#i don't think i have a firm enough grasp on the obey me guys to actually write it yet

[yuri-is-online]

... I just had a terrible idea for a series of fics where Yuu and the obey me! mc go on a double date with their respective basket cases and are too busy being besties/catching up to notice how their guys aren't getting along.

Yes this was prompted by me thinking Levi and Idia would fight on sight. No I will not be taking questions at this time.

[hellotvshowtrash]

Obey pt. 3

Part 3 time!!! Not too much happens in this chapter, but I really like it tbh. Also once again posting from mobile so sorry if the formatting is weird.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: swearing

*tbh this gif is 100% Elijah laughing at drunken reader in this chap.*

Credit to gif owner

The cool night air was welcomed on her flushed skin. She started her trek home robotically, only getting a few yards away when she was stopped. "Let me walk you home, you're drunk and it could be dangerous," Elijah grabbed her arm from behind, gently pulling her to look back at him.

"I think I'm okay, thanks though," she said, "I walk this route pretty often. Besides, I'm not even really drunk anymore. You took care of that." She winked at him and turned back to continue walking, but he held her arm firm in his grasp.

"I insist," he said with more authority.

She slowly turned back to him, eyebrows raised. "You insist? You insist on following me back to my house so you can know where I live? You don't call the shots here," she pointed her index finger onto his chest. Anger clouded her features, no longer the seductress she had been. She had switched into survival mode in the blink of an eye. Elijah released her arm, surprised.

"Y/N," he muttered, "I overheard two men in the bar talking about following you." He looked into her eyes, "now I insist you let me walk you home," her eyes widened as he spoke, and then she shook her head quickly.

"Only because you heard those guys." She searched his eyes for the truth, but she found confusion instead. She began to walk again quickly, not waiting for him to catch up even though he did very quickly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

"I should tell you.. I don't normally do that sort of thing," he said, trying to strike up a conversation.

She snorted in response, "Yeah, well, I do." And she rolled her eyes. Usually her flings were easier than this. They'd let her go without a fight. But it seemed like Elijah wanted to be around her. Her heart started to warm at the possibility that someone might care enough to break through her walls until she crushed that thought and reminded herself of her vow. "No one will ever treat me like that again," her thoughts seemed loud and Elijah looked at her.

"What did you say?" He whispered to her. She looked at him, confused and realized she had spoken her vow aloud. His eyes held a type of curious concern, and she couldn't decipher his intentions. That infuriated her.

"Nothing, just.. just stop talking," she clenched her fists. She was becoming uneasy with the amount of time she was spending with the man, after already achieving her goal with him. Elijah grabbed her arm and the memory of that night all those years ago flashed in her mind again for a quick second. She pulled her arm away with a gasp. She looked at him, the emotional pain evident on her face. His eyes held horror and pity, almost as if he remembered the memory with her. Fire burned in her as eyes she looked at him. Elijah had never been scared of a human before, but this one would do what it took to survive. A few tense seconds passed before her shoulders fell and she continued walking.

"I'm too tired for this right now," she said quietly. Pulling himself together, Elijah followed. He matched her pace and stuffed one of his hands into his suit pants pocket.

"I live close to here, if you would li-", he started but Y/N cut him off with a glare.

"I don't know who you think you are, but this," she stopped again and pointed back and forth between them "was a one time thing. I plan on never seeing you again. Thanks for some good dick, but I'm done with you now. I can make it home perfectly fine by myself."  She started walking once again. This time Elijah held back and raised his eyebrows as he watched her go. He was intrigued by her, by her past and he wanted to know more.

She on the other hand, had no interest in him whatsoever, although... he had something weird about him. The way he tried to command her to do things, and then seemed confused or annoyed when she didn't immediately comply. Or the blood on her neck after their sexcapade in the bathroom. She touched her hand to her neck as she walked and felt the puncture wounds that had started to scab. Handsome, and charming and dark. She didn't fear him by any means, she was determined to never fear a man again, but there was something dark within him and she didn't know if she had the means to combat it.

She looked over her shoulder as she walked home, and he was gone.

—

"So, who is Elijah?" Y/N asked drunkenly. It was toward last call at the bar a few weeks later and Sophie was wiping down the hard wood surface. Sophie rolled her eyes and looked at Y/N.

"You're here, drunk, asking about some guy instead of going home with your newest conquest. What gives?" Sophie took the empty glass that was between them and put it behind the bar. "Besides, if I told you who he is, you wouldn't believe me." Sophie said, quieter than before.

