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petrichorium · 1 year

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Symbiosis

in which you break down, and draken is there to pick up the pieces

draken x gn!reader

word count: 2.9k reader: gn (no pronouns, neutral terms, neutral clothing) tags: hurt/comfort ig??? just pre-relationship, cuddling, flirting, idk man reader's going through it and draken's v much in love w them

“stay,” you mumble.

draken stiffens. he pulls up a little, just enough that he doesn’t have to brace himself anymore, but it has you whining anyway until he sinks to his knees and lets you fall in close again.

“i can sleep on the couch—“

“no.” you shake your head and ball your fist around the fabric. “here. sleep with me.”

“i’m not getting in your bed wearing my work clothes, baby, i’ll get grease all over your sheets.”

“i can change my sheets. small price to pay for you to hold me tonight.”

he’s quiet for a moment. you think the words might have stunned him, just a bit; but they work either way, because after a beat he rises without protesting any further and silently pulls your covers aside to join you.

“all right,” he says, unbearably low and soft as his work boots fall to the floor with two heavy thuds, “can’t say no to you.”

Draken shows up on day three of your self-induced isolation.

You’re sitting out on your balcony, enjoying the cool of the evening and watching the sun dip beneath the horizon. It helps you orient yourself, you've come to find, being outside as the light slowly fades. When you crash like this you need all the help you can get.

Frankly you should be thankful it’s only him and not an entire brigade of motorcycles and ex-gangsters. You’re not well-versed enough to know it’s him from the sound of the engine—not like he is, when you sit next to him in the shop and he can tell you who will come walking through the door by the roaring noise of their approach—but you’re fairly certain it’s him. Even when he stops, and stands, and you can’t see much more than the bulky silhouette of his form with those broad shoulders and thick forearms covered by the work overalls he still wears, you know.

He doesn’t see you at first. The first few steps he takes are towards the stairwell that leads up to where your front door is, but then he pauses and lifts a hand to squint up at you before approaching your balcony.

You can only just see him through the bars of the railing by the time he stops, but he’s close enough now that you note the ponytail his hair is in—you hadn’t been there to braid it over shitty burnt coffee from the pot in the back room this morning.

“Didn’t come to work today,” Draken calls up to you. You hunker down further in your seat, and though you thought he couldn’t see you well enough he moves forward a bit at the action. “Everyone’s worried, you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I called out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been three days. You hurt?”

“No.”

“Sick? You sound—“

“No,” you say again, more sternly the second time, because you know he’s asking about your voice and you don’t exactly want to shout down to your colleague that you sound congested because you’ve been crying all day.

“Good.” There’s relief in his voice as he glances over towards the stairwell up to your front door, then back to you, “can I come up?”

“Door’s locked.”

“I’ll pick it.”

You shake your head. “Latched.”

His sigh is long-suffering. “Always makin’ me work for it, huh?”

When he disappears from view you figure he’ll kick down your door. You resign yourself to it; anticipate the muffled sound of his foot against solid wood until it gives in, the complaints from your neighbors in the morning. Maybe someone will call the police thinking you’re being robbed and you’ll have to deal with that at whatever hour it currently is.

Instead you hear a grunt, and the shabby metal railing of your balcony rattles violently as a big hand catches hold of it.

And what you let out is more a screech than a yelp, taken entirely by surprise. You’re a bit calmed when Draken’s head follows—he hefts himself up with a surprising amount of ease, bicep bulging visibly even beneath the long sleeve of his jumpsuit—but your heart still pounds rapidly within your chest, and you’re still frozen half lunged away from him.

His other hand finds the top of the railing and it’s all over from there; soon he has all six-feet-and-change of his body up and one leg over. For a beat he sits like that, straddling the banister, and then he swings his other leg over all the way and settles heavy on the concrete floor.

The balcony is tiny, made even more so by the sheer size of your new companion. He approaches, careful not to disturb the multitude of plants, and drops to sit facing you.

For a heartbeat, two, several, he is still. You’re both silent. You tuck your head further into your knees, looking out at the drab buildings and glowing yellow street lights past the railing. Before your very eyes you watch rain begin to fall—a light smattering of drops at first, thick and fat against the dark asphalt below, and then more, heavier and heavier, until the world beyond is covered by the curtain of a deluge and nothing more than blurry acrylic on canvas.

“Got up just in time,” Draken says suddenly. You nearly jump. His voice is surprisingly clear despite the roaring sound of rain hitting every surface beyond the balcony.

You let yourself turn to him. He straightens as soon as you do, shuffling in a bit closer until he could practically lay his head in your lap. But he doesn’t; he shifts, turning to face out and extend his legs as far as they can go, toes of his large boots pressing between the bars of the railing he’d just climbed. His legs are so long they’re still largely bent, but he rests his arms there as he leans back against the building behind you, and you suppose it seems comfortable enough.

“How’d you even get up?” you ask him finally, earning yourself a biting grin.

“Used the balcony under yours. S’easy to climb these things if you know what you’re doing.”

Your nose scrunches, and that grin softens into something fond. Draken shifts to reach out and press a thumb between your eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles there.

“I don’t like when you do stupid shit,” is what you settle on saying.

“That’s a lie, you love when I do stupid shit.”

“Not when it’ll get me a complaint in the morning about the massive boot print on my neighbor’s railing.”

“To go with the noise complaints about the motorcycle after dark.”

The hackles you’ve had up slowly fall; his presence is calming, big but warm. Protective. You feel like he could shoulder every burden for you.

It would be cruel of you to make him.

But he catches onto your silence. “Hey, don’t go quiet on me now. Unless you’re figuring out how to tell me what’s up with you.”

Your shoulders slump. You pull your legs up again, leaning back, and Draken’s hand finds itself on your thigh, all big and heavy and comforting.

“Look, it’s just… been a bad few days. Happens sometimes. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Hm.” He hums to himself, and squeezes your thigh, almost in thought. “Can’t say I agree with that. In fact I think my whole goal here is to make you somethin’ I gotta worry about. So… give me more to work with.”

“It’s just me, okay? I just… crash, sometimes. Need to take a few days and work it through.”

“Alone?”

Your lip quivers. “Always have.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Well… fine. Talking won’t do much. I’ve just told you all I know—I get in a funk, like, twice a year and can’t leave my place for days at a time. Can’t say there’s been anyone around who wanted to help me out during it. So I guess if you wanna spend your Friday night trying, be my guest.”

He ponders on that a moment, turning away from you to look out at the still raging storm. Then he turns back and says, “C’mere.”

It sounds almost like an order as he pats his thigh, and to your genuine surprise you obey it. There’s barely enough room on the balcony as-is and you think it’ll only make things worse to attempt to fit two grown adults in the space next to the chair—especially when one of them is Ryuguji Ken—but there’s a magnetic pull to the idea of letting him comfort you that you don’t even want to fight. Halfway down though, as he reaches up to guide you, you have a sudden realization of what position you’re in—and what the implications might be, despite the overall context.

“Don’t kiss me,” you say.

“What?” There’s easy amusement in his voice—endearment, adoration—as he leans back comfortably against the wall and pulls you all the way into his lap without missing a beat. It’s strangely right. You’d have thought that feeling small in his hold would be distressing to you, but somehow it’s not some disjointed desire to leap away that beckons the tears welling in your eyes—rather it’s something like his hands, large and warm and secure on your waist, punching down whatever dam had been stopping the waterworks.

One of those hands reaches up to wipe away your tears. It’s sturdy, calloused—so very much the hand of a man who uses them for hard labor. Draken seems to have the same thought at the same time, though he comes to a vastly different conclusion.

“Sorry.” His thumb pauses against the soft skin beneath your eye, eases off you slowly. “’s probably—too rough.”

Your hand is flying up to make him keep it there before he can fully take it away, fingers a vice around his wrist. There’s a denial on your lips, an insistence that his hands are perfect, but you make the mistake of looking up to meet his gaze before you speak and whatever words you might have said get caught in the back of your throat.

He lets you hold his hand to your cheek and you kind of want to melt with him staring down at you like that. Sable eyes—deep and abyssal, like the starless night sky above you—regard you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. You watch as they trace over your face, as his Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat and his thumb brushes away your tears again, and your heart jumps.

“I’m serious,” you choke out, burying your face into his shirt just to hide from the way he’s looking at you.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t get all shy on me—“

“If you decide to kiss me for the first time like this I’ll hit you.” Your voice is muffled against him, thick with sobs, and you can feel in your chest the way his broad form shakes with low, smooth laughter. “I’m literally bawling, pick a more romantic moment.”

It takes a minute for Draken to stop laughing long enough to answer. “Noted. I won’t kiss you.” A pause. His arms tighten around you. When he speaks it’s softer, slightly hesitant. “Can I kiss your head, though?”

You snort. It’s watery. “Sure.”

The word is no sooner out of your mouth than he’s pressing his lips to your hairline, just above your temple, right where the head of his dragon is, on his own scalp. And he doesn’t pull away when he’s done; he noses into you, like some affectionate dog, pulling your own bark of laughter out of you simply from shock by the way the motion makes your stomach flutter.

“There. Feelin’ better already, yeah?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

At your waist, his thumb brushes soothingly against bare skin, tucked up beneath your shirt. His hand squeezes there, almost groping at your stomach; if he were anyone else you might be annoyed by it.

“You ready to head in?” he asks. “It’s getting cold.”

You wouldn’t quite say cold, but certainly brisk. And now that you’ve cried your eyes are feeling heavy, the exhaustion of your emotions settling in, so you nod against him and allow him to help you to your feet.

Once you’re standing, he joins you—and suddenly it’s even more tight, and you have to lean back against the railing to let him sidle along the building to get to the door and open it for you. His hands find your hips as he does; you laugh breathlessly at the cliched motion, and he squeezes at you again in a silent tease.

Draken reaches out to guide you through the door with a broad hand on the small of your back, thick fingers spread wide. The heat of it flutters across your skin as it urges you forward, stark against the chilly air, gentle but insistent.

You’d probably let him carry you back to your bedroom if the opportunity arose—honestly, he’d probably do it if you asked, but it’d been too cramped outside for him to even attempt that and you’re feeling far too contrary now to ask. Soon enough you’re at the door anyway, and he’s trudging over to turn on your bedside lamp for some light before returning to you.

“Wash your face,” he orders with a little nudge towards the bathroom. “It’ll help you feel better.”

And though a part of you resists giving in to his advice, you know he’s right. You even successfully push down the urge to tell him you’d have done it anyway; instead you obediently wander in the direction he pushed you towards and begin running the water to let it get warm.

“What do you sleep in?” he calls out as you go to bend down.

“Top left of the dresser,” you call back, directing him towards a drawer of soft t-shirts. “And a pair of sweats under it.”

By the time you’ve finished cleaning your face and patting it dry with a clean towel, he’s returned to lean against the door frame.

“Put a set of clothes out for you,” he tells you as you approach him, and sure enough when you look over his shoulder you can see a shirt and sweatpants laid out on your bed. He dips now that you’re closer, turning his face into your hair for a fleeting moment, and mutters, “I’ll go get you some water while you change.”

With that he’s gone, carefully closing your bedroom door behind him.

You want him to stay the night, you realize at that moment. You want him to stay the night and you’re almost certain he’d never go for it—Draken and his stupid, thickheaded chivalry. He’d have kissed you if you hadn’t stopped him, just because you looked cute cuddled up in his lap with your eyes all big and watery, but you’ll have to drag him into bed yourself if you want him to stay.

No matter. As you pull on the shirt he’d picked out (it’s big enough that it might be one of his, you think absent-mindedly; yet another thing he’d shamelessly do if he thought you wouldn’t notice) you make up your mind, and a plan of attack comes to you easily.

You’re getting into bed when the knock comes at your door. Draken doesn’t quite wait for you to answer, opening it just barely and peeking in to check himself if you’re decent. When he sees that you are he opens it entirely and comes in with his promised water cup in hand.

He sets the glass on your bedside table and turns off your light but you don’t acknowledge him verbally. Instead you reach up to hook a finger into his collar and tug his towering form down to loom over you. It’s a little clumsy, and he lets out a surprised grunt, but he catches himself with a hand against your headboard before he can come crashing down on top of you.

Like this, it’s easy to press your nose into his neck, just beneath his jaw, letting your eyes flutter closed as you take a deep, slow inhale to ground yourself.

“Stay,” you mumble.

