her expertise on several occasions, including the production of the original contraceptive. He was lucky she was more interested in working as a fortune teller and not as a medicine maker, or she could have taken half his business, if she’d had a mind to it.

“Yeah, I love you, too!” Ebert retorted, stalking off.

Cassandra lived with her lover, a minotaur named Bigby, near the temple and she did a lot of her business with the visitors. Getting your fortune told right outside of the temple was lucrative for both parties, so Reverence had allowed it as long as Cassandra agreed to support the temple and donate a small percentage of her earnings to the temple every month. Despite being a holy woman who lived a modest life in a small, two room house, Reverence was remarkably business savvy at times.

On the other hand, Bigby loved kids, and he often babysat for the villagers when they made their trips to the temple for a small fee. It was a good way to earn himself income and keep the littler tots out of trouble while their parents did their worshiping, so everyone got something out of the deal.

Cassandra was sitting at a booth that she had set up at the feet of Fysy’s statue outside of the temple. She was in the process of giving a reading to a parishioner, so Ebert waited awkwardly a small distance away for her to finish before approaching.

“Hello, necromancer,” Cassandra said pleasantly, her dark skin shining like bronze in the sunlight. “I’ve been waiting for you to come and see me. You certainly take your sweet time. I was wondering if I’d have to come and seek you out instead.”

“Yes, well,” Ebert said. “Rings is in heat.”

“I know,” She said, smugly magnanimous. “You’ve come to get medicinal advice, yes?”

“I suppose so,” Ebert admitted. “Rings and Reverence implied that the current contraceptive recipe will not be enough to override her body’s biological imperative. I need something stronger.”

“The recipe you have is pretty strong,” Cassandra said. “It would work for most mortal beings. Though, I will admit that Tabaxi bodies are very hardy and can expel most poisons with no effect to themselves. It’s no wonder that a normal recipe wouldn’t work for them.” She rubbed her chin. “There are a few herbs I know of that are effective. Bloodwort is one, and the bark of the red cedar is another. Bloodwort isn’t too hard to find, but red cedar isn’t native to this region. To find it, you’ll have to travel northwest for at least a week.” She stood up and came around the table, motioning to him to follow her. “Come.”

She led him to her home, where Bigby was chasing a passel of children around in the yard, pausing momentarily to raise a hand in greeting only to be set upon by many tiny hands, pushing him on his stomach and piling on.

“Here,” Cassandra said, pulling down a book. “This is a picture of the herbs I mentioned. When you find them, combine it with fennel seed, chasteberry, raspberry leaf, thistle, and red clover flowers. Boil on a low setting in clear water for at least three days, and add the decotion to a berry wine. Three tablespoons per day until the next cycle starts.”

Ebert pulled out his notebook and began to draw copies of each of the plants, writing down the recipe underneath the sketches.

“There’s an unusual symptom of this decotion, however,” Cassandra continued. “It doesn’t happen in humans, but in beastfolk, like tabaxis, it can cause an increase in sex drive. It’s still effective as a contraceptive in beastfolk, but it forces them to experience the worst of the heat in order to surpass it. I’d advise you to discuss it with Rings before making the trip. She may not appreciate the side effects.”

“I’ll do that,” Ebert said. “Although… Rings is usually my partner on these types of trips… I can’t imagine--”

“Going alone?” Cassandra said, finishing his sentence. “Then don’t. Certainly, Rings is a capable woman, but she’s not the only one. Her sister is also quite capable, and she would understand the urgency, especially considering she’s gone through a heat herself.”

“That’s true,” Ebert said. “I’ll ask Rings. Thanks, Cass.”

“It’s no trouble,” Cassandra replied pleasantly. “Give the children a kiss for me.”

Ebert waved and set off back to the cabin.

“Rings,” He said once he returned. Rings was still sitting against the door and refused to let him inside. “I spoke to Cassandra. I have to take a trip to get the ingredients she told me about. I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“Okay,” She said. She sounded much more subdued than normal.

“Listen,” Ebert started, sitting awkwardly on the steps. “Cassandra said that the herbs have a strange side effect on beast people. It forces them to the peak of their heat and makes them more… needy. The heat passes faster, but… the urge to… procreate… gets stronger. Uncontrollable. I just wanted to be sure it’s something you’re willing to deal with.”

“I don’t know,” She said after a moment. “If that’s the case… Will you and Reverence shelter with me until it’s over? If I’m going to end up in the family way… I’d prefer it if the kid belonged to you or her. I trust the two of you more than anyone else. I know me; it’s just not in me to be a parent. I won’t care for the kid. But you two will. And that’s good enough for me.”

“We can do that,” Ebert said. “I’m sure Reverence would agree. I’ll discuss it with her before I leave, to be sure. I’m going to see if Spring will accompany me on this trip. She understands this better than me, after all.”

“That’ll be good,” Rings agreed. “She hasn’t been out of the village since we came here.” Ebert heard her laugh. “Make sure Flicker doesn’t get the wrong idea. Unless you’re planning on seducing Springs on the trip.”

“Gross. I’m not into sisters, thanks. And Flicker could rip me in half, so I’m not risking it.”