"I'm just interested, is all. He showed me a good time," Y/N slurred. She had lied to herself. She was interested and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

"He's not your type. Actually, I don't think you have a type. You’ll fuck just about any man that breathes," Sophie grumbled.

The comment stung Y/N and she furrowed her eyebrows, "did someone shit in your Cheerios this morning? You're being a bitch," Sophie's jaw dropped as Y/N spoke. Y/N didn’t feel bad in the slightest.

"Out. Now." Sophie pointed at the door of the bar. Y/N started laughing as if Sophie was joking. "Get out."

Y/N stopped laughing and her face fell. "Aww come on, Soph. I'm just drunk it's fine," Y/N started to move off of her bar stool and tripped, almost tumbling to the ground. She started laughing again as Sophie stood her ground and watched her leave. Y/N stumbled onto the city street in the dark morning. Still laughing to herself, she began her walk home. She tripped over her own feet and began to fall to the ground, extending her arms out to catch herself, but the ground never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. She looked up and saw two handsome, identical men. No, there was only one, she clarified for herself. She was much more drunk than she thought she was.

"Llllijah?" She slurred. He sighed and brought her back up to her feet.

"You're lucky I happened to be passing by," he told her.

"I can take care of m'self," she said, her eyes partially closed. He couldn't help but smile at how feisty she was, even in her current state. She pulled away from him and started walking again. "What, are you stalking me?" She spun around to face him, attempting to walk backwards and successfully falling on her butt in the middle of the street. Elijah rolled his eyes as she laid down on the ground, groaning. "Mm llliijah, look at the stars!" She weakly lifted her hand, pointing loosely at the sky. Elijah looked up toward the sky and was astonished to be able to see the stars so well. He looked back down at Y/N, her eyes glued to the stars. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, already regretting what he was about to do. He stripped off his suit jacket put it over Y/N as he lowered himself to the cold street ground to lay next to her. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the stars with her.

"I've been thinking about you lately," he said to her quietly. She stayed still, continuing to look at the stars. A small diamond of a tear slid down her cheek but went unseen as Elijah continued. "I don't know you. And you don't know me. But, I think I'd like to take the time to know you," he slowly reached his hand to meet hers. She jerked her hand away and stood hastily, breathing fast. The coat slid off of her and unto the ground.

"Elijah, I don't know who you think you are. I am wild. I am fire. I am my own, and I will never be anyone's, ever again." her fight or flight response had sobered her up rather quickly and the fire in her eyes burned brightly. Elijah got up from the street, moving slowly.

"I quite enjoy your wild ferocity," he put his hands up in defense, trying to slowly move toward her. "I don't want you to be afraid or in pain," The walls around her heart were tall and dense, and he had the urge to tear them down and see her as she truly was. He couldn't help but feel that she would make one hell of a vampire.

Her chest rose and fell heavily. The single tear she had shed turned to multiple streaming down her cheeks and she ignored them. His eyes held a promise to her, one she didn't understand and was frustrated with. He owed her nothing, she owed him nothing. They were nothing. They were just two strangers. "I am not afraid of you. I'm not afraid of anyone. If anything, I'm the one people should be afraid of," she lifted her head defiantly.

His eyes held hers, his promise still in them. A glint of amusement flashed on his face. "I should be afraid of you?" He practically laughed at the idea and truth be told, Y/N’s bravery was faltering. He used to seem harmless, noble, a gentleman. As the conversation progressed, he seemed to become devilish and dark. Simultaneously dangerous and attractive. He took a step toward her but she held her ground, her chin still raised. He lifted his hand to her cheek and caressed her soft skin. She almost melted into his warm touch but held her ground. "You are fire. You are wild. You are your own. But I would like you to be mine as well," he wrapped his free arm around her waist, his other hand still caressing her cheek. She gasped and held onto him, suddenly off balance. Their eye contact hadn't broken once. "Let me show you what you could have if you chose me."

She puffed her chest out as he held her, recomposing herself. "I am not one to be tamed, Elijah. I wasn't born to obey or to let someone else be in control. I'm the one calling the shots here, not you." His eyes grew darker, and she couldn't tell if she was seeing things in the moonlight or if they had actually changed colours.

He leaned down, his face level with hers now and he breathed gently into her ear. He spoke softly, almost a whisper.

"Are you challenging me?"