Draken stiffens. He pulls up a little, just enough that he doesn’t have to brace himself anymore, but it has you whining anyway until he sinks to his knees and lets you fall in close again.

“I can sleep on the couch—“

“No.” You shake your head and ball your fist around the fabric. “Here. Sleep with me.”

“I’m not getting in your bed wearing my work clothes, baby, I’ll get grease all over your sheets.”

“I can change my sheets. Small price to pay for you to hold me tonight.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You think the words might have stunned him, just a bit; but they work either way, because after a beat he rises without protesting any further and silently pulls your covers aside to join you.

“All right,” he says, unbearably low and soft as his work boots fall to the floor with two heavy thuds, “can’t say no to you.”

One of his hands eases beneath you as he eases himself over you and pulls the covers back on top of you both, sliding up under your shirt to press a warm, calloused palm against your back. You reach your arms over his shoulders in return and use the motion to tug the hairtie from his hair—one of your own, you realize as you slide it onto your wrist, and it has your chest fluttering as those black strands fall to curtain your face along with his.

You let your fingers scratch at his scalp and he lets out a low groan. First his head drops to tuck into the crook of your neck, then his whole body, pressing not even close to the full weight of him against you. His other hand runs down the side of your body to your waist, and then he’s shifting you, pushing you over a few inches so that there’s enough room between you and the edge of your bed for him to lean against it.

At last Draken relaxes, more on top of you than not but carefully keeping enough of his weight off you that you’re not being crushed. You’re not sure you’d mind, though; as you begin to nod off, all that remains in your mind is how nice the pressure is. It’s grounding, and warm, and it’s not as if you’d complain about feeling him pressed up against you.

You turn your head to tuck his beneath your chin, and he sighs heavily against your skin, pulling you in even closer. Like that, you both drift off.

In the morning you think you’ll finally let him kiss you.

#draken x reader #draken x y/n #draken x you #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji x y/n #ken ryuuguji x you #tokrev x reader #tokrev x y/n #tokrev x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #mine.🌧#char.🌧 draken #fic.🌧 symbiosis #god this was supposed to be a lil drabble lmfaooooo i truly do not know how long things will end up JAHKDBF #I HOPE IT DOESNT DRAG ON TOO LONG TBH i think it might but yk what. we ball #its fanfic im allowed to drag a little #enjoy JHSBDF

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humming-fly · 3 months

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hi, I would encourage you to fact-check that post about censorship on tiktok. people’s videos absolutely do get taken down by the platform for using words the app/company has flagged, it’s notably a big problem for people using words like “transgender” and “lesbian” and “palestine” :// users (including ppl I know irl) get their accounts suspended over the use of LGBTQ words in their captions.

Howdy, thanks for reaching out!

I’ll be perfectly transparent I absolutely did Google that one to check it before I reblogged it because I try to practice “don’t reblog misinformation”, and since the first several hits didn’t mention users getting banned for things that post seemed to imply weren’t officially censored (swearwords, saying “die” “kill” etc.) I took it to be accurate without looking further into it

that said you’re absolutely right that TikTok does censor other words and phrases, though from best I can tell there’s no firm list (I did find a whole ass Wikipedia article on it though)

from that and some cursory googling I didn’t find immediate evidence that they block tags like ‘Palestine’ but did find some articles complaining tiktok was anti-Israel, so good chance opinions on that app’s stance differ by who you ask - for LGBT stuff def in 2019-2020 they had recorded problems via that Wikipedia article but since then either complaints have died down or they don’t report it as much. That said LGBT stuff is Absolutely being censored in some countries like China and I can easily see that spilling over either intentionally or otherwise into other territories

all that said I do think the original reblogged post stands in that some words aren’t being blocked (die kill masturbation etc) and people are trying to circumvent that for whatever reason, be it to get past peoples filters or to simply try and expand their audience into countries that have stricter censorship laws

meanwhile your point that other terms are actively being censored even within the US (where I’m at) is also true and important to consider

anyways this kind of derailed into a little research project during my lunch break - all said none of this has changed my opinion on TikTok (terrible app I will never ever use), but it was a good exercise in checking facts rather than going off knee jerk assumptions!

#It’s fun it’s easy and it’s free: googling stuff to see what’s what #Reply #anonymous #sorry if this reads like a weird ramble I was typing into my phone as I looked stuff up lol #I think it’s important to note that other post wasn’t making TikTok seem more appealing in any way hahaha #TikTok is perfectly capable of loosing on multiple fronts in my mind

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wndaswife · 1 year

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Could you do 37, 38, and 70 for Lizzie please

elizabeth olsen & gn!reader

tags: fluff.

word count: 937

“I heard you wanted me to work with you for this scene,” you say when you walk into the makeup trailer.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you?” Lizzie asks, spinning in her chair to face you with a grin.

You were assigned to work on Kathryn for the next few weeks for Wandavision’s final episode. Lizzie was assigned to a more experienced makeup artist as a particular scene in the episode called for much more detailed work which you didn’t have a history with practising. Not yet, at least. Not until Lizzie made a request for you to work with her instead of the other artist.

“I’m alright. And you?” you ask and place your tools and kits on the vanity the actress is sitting at.

“It’s a weird feeling finishing WandaVision after filming’s gone through so much. How do you feel about it? There was a lot of work you had to do with me,” she speaks, leaning back into her seat as she watches your face through the mirror.

“Excited, I suppose, to see the final product. Wrapping up is always bittersweet, though.”

Lizzie hums in agreement. After a few moments of watching you set up your things, she questions, “What’s the plan for today?”

“Well, the first few scenes are pretty simple and natural. We’re going for a modern makeup look, so just let me know if there’s anything specific you have in mind to make you look more natural that you’d prefer,” you explain and take out a few brushes, Lizzie’s shade of foundation, and primer. She nods in understanding. “We do the fight scenes last, which’ll be more tedious in terms of prep time. But I think it won’t be too bad. I’m excited.”

The next few weeks are filled with long hours- early mornings and late nights. But the tireless hours pay off when shooting finally comes to an end. The cast and crew gather around sharing applause and thanking each other for the collective hardwork shared with wonderful people who’d been working for the last chaotic and memorable year.

You’re cleaning up in the makeup trailer when Lizzie steps in, wig freshly taken off. You can tell by the way she massages her scalp with her fingers.

“Y/N,” she sighs as if relieved. “I’ve been looking for you. Have you been hiding up here this whole time?”

“Hi, Lizzie,” you greet with a tired smile. “Yeah, I’ve just been busy cleaning up.”

She wraps an arm around your hips and pulls you into a side hug. “Don’t you want to come out and celebrate?”

“I think I just wanna go home. I’m pretty tired,” you tell her regrettably.

“Let me take you out. I’ve been wanting to find some time to ourselves but we’ve just been so busy. Let’s go out for coffee. I’ll pay.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re walking through downtown Los Angeles with her, coffees in hand warming each other up from the brisk winter. Though you’ve been working with her for the last year, you realise you haven’t gotten to know Lizzie very much until tonight. And you liked her. A lot.

When the two of you finally get back to her car, you stop by the driver’s side with her. It’s an awkward moment until you suddenly tell her, “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I really like your laugh. I think it’s so contagious. Even through the most tiring days, sets are so much brighter with you.”

She’s just grinning at you, her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at you. The undivided attention makes you antsy and you look away from her.

“Y/N,” she says, bringing your attention back over to her. Wanda laughs between words, her hand raised to her mouth, “You’re so clueless.”

Your shoulders fall and you ball your lips over to the side awkwardly. You didn’t know what to say to that. You like Lizzie, but if you had no clue how to keep up a conversation with her, perhaps you weren’t a good match for her, even if only for a professional relationship. A painful pang shot through your chest at the very thought.

But without warning, her cold hands are placed on either side of your face and she pulls you close to her. She’s wearing a playful grin on her soft lips, bright glints of amusement dancing in her green eyes. The sight stuns you, making you freeze on the spot.

Lizzie quietly asks, “Can I kiss you?” After a few more moments of waiting for your response that hadn’t come because of how stunned you were by your proximity to her, the actress giggles. She pinches your cheek lightly between her thumb and the side of her index finger. “Say yes,” she chuckles, her laugh blowing white in the cold air.

“Yes,” you answer quickly.

Lizzie’s grin widens and she steps towards you so your bodies pressed together. She kisses your lips softly and your eyes flutter closed. Your arms lift to wrap around her body, hugging her against you. You feel her smile widen against your lips and she pulls away. Her arms wrap around your neck and, on the tips of her toes, she leans against you. “You’re warm,” she whispers.

You answer with a nervous smile that makes Lizzie laugh, “So are you.” She kisses you again.

“I want to see you tomorrow. Are you free?” she asks, kissing your cheek and looking up into your eyes. You nod. “Then I’ll pick you up early before lunch and we can spend the day together. I really like you, Y/N.”

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen smut #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #1k celebration ♪( ´▽｀)

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ryuichirou · 11 days

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Replies

We’re back with more replies! Long ones today…

Anonymous asked:

Can you recommend us any tumblrs to follow?

Unfortunately, I can’t recommend any tumblrs either… we don’t even have a feed here, we just drop posts and leave; I am sorry. 😔 It’s easier to check my tl when it’s only my art there lol Once again, read this as an invitation to share your favourite blogs in the comments.

Anonymous asked:

Hello! I'm the anon from the headcanon ask about TreyRidChe and wanted to thank you for answering! I had to dig because for some reason the tag system wasn't working and I was never sure if it got answered until today! Again though as someone who likes TreyRiddle first and foremost (so the bias was perfectly acceptable) I do agree Che'nya would be more a provoker especially from what I've seen in the manga. (It's really in the way Trey was so much more enthralled by Riddle from certain pages.)

I am happy to hear from you again, Anon! And I am very glad that you found the post despite all the issues with the tags… it’s very difficult to find posts on this site sometimes, especially when there are so many of them, and the notifications don’t work all the time either. 😔 (By the way, here is the post that Anon is talking about!)

Also, I completely agree with you, I still think that their dynamic is basically like this. Like I’ve said in the initial post, Che’nya loves Riddle, but doesn’t mind sharing and ultimately wants his friends to be happy, and he knows how hopelessly in love Trey is with Riddle. The manga panels with these three are so pretty and filled with emotions…

Anonymous asked:

Omg I just saw your other reply about not liking ship kids, I'm so sorry if my previous ask made you uncomfortable or something ;;;

-Idia's womb tattoo anon

Anon! No worries whatsoever, this isn’t related to it and you didn’t make us uncomfortable at all. Like I said, there are certain scenarios in which we enjoy the theme, and if it’s dark and/or kinky, the chances of us being on board are always higher. Moreover, your ask is related to a comic that we posted ourselves, so it’s all good – we started it >:3c

What we don’t like is the 100% wholesome and genuine “our baby is kicking, can you feel it?”, “passing out because he’s just found out he’ll be a father” thing. Nothing against it, it’s just not our thing. I’m also just taking my time with a lot of asks because I want to reply properly, but my brain is small and my limit is a couple of replies per day 😔 This is why I am slow…

Thank you for your concern though! And I’ll reply to you in a moment 👀

Anonymous asked:

Random, but since you imagined you don't like pregnancy tropes, does that also count for MPreg? (which stands for male pregnancy)

tbh, MPreg is not my thing, but suddenly remembered that, that’s a thing. This brings me back to the good old days of hetalia cuz this fandom had a LOT of Mpreg going around, lol.

But in a world of magic and such is not impossible? I mean, Malleus did come from an egg, so like, yeah.

Just like I said in a previous reply: it depends on how it’s used. If it’s just a happy family, and the purpose of mpreg in the story is simply to put characters in the scenario in which they are expecting, it’s absolutely not for us; it could even get triggering at times. Even in terms of kinks, sometimes it works well, but sometimes it turns into a massive squick. I can’t even describe it in a way that would be 100% conclusive; it’s a delicate topic, I guess. If it’s more messed up or if there are darker themes involved, it’s much more likely to work, and with mpreg it has a lot of potential to be messed up by definition.

When it comes to possibility and magic, yeah, twst universe gives a lot of opportunities to make mpreg happen! Be it convenient magic, unique reproductive systems of certain species, or even something that simply exists in-universe. It’s funny that you mentioned Malleus because the idea of him being able to lay eggs certainly pops up in our conversations from time to time… the mechanics of that, the implications, the complicated relationship Malleus would have with it and stuff; there is a lot to talk about. (We actually have a kinky comic where he lays an egg and Lilia crushes it, but completely forgot about it... it’s been a while.)