Flickering Flame was a Bengal tiger tabaxi soldier from a far off desert country and was in a relationship with Spring. He worked as a guard, protecting the village from hostile outsiders. Though Spring was monogamous and had chosen not to follow Fysy, Flicker was a disciple of Fysy and worshiped at the temple, an arrangement they had agreed on when they decided to become engaged.

“Yeah, that’s true. He would rip you in half. It would be funny,” Rings said, laughing in a subdued way.

“Are you okay?” Ebert asked in concern.

She sighed. “I’m anxious. I’m never anxious, and I hate it. And I’ve never had to worry about who I had sex with or when. I don’t feel like myself and I don’t like it.”

“We’re going to fix it,” Ebert said softly. “Even if I have to go alone. As fun as it is to see you squirm… I miss you. The real you.”

“I miss me, too,” She said. “When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I talk to Spring,” He replied. “Probably tomorrow morning. I don’t want to delay too long.”

“Reverence is okay with it?” She asked.

“I haven’t talked to her yet, but I don’t imagine she’d be opposed to it. She’s not exactly restrictive or controlling.”

“True. And she can’t leave the village. She hasn’t set foot outside of the town’s boundary since she became the priestess decades ago.”

“I keep meaning to ask her the story behind that, but I’ve never had the opportunity. I heard she came from some place far away. I wonder how she ended up here.”

“I’ve never heard the full story, either,” Rings said. “Let’s ask her when you get back. It seems the three of us will be spending several days together, after all.”

Ebert struggled to his feet and brushed off his trouser. “I’m going to get going. I want to make arrangements before sundown.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

A heartbeat of time passed before she said, in a very quiet voice. “Be safe, okay? Don’t get killed, or I’ll be very angry with you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He said, chuckling.

“I’m serious,” She said, banging the door. “You’re useless without me.”

Ebert began to set off down the trail. “Don’t forget to eat.”

It didn’t take much to convince Spring to go with Ebert on his sojourn. She asked Bigby to look after Candle until she returned, and Bigby was happy to comply. Ebert also discussed having Bigby watch his tots when he returned and sheltered with Rings during her heat, and he was amiable.

Reverence was sympathetic to Ring’s plight and immediately agreed to help, offering to go to Rings at the cabin while Ebert was gone and satisfy her in ways that didn’t lead to children in the meantime. It wouldn’t be enough to end her heat, but it would keep her from losing her senses in the midst of an uncontrollable influx of hormones.

Spring met Ebert outside of her house the next morning wearing a practical traveling outfit with a sword strapped to her back.

“I wasn’t aware you owned a sword,” Ebert said, impressed.

“It’s Flicker’s,” She said. “I’m just borrowing it. I’m only glad he had one that suited a person my size. Of course, he calls it a letter opener.”

Ebert snorted. “You’re ready, then?”

“Yeah,” She replied, hitching up her pack. “We should follow the river until we hit open terrain. I’m familiar with the smell of red cedar, so finding it shouldn’t be as difficult as it would be without a tracker.”

“That’s definitely useful. Have you said farewell to Rings?”

“No, but I don’t think she’d welcome my company at the moment. I’ll greet her when we return.”

Fair enough. “Let’s head out.”

Traveling with Spring wasn’t as awkward or unpleasant as Ebert worried it could have been, especially considering the two of them weren’t necessarily close, despite his having lived in the village for several years by this point. The only time they really spoke was when he accompanied Rings or Reverence to dinner at Spring’s house.

He discovered that Spring was a good conversationalist and knew a lot about wilderness survival techniques, perhaps even more than Rings, which was reassuring, because Ebert knew fuck all about that.

Though she reminded Ebert of Rings in a number of ways, she was more even-keel and mellow-tempered than her sister. Whatever affection he might have developed for her during their trek, it definitely wasn’t attraction. More like a close friend or sibling, which actually relieved him. He hadn’t been close to any of his siblings, so having a familial relationship with someone was both unfamiliar and refreshing.

“The air is getting colder,” Spring said, pulling her scarf around her more tightly as they walked. “Another day, and we should be in the right area.”

“Great,” Ebert said in relief. “I hate camping.”

Spring snorted. “Yeah, I kinda figured. You do most of your grumbling right before bed.”

“I don’t mean to grumble,” He said, slightly embarrassed.

Spring laughed again. “You do it mostly under your breath, but I have good hearing.” Her feline ears flicked back and forth. “I honestly find it rather amusing. You remind me of Candle sometimes.”

“...thanks?”

“I just mean you like things a certain way. Candle is like that, too.” She hacked a branch out of her way. “Most children are.”

“Insinuating that I behave like a child?”

“I don’t mean it in a negative way. Rings is very similar. I think it’s just a side effect of not having a very good childhood. Rings hasn’t told me much about your childhood, but it’s easy enough to assume that it wasn’t a happy one, and you already know hers was terrible.”

“That’s true,” He admitted.

“We all need certain things when we’re children, chief among them is attention,” She said pensively. “Children grumble and gripe and make a fuss, and it seems irritating, but what they’re really asking for is attention. If you don’t get enough when you’re young, you grow up desperate for it. Rings acts out because she likes attention. I don’t think you necessarily want people to pay attention to you, but I think you do want people to listen. If you didn’t, I think you wouldn’t grumble out loud. People only make noise when they want someone to hear it, after all.”