-

Always taglist: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @soul-revoir @akshi8278

Obey taglist: @njeancastro316 @alien-sida-2 @mikaelson-emma @raemikaelson @kpopgirlbtssvt @within-thehollowcrown @its-a-simply-me-thing bold means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you!

[nonbinary-octopus]

SuperSides Chapter 2

Roman Catches a Borrower

Wordcount: 2.6K

Chapter 1: Prologue/Jamie Finds Evidence

[masterpost]

[More Stories]

~~~

Roman got home from rehearsal, tired and wanting to go to bed. He detoured through the kitchen first, though, remembering the plate of cookies his roommate had said to help himself to. But when he got to the kitchen, Roman stopped short at what he saw. Two tiny figures, carrying a cookie between them, stood on the counter. They stared back at him for a second. Then the one in the front hissed something at the other, which Roman couldn't quite make out, and they pitched the cookie to the side and started running.

Roman darted forward a second later. The borrower in back quickly outstripped the other, and was nearly at the wall when Roman reached the counter. An instant later, he'd scrambled over the back of the stove and vanished. Roman grabbed at the other borrower, and was surprised that he actually managed to snag him. Roman pulled away from the counter, opening his hands just a little so he could peek inside. He half expected to find something else trapped in his fist, but there he was. A tiny man lay on Roman's palm, looking back up at Roman with wide eyes.

"A borrower," Roman whispered in wonder, and the little man flinched. Roman glanced back at the cookie on the counter. "And you were borrowing a cookie," he said, picking it up.

The borrower's eyes flicked back and forth between Roman's face and his currently cookie-occupied hand. Then he surged upward, scrambling over Roman's thumb. With a yelp, Roman dropped the cookie and snatched at him, barely managing to catch the borrower by his leg before he could land on the counter. For a moment he was frozen as the borrower squirmed in his grip, flailing around upside-down but oddly silent. Then Roman got him back into his hands, curling his fingers more firmly around him. The borrower scrabbled at Roman's fingers, but Roman closed his fist firmly around the little guy's torso and gave him a stern, "no escaping" look.

The borrower fell still, though Roman could feel a rapid, frightened heartbeat against his fingers. He could not, he noticed, feel the borrower breathing. Roman loosened his grip a bit. Picking the cookie up again, he glanced back at the stove. The other borrower was probably long gone by now. Roman left the kitchen with his captive, heading for his room.

Roman closed his bedroom door behind him and sat down on his bed. He lifted the borrower up to his face, and the tiny man started to squirm again, looking terrified. Roman felt a little bit bad for basically kidnapping him. "I won't hurt you," he tried to assure him, but the glare the borrower gave him made it clear he thought it was an empty promise, or at least worthless coming from someone who was actively holding him captive. Roman sighed.

"I'll let you go," he said. "Just… not yet."

He got a similar look for that promise, and Roman looked away, feeling guiltier. The borrower started to squirm in his grasp again. Roman didn't really blame him. He was trapped in a fist from the chest down, and even his strongest efforts weren't enough to budge Roman's fingers. Roman loosened his grip a bit, giving him some more room. Obviously it wasn't enough, because the borrower continued to scrabble in Roman's fist, trying to get out.

"I'll… I can hold you in an open hand instead," Roman offered. The borrower paused in his struggles for a moment to look up at him calculatingly. Then he nodded. "Only," Roman added, "I don't… you have to promise not to jump off again." The tiny man responded with a scowl, and Roman rushed on. "I'm sorry, I know, you don't want to stay. But I promise, I will let you go. Today, even. Just, please, don't run off on me yet?"

The borrower grimaced, and Roman realized suddenly that his grip had tightened again while he anxiously explained himself. Quickly, he loosened it again. The borrower, looking pained, pushed at Roman's fingers to get him to loosen his fist even further.

"Please?" Roman begged.

The borrower glared at him. Then, grimacing still, he nodded. Roman loosened his grip and set the borrower on his other hand, which he held open.

"Better?" he asked hopefully.

The borrower slowly nodded. Then he winced, putting a hand on his side.

Concerned, Roman lifted the borrower closer to his face, earning himself a flinch and a flail as the little guy fell over in his hand to get away. "Sorry," Roman said, not sure which thing he was apologizing for. Maybe all of them. "I… I didn't mean to…" He swallowed, hard. "I hurt you. Didn't I?"

The borrower didn't answer, just curling in on himself in Roman's hand. Roman felt even guiltier. He'd promised not to hurt the little guy, but he'd already done it by accident.