And Azul too, I think we talked about him making Idia carry his eggs at some point. When it’s animalistic like that, it’s much more fun because it’s less real, more weird and a bit gross <3 which automatically makes it hot because Idia would be freaked out the entire time.

So yeah, it all depends, and honestly goes from -100 to 1000 at times lol, so it shouldn’t stop you from sending asks. If the theme is something that we don’t like or have nothing to say about, we’ll just skip it.

(oh god, good ol’ hetalia days! I guess we missed all the mpreg- or just erased it from our memories lol)

Anonymous asked:

have you ever considered Sebek/Leona?.

(you view Sebek as a top and Leona as a bottom so it doesn’t break your no switching rule right?)

Leona would get a kick out of “stealing” Malleus’s little boytoy form him and setting out to do so.

while Sebek the poor naive gullible croc has no idea how even ended up fucking Leona in the first place let alone that it was happening to get under his liege’s skin…

who knows if it even work to piss Malleus off though.

You know Anon, miraculously we did talk about these two in a couple of posts!

What’s interesting about this ship is that Sebek has no idea where to put Leona in his mental scale of important people: he really doesn’t like him, he hates how Leona treats Malleus, but he is also supposed to respect Leona nonetheless (Lilia and Malleus both remind him of that) + doesn’t like being dismissed by Leona for some reason. So if Leona wants to provoke Sebek into sleeping with him somehow, it’d be easier than one might think: Sebek really is gullible… but if he learns about Leona’s motive behind seducing him, he would get so angry and also disappointed in himself that he might actually attack Leona and get in trouble for that lol

Although the thing is, there is a big problem with Leona’s plan: if Sebek is having an active affair with Malleus (= being his little boytoy), it won’t be easy to seduce him. And if Sebek isn’t having an affair with Malleus, Malleus probably wouldn’t care much. So was the croc dick even worth it, Leona?

#replies

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

Part 6

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 5 🟣 Part 7

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Mentions of blood, biting, vampire stuff.

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: Even more information incoming! And that conversation we've been waiting for...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @teamfan7asy @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @manysecrets2020 I know you didn't ask to be tagged but I figured... Sorry if I overstepped

The others indeed came back shortly after your conversation ended, and Mikey had a rather defeated look on his face. August immediately asked if you were up for it to talk to all of them, and seemed very happy when you said you were. All five of you moved to the living room, where you sat next to Mike on the couch. He immediately pulled you against him.

“Do you mind if I sit on the other side of you?” Sherlock asked politely. Something in his eyes told you the effect from the feeding hadn’t worn off completely.

“No problem at all,” you said with a smile before turning to the group in general. “So… Where do we start?” August opened his mouth to reply to your question, but Marshall quickly raised a hand.

“Mike,” he said, giving him a nod that clearly meant something – although you weren’t privy to what exactly that ‘something’ was.

“The guys want to…” Mike looked extremely uncomfortable as he struggled to find the words to explain what he was trying to explain, “… propose an arrangement, of sorts. I’m sure Sherlock has brought you up to speed on what the general idea is?”

“He has,” you answered, “it was very intriguing.”

“See?” August sneered from the other side of the room, but Marshall shut him up immediately. It was a good thing: Mike looked just about ready to jump him.

“Guys,” you interjected, “I’m willing to hear you out, but that’s all I’m promising. Besides, I’ll give you a fair warning upfront: Mike doesn’t look on board with this, and if he isn’t, then neither am I.” That seemed to relax him a little; you felt the tension in his body slack as you said it. At the same time, you noticed he felt colder than Sherlock. It was a very subtle difference, but it was definitely there. Marshall took over, telling August that he could get out of the room – only he used stronger terms – if he couldn’t behave.

“Thank you for at least taking this into consideration,” he said, “I understand it can be a very strange request if you don’t have any hands-on experience with the concept.” You noticed he wasn’t just talking to you, but to Mikey, too.

“Well, please allow us to drink your blood hardly feels equivalent to can you bring me home some chips from the store, so I’m definitely still adjusting,” you said. It was the truth: even though you were incredibly intrigued by the concept of these agreements, and – if you were being completely honest – very curious to find out what it would be like, it was still an overwhelming amount of information, and a rather uncomfortable topic.

“So is Mikey,” August said, and this time his tone was friendly enough for Marshall to let him speak, “he hates it when I say this, but he’s just a baby.” You could feel Mike tense up again, and a very low growl emerged from his throat. If August heard it – which you doubted – he paid it no mind. He didn’t pay much attention to Marshall’s warning, either.

“You’re the only one who has never experienced this type of thing?” You asked Mike carefully.

“Yeah, the others all have. At least, we assume that in nine hundred years, Sherlock’s…” Mike was clearly as uncomfortable talking about this as you were, and the others gave each other a few funny looks because of it.

“I have, indeed, been fortunate enough to experience this particular kind of relationship,” Sherlock replied kindly, telling Mike and the others what you already knew.

“Fortunate enough?” Mike repeated, seemingly a little lost for words.

“Yes, Mike, fortunate enough. At the time, the alternative was to feed from captives, often with the specific goal to kill them. We’re talking about the Middle Ages, for crying out loud, it was a far cry from a walk in the park in most aspects of life, Mikey.” Sherlock sounded vaguely desperate as he briefly recanted the story about his arrangement, giving them the exact amount of information that he had given you earlier in the afternoon. Marshall and August exchanged looks, and August scoffed when he saw the terrified expression on Mike’s face.

“You’ve never had to kill to feed, have you?” Mike shook his head slowly as an answer to August’s question.

“Has the… modern way, I guess, been around that long already?” You asked.

“Yes and no,” Marshall answered, “I very distinctly remember the time when they – government – decided the best course of action was to feed us exclusively animal blood.” Even Mike shuddered next to you when that was brought up.

“There was the ‘supplemental’ approach, I believe they called it,” August remembered, “diet of mainly human food, supplemented with donated blood every month. The amount was barely enough to last a week. Thank God for butter…” Butter? What the hell was he talking about?

“Couldn’t help but overhear,” Marshall said. You caught yourself as you were beginning to find his talent less annoying. “We’d end up just eating sticks of butter to keep from starving. It was ridiculously expensive, too…”

“Basically, you would be paying for enough food for a family of four, but it was just you,” Mike added. “There were volunteers in the eighties and nineties, but it was largely illegal. Do we have photos from those decades? Marshall with an eyebrow piercing is a sight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I met Mike because he hung out with a bunch of goths,” Marshall answered, but it sounded like he was avoiding something.

“What he means,” Mike added, “is that he was hooking up with my ex.”

“Ouch,” August blurted out. You were surprised he’d never heard this story before.

“It’s not common to disclose our entire histories,” Marshall answered that unasked question, “in cases like ours or – even worse – Sherlock’s, we’d be talking for a while.” Ok, that actually made sense.

He continued: “And Mike is right, I was hooking up with his ex. She went kinda nuts for the whole vampire thing… Actually, Mike… She wasn’t your ex when we started hooking up.” August’s eyes shot daggers at Marshall. He was no doubt thinking he’d for sure ruined any and all chances Mike would ever get on board with the proposal now. And he probably wasn’t wrong about that.

“I know,” Mike answered to everyone’s surprise, “I knew it when it was happening. Just didn’t care. She was shagging two or three other guys on the side; we weren’t all that committed.”

“Mike!”

“Hold up, you had no problem with your girl back in the day getting dicked down by other dudes, but you’re all up in arms about us feeding o-“ Marshall sighed and buried his face in his hands as he listened to August’s rant, and Mike interrupted him before he could even finish his sentence.

“Yeah, because this time around, I actually am committed, asshole.”

“Wh- Mikey?” That was actually quite flattering. You leaned into his side and allowed him to hug you. “You’re forgiven. Ish.”

“Thanks, babe,” he said as he leaned his head against yours. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda freaky how long ago…”

“Don’t dwell on it,” August said, which was probably the first piece of actually helpful advice you’d ever gotten from the man.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to move the conversation back to the topic to be discussed, “we’ve been circling this whole thing nicely. I promised I’d listen to your proposal… So, what is it?”

“Well,” August started. He sounded very calm, and ready to answer your every question. You guessed that of the three of them – Sherlock, Marshall and August himself, that was – he wanted this the most. “If you’d be open to some kind of arrangement, you’d be part of the negotiations of that agreement, of course, so there’s not a lot of specifics to present you with right now.”

“Just tell her what you told me,” Mike sighed as he grabbed you a little tighter.

“What we would like, is an opportunity to feed once every two weeks,” Marshall said. You were surprised; didn’t Mike say before that most vampires only fed once a month? The guys looked slightly uneasy when you asked about it.

“He did say that, and it’s the truth,” August answered your question. “It’s just not the whole truth. The experience is… annoying, and inconvenient, and not something you want to do very often. It takes out a good chunk out of your day, it’s… Just not very good.”

“They’d like to feed comfortably, instead of overfeeding to make it through as much time as possible,” Sherlock said. It was nice of him to draw the simple conclusion to all of this, but you noticed something strange.

“You say ‘they’, but you mean ‘we’, don’t you?” You were never certain of your ability to read others, but somehow you were extremely confident that you were right in this particular instance.

“Ah, yes. I won’t lie; I wouldn’t be opposed to the type of arrangement they’re proposing. But only if you’re entirely willing.” Sherlock said with an apologetic smile, as if he’d been trying to manipulate you through his use of words. You were fairly sure that had never been his intention. Nor could you find out to what end he would have said what he said.

“That applies to all of us,” Marshall said quickly, “none of us want to do this if you’re not up for it.”

“The rest of it, Marshall,” Mike urged. He was beginning to lose his patience, and had clearly agreed to go along with this for the duration of this conversation, but he didn’t look prepared to pretend to be unbothered by this for a second longer than was strictly necessary.

“Alright. A condition on your part would likely be that you run no risk of being turned, which would be a term we’d more than willingly agree to.”

“Garlic?”

“The same daily dose we’re already taking,” Mike clarified. Considering the kinky little secrets that were exposed earlier today, you weren’t surprised they were all taking precautions already. Marshall laughed when he heard your thought, but didn’t seem intent on sharing it with the others, which was awfully nice of him.

“Sherlock wasn’t able to accurately explain why ‘McBloodDrive’ didn’t cover all elements of such a relationship,” you said, “and he was hoping you’d be able to clarify. I really am curious about that.”

“It’s a great deal more intimate. Like you said yourself; letting us feed from you is a long way from just getting someone a snack. Or even cooking for someone.” Marshall folded his hands in his lap and sat back.

“Look,” August said, “there’s no denying these relationships are quite intimate. There’s a reason Sherlock wanted to sit next to you. The reaction to the feeding is quite strong, it can get a bit crazy at times. It can definitely be beneficial to you, you could ask us to do pretty much anything for you. We would like to ask you to not abuse that position, though. Other than that, there’s a degree of intimacy and affection involved that is tough to explain. You wouldn’t be just a food source to us. You’d allow us to exchange something inconvenient, uncomfortable, impersonal and generally just rather awful, for something that’s the complete opposite.” They were probably the friendliest, most sincere words you’ve ever heard August say, and you thanked him for the explanation.

“Maybe this is a weird question, August, but… You don’t even like me.” Mike and Marshall both laughed when you said that, somehow indicating to you that it wasn’t necessarily true.

“I wouldn’t say he doesn’t like you,” Mike said, “I know for a fact he liked you a little too much when I first introduced you to the guys.” What? August had a crush on you?

“He did,” Marshall said. August seemed to avoid your eyes on purpose – and you could imagine why.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m very much opposed to all of this,” Mike murmured.

“You’re afraid I’ll leave you for him?” you asked, and Mike nodded. “That wouldn’t happen, Mike, I love you. But that does settle things for me, guys. It’s not happening.”

“Well, we gave it a shot,” Marshall said. August, on the other hand, didn’t seem intent to just let this go.

“Is that the only reason you’re opposed to this, Mike?” he asked. The look in his eyes told you more than enough; it was. Now that you’d formally and definitively rejected their proposal, you noticed that there was definitely a part of you that wanted to do this for them – even August. It was the same thing you had felt when you had impulsively offered Sherlock to let him feed on you.

“It is,” he said flatly, as if he was understanding some implication made by August that you were missing – and in all fairness, he was probably getting loads more information because of his gift.