“What are you, a philosopher?” Ebert laughed.

“Aren’t all mothers?” Spring replied, laughing herself.

The next day, as they were trekking near a treeline, Spring stopped and sniffed the air.

“I smell bloodroot,” She said. “It’s not far away. A few hundred meters, maybe.”

“Any whiff of red cedar yet?”

“No, but it likely won’t be long now. Bloodroot and red cedar are native to the same region.”

“Well, let’s collect as much as we can carry while we’re here. I don’t want to have to make another trip any time soon.”

They spent most of the afternoon plucking bloodroot plants, hoping there were seeds they could sow when they returned to the village. Another few hours travel before nightfall brought them to a grove with red cedar.

“Fucking finally,” Ebert sighed. “I was worried we’d have to travel another day to find this.”

“It is getting late, as it is,” Spring said, looking toward the setting sun. “It’d be best to set up camp now and harvest what we need in the morning.”

“Uuuugh,” Ebert groaned, throwing his head back dramatically, and Spring smiled at him in a fond, maternal sort of way.

Spring set about building a fire pit while Ebert looked for firewood from the nearby brush. He found valuable mushrooms and some lichen that would be useful as components and harvested those while he was at it, then returned to the clearing where they’d made camp.

“It doesn’t smell like rain tonight, which is good. I don’t feel like putting up the tent.”

Ebert groaned. “I don’t like sleeping in the open air.”

“Then you set up the tent,” She retorted.

Ebert’s groan deepened. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

“That’s what I thought.” She sat down at the newly built fire and put the cooking grate over it, setting a small pot on top of the grate and pouring water into it from her canteen. “Wanna cut up the onions and potatoes for the stew? I still have some jerky left, but I should hunt tomorrow for the trip back.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ebert said with a heavy sigh, settling himself with difficulty on the ground, setting his cane down next to him, and opening the drawstring pouch that contained their food supply. “One each, eh?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” She said.

“So, has Rings ever gone through heat like this before?” Ebert asked as he peeled the vegetables. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but I keep forgetting. This one seems severe.”

“She’s had a couple of heats since reaching adulthood, but not this bad,” Spring replied, tearing the jerky into small strips and throwing it into the pot. “It’s only as bad as this because Rings isn’t used to suppressing her urges. She’s always been impulsive and opportunistic. If she wants something, whether it’s food, money, sex, or whatever, she either takes it from wherever it’s most readily available or finds someone willing to give it to her, and she never hesitates. It’s why Fysy’s village suits her so well. Ordinarily.”

“True,” Ebert mused. “So stubborn. You’re older than her, right?”

Springs snorted. “By, like, three minutes. We’re from the same litter.”

“You two have such different personalities,” Ebert remarked.

“She’d hate to admit it, but she takes after our parents in temperament. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons she has no interest in having children; she hates the idea of turning out like them. That and she hates kids.”

“Yes,” Ebert replied. “Honestly, so did I, before I met Reverence. I mean, I still hate kids, but I like my kids. I guess I expected to turn out like my family. They were not in any way affectionate or sentimental, and up until Ethrik was born, I was the same way. I’d never have believed being a father was a possibility for me, let alone being a good father or enjoying my time with my children. Life has taken quite the unexpected turn.”

“Do you think Rings should have children, then?”

“Oh, Gods, no,” Ebert laughed. “Granted, I love my children, but I will admit it’s not an experience everyone needs. You know as well as I that suddenly being responsible for a living, breathing life you created is terrifying and not something every person wants to or is capable of handling. Rings is right to think that she wouldn’t raise the kid. She can’t deal with that level of responsibility. Her freedom and autonomy is too important to her, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I agree,” Spring said. “It’s one of the reasons I accepted you invitation to come on this journey. I thought of anyone, you would understand her best and not attempt to sway her opinions or plans for the future. You get her. I appreciate that, as her sister. Not many people do. I’d say even Reverence doesn’t understand Rings as well as you, for all they’ve known each other longer. It’s simply a fundamental difference in their personality.”

“You mean Rings hating kids and Reverence having so many?”

“Not just that,” She mused. “Reverence is the priestess of the goddess of love and fertility. Rings is fine with the first part, not so much the second. Though Rings loves Reverence, their difference in philosophies will always be at odds with each other. That’s why I think you’re good for them. You get them in different ways, and you can mediate if they ever argue.”

“Have they ever argued?” Ebert asked, surprised. “I’ve never witnessed it. Which is strange, because Rings loves to argue.

Spring snickered. “Typically, Rings respects Reverence enough to keep her criticisms to herself, but they had a brief falling out a few years back. Reverence was pregnant, again, and Rings got tired of it.”

“But Reverence never keeps the children, except for mine, and those were special circumstances.”

“Rings didn’t care; she felt like Reverence saw herself as nothing more than a brood mare and had no self-respect. Reverence, on the other hand, feels like making children is her sacred duty, and thus felt as though Rings was insulting her calling in life, and Fysy by extension. The parted ways for almost two months.”