"How… how bad is it?" he dared to ask. The borrower groaned, the first sound Roman had heard out of him since before he'd even touched him. "Let me see," Roman requested, but the borrower just curled into a tighter ball.

Roman used a finger from his free hand to roll the borrower onto his back. The borrower flailed again, and his eyes, which had been shut a second before, flew open. He lay in Roman's hand, staring up at him with something like terror.

"Let me see," Roman said again, hoping that he sounded both kind and firm. He didn't know how well he did, but the borrower slowly obeyed, uncurling to expose his stomach and chest.

Roman moved to lift the tiny shirt, and the borrower flinched, looking away. Roman froze, fingers still inches away from the tiny form. "I need you to lift your shirt," he said instead.

This wasn't much better in terms of how frightened the borrower looked, but at least the tiny man obeyed, gripping the hem of his shirt with trembling hands and pulling it up to reveal a thin torso with finger shaped bruises already forming.

Roman hissed sympathetically through his teeth. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. Then he frowned, noticing something. The borrower, shaking from head to toe, wasn't breathing.

"Hey. Breathe," Roman said. The borrower flinched at his voice, and then took in a shaky breath. He immediately cried out in pain, and Roman winced. "I'm sorry, I'm sure breathing hurts, but you gotta keep doing it."

The borrower looked up at him with tears in his eyes, but he kept breathing, if shakily and shallowly.

Roman got back up, and the borrower in his hand shook. "You can put your shirt back, for now," Roman said, trying to sound as gentle as he could. The tiny man pulled it down. Roman felt really bad about injuring him, but he was going to do his best to make it right.

Carrying the trembling borrower, Roman left his room and, with a glance to make sure Jamie wasn't around to see them (even though he was sure ey wasn't even in the house), ducked into the bathroom right across the hall and shut the door behind him. He set the little man down on the counter, where he glanced around. "Please don't run," Roman said, and the borrower stiffened again. Slowly, keeping his frightened gaze on Roman, the little man sat down on the counter as if to say, "Look, I'm not running. Not even thinking about running."

He obviously was worried about what Roman would do to him if he disobeyed. Roman's guilty feelings increased. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet instead of looking at the borrower anymore. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. But as Roman unscrewed the lid from the little silver tube, he hesitated. "I'm… going to have to ask you to take your shirt off," he said at last. The borrower gave him a pleading glance, but moved to do as Roman said. Soon, he was shivering in the open air. And not breathing, again, Roman noted with a frown.

"I know it hurts to breathe," he said gently, squeezing a dollop of clear goo out of the tube onto his finger. "And I'm sorry I have to ask you to do something that hurts. But you gotta keep breathing, buddy."

The borrower's shaking increased, but he started breathing again. Roman lowered his finger in front of him.

"Here," he said. "It's arnica gel." The borrower looked at it in confusion, and Roman added, "It'll help your bruises heal faster. Take some."

Shakily, the borrower scooped up a handful of the gel. It wasn't even a third of the dollop, and Roman realized that he might have squeezed out too much. Looking up at Roman, the borrower lifted the gel to his mouth.

"No!" They were both startled with the sharpness of Roman's exclamation. The borrower flinched, and then curled into a fetal position, protecting his head and neck with his arms like he expected Roman to crush him with a blow. Roman let out a tense breath. "You don't eat it," he said, more gently. "It's poisonous. You rub it on the bruises."

Slowly, the borrower uncurled. The gel he'd taken had gotten lost somewhere when he flinched, and Roman wordlessly offered him some more. The borrower took another handful, and tentatively spread it on one of the fresh bruises covering his chest. He winced, and Roman apologized again,

"I'm sorry, it's cold, I know. But it will help."

He leaned over and glanced at the borrower's back. It wasn't as bruised as his front, but Roman still worried that the little guy wasn't going to be able to reach the bruises that were there.

"Look… I know I'm the last person you want help from right now," he said, and the borrower looked up at him for a moment before going back to spreading arnica gel over his bruises. Roman continued, "But I'm not sure you'll be able to reach the bruises on your back. So I'll put the gel on them." The borrower visibly stiffened. It was painfully obvious how little he wanted Roman to touch him. Roman felt like the guilt would swallow him whole. He tried to assuage it with the fact that he was trying to make things better, but that didn't work very well.