“And you don’t care that it goes against her nature?” What? No, you know what, before Marshall was going to answer that question, you were just going to ask it out loud.

“What?”

“There’s a certain… willingness we see in your kind to let us feed,” Sherlock answered. “In some Naturals it turns into more of a need.”

“That’s right,” August said smugly. “He’s not worried about it at all. He’s just planning on using her as his personal buffet. How do you justify that? Were you ever going to be…” The atmosphere in the room turned cold and hostile, and it wasn’t long before Marshall interrupted.

“August, that’s enough!” he snapped. It was enough to get August to shut up, which was nice. Mike relaxed again, and you sighed in relief when the pressure of his fingers on your hips disappeared – You were fairly sure there were bruises where his hands had dug into your skin.

“Did I hurt you?” Mike asked softly, gently stroking the spot he’d just assaulted to further soothe the lingering pain. You nodded, but barely. It was more than enough for all of them to notice, though. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” You thought about what August had said, but you weren’t going to continue the conversation with the others still in the room.

“Was he wrong?” you asked Mike when you were finally alone in your room again. He slumped down on your bed with a massive sigh.

“He wasn’t,” he said. You weren’t shocked; August was perceptive – even for a vampire, you guessed – and it did sound a lot like Mike to do something like that, even if he didn’t mean any harm by it. “I figured, if your inclination turned into a serious need – apparently that’s pretty common when a Natural lives with vampires, as far as anything surrounding your kind can be called ‘common’ – I’d ask if you’d be okay if I fed on you.”

“Were you going to manipulate me into it?” There was about a zero percent chance of getting an honest answer to a question like that if he had been planning on that, because why would he tell you the truth?

“There was a plan that someone might consider to be that, yes. Which is exactly what August pointed out to me when I told him about it. I should have known he would use it against me. I wasn’t going to go through with it,” he explained. In the end, that made August the manipulative one, which made more sense than Mike taking on that role, honestly. That being said, you were still pissed at Mike and you and August were overdue for a talk.

“August,” you said as you stepped into his room without knocking, “I think we ne- oh my God, I’m sorry!” You turned around immediately. Funnily enough, August didn’t move.

“If you go back outside and knock I might just put my cock away and let you in.” Why did everything he said have to be rude, abrasive and… he was just downright impossible. His next remark only made things worse: “If you’re gonna stand there, I’d rather you turn around and watch me, to be honest.”

That was it. You closed the distance between you two with a few aggressive strides.

“August Walker, put your dick back in your pants, go wash your hands, then get your ass back in here because we need to talk,” you snarled at him. He didn’t move, so you spoke again: “Move!” This time he did listen, and you were impressed with yourself.

He was back before you knew it, sitting on the edge of his bed as if he’d never moved.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Why do you have to be such a… cunt?” If there was a nice way to phrase that, you were less than inclined to look for it.

“I’m not the only one being a cunt, sweetheart,” August growled, “Mike is being a pain in the ass. He needs to grow up.”

“Mike doesn’t need to do anything, August.”

“He’s being greedy, keeping you all to himself. Do you think he’d react the same way if you decided to… sell?”

“’Sell’ as in… turn it into a job?” Somehow, the idea of letting strange vampires suck your blood for money seemed very… escort-y to you. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. It’s just not a job you saw yourself in. Now, that didn’t stop you from being extremely curious about it…

“Yeah. Do you have any idea of the kind of money you could make?” Sherlock had mentioned that vampires paid good money to feed on your kind…

“Oh, but you lot just want to use me as a free buffet?” That was downright insulting! Somewhere deep down inside you knew you were grasping at straws here, looking for a reason to stay mad at the guys so you wouldn’t have to confront the fact that there genuinely was a part of you that didn’t like the way that conversation had ended. A part of you that wanted to be there for them in the way they had proposed. Besides, it was almost impossible to forget the way it had felt…

“We never said anything about ‘free’, princess, we said you’d be part of the negotiations.” August snarled. “The second you said ‘no’, Mike knew what you really wanted. Even before that, but he was in denial. He knows he’s hurting you. He knows you want this. He’s just being a kid about it.” You thought about what he said for a moment, especially the part about the negotiations. For the first time, you realized you had never actually considered what those negotiations could really entail. It was too late to ask about it now, of course. And you were happy with your decision, right? You were doing this – or rather; not doing this – for Mikey. Right?

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked softly, remembering what Sherlock had said. Fine; what you had said to Sherlock – and that Sherlock had confirmed: Mike was only baby-vampire. And you should never tell him that out loud.

“Taking into consideration the fact that he is a kid? Not really. He needs time to adjust to the idea, I guess.” August sighed and put his hands on your shoulders. “Look, I’ll try to be less of a prick, okay? But I’ll do that for your sake. Not his.” It seemed to you like that was all you’d get from August, so you agreed.

#mike hellraiser fic #mike x ofc #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction

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myveryownfanfiction · 7 months

Text

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eclecticwildflowers, @onedirectionlovers2014

warnings: swearing, talk of death, mention of the experiment from flatliners

I leaned against the door to the classroom as I watched Dr. Wolfson teach his class on clinical death. The information he was giving them seemed awfully familiar to the writings he’d shared with me of his own experiment decades ago. I raised an eyebrow at the group of five students who were rapidly taking notes. Everyone else was taking notes but not like these five. They were hanging on his every word. When wolfson looked up from the students, he smiled at me.

“if you’ll excuse me class.” He said as he walked over. He put a hand on my arm in greeting as he led me out into the hall. “What’s up?” Nelson asked. I smiled and shook my head.

“I’m not allowed to watch you teach?” I asked with a laugh. Nelson smiled wider and shrugged.

“I mean technically you should have enrolled in the class.” I laughed. “Seriously everything ok?”

“yeah. I overheard some of the kids mentioning that you were going to talk about clinical death.” I said, a knowing look on my face. Nelson looked sheepishly at me. I lowered my voice. “Nelson, you can’t tell them…”

“I know. I’m keeping it vague.” Nelson said. He rubbed my arm as he looked down. “I…yeah alright.” He sighed as he tapped his cane against the ground. “I’ll go over the repercussions too. Talk about what can happen if done wrong or, for lack of a better term, the side effects.” I reached out and put my hand on his waist, squeezing gently.

“thank you.” I said softly. “There’s five kids in there taking notes as if they’re the Ten Commandments. Be careful.” Nelson nodded before looking over his shoulder at the class.

“I’m sorry.” He said, more to the classroom than me. I cupped his cheek and turned his head back towards me. Leaning in, I kissed him gently. Nelson smiled into the kiss before breaking away. “And they’re looking. I won’t live this one down.” He laughed, backing away from me slowly.

“so what. They’ve done worse with each other.” I laughed. Nelson shook his head and went back into the classroom where the kids immediately started to make fun of him with kissy noises among other things.

“alright alright. Settle down. Dr. (Y/L/N) was just leaving.” Nelson looked at me with a smile, shaking his head at his students antics. “Alright now. Back to work.” I walked away as Nelson continued his lecture from where I had interrupted him. Later that night, Nelson and I were sitting in his townhouse after handing out candy all night.

“Nelson?” I asked, looking over at him as the last of the kids ran down the steps, two of them dressed as doctors. He hummed as he set up another movie for us to watch. “You know what they’re doing tonight don’t you?” I looked over at him with a worried look. Nelson sighed and came over to wrap his arms around me.

“yeah I do. Same shit I did in med school.” He nodded, resting his head against mine. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. “They’re smart kids though. I’m sure they’ll be ok.”

“like you were ok?” I asked, eyes flicking back to Nelson’s cane. He sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” Nelson broke away and pulled me away from the door.

“I know. I’m worried about them too.” He admitted. “There isn’t anything I can do except report them. And then I’d feel responsible for putting the idea in their heads. Either way.”

“and reporting them would create a double standard since they aren’t doing anything their professors haven’t done.” I continued. Nelson nodded. “And if we showed up while they were doing it, we could scare them or shock them into something even more problematic than what they’re already doing.” I leaned my head on Nelson’s shoulder as we sat down on the couch.

“I’ll check in with them tomorrow. Make sure they are ok.” Nelson promised. “I think I know who is going under too. Which makes this so much worse.” He took off his glasses, running a hand down his face and staring at the ceiling. Sighing, we sat in silence while the movie played in the background. “I should never have done that myself.” I turned my head to look at him, reaching out and hugging his arm.

“at least you didn’t publish the paper.” I pointed out. Nelson nodded.

“they’d have step by step instructions then.” He agreed. Leaning my head down on his shoulder, I bit my lip. “I feel so helpless.”

“there isn’t anything you can do. Not right now.” I murmured. “Tomorrow, we’ll pull them aside. Tell them we know.”

“I…fuck I’d hate to do it…I can see if joe still has the tape.” I pulled back and stared at him. Nelson kept his gaze on the ceiling, biting his lip and trying not to look at me. “We don’t go over anything in it but it shows how…” he swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. “How they nearly lost me.” I bit my lip and stared at my lap.

“you never told me that.” I whispered. Nelson nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” I looked over at him to find him watching me, tears pricking my eyes.

“you know why.” He said as he reached over to wipe my cheeks. “You know exactly why.” Nelson leaned in to kiss me but I pulled back.

“Nelson.” I whispered, shaking my head. He nodded and held his arm out for me. I curled against him, ear pressed to his chest. His heart beat in my ear as I took deep breaths, realizing that there was more to his little excitement than he had let on.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Nelson said as he kissed my head. “You don’t have to watch the tape. I’ll do it on my own.” I squeezed him tightly.

“thank you.” I whispered. Nelson nodded and the doorbell rang. Nelson got up, gently prying me from him.

“I got it.” He whispered, kissing me gently. I nodded as he answered the door and handed out the candy. “Come here.” He murmured as he went to sit back down. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” I nodded as I curled into him. We sat in silence for a bit. “What time does trick or treating end?” I pulled Nelson’s arm towards me so I can check his watch. He started to chuckle and smiled at me. “I think it’s time for you to get a watch. Or start carrying your phone around with you like everyone else.” I rolled my eyes at him and scoffed.

“as if that’s what you do.” Nelson scoffed at me in return and waited while I checked his watch. “It ended half an hour ago.” I said, letting his hand drop. Nelson nodded, gently pushing me off him so he could turn the light off and grabbed the candy bowl.

“want some?” He asked as he held it out to me. I nodded and grabbed some. Nelson sat down next to me and put the bowl between us. “So tomorrow we’ll confront them and if they refuse to stop then I show them the video after you leave.” I nodded.

“sounds like a plan.” I dug into the bowl a bit more to grab some of the good stuff. “And thank you. For not making me…” I trailed off as I stared at the candy in my hands. Shaking my head, I looked up at Nelson again. “Thank you.” Nelson nodded and leaned across the bowl to kiss me.

“of course.” He said, cupping my cheek. Leaning his forehead against mine, Nelson rubbed my cheek. “Happy Halloween.” He smiled softly at me.

“happy Halloween Nelson.” I smiled back at him.

#kiefer sutherland #kiefer sutherland imagine #kiefer sutherland fan fiction #kiefer sutherland fanfiction #kiefer sutherland fanfic #nelson wright #nelson wright fanfic #Nelson wright fanfiction #Nelson wright imagine #Nelson wright x reader #flatliners fanfiction #flatliners fanfic #flatliners

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verlaines-corner-archive · 2 years

Note

hIHI BBG I GOT SICK CAN I RQ DAZAI (and tetcho if u can 🫣🫣) WHEN THEIR S/O HIS SICK 🙏🙏

Dazai with a sick s/o

-> OF COURSE BBG, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON <3 Now I ended up just doing Dazai unfortunately, but once I get a better grip at Tetcho’s character I’ll write a version for him and tag you in it! All I can tell you is just do not let that man cook for you if you’re sick, for the love of God don’t let him.

-> Is actually pretty alright at taking care of you!

-> He takes your illness seriously and wants to get you feeling your best asap.

-> Dazai will take work off when you’re sick so that he can properly care for you. He’ll actually call in when he does it, give a proper notice instead of just not showing up.

-> So he’ll be staying by your side and if you didn’t live together prior, well you do now (at least until you feel better that is, though honestly he may take it as a chance to propose it being permanent).

-> Dazai will move into your apartment for the duration of it. He’d ideally have you at his but it’s messy and moving you into it when you’re sick seems a bit rude.