“Oh, gods, it must have been serious,” Ebert said, surprised. “What happened?”

“Rings and I had a discussion about why I decided to keep Candle, even though he was conceived in the throes of an unplanned, unprepared-for heat with a deadbeat, what being a mother means to me specifically, if I wanted more children, that sort of thing. I think it helped her understand Reverence a little better. It’s the one and only time I ever heard of Rings apologizing.”

“I’m glad they made up,” Ebert replied. “I don’t know what my life would be like without both of them, and it’s not a thought I want to entertain.”

Spring smiled fondly. “Me, neither. Reverence is like a sister to me, as well. She gave me and my family a home and helped us start a new life. I owe her a lot.”

“As do I,” Ebert said softly with a sigh, reaching for a spoon to eat the stew right from the pot. “Let’s eat and go to bed, I’m exhausted. I want to get out of here as early as possible.”

Now that they had what they needed, the trip home took much less time, and they arrived back within the town proper in five days. He stopped by Reverence’s house, only to find that Bigby was keeping the children, with all of them on the floor passing a leather ball to each other in turn. Tiny little Evo was sandwiched between Bigby’s legs to keep them upright, squealing delightedly when the ball came close only to kick it out of their reach. Buttons sat in the very center, swatting lazily at the ball as it rolled past her.

Ebert realized from Reverence’s absence that she must be keeping Rings company. Spring collected Candle and excused herself, inviting Ebert and the women over for dinner once Rings was back to her old self.

Ebert went out to the cabin that was well away from most of the town, one of the reasons he liked it so much, and heard moaning issuing from inside. Ah. He’d guessed correctly. He reached up and knocked.

“Fuck off!” Rings cried out.

“It’s me! I’m back!”

“I don’t care! Fuck off!”

“I have a key, you know!”Ebert shouted. “I can let myself in at any time, I was just being considerate!”

“Then let yourself in, the fuck if I care!”

Ebert rolled his eyes and sighed. “I can’t work with the two of you going at it. I’ll start the medicine at home. I’ll be at the house when you’re done.”

“Whatever, go away!”

Snorting derisively, Ebert set back off for home.

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hypnoticwinter · 3 years ago

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The Adventure of the Eidolon Chapter 3

Table of Contents

Sherlock opens the door to his office for Nemaides and she walks in with the same assuredness as before. He gives Watson an aggrieved look and then goes in after her, shutting the door behind him, and that’s that.

Watson stands there for a long while, staring at the door. There is something very strange going on, only he doesn’t know what it is.

Nemaides (and what kind of a name is that anyway?) had not acted at all like how he had expected a psychic to act, and how in the world did Sherlock know her? Sure, they live and work in the flat above hers, but even so, it’s not like they see each other. Watson himself has barely seen Nemaides before, just here and there, passing her in the hall, bumping into her at the mailbox outside, that sort of thing. But for Sherlock to be on a first-name basis with her? It seems too far-fetched for him to believe.

Sherlock says something very sharply within his office and Nemaides laughs. Watson stares at the door for a moment longer and then makes a snap decision. He has to know something of what’s going on. He moves very cautiously to the door and hunkers down next to it, pressing his ear to the flat wooden plane of the door. He catches them mid-conversation.

“- and I have been trying very hard,” Sherlock is saying, “to tolerate your behavior, but this is just the last straw.”

“Please,” Nemaides says haughtily. “What are you going to do? Those Twins of yours have your hands tied.”

“Be that as it may, the Twins will not always be a concern. Once I’ve dealt with them, if you continue to make a nuisance of yourself -“

“And when and how will you deal with them?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“I’d say it would be of concern to my master.”

“The Crawling Chaos can eat a bag of -“

“Ooh,” she coos, her tone delighted, “temper, temper, Sherlock. My eyes are His, you know.”

“I’m well aware of the fact,” he snarls, his voice growing ugly. “And it’s my understanding that He wants me alive.”

“’Alive’ is a very low bar,” she says, a note of menace building in her tone. “There are plenty of ways to make life miserable without killing you.”

“I’m getting very tired of your empty threats,” he says. “I’m going to make this very simple for you. Are you going to let them go, or not?”

“Of course not. Don’t be stupid. I’m building a servitor. Some of us aren’t lucky enough to be able to magic our servants into existence by twiddling our fingers.”

“Nemaides, if you -“

“Threaten me again,” she says, and Watson’s blood goes cold. It is as though Nemaides has reached into his chest and squeezed his heart, plugged the valves with her fingers and thumb. “Threaten me again,” she repeats, “and I will tear your tongue from its -“

“Alright,” Sherlock interrupts, sounding completely unfazed. “You’ve made your point. But I still -“

Watson stands up his crouch next to the door. He is, if anything, more confused than before. He goes to the stove and puts the kettle on, and then sits there at the table while Sherlock and Nemaides mutter to each other in the next room. He has a cup of tea, and then another, and then, a little to his surprise, the door opens and Nemaides walks out, Sherlock following her. His face is very grim. He starts to say something, but Nemaides turns and cuts him off before he can get it out.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she says, in a decidedly warmer tone than Watson had overheard before. “I should have more information by then, and we can put together a plan.”