The borrower didn't tell him no, but by this point Roman was pretty sure that he'd accidentally crushed any thoughts of rebellion out of the little guy.

"I'll be gentle." The promise felt bitter in his mouth. Hadn't Roman also promised not to hurt the borrower at all, just before almost squeezing the life out of him? Roman bit his lip, deciding to just do it. He leaned over the frightened borrower again and touched the gel on his finger to the bruises forming on his back. The borrower flinched at the first touch, but continued to rub the gel on his chest while Roman rubbed it into his back. He was holding his breath again, Roman noticed, but he didn't scold him this time. For one thing, he was holding his own breath to better concentrate on his task. As carefully and delicately as he could, Roman massaged the clear gel into each of the borrower's bruises.

Finally, he finished. Roman pulled away, letting out the breath he'd been holding. "I'm done," he promised, crouching in front of the counter. "How are you coming along?"

The borrower looked up for a moment, and then gestured to his bruises. Most of them had a thin coating, and he was finishing up on the last one.

Roman hesitated, wondering how to break it to him. "You have to rub it in," he said at last. "So your skin will absorb it."

The borrower glanced up again. Then he sighed and nodded, going back over the bruises and rubbing the gel in. Finally, he was done.

Roman was going to ask if he felt any better, but he had a feeling that the borrower would answer in the affirmative, whether or not it was true, in an attempt to appease him. So instead Roman just said, "Good job. You can put your shirt back on now."

Shivering, the borrower did so. Roman offered him a smile, but it felt fake, even to him. He looked away, putting the arnica back in the cabinet. Regretting the terrible first impression he'd made, Roman put his hand on the counter next to the borrower. "I won't even grab you this time," he said.

Getting onto Roman's hand seemed to be the thing the borrower wanted to do least in the world, but he forced himself to do it anyway. He sat in the middle of Roman's palm, stiff and shaking. Roman eyed him, and saw that the steady rise and fall that his chest should be doing was once again paused.

"Breathe," he reminded him. The borrower, cringing, obeyed, taking a deep breath that Roman could tell hurt him. "It can be little breaths," Roman said. "I just don't want you to pass out on me."

The borrower relaxed a little, but not much. Roman carried him back to his bedroom and sat down on his bed again. Where had he put that cookie? It might make a good peace offering. Ah! There it was, on Roman's pillow.

Roman lowered his hand to the blanket. "You can get off," he said, feeling his gut twist with the realization that without express permission, the borrower would probably remain in Roman's hand for fear that Roman wanted him to stay and would punish him for moving. He would have added, "but you don't have to if you'd rather not," but he was absolutely sure that the borrower didn't want to stay in his grip a second longer than he had to.

The borrower quickly scrambled off Roman's hand and sat down on the blanket instead, a few paces off (but still within easy arm's reach).

Roman picked the cookie up, breaking it in half. He set one half in front of the borrower. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want to," he assured the little guy. "But you may."

The borrower answered by breaking off a crumb and nibbling on it. Roman grinned in relief, taking a bite out of his half. For a moment, they sat in silence, just eating cookie together.

"My name's Roman," Roman blurted suddenly. Too suddenly, he realized, seeing the borrower flinch. He'd startled him. In a softer voice, Roman asked, "What's your name?"

The borrower relaxed, just a little. He said something, but it was too quiet for Roman to make out.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," Roman said, leaning closer. "Could you say it again?"

"Logan!" the borrower said, louder. Roman pulled away.

"Nice to meet you, Logan," he said, before realizing that that social script really didn't fit the situation. "Er. I mean." He sighed. "I know it wasn't nice to meet me. I'm sorry."

The borrower didn't answer.

Roman sighed again. "Look, Logan," he started, but he was interrupted by a knock on his door. He jolted, looking over at it. "That's my housemate," he said. He didn't want to expose Logan to more humans just yet, not after the bad experience he'd just given the poor guy. "I'll… I'll be right back," Roman said, getting up. "Um. Sorry. Again."

Roman grabbed his pillow, moving it to block the view of the borrower from the door. Jamie knocked again, and Roman went to answer the door.

~~~~~

Chapter 3: Angst Redux

~~~~~

Taglist:

@justanotherpurplebutterfly @panic-at-the-everything27 @tiny-enby @aroundofapplesauce @cricks-loves-you @yourfreindlyneighborhoodnerd @ifirestone @nonasficcollection @battleblaze @athenashipsthings @darkle-elkrad @fioxypurr @kitkat-kiwikat @smolkuriboh27 @inthemusicbox @unicornlogansanders