-> Now despite aforementioned mess at Dazai’s, he’ll keep your joint spotless. A clean environment means a healthy body and mind and though he doesn’t care all too much about himself in that area, he sure as shit cares about you.

-> Will clean any and all rubbish, take care of laundry, the dishes, so on and so forth.

-> Will he complain about it? Oh absolutely, but it’ll still get done!

-> Speaking of dishes, he’ll cook for you too. Now Dazai is not the best at it, not even close, but he does try his hardest. And thanks to his time with Mori he probably has a fairly good idea of what foods to give a sick person too (assuming that Mori is capable of actual doctoring).

-> If your body is sore and you can’t actually eat, Dazai has no qualms in feeding you either. He’s fairly sweet about it too, if not a little teasing. “Awwwwww baby”.

-> One of the best possible people to get medicine from! Dazai knows what works the most efficiently in such matters. Though be warned, it will all taste pretty bad and he will laugh.

-> Now Dazai is surprisingly responsible in regard to proximity!

-> He won’t get all too close unless needed, such as in cases of feeding you, bathing you, or the few times he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

-> This means that Dazai won’t be sleeping in the same bed as you are, instead opting for a spare room or the couch. He will however, be by your side nightly until you actually fall asleep. Sat in a chair by your bed and holding your hand, might even play with your hair depending on how sick you are.

-> Dazai will also read to you if you’re struggling to fall asleep, his voice calming and deep. It’s very nice to fall asleep like that and always ends with a soft kiss to your forehead/hand.

-> Chances are you’ll wake up with him asleep in the chair too jhfehwf

-> Now in terms of playfulness and annoyingness Dazai is still Dazai, but this time it’s a more serious one.

-> His playfulness is more for your sake during this! He knows that being bedridden can be dreadfully boring and the last thing Dazai wants is for you to end up feeling emotionally down as well.

-> He just wants to keep you entertained and see you smile :)

-> All in all he’s actually very responsible about it! Dazai just wants you to be as healthy as you can be.

#✧ library shelves ✧#bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai #dazai x reader #do feel better dear Maki!#not proofread that will be done later

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candracandor · 1 year

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I added the tag anyway even though I’ll attempt to avoid spoilers until the marked section at the end but can I just talk about Sun Wukong for a minute?

Wukong is a great example of what happens when your own bar so impossibly high that failure is inevitable. I don’t know much about JTTW but from what we have been shown it makes complete sense for him to end up like this and it’s not because he’s irresponsible or careless it’s because he tries too hard.

NOTE: I reread this and wanted to add that he’s absolutely irresponsible and careless at times which is super apparent in how he dealt with his piece of the samadhi fire, but it’s not why his relationships are such a hot mess... anyway...

It doesn’t matter that someone is immortal or all powerful; there is almost always a limit to how far you can go. It’s like an invisible ceiling where you have to draw the line between the expectations you have for yourself and what you can actually accomplish, and Sun Wukong has reached that invisible ceiling.

He has a successor that he trusts and believes in, but he’s still just an apprentice and he shouldn’t have to deal with something Wukong can’t handle, so when LBD showed up his thought process was probably something like “I’ll take care of this before he even knows something’s wrong” because he’s Sun Wukong and Sun Wukong should be able to handle that.

Then he fails because... of course he fails. Whether he expects that much from himself or not, he constantly sets himself up for disappointment. He wants to be what his apprentice sees in him (or what he thinks MK sees in him) and so he keeps spectacularly crashing into that invisible ceiling, because to admit that there’s a limit would be to admit that deep down he’s no different from anyone else.

He gets offended, he gets insecure, even when he doesn’t think he should. He’s actually a lot like MK in so many regards. He benefits from having council because when he’s at a loss he’s predisposed to launching himself head-first into a conflict with the intention of brute-forcing a solution. He doesn’t want to burden people and sometimes shuts them out as a result. He gets into his own head and makes messes and doesn’t seem to notice until someone else calls him out on it. Where MK has friends to back him up, however, Sun Wukong has long since gotten used to being alone.

Speaking of which, has anyone else noticed that the grand majority of people who Sun Wukong calls his “friends” in the present tend to resent him or even outright loathe him? It’s almost like it’s a the punchline to a joke nobody else seems to understand, which is so different from how he used the term when he was younger. It’s like anyone who calls him a friend either dies before he can ruin things or lives long enough to be disappointed. I wouldn’t be surprised if he himself sees that as the inevitable conclusion of getting attached to someone.

The bottom line is that Sun Wukong is someone who needs close personal relationships with people who can ground him, but has long since accepted that he’ll eventually wind up on his own and endeavors to just... somehow be better as a result and tries to function as well on his own as he does in a group. He can’t though, because that’s just not who he is.

I think that he’s starting to realize that, but there are a lot of terrible habits that he needs to break and a lot of walls to tear down, and although he needs to connect to people it’s not going going to be easy. He’s also been bottling things up for literal centuries and I don’t think he even knows where to start.

SPOILERS: With the way season 4 ended I’m not terribly worried about his ultimate fate. It’s possible that they could pull a “Schrodinger’s Wukong” on us and leave him trapped in the scroll, but the way MK emphatically announces that he recovered the scroll implies that it (and Wukong) are still relevant to what’s will happen going forward. If that weren’t the case, I would have expected a more sombre and ambiguous conclusion where the pieces were stored somewhere with a promise to come back with the means to free him someday.

If you want my two cents I’m predicting that breaking the scroll will fracture Wukong’s consciousness and they’ll send Macaque and MK into the scroll because they’ll have the best chance at piecing him back together, and running through his memories will give the writers a way to show us Wukong’s side of the story instead of just having him spill the beans after all said and done.

So anyway thanks for coming to my TED talk here’s a shitpost where I drew the Tails Get’s Trolled “tails wake up! you fucked up big time” comic except it’s Macaque and Wukong have a nice day please and thank you.

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie king #lego sun wukong #lmk #lmk spoilers #lego monkie kid season 4 #lego monkie kid season 4 spoilers #lmk season 4 #lmk season 4 spoilers

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nico-di-angelfish · 5 months

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Nine albums! Thank you, @dodger-chan, for tagging me :) I’m not entirely sure of the rules but here’s nine albums that I love.

1. This is my favourite album of all time, Panic! has been my favourite band since I was 11 and I think this is their best album. Fun fact: a lot of the songs and song titles on this album are inspired by the books of Chuck Palahniuk (Camisado is inspired by Fight Club, etc.), and he “loves the Panic! songs”. I have a source for that but for some reason it won’t work? It’s on livejournal just search “Chuck Palahniuk Panic at the Disco”. My favourite song on the album is Build God, Then We’ll Talk, but I love all of them, even the Intermission was actually on my top songs of the month in October lol.

2. This is my second favourite album but I only found it last year. I’m not sure what it is about it that speaks to me. I don’t really like their other albums either, except sort of Clarity. My favourite song is Get It Faster.

3. This is my favourite FOB album, it’s probably the album I listened to the most this year, I just left it on loop. My favourite song is Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, solely for this lyric: “nothing comes as easy as you, can I lay in your bed all day?” FOB lyrics are a fic title goldmine in general.

4. In terms of Panic! albums, Vices & Virtues would win out over Pretty. Odd. if the bonus tracks were on it, but that’s all of the bonus tracks including Bittersweet (which is one of my favourite songs ever) which isn’t even on the Japanese edition so. Anyway P.O. has Northern Downpour, which is another one of my favourites.

5. This is my favourite DeBo album, even though I think Open Mouth, Open Heart is better structured and more cohesive. My favourite song is either Vixen or Nerve.

6. Every song on this album is amazing but Vienna is my favourite.

7. Heathers is my favourite movie and my favourite musical, the movie is much better than the musical but I love them both. I saw it this year and it was literally a religious experience. My favourite song is I Say No, which is not on this recording, but I like this one on the whole better than the West End Recording.

8. Little Shop is maybe my second favourite musical? Tied with Rocky Horror, maybe. I also saw it this year, but the performance was terrible lol. My favourite song is Mushnik and Son, followed by The Meek Shall Inherit. I can’t sing but I can act (read: I did gcse drama lmao), and I would love to play Seymour.

9. @oh-jesus-in-the-air introduced me to Falsettos but I didn’t really take to it until years later which is a story we both know pretty well by now lol. My favourites are A Tight-Knit Family / Love Is Blind and I’m Breaking Down. If you haven’t listened to it, @dodger-chan, I think you’d like it.

I’ll tag @oh-jesus-in-the-air (even though I know everything you’d include lol), @therainbowsaws, @rainbow-lizzard, and @punished-lincolnshire-poacher

#i will take any opportunity to prove yet again that i have tbr music taste of a 14 year old white boy #i listen to a lot of other things too okay fergalicious is like one of my favourite songs i just listen to this stuff more #runners up:#vices & virtues: japanese edition by panic!#going to hell by the pretty reckless #into the woods original cast recording #three cheers for sweet revenge by mcr #hozier by hozier

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deathrattleofablasphemousorator · 3 months

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INTRO POST —

Toki! Welcome to my trans and evil maze. I primarily go by Yrsa , but you can also call me Dei

They/them and it/its pronouns, please alternate. Don’t use gendered terms on me [dude, bro, girl, etc. even if your intent is to use them in a gender neutral way.] I’m a transneutral femme but don’t really use that as a label, queer as a gender but not necessarily genderqueer, and a polyamorous aromantic allosexual. My pronouns page is here.

I’m the co-host of a system, this is my personal blog. You might recognize our main blog over at @dropitdoeeyes (that’s also what i’ll be following from.) I’m the symptom holder for a lot of shit I may or may not get into

Send me asks! I love talking to people. I’ll probably draw you a little something too, as a treat

I don’t have a DNI since I find them really useless, I’ll block you if you’re a troll, if you reblog untagged unreality, or if you reblog shit like "ooh reblog this or you're a horrible evil person" . Terfs explode.

Some interests of mine —

Linguistics are my current special interest, and I’m learning toki pona [I don’t know it very well and can barely hold a conversation, but it’s been going smoothly!]

Also really into math, theatre tech, video essays on obscure topics, and TTRPGS [It’s been way too long since I’ve been a gm and I need to fix that.] Some viddy games I’m really into are Disco Elysium, Hollow Knight, Portal, and Subnautica. Big fan of weird gross horror games too [e.g. How Fish is Made] please do let me know if you have any recommendations.

I’m kind of a furry? I’m not active in the community and I don’t really consider myself one even though I am by definition. I enjoy anthro animals very much and may post some of my art if I’m in the mood.

I listen to a lot of music, but if you were to ask I’d say I mostly listen to goth, deathrock, glitchy music, breakcore, and folk. Big fan of Christ vs. Warhol, Femtanyl, Rosegarden Funeral Party, The Reverent Marigold, Nox Novacula, Vision Video, Tears for the Dying, Patricia Taxxon, and Black Dresses.

Tag guide —

[Under the cut since this is getting long]

Most recent edit : 4/27/24

#dei dreams — text posts by yours truly

#dei rambles — long or otherwise rambly posts that don’t mean much of anything

#dei doodles — art by yours truly! probably won’t post much of it but it’s worth having

#reblog — posts not by yours truly. will not tag this one reliably my condolences

#undescribed — posts containing images/videos without a description

#video games — posts about video games, either me rambling about my own playthroughs or reblogging something else related

#language — linguistics posts

#queerness — posts about queerness

#people — people being human

#angels — angels

#tech — pretty computers :3

I’ll be adding more tags as I go along, but for now, this is about it. I probably won’t reliably tag many triggers, I’ll try my best, but do be wary about that. Flashing lights and eyestrain will always be tagged

#dei dreams #dei rambles #pinned post #intro post

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sweetfirebird · 1 year

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Wishing For--the modern ASB au

Wishing For

I know some of you haven’t met them yet, but since this is a contemporary and magicless AU of A Suitable Bodyguard, know that they look and act a little different here than they do in the original.

AND NOW YOU WILL UNDERSTAND WHAT I MEAN when I say, it turns out that once you remove the fantasy elements and the ‘save the world/our home’ plot stuff, what you are left with is troubled nerds who really need a cuddle (and some therapy). I was going for epic romance in the contemporary world, but then I took the epic out. Tahlen is trying his best to be a knight in shining armor though.

Content tags: anxiety, sheltered and virginal character, abandonment issues, toxic relatives, absent relatives, references to: drinking, recreational drug use, overly pushy drug users, overly pushy possible sexual advances, past parental death, therapy. Also, unfortunately, rich people. But Zelli only works as a rich person, bless his heart.