Sherlock, somewhat to Watson’s amazement, seems grateful. “Alright,” he says. “I appreciate it. Do you need anything while you’re - ?”

“No, no, just make sure you don’t - you know.”

Sherlock opens the door for her. “If I’d known an hour ago we’d be alright, but -“

“I know,” Nemaides says. “Look, we’ll figure it out. I - we - all want the same thing. Remember that.”

Then Nemaides is gone, and Sherlock stands there at the door for a long while, thinking hard, before Watson coughs.

“I made some tea,” he says, “would you like a - ?”

“Yes,” Sherlock says, immediately grateful. “Please, thank you.”

A moment later Watson sets Sherlock’s cup before him and settles back into his seat at the table. Sherlock looks…concerned. Decidedly, wearily concerned. Watson slides an expression of blithe incongruity onto his face. “So,” he says. Sherlock looks up. “What was all that about?”

“Oh,” Sherlock says, waving his hand, trying altogether too hard to seem casual. “Nothing. Just catching up.”

“I didn’t know you knew her.”

“We’ve had occasion to…collaborate now and then,” he says, his eyes instantly wary. Watson grunts.

“Well,” he says. “What’s the deal? Do we have a case?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then what -“

“If you’ll excuse me,” Sherlock says, standing up abruptly, “I have a lot of work to take care of.”

He strides into his office, shutting the door behind him, leaving the half-empty cup of tea, and that is the end of it. Watson sits around in the outer anteroom for most of the day, reading, killing time. He feels as though he is waiting for something to happen, waiting for some sort of action. There is the same electric feeling in the air right before a fight, but nothing comes of it. Watson doesn’t see Sherlock for the rest of the day except at the middle of the night, when they bump into each other at the bathroom. Sherlock looks tired and bleary but only mutters a few monosyllables in response to Watson’s greeting.

Afterwards, Watson lays in bed for a long while, thinking, but comes to no satisfactory conclusions.

The next day, Watson makes breakfast for them both, as is his custom, but Sherlock barely touches his eggs or his toast. Watson wonders briefly if he’s feeling alright; when Sherlock is sick he gets a little tetchy. He decides eventually that a direct approach is best.

“Sherlock,” he says, setting his own fork down. “Are you alright?”

Sherlock looks up at him and blinks. “Do I not seem alright?”

“You seem nervous.”

Sherlock’s face suddenly becomes very bland, as though a sheet had passed over it. “Nervous?” he says, sounding almost affronted. “Why, I - “

There is a knock at the door. Watson starts to get up but Sherlock is already out of his seat. Watson checks his watch; who in the world could it be at 8:30 in the morning?

Somehow Watson isn’t surprised at all when Nemaides strides in; the surprise comes when Sherlock actually greets her warmly, and when Nemaides returns the greeting with equal warmth. She has her hair back in a messy bun and is wearing sweatpants and something a little like a shawl, quilted with bright colors; the casualness of her outfit is very incongruous with the conversation Watson had overheard yesterday and he is even more shocked when she glances over at him and gives him a hurried wave before Sherlock ushers her into his office and shuts the door behind them.

Nemaides was carrying a very large three-ring binder, stuffed nearly full with what looked like notebook paper, as well as two yellowed, ancient-looking books or manuscripts. He didn’t get a good look at them but Watson thinks that the symbol on the cover of one of them matched the symbol carved into Nemaides’ door.

There is a low murmur of conversation from within Sherlock’s office, but Watson feels very tired when he thinks of going over and crouching at the door and listening in again.

Clearly there is something going on, that’s obvious enough. Something serious, too, if the conversation he overheard wasn’t some weird roleplaying sex thing, but he dismisses that notion out of hand. Throughout the years he’s known Sherlock, he’s never observed the boy to ever indicate even having any sort of sexual interest at all, so unless he’s been doing a very good job of hiding it, that’s not what this is.

In some ways Watson wishes that it was, because it’d be easy to move past. It being something else is more confounding.

Watson finishes his breakfast and washes his dishes in the sink. He keeps going over the particulars in his head - Sherlock and Nemaides are capital-letter Up To Something; Sherlock won’t tell him what it is; the Twins might be involved.

There isn’t enough information to crack it, Watson reflects glumly. He’s been sitting in the armchair over by the window for so long, book open and unread on his lap, that when he finally gets up his joints crack like a crescendo of gunshots.

Watson goes to his desk and rummages around for a moment before producing a notebook and a pen. He grins for a moment before grabbing his coat and heading downstairs. The first thing to do, he thinks to himself, when you don’t have enough information, is to get more information.

Five minutes later, Watson is nearly done with his sketch of the symbol carved into Nemaides’ door. He doesn’t have a ruler and he’s drawing at an odd angle, his notebook pressed up against the wall next to the door, but it’s a close enough approximation that it’s very clearly identifiable as the same symbol.

Next up is the library. He doesn’t have much of a plan here but he does know a few people in the rare books department who might be able to tell what the symbol is, if it even is anything. Watson suspects that it’s just some new-age meaningless scribble with no real discernible intent, but who knows? Even a marginal lead is better than no lead at all; Sherlock’s taught him that much, at least.

At the door to the building he runs into a short, slender woman with a fine, sharp-featured face and the strangest shade of umber-hued bronzed skin, and bright, verdantly green hair. Her face lights up candlelike as soon as she sees him. Watson gives her a faint, slightly puzzled smile, and holds the door open for her.

“Mister Watson!” she exclaims. “I was just coming to see you.” Watson stares at her for a moment, frowning.

“Er, I’m sorry,” he says, “but do I know you?”

As soon as he asks, her smile goes out like a light. “You don’t…remember me?” she asks, looking as though she doesn’t know whether to be affronted or horrified.

“I can assure you that if we had met before,” Watson says, giving her a bemused but winning smile, “I would not have forgotten you easily, Miss…?”

“Roan,” she murmurs. “Watson, we were at the park together yesterday. You don’t remember?”

“Um.”

“This is bad,” she says, glancing nervously behind her. “Really bad. Look,” she says, her voice low and fervent, “what can you remember doing yesterday?”

Watson thinks about it for a moment, then stops. “Well, I went downstairs and got, er, whatshername for Sherlock, and then before that…” he trails off. Roan raises her eyebrows.

“Yes?”

“I, uh, don’t remember.”

“I came by to ask for Sherlock’s help on a case,” Roan says. “He wasn’t in and you came with me to the park instead.”

“The park?”

“Yes. My sisters are missing and you agreed to help me.”

“Your sisters are missing?” Watson blurts. “Have you called the police?”

Roan throws up her hands in frustration. “Look, we’ve already been over this, we don’t have time - Ah!”

Roan had reached out to take a hold of his hand but as soon as her skin had touched his there was a flash and a sound like sizzling wood and she had drawn her hand back as though burned. Roan stares at Watson, a very strange look on her face. “What the hell are you doing with an Elder Sign?” she asks. There is a black scorch mark on her hand. Watson looks down at his hands bewildered, stammering.

“Good Lord, I don’t know what - are you alright?” he says, reaching out for her, but Roan backs away, caution in her eyes, as ardent as if Watson were threatening her with a knife.

"What the hell have you - show me that notebook!” she cries. Watson, utterly perplexed, holds it out to her, the strange geometric symbol on the upmost page. Roan physically cringes away as it nears her, holding her hands up in front of her face and squinting as though it were blindingly bright. “Get it away from me, you - !”

Watson tosses it to the side. “Just what the hell is - “

“Get rid of it!” Roan says. “Burn it, or tear it up, or scribble over it, just - “

“Jesus Christ, alright!” Watson says, crouching down over the notebook and tearing the page from it. He rips it into shreds and Roan finally relaxes. She sags, breathing hard still, against the door frame, and looks up at him.

“Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

“I don’t understand,” Watson says.

Roan starts to say something, but thinks better of it. “Look, what are you doing right now?” she asks.

“Well, I had planned on going to the library to see if I could find any more information on that symbol, but - “

“Would you like to go to the park with me? I need to show you something.”

“The park? Right now?”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Roan says, her voice deadly earnest. “Things will make a lot more sense, I promise.”

Watson thinks about it for only a moment. “Alright,” he says, “let’s go.”

* * *

“This is awful,” Sherlock says, his head in his hands. Nemaides grunts and scratches the side of her pointed chin. There is some movement on the street below and she leans forward, glancing down at Roan and Watson hurrying along the sidewalk towards the park. “What are you looking at?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she says. Her voice is sharp and distant. She glances back at him and their eyes meet for only a moment before Sherlock, scorched, glances away. “Have you stopped feeling sorry for yourself yet?”

“I have never,” Sherlock says in a bleak voice, “been so thoroughly or comprehensively fucked -“

“We do not have time for this,” Nemaides snaps. “You’re lucky I even came over to warn you, you’re lucky that Nyarl -“

“Don’t say His name!”

Nemaides rolls her eyes but still acquiesces. “Fine. You’re lucky that He removed the Mark so early so that I even could come and warn you. If the Twins had come here today, what would you have done? They’d have -“

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“And I don’t trust you!”

Nemaides rolls her eyes. “I brought the books. I brought my notes. Everything is laid out plain as day. Do I need to call the Crawling Chaos in here so He can tell you Himself?”

Sherlock waves his hand in dismissal. “Even if you did, I’m not stupid enough to believe Him. The Crawling Chaos lies.”

“Tell me how He benefits from the stars turning right again. Tell me how. He is the only Great Old One who doesn’t.”

“Be that as it may -“

“Whatever,” Nemaides growls. “I have wasted my entire morning trying to convince you that you need to take action now. If you don’t believe me, on your own head be it. Now,” she says, gathering up her things, “I am going to go back down to my flat and -“

“- and continue trying to turn a couple of dryads into a homunculus?”

Nemaides laughs. “A homunculus would be much easier.”

“Can you just lay off the dryads?”

“Oh, because you care so much about dryads all of a sudden?”

“Nemaides, I’ll -“

“You’ll do what? With what powers?” she asks, trying not to smirk. She looks down at her watch. “I know time runs a little differently in the Dreamlands but Nya - He told me last night that he’d be cracking down on the Elder Gods right about now. So go ahead, try it.”