Tahlen and Zelli belong to me. (Mine! All mine! muahahaha!)

12:45 AM

So sorry to disturb your evening, Tahlen, but do you know how to use Uber? Or Lyft? Perhaps it’s the service here but I can’t seem to finish downloading an app.

12:46 AM

Sorry to bother you.

12:46 AM

Sorry to bother you *again* I meant to say

12:47 AM

It’s all right if you don’t answer this. You are under no obligation to.

12:50 AM

What’s going on

12:50 AM

Where are you

12:50 AM

It’s 1 am and you’re out

12:51 AM

It’s your cousins isn’t it

12:52 AM

They insisted I should go out. It’s fine. I probably should. Really, you should go back to sleep.

12:52 AM

Or whatever you were doing. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Sorry.

12:53 AM

Where are you

12:53 AM

Your location or I’ll use your phone tracker to get it

12:54 AM

Since when can you do that?

12:56 AM

Your grandmother allowed it the last time your cousins visited and dragged you out

Omw don’t move

12:55 AM

Tahlen?

12:56 AM

You really don’t have to

12:59 AM

Tahlen?

1:01 AM

Sorry. You’re probably driving. Sorry.

Not wanting to drain the battery on his phone anymore, Zelli had it in his lap and had let the screen go dark. He had no idea how much time had passed, or how quickly Tahlen had gotten into his truck after Zelli had disturbed him. Tahlen was probably still driving. The house Zelli was in was on the outskirts of the town proper, but Tahlen would have to drive across the valley to get there. Traffic was lighter at night, but Tahlen was hardly going to be racing over here and risking a ticket.

Zelli should have figured it out himself instead of bothering Tahlen. At worst, Zelli might have spent a few boring, slightly uncomfortable hours before his cousins remembered him. Or he could have walked back toward town until he had more phone service and then downloaded one of those apps.

His friends online were going to tease him relentlessly about this if he told them, especially if he mentioned his rescue. Which meant he’d better not.

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and then turned his head, trying to distract himself with the bland, pastel picture of a vase of flowers on the wall, and then the equally pastel curtains, opened to reveal the yard full of revelers.

The house was probably a rental for short or longer-term visitors to wine country, close enough to town for convenience and amenities, far enough away for there not to be neighbors to complain about parties. The décor also suggested a hotel more than a private dwelling.

Zelli was in a guest room, either way. There was nothing personal in the room save for an unpacked suitcase sticking out of the open closet door. Hopefully, the person staying here was more interested in the ruckus downstairs than a good night’s sleep.

Or sex, Zelli’s mind unhelpfully reminded him. A lot of people would use a party like this as a way to have sex, or to try to have sex.

He gripped his phone tighter and bit his lip a little harder. Silly of him not to think of that first. That was one of the reasons his cousins had claimed they were taking him out with them, after all.

The music playing downstairs was loud enough to bump through the floor and the walls, but the different music someone was playing outside was audible as well, mostly snatches of lyrics from car speakers. Zelli did not know the songs. He hadn’t really expected to.

Pieces of conversation once in a while made their way up from the yard along with the music. He spent a while imagining his grandmother complaining again about how all the houses now being used as rentals led to neighborhoods of this instead of real communities.

He flipped his phone around nervously. The service was terrible here. He was surprised the texts had gone through, and considered texts versus the messaging app his cousin Whitman said he ought to get for ‘privacy.’ Zelli got what he meant, but he didn’t really need ‘privacy.’ They all knew Zelli had no social life, not like theirs.

He didn’t see the need for one like theirs. This house and this party didn’t feel real. They felt like Zelli was trapped in a movie about a high school or a wealthy college with a party scene meant to show the audience who the drunken asshole antagonists were. Although most of the people here were far older than high school or even college years. Zelli was that age, just old enough to go to clubs now, legally, and to buy alcohol—

He could almost hear Tahlen questioning whether or not that was the reason Zelli’s cousins had brought Zelli along—to pay for everything.

It isn’t like your cousins give much of a shit about you the rest of the time, Tahlen would say. Or rather, wouldn’t say, but his disdain for Zelli’s relatives would be painfully apparent, so much so that even Zelli’s cousin Bethany, constantly on her phone as well as several unprescribed medications, would notice. And then pout, because she wanted Tahlen to like her, among the many other things she wanted from Tahlen.

Tahlen’s smiles were not frequent, but got especially rare when the rest of Zelli’s family were around or even mentioned. But it was a lovely smile, and Zelli tried his best to make it happen, in whatever ways he didn’t think were too inappropriate.

Tahlen, understandably, took family seriously, and most of Zelli’s relatives didn’t. That was all. There was no changing them. Zelli avoided his extended family except for times like this week, when they descended on Grandmother’s house without being invited, and he was torn between being polite and hiding from them. Normally, he might have risked irritating Tahlen by staying with Tahlen while he worked, but Tahlen had been more or less out of sight for the past two weeks.

After his first drink earlier that evening, Zelli had even considered texting Tahlen to ask what had Tahlen so busy, as if that was any of Zelli’s business. Luckily, Zelli had not had much more after that, so he hadn’t done it. Just the “pregame” at the house, then a drink at the club they had first gone to. He’d gotten a sip of something else at the bar they’d gone to after that, but then his cousins had pulled him into a car to come here, and he hadn’t had anything else.

He'd like some water, actually. Or some tea. If he could figure out where he was exactly, he might be able to ask Tahlen to stop at a drive-thru or convenience store for something on the way home. He could also venture down to this house’s kitchen, where they ought to have at least water. Then he could wait outside for Tahlen.

Zelli supposed that he ought to be grateful to his grandmother for worrying about him, even if she had put that worry onto Tahlen, who should not have had to ruin his night to track Zelli down. It would be easier for him if he arrived to find Zelli in the driveway, or even out in the street. But Zelli would rather not spend any more time around the people here than he had to. He’d leave his sanctuary when he was sure Tahlen was near.

The awkwardness Zelli had felt in the club was somehow worse in this house. Zelli was more out of place here in his borrowed t-shirt—which was supposed to be tight for the club, according to Whitman, which Zelli’s regular shirts were definitely not, but even Whitman’s smallest shirt was loose on Zelli and only made Zelli seem shorter and skinnier and weaker than he already was. The darkest jeans Zelli had, which were still not very tight, combined with dress shoes he didn’t like, and a suit jacket that was now missing, felt ill-fitting and unnatural. He regretted the loss of the jacket but was happy to at least still have his wallet and phone.

He looked at his phone again, decided to venture another text.

1:25 AM

If you changed your mind, please let me know. It’s no trouble.

He waited, watching minutes tick by, but there was no answer. Maybe Tahlen had gone back to bed… whose bed Zelli didn’t know, but it was—had been—Saturday night, and Tahlen was very attractive, and it wasn’t unlikely that he’d been out or with someone.

Tahlen was very fond of Grandmother and reasonably tolerant of Zelli. But really, Grandmother shouldn’t have asked him to do this. Tahlen already felt he owed her too much.

Since the Vallithi estate was only a few miles down the road in their corner of the valley, Tahlen’s family and Grandmother had long been friends. But Tahlen’s parents, unlike the previous generation of Vallithis, had not been naturally gifted at handling the business side of their grape-growing operation. That, combined with the creeping corporate takeover of much of the valley, meant their business had been hurting even before Tahlen’s parents had died in a boating accident while on vacation elsewhere. Their deaths had left the property and the business in the hands of their two children, Tahlen and Esrin, who had been just teenagers at the time. Zelli, about twelve then, had sat with them at the memorial service. Esrin had scowled at the world but made sure Zelli ate from the provided food. Tahlen had looked blank and tired and hadn’t said a word.

They still had some property—the house, essentially—but the land around it was owned or leased for corporate grape growing. Tahlen had barely graduated high school and then started to work, first for anyone, then for Grandmother after Grandmother had had enough of whatever stubborn nonsense Tahlen had been up to. Tahlen was guaranteed good pay, decent hours, and a place to stay in Grandmother’s estate—Zelli suspected so Tahlen didn’t have to go to an empty house at night. The money from the leases went to help Esrin get through cooking school and then to help her expenses and debt while she worked in a fancy restaurant in town.

The restaurant industry should pay their workers better, in Zelli’s opinion.

Tahlen was now taking classes again, at Grandmother’s insistence, but honestly, Tahlen seemed more than content just working for her. He went out to inspect things at her side, and talked to people about the land and harvests and things Zelli didn’t touch, as that wasn’t the area of interest Zelli shared with his grandmother.

Grandmother did not actually need the income from the wine. The label was something of a hobby for her, but it was nonetheless highly sought after, and she loved the whole business. Which was probably why Tahlen was a dream come true for her. She adored and respected him, and since she detested most of the rest of the family and knew Zelli didn’t care about wine, Zelli suspected she was training Tahlen to take over for her when she could no longer do it.

That might also have been another reason Bethany chased after Tahlen when she was around, Zelli realized thoughtfully. His cousins could be perceptive and clever when it suited them to be.

Zelli’s strengths were really more in line with the rest of the family’s interests. Well, his interests and grandmother’s. He did not give much thought to the rest of the family, as he was sure they didn’t give any thought to him. His father certainly didn’t. They all generally only spoke to Grandmother when it involved some aspect of the family trust. Everything else, everything pertaining to Grandmother’s private money and investments, which were considerable, Zelli kept an eye on, as well their household expenses and some of the financials of the winery.

He didn’t really do much, but he at least did more than the cousins and aunts and uncles living off the trust who did nothing, then showed up once in a while to try to get on Grandmother’s good side.

She had no control over the family trust, but her business was hers, and it had done very well. She didn’t say so directly but had once or twice implied they were all just trying to get a mention in her will.

And to hit up Zelli for money, since Zelli didn’t have nearly the same expenditures as the rest of them and only tried to earn enough from everything else he did to pay for his gaming equipment and things like that.

Somewhere, Tahlen was scowling, Zelli just knew it. He sighed.

Zelli’s cousins, the only members of his family remotely close to Zelli in age, did not understand LEGO sets or supporting creators and streamers. They’d had a low opinion of the Spirited Away shirt Zelli had been wearing when they’d found him… and also of Zelli’s hair. He’d recently gotten an ill-advised haircut to try to deal with his uncontrollable, multitextured hair, wherein he had learned that without the weight to hold his hair down, his hair got even wilder.

Maybe Zelli was spoiled, as they’d suggested. He didn’t have to do anything for himself, that was true. Grandmother had a housekeeper and a cook. There was cleaning and gardening staff. And he had Grandmother to coddle him and keep him from the real world. Now, here he was. He couldn’t figure out how to Uber, and even if he looked up a cab company, he didn’t have an address to give them.

He checked his phone, nearly dropping it when he saw a message waiting for him.

1:30 AM

Tell me you are not here

A picture of the front of the house was attached: a yard now destroyed by someone’s crookedly parked car, some people standing around, smoking, and a couple on the hood of the car who were…

“Oh.” Zelli hoped that wasn’t one of his cousins.

1:34 AM

I’ll come out

1:34 AM

Just tell me where you are

He could practically see Tahlen’s stiff disapproval as he probably despaired over Zelli’s lack of sense and social skills and answered quickly so as not to inconvenience Tahlen more.

1:35 AM

Second floor, one of the back bedrooms.

He put his phone in his pocket and got up to peer out the window, hoping to see Tahlen’s tall form stalking toward the house. He didn’t, which meant Tahlen had been in the house when he’d sent the last text. Zelli spun around to face the door only a second before the sound of a gentle knock.

“Zelli?” Tahlen called softly through the door.

Zelli flew across the room to undo the lock and let Tahlen in.

“You had to lock the door?” Tahlen demanded in a low, unhappy voice, turning to glare down the hallway before coming in and shutting the door behind him. He studied Zelli intently for several seconds while Zelli tried not to fidget, then asked, even quieter than before, “Who scared you?”

Tahlen was not looming over Zelli, but he did loom. Nearly everyone could loom over Zelli, who tried not to take it personally. Friends online assured him he was a “short king” but Zelli didn’t feel very kingly. Tahlen was about six feet, tall, but not exceptionally so. He did, however, carry himself with the physical confidence of someone who had been an athlete in high school and had spent most of his life learning various martial arts “to relax.”

Zelli did not know how kendo or kenpō could be relaxing, but Tahlen felt the same way about some of Zelli’s games.