Sherlock glowers. He makes a subtle gesture with his right hand; nothing immediately apparent happens. Nemaides raises an eyebrow. “Convinced?”

“Maybe,” he admits.

“What did you try to do, anyway?”

“Er. Drop an anvil on you. Like in a cartoon.”

“You tried to kill me?”

“Look, you’ve told me before it’s basically just a minor inconvenience…” Nemaides shakes her head and walks out of the office. Sherlock follows her into the main room. “Look, I would have stopped it,” he says, then he glances around. “Wait, where’s Watson?”

“You ought to keep better track of your toys,” Nemaides says. “Bye now.”

“Nemaides, wait, I’m sorry.”

“Bye.”

“Nemaides!”

“Goodbye, Sherlock,” she says, and then she’s gone. Sherlock curses and pulls out his cell phone and calls Watson. After a moment he hears it vibrating from over at Watson’s desk, and he throws up his hands. There is a tight knot of fear curdling at the pit of his stomach as he pulls his coat on and heads downstairs, taking Watson’s phone with him. He shoots a venomous glance at Nemaides’ door as he passes it, and thinks of knocking, but instead hurries down the stairs and out onto the street. He turns to the left and moves out onto the main road, away from the park.

A few minutes later Nemaides emerges from the building and turns to the right. She smiles to herself, faintly, as she glances at her watch. Then she shoves her hands deep into her pockets and heads off towards the park.

* * *

“Look at me,” Roan says to Watson. Watson looks at her. His eyes sweep over her wooden form, over the bronzed skin turning hard and enameled as soon as his gaze hits it, at the delicate detail of her carven fingernails, of her toes, of her hips and thighs and her fine, blunt nose. A deer meanders out of the trees behind her, trees that were not there a moment ago, and licks at her upturned palm. Her eyes flick up to Watson, who appears to be deep in thought. “Well?” she asks.

Watson is silent for a long while before he makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “I’m taking this much better than I feel I ought to be,” he says, and Roan laughs.

“Well, I’m glad you are. You ran away last time.”

“I can’t believe I don’t remember,” he says. Not for the first time, he looks up at her and asks, “are you sure that we - ?”

“Yes. You were here in this same spot, away from the trail. I promise you.”

Watson rubs his chin. “I have so many questions,” he says. “How in the world does a dryad work? What even is a dryad? Am I going crazy and talking to a hallucination? What was that symbol and why did it -“

“Okay, slow down,” she says. “We only have so much time. Um, a dryad is a kind of nature spirit, you find us all over the place wherever there’s a lot of greenery around, that’s all. We’re kind of like, linked to it, so we tend to die if the place we’re bound to does, and vice versa. No, you’re not crazy, I don’t know how to prove it to you. And the symbol is -“

“Why in the world are you so…so human?” he blurts. Roan laughs again, her fingers trailing along the soft back of the deer next to her.

“I am human,” she says. “Or I was, I used to be. I don’t know how it works exactly. You know how they only opened up this park like ten years ago? Well, back in the first year that it opened, I was jogging through the park and I got off the trail and just…kept going. I could see a little lake through the trees and I wanted to go take a look at it. And the trees just kept getting deeper and deeper and I kept going and going until I was in the middle of nowhere and it was…I don’t know, it was peaceful and quiet and it just felt like I belonged there. And eventually I found I couldn’t leave, or at least I couldn’t find my way out, and, well,” she gestures down at herself. “Here I am.”

“And your sisters - ?”

“Same thing, mostly. One of us, Naio, is a lot older than Amanda or I, but she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Watson shakes his head. “The one thing I don’t understand is, what does Sherlock have to do with any of this? Does he know you’re a - a dryad?”

“Of course he does,” Roan says. “That’s why I wanted to go to him in the first place, he’s a Pillar,” she says. This doesn’t immediately parse in Watson’s head and by the time he’s figured out what exactly she’s said, Roan has walked deeper into the woods, the trees bending down to her to run their branches along her skin as she passes. She turns back and looks at Watson, a pair of luminous eyes flickering at him in the dark. “You coming?”

“Er…” Watson says, glancing at the trees haloing her. “If I go in there, will I - ?”

“Don’t be silly. Come on,” she says, reaching out a hand for him, and it is only after a little hesitation that he takes it and allows her to lead him into the trees.

It smells of incense and rosemary and thyme, like growing things and wet earth and the smell of rain, but it is only when they have to squeeze together to get around a particularly fat birch tree that Watson realizes the smell is just Roan. “Roan,” he says after a moment. She glances back, her leaves rustling. “What’s a Pillar?”

She gives him a very blasé look. “Oh, come on.”

“What!” Watson blurts. “I’m supposed to just - know?”

“You expect me to believe that you work with Sherlock Holmes and you don’t know what a Pillar is?” she snorts. The trees thin out and then they step into a wide, flat clearing. There is a small stream running through the middle of it, and the water looks clear as glass. “This is the last place I saw them. My sisters, I mean,” Roan remarks.

Watson starts to ask about Pillars again, but shakes his head. “Hard to believe all this is in here,” Watson says. “I mean, we’re only, what, a mile or two off the trail?”

“Just about,” Roan says. “Most people don’t really go looking for it.”