Tahlen also rode his horse often, stabled at Grandmother’s estate in an arrangement that Tahlen felt he ought to pay for while Grandmother ignored his protests because Tahlen often rode with Zelli when Zelli did, and she claimed Tahlen was Zelli’s security. As if they were in the 1920s and someone was going to kidnap Zelli for ransom.

Zelli had spent several months trying to convince Tahlen that no matter what his grandmother thought, Tahlen wasn’t obligated to spend time with him, with Tahlen glowering and going more silent until Zelli had finally given up.

Despite the time of night and the seasonal chill, Tahlen was in a t-shirt, leaving the tattoos on his forearms visible. Each arm had a mural for one of his parents and their interests: chess and horses on his left, flowers and wine and grapes on the right. He also had a constellation on the side of his neck. Zelli didn’t know the reason for that one, but it had sent him into a brief astronomy and then astrology phase in his teen years, at the height of his Tahlen crush. Tahlen probably had more ink. Zelli didn’t know where, though, if he did.

“Zelli?” Tahlen promptly unhappily, drawing Zelli’s eyes up from Tahlen’s bare skin.

Tahlen sometimes wore his hair longer, but it was short at the moment, a lovely, rich brown, like sable, or how Zelli imagined sable would look in person. Tahlen’s eyes were nearly the same color. Dressed like he was, in jeans that were worn and tight in the right places, unlike Zelli’s, he’d probably gotten stares as he’d come in. Possibly some for not dressing like the others here, but also for being so, well, remarkable. Handsome. Pretty.

Zelli’s poufy short hair was an indistinct brown, though he had tried dyeing it often as a teenager. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten beat up at the high school for the rainbow attempt actually, but then, Grandmother had sent Tahlen to pick him up every day by then. Tahlen’s glares were effective.

Zelli peered up at Tahlen, aware that he was sober all these hours after his first drinks, and that he had no excuse for staring except, “You came?” he asked in confusion. “For me? Really?”

Even in the dim bedroom, with only the light from outside to illuminate him, Tahlen’s surprise at the question was evident.

Zelli blinked eyes of undramatic hazel green. Eyes set in a freckled face that would darken in the sun, if Zelli would ever spend more time outside. He was ordinary, tiny, boring, nerdy Zelli, who did nothing and had achieved nothing, and who had once been so over-the-top about his teen feelings for Tahlen that it was a wonder Tahlen still talked to him.

“Are you drunk?” Tahlen leaned down to inspect Zelli from a better angle. His face was suddenly close, startling Zelli, who parted his lips but at least held in his gasp. “High?” Tahlen went on, disgruntled and concerned. “Did someone slip you something?”

Zelli stepped back on shaky legs. “It’s fine,” he assured Tahlen in strained voice. He coughed and tried again, taking another step back to clear his head. “Sorry.” He ignored how Tahlen’s mouth tightened at the word. “I’m fine. I had a drink at the club, and one at the bar I barely started, and whatever is downstairs didn’t look appealing. I’d really love some tea, to be honest. Ah.” It was no wonder Tahlen thought Zelli was high. He was babbling. About tea. “It’s obvious I spend most of my time with my grandmother, isn’t it?” He tried to be light. “It’s ridiculous that they dragged me out.”

Tahlen crossed his arms. “Why did you let them?” Again, was implied.

Zelli met Tahlen’s frustrated gaze, then had to look away. He shrugged. “I… thought I should try again. To be a regular person.” He bit his lip, which was going to chap. “Maybe I ought to try the community college, just to get out more. I could… I could get to know people my own age. In person and not online. Maybe learn to draw or something. I do think, at least Whitman, is genuinely concerned for me, in his way.”

“Oh yeah?” Tahlen challenged, still keeping his voice soft. “When was the last time any of them contacted you to ask how you are?”

Zelli had no answer for that, which Tahlen knew.

Tahlen let his voice rise, just a fraction. “Do they even know where you are right now?” An Or care? was implied as well.

Zelli didn’t know if he was reassuring himself or Tahlen. “I’m sure they’ll look for me whenever it’s time to leave. They did last time.”

“And they didn’t find you last time, as I recall.” Tahlen was fed up with the whole family and Zelli couldn’t blame him.

The last time had involved a trip to the city with Grandmother, and once the cousins had realized Zelli was there, they’d badgered him to go out with them, then shown him how to set up a tab at a bar with his credit card. They’d all disappeared at some point after that. Zelli had finally walked several city blocks back to the house and sat on the porch of his aunt and uncle’s house, waiting for Bethany or one of the others to come back to let him in.

He wasn’t aware Tahlen had known the details, but when Grandmother had given Tahlen the permissions to track Zelli’s iPhone, she must have told him. She’d only told Zelli to call Tahlen if he couldn’t reach her or didn’t want to bother her.

Zelli lifted his chin but couldn’t quite meet Tahlen’s eye. “Well, I think I enjoyed the night on the porch more than the bar anyway.” But a sigh followed his joke. “I’m just not meant for these sorts of things.”

“You’re more of a movie and a visit to a late-night café sort of person,” Tahlen agreed.

“I….” Zelli forgot what he’d been about to say. Tahlen regarded him seriously. Zelli regarded him in amazement. “Yes,” he finally answered, “if I must go out.”

“Or for a ride on Lemon Blossom,” Tahlen went on evenly, as if he didn’t think there was anything odd about Zelli’s few out-of-the-house activities.

“I’m boring, I know,” Zelli said anyway, more confused than he could ever remember being. “My interests are not sophisticated and I have no real passions.”

“It’s someone else streaming Minecraft, then. Or building those elaborate LEGO sets. Or playing around with numbers and figures in their head while watching TV.” Tahlen uncrossed his arms. “And someone else making whatever money it is you make as easily as you do. That seems sophisticated to me.”

Zelli scoffed quietly. “I couldn’t do nearly the amount of work you do, and you keep all that information in your head as well. Your interests are far more….” Tahlen’s expression said Zelli was deflecting. Zelli didn’t know when he’d learned to read Tahlen so well. Others, like Bethany, certainly couldn’t. But maybe if she really looked at Tahlen once in a while. He wondered if most people did. Or if they just saw Grandmother’s employee. Or an extremely attractive and hot person glaring at them. Though people seemed to like that, so maybe Tahlen didn’t mind that last one. “Sorry,” Zelli said abruptly. “I must have ruined your night.”

Tahlen was indeed glaring at the moment. “It’s not ruined.”

Zelli gestured loosely. “Interrupted, then.”

“Zelli.” Tahlen said his name on a sigh. “You’re always apologizing when you’ve no need to.”

“No need?” Zelli demanded in disbelief. “Grandmother insisting you do this for me? It’s too much. You shouldn’t have to….”

Tahlen was making a very strange face. Rather pained. Like when Zelli had spent several days nervously bouncing around the house while waiting for one of his online friends to visit. The friend had been coming to the area for something else and the two of them had planned to get lunch, but then something had come up so nothing had come of it anyway. Tahlen had probably thought Zelli was meeting up with a serial killer but had been doing his best to be supportive.

That was the face he was making right now. Which was to say, his face did not actually do much, a slight tightening of his lips, a glance away, but to Zelli his discomfort was clear as day.

“Maybe she didn’t insist?” Zelli amended his statement. “She just asked and you felt you shouldn’t say no?”

“I asked,” Tahlen corrected stiffly. “They left you on the porch.” Tahlen sounded as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. “In a strange city—a new-to-you city,” he added when Zelli started to object.

Zelli stared, his mouth definitely hanging open for a moment before he closed it. Something warm carried through him the way alcohol was supposed to, and like with alcohol, it made him say the first thing that came to mind. “It was really more of a stoop. I wouldn’t have made you drive all the way into the city to sit with me on a stoop.”

It wasn’t a joke, and Tahlen didn’t react as if it had been. “I could’ve stayed on the phone with you while you waited,” he explained patient and furious. “You shouldn’t have been alone.”

“Oh.” Zelli studied the tops of his dress shoes. He was warmed again, and yet felt like a dumbass in some way he couldn’t explain. As if he should have known that. It was insulting to Tahlen, really, that Zelli would assume he didn’t care, or that he felt obligated to. Tahlen took family seriously. Perhaps Zelli was more that than a friend or annoying sort-of housemate to him. “You’re very kind,” Zelli said to the shoes, in the voice of someone who spent all of his time around a senior citizen who had been raised with old-fashioned etiquette rules and had once attended an all-girls boarding school in Switzerland. “Thank you. I’ll think of that in the future… or not.” He peeked up at the sound of Tahlen’s annoyed little exhale. “I won’t let my cousins kidnap me again, but I will remember your concern.” That was better. “We should go, so you can at least have some of your night to yourself.”

“Why did you lock the door?”

Of course, Tahlen wasn’t going to let that go.

“Nothing. No reason,” Zelli said immediately. He looked up again, fully aware Tahlen wouldn’t believe that. “They’re loud,” he admitted, to Tahlen’s shoulder this time, instead of to his shoes. “And bigger than me. And some of them kept offering me things. I suppose it’s meant to be friendly. But they are also not really inclined to listen to no’s and one had a grip on my jacket that I couldn’t… so I slipped out of it and came up here.” He grew quieter and quieter the longer he went on. “And locked the door while I tried to figure out how to leave. Really, though,” he cleared his throat, “nothing happened and there’s no need to do anything about it. We can just go home.”

“Sit down, Zelli,” Tahlen ordered, gentle.

Zelli huffed. “Really, I…”

“You’re shaking,” Tahlen interrupted to inform him and then came forward.

Zelli stepped back, then bumped into the bed and sat. Tahlen was in front of him, too tall, and then kneeled down and put his hands on Zelli’s knees while he gazed at Zelli with concern and worry in his expression for anyone, even Bethany, to read.

Zelli stared blankly at him, at his hands, his forearms, the stars at his throat and his dark, warm eyes, which were so close.

Several years ago, Zelli had become aware that his feelings for Tahlen had gone far beyond a crush, but there hadn’t been anything to do about it, so he’d done his best to not think about them. He always had things to do, or could find things to do. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because Zelli was Zelli and he was not the sort of person to have feelings like that reciprocated, and never by someone like Tahlen. Grandmother had spotted them anyway, Zelli’s feelings, and advised him to be respectful, and to stay kind to Tahlen. So that was what Zelli had done. He had tried to stay out of Tahlen’s way, and to apologize when he messed up, and to only devote some of his time to making Tahlen smile.

Now this. He was tired and anxious. He was going to ruin it.

He did his best to look away, but Tahlen’s gaze was steady and demanded Zelli return it. Zelli couldn’t be rude, so he looked back, and released a long sigh. Tahlen was even more beautiful up close.

“It’s probably just that I never leave the house,” Zelli offered nervously. He was shaking. He hadn’t realized. “Maybe I should also… buy clothes more appropriate for going out. I don’t dress up… spend the money how I should.” His voice had a tremor too. “I’ve seen TikToks; I know how I could dress. Though it’s not going to make me anything but a permanent… a permanent twink as far as the world is concerned.”

He'd never said that word aloud to Tahlen before, but presumably, from Zelli’s rainbow hair and all of his teenage staring, Tahlen was well aware of Zelli’s queerness.

“Although not an especially pretty one,” Zelli added quickly, his face hot. “You’re going to tell me to breathe, aren’t you?” Tahlen’s eyes seemed to have lights in them. That should have been impossible. “I am breathing.” Zelli demonstrated that a few times. “Did Grandmother tell you about my go at therapy too?” He wasn’t resentful, merely curious. “I don’t really think I need it. My family, including my father, has no interest in me. That’s just a fact. I was raised by my grandmother away from town so my interests don’t match most in my age group. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

“Zelli,” Tahlen said his name so softly, “is that why you let them do this to you again?”

The heat from his hands was distracting.

Zelli breathed.

“I’m on my way to twenty-two and I’ve never done anything,” he blurted, embarrassed. “With anyone,” he added, because why not make his humiliation as clear as possible? “Though I want to. Well, nothing outside of a few online flirtations when I was younger, which went nowhere, of course. Because it doesn’t take much for people to realize I’m not….” Zelli shut his eyes. “You’re sexy and interesting and beautiful, so you don’t understand. But it’s…. My cousins don’t care about me. I know that. They want to use my money. But I’m alone all the time. It’s me, and everyone in the staff, and Grandmother.”

“And me.”