“Huh. Do people ever, you know, run into you or anything? Are you a ghost story or an urban legend?”

“Not that I know of,” she laughs. “Mostly because I can do this…”

Roan steps into a tree and disappears. Watson blinks. “Okay,” he says, “that is a pretty good trick.”

“It isn’t a trick,” Roan says. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from right behind him, and when he turns he sees her stepping out from a completely different tree. “Look, you’re a detective, aren’t you? Can’t you, I don’t know, look for clues?”

“For your sisters? What even happened to them?”

“I told you,” she snaps, “Nemaides took them, and - right, of course, you forgot,” she groans, kneading the bridge of her nose. “I wish that Sherlock wasn’t so -“

“Wait, what was that about Nemaides?”

“She took my sisters,” Roan says simply. Watson stares at her.

“Nemaides did?”

“Uh, yes. What, do you know her or something?”

“She lives in the flat below us. Back on Baker Street, I mean.”

Roan splutters for a moment. “She lives where? That absolute bitch,” she snarls. “Alright, we are going to go right back to Baker Street and you and I are going to go in there and -“

“And what?” a low, sardonic voice purrs, rich with amusement, from the other side of the clearing. Both Roan and Watson jump.

For there, arms folded across her chest, is Nemaides, staring at them with naked scorn.

“You!” Roan cries. There is a trembling note of fury to her voice and Watson takes a step back without even meaning to, eager to get out from between the two of them. “You bitch,” she snarls. Watson blinks and suddenly Roan is twice her former size, great strapping bundles of oaky muscle bulging beneath her auburn, wood-grained skin. Her face has turned blunter and more bestial and her clawed jaws drip with slavering fury. She is trembling, barely able to hold herself back. As Watson watches, her fists dig deeply into the ground, scoring five gouges into the fragile earth.

Nemaides casts her a withering glance. “Be quiet, thing,” she spits. Her eyes flick over to Watson. “Watson,” she calls. “Come here. We need to leave.”

“What?” Watson blurts. “You came to…to get me?”

“Yes,” she says. “In a few minutes, Sherlock is -“

“Give me back my sisters!” Roan screams. Watson claps his hands to his ears, wincing at the sheer volume Roan heaves out from her titan lungs, but Nemaides seems utterly unmoved. As Roan comes bounding towards her she does nothing other than roll up her sleeves and ball her hands into fists. She is giving Roan such a venomous look that Watson flinches.

Roan leaps into the air, drawing one enormous fist back to smite Nemaides. But when she lands and the fist slams into the ground hard enough to knock Watson over from thirty feet away, Nemaides is already gone.

It takes Watson a second to understand what’s happened. Before Roan reached the ground, Nemaides had jumped into the air as well, catching herself on the dryad’s neck and clambering onto her back. She had rode out the enormous shockwave of what must have been a ton or two of wood hitting the ground, and then, as Roan had rolled over and tried to crush her, had taken ahold of the dryad’s leafy hair and used the momentum to fling herself around and onto Roan’s chest.

And then Nemaides had whispered something to herself, something that had made her hand flash an angry, glowing cherry-red, and plunged her arm into Roan’s chest up to the elbow, with as much ease as if her wooden flesh were made of foam.

Roan screams, a thunderous mixture of pain and fury, and reaches down to pluck Nemaides from her chest and dash her to the ground, but then Nemaides’ fingers close around Roan’s heart and squeeze and the dryad freezes.

“I will tell you this once,” Nemaides hisses. “You are lucky I have more urgent business to attend to, or else you would be a pile of ash on the ground. Your sisters are mine and you will never get them back. And the next time I see you,” she snarls, squeezing harder to punctuate her words, “you will be nothing more than kindling.”

Watson struggles to his feet. “Nemaides!” he calls. “What the hell - !”

Nemaides hops down from Roan and dusts her hands off. A trickle of wood shavings fall from them. Behind her, Roan tries to rise but collapses back down into the dirt. “Watson,” she says in a small voice, “Watson, don’t -“

“Watson,” Nemaides says. “In about -“ she checks her watch “- five minutes, Sherlock is going to be in some very serious trouble. We need to leave. Now.”

Watson is staring at her, still in shock. “But Roan - why did you -“

“Watson,” Nemaides repeats. “Do you want to save Sherlock or not?” she asks.

Without waiting for a reply, she turns and strides off into the trees and quickly disappears amid them.

Roan is crying silently, great amber tears of sap flowing from and crusting at the corners of her eyes. She looks at Watson and tries to keep her great carven lip from trembling. Watson feels as though he might throw up. He forces himself to look away from her and begins to follow Nemaides.

“Watson,” Roan says from behind him. She doesn’t call for him, or scream, or anything more dramatic, just says his name. He can hear her massive body shift creakily as she sits up behind him. Watson squeezes his eyes shut and keeps walking. “Watson,” she repeats. Her voice is tight with pain and anger. “You can’t trust her,” she says. “Don’t go with her,” she tells him.

Watson is out of the clearing entirely now. Every fiber within him is screaming at him to turn around and go to her, but he doesn’t. Instead he follows Nemaides’ distant, receding figure through the woods and out into the light.

Continue with Chapter 4

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