Zelli opened his eyes, then immediately dropped his head to look at Tahlen’s hands instead of into his eyes. Zelli was supposed to be better than his creepy staring by now. “I just annoy you. Don’t pretend I don’t. My teen years… I am sorry about that.”

Tahlen took a second. “That was a while ago. You don’t need to keep apologizing for it. You didn’t actually do anything.”

“I was inappropriate,” Zelli insisted unhappily, mumbling.

Tahlen inched in closer, bringing Zelli’s gaze back to his frowning face. “You weren’t. And it was years ago. I was also… I was not in a good place at the time, regardless, but you never annoyed me. For fuck’s sake, Zelli,” Tahlen said it with the same softness as before, “I grew up next to your house, to you and your grandmother. I never thought you were spoiled or a brat or creepy. To be honest, I didn’t think of you much at all, then.”

Zelli heaved a sigh, but nodded. “I should be grateful for that.”

Tahlen didn’t budge. “But your grandmother was so worried about you. It made me start to worry about you. It’s second nature now.”

Zelli gave him a sad shrug.

Frustration flickered through Tahlen’s expression. “Not because you’re helpless—although we are downloading Uber for you when we get home.” He waited, apparently wanting to be certain Zelli was listening, then went on. “Because you care a lot, and the world can be harsh and cold.”

“You really are wonderful, Tahlen.” The tremor hadn’t left Zelli’s voice. Tahlen looked comically startled for a moment, then his frown returned. Zelli hurried away from the careless compliment. “Would you say we’re friends?”

The pinched, pained, vexed look returned to Tahlen’s face. The music downstairs was louder, the silence heavier.

Zelli tried to correct his faux pas. “I’m not very good at people. I’m sorry. Oh, I’m apologizing again—sorry.” He winced and stopped.

Tahlen seemed to be processing. Maybe he’d forgotten his hands were on Zelli. Zelli wondered if he ought to be remind him, worrying he would cause more offense if he did, then that it was creepy not to. That was overthinking, he knew that, and rushed past it.

“I like being your friend.” He meant it. “Though, other than people I might not ever meet in person, that might make you my best friend. Which is,” probably sad, “perhaps uncomfortable for you? Obviously, I don’t expect to be your best friend. That would be presumptuous.”

“Presumptuous,” Tahlen echoed flatly. Displeased.

“We do spend a lot of time together these days,” Zelli realized out loud. They went riding. They shared meals in the kitchen. Grandmother would go to bed early, and many nights, Tahlen stayed up with Zelli in the living room, one or both of them working or reading or on their phone, or not doing anything but watching TV together.

Zelli’s internet friends kept demanding pictures of Tahlen, insisting Zelli had feelings that he had denied to them, despite all the time he spent in Tahlen’s company.

“But I don’t even know if you’re seeing anyone,” Zelli finished, “or bestie things like that.”

“Bestie,” Tahlen repeated, looking at Zelli incredulously before tossing his head to dismiss that. “If I’m not working, I’m generally with you.” He said it like he was spelling something out, which was also how it felt to Zelli, so that must have been what Tahlen was doing. “Because I like spending time with you. Even though you are….” He made an impatient, irritated sound in his throat. Then, raising his eyes, watched Zelli closely, “I invited you out two weeks ago, to see that cartoon movie you wanted to see, in the little movie theater in town.”

“It’s anime, not a cartoon,” Zelli corrected out of habit from a dozen conversations with Tahlen about it. Then he shut his mouth.

Tahlen’s lips were soft, his eyes narrowed but bright. Defiant or worried, Zelli couldn’t decide; it was a new expression and he wasn’t sure of it.

“So,” Tahlen ignored Zelli’s correction, “why say yes to your cousins but not that?”

“I’d make it weird.” Zelli waved his hands around on the word ‘weird’ to show what he meant. “You almost never go to the movies.” Zelli went alone, when he did go, or with Grandmother if she approved of whatever it was. But Tahlen almost never saw anything in theaters. “So, if we went to that, I’d want to make sure you enjoyed yourself, even though you’ll make a face for the story—you know you will, don’t pretend you wouldn’t—and I’d get you soda, and peanut M&Ms, and popcorn, and even those orangey-yellow nachos if you wanted. And I’d probably sit too close to you or stare if you laughed or…” Zelli gulped. “I should stop talking now. I’m not drunk. I’m just… tired. And anxious. I get anxious sometimes. It’s not a big deal. Sorry.”

“Even the nachos?” Tahlen wondered, his tone also new to Zelli. “You think movie theater nachos are gross.”

“I think they look gross.” Zelli absently wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never had them.” He glanced to Tahlen’s face, his eyes, lit up and not angry. “They serve beer and wine at the little theater. I’d probably try to get you that, too,” Zelli admitted quietly, “and then you’d worry about driving me home, so we’d have to walk for a while or go get coffee or something afterward. And I’d do something stupid, you see, because I don’t know any better. I’d,” he darted his gaze away again, “think it was a date, or feel like it was romantic, and I don’t know what I would say, but it would…”

He stopped as Tahlen leaned in, his face tilted up, his eyes intent. His breath was soft against Zelli’s mouth. His lips looked as if they would also be soft.

“I’d…” Zelli tried again to speak, but forgot what he’d been saying. “Tahlen,” he complained quietly, “it’s 1:30 in the morning. I’m confused. If you don’t stop, I’ll think you want to…”

“Kiss you?” Tahlen finished for him, then did precisely that.

Tahlen’s palm and fingertips grazed the side of Zelli’s face, his thumb brushing Zelli’s abused bottom lip. His lips were soft. His breath was light. His mouth fit easily to Zelli’s. Zelli’s eyes fell closed without his conscious direction. He shivered and didn’t know why, because he was more than warm, more than content, floating despite the heavy rush of his pulse.

Tahlen eased back, leaving Zelli flushed hot and breathing too hard. Zelli made a small sound of protest and was immediately flustered to hear himself, but Tahlen brought his hand up again before Zelli could try to apologize. He gently urged Zelli to tilt his head to the side and then Tahlen was kissing him again, still careful though not as soft, as if he had tasted Zelli’s mouth was now savoring it, a thought to make Zelli clutch Tahlen’s shoulders and whine for more.

“It would have been a date, Zelli,” Tahlen explained after giving Zelli innumerable breathless, lingering kisses, each of them hotter than the last and hitting Zelli in places Tahlen’s hands never touched. Tahlen sighed the words as though he had been waiting to say them. “That’s why I asked you.”

Zelli forced his eyes open. He leaned away, only enough to find his breath, but Tahlen dropped his hand. It landed back on Zelli’s knee.

The music from downstairs, from outside, was muted. Zelli’s heartbeat was loud.

“Peanut M&Ms are my favorite,” Tahlen revealed quietly.

Zelli’s nod was weak. “I know. I want to give you all your favorite things.” Tahlen’s eyebrows went up as if this was a surprise. Zelli had hidden more than he’d thought he had. “I didn’t because… it would be weird. Wouldn’t it?”

Zelli had just been kissed. Many times. By Tahlen. It was the middle of the night. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

Tahlen eased down onto his knees in front of Zelli once again, his gaze steadying the longer Zelli studied him.

“Wouldn’t it?” Zelli asked again.

“Maybe.” Tahlen quirked a corner of his lips. The lips that just had been on Zelli’s. The lips that kept stealing Zelli’s attention. “But I wouldn’t mind. I…. There’s no one in the whole world, except possibly my sister, who would ever think about giving me all of my favorite things.” He frowned. “Which I am not demanding. But the M&Ms… I’d accept those from you, if you gave them to me.”

“I could do better?” The offer slipped out. “Better than candy and popcorn, I mean. I have money. That zombie show you like… I saw a mug for it the other day and I wanted to get it for you.”

Tahlen’s frown disappeared. The slight curve returned to his mouth, then a wider one, until Tahlen’s smile was unmistakable.

“Smiling like that for me. What am I supposed to do with that?” Zelli asked helplessly, distantly worried that someone had slipped him something and he was imagining this. The worry became less distant when he saw his hand reaching out and felt the tips of his fingers falling to rest on Tahlen’s lips.

Tahlen closed his eyes.

“Lovely.” Zelli meant it, though he hiccupped when it made Tahlen look at him. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Tahlen curled his hand around Zelli’s wrist and gently pulled it down to his neck. Zelli splayed his fingers to cover the blue and black ink of the constellation. Tahlen took his hand away, leaving Zelli to overthink petting him or not petting him. It felt good, touching Tahlen. Warming, deep inside, but also physically, practically warm on his skin.

“Did my grandmother know about this?” The question came out sharp as the possibility occurred to Zelli, but he swept his thumb beneath Tahlen’s ear and Tahlen’s eyes closed again. A slight shiver ran through him. “Oh.” Zelli wasn’t shaking anymore but his heart was pounding. Someone far away, hopefully very far away, was arguing with her boyfriend. He didn’t like the sound. He didn’t want anything to make Tahlen open his eyes to frown. “We should go home. I’ll text my cousins so they’ll know where I got to.” But after he and Tahlen had gone, he decided, so his cousins couldn’t hitch a ride with them. They could find their own ways back.

Despite Zelli’s meager protective efforts, Tahlen opened his eyes, then tightened his jaw: displeased, but not going to argue. “If you want to,” he said, meaning he wouldn’t have told Zelli’s cousins a damn thing. “It’s your decision.”

“I suppose it is.” Zelli looked from his hand on Tahlen to Tahlen’s face.

“You seem better now,” Tahlen observed. “You scared me when I first saw you. It scared me to get your text. But I’m glad you sent it.”

Zelli pulled his hand back almost guiltily. “Are you? I just told you I’d never done anything and that I’ve been trying not to creep on you, which implies that I wanted to. Which I did. Not be creepy—that’s not what I meant. It’s just… there is no one else like you. I obviously think you’re wonderful. People who’ve never even met you know that.”

Nonplussed was the emotional state conveyed by the twitch of Tahlen’s eyebrows and general stillness. But then Tahlen forced his confusion away and looked to Zelli. “Can I take you home now?”

“All right,” Zelli agreed shyly, even though they both would have gone home anyway, whatever his answer. Then he realized he had no idea what would happen once they got there. “Did I interrupt your night? Until my family showed up, I was looking forward to finishing The Fae and Dragon Chronicles on HBO Max with you. Not that I assumed you’d be watching with me. The past two weeks, you were away a lot…” Tahlen’s eyebrows went up, pointed. “Oh, I see.” Zelli did see. “I’m sorry. I would have said yes. Well, if I’d believed you really wanted to….” The air left him. He took a moment, stunned as the truth sank in. “You really wanted to go on a date with me.”

Tahlen sat up, sliding a hand to the back of Zelli’s neck while leaning in to offer another kiss, less careful, a little harder in a way that had Zelli whining again.

Zelli finally pulled away to bite his tingling bottom lip and stare at Tahlen. At least Tahlen was out of breath too.

“Are you really sure?” Zelli asked, despite the warmth all through him and the smile on Tahlen’s face. “I’m not very attractive, and I’m not as rich as Grandmother, and I am sort of useless around the house.”

Tahlen’s smile slipped. “Mizel.”

“Sorry.” Zelli shook his head. “I do perhaps need the therapy. I know. My father….” He didn’t want to talk about his father now. Or ever, really. He slid ungracefully down to his knees but his tumble made Tahlen’s smile return, and Tahlen put an arm around him before standing up and tugging Zelli to his feet with him. Tahlen’s arm was warm too, and solid, and very steady. Zelli was going to like having it around him too much and make it weird.

No. He stopped that thought there. Tahlen was smiling. It wasn’t weird—or, if it was, Tahlen didn’t mind.

“When we get home” –around 2am by then, but Zelli was hardly going to sleep now— “we might have time for at least one episode. And some tea. Or… we could kiss some more?”

Tahlen kissed him again right there, as if he couldn’t wait.

Zelli wrapped his arms around Tahlen too, worrying over it despite himself.

Tahlen allowed it, in any case. “Tea, and an episode, and kissing,” he agreed, though he might have work to do in the morning. It didn’t seem much of a date, since it was what they might have done anyway, except for the kissing.

At the thought, Zelli frowned thoughtfully, inching back to gaze up into Tahlen’s handsome, flushed face. “Did you feel lonely, sitting with me in the living room in different chairs, on opposite sides of the couch, wishing for… wishing? Because I wished, but I’ve never felt lonely around you. It’s why I…. Of all my Tahlen-feelings, that has never been one of them.”

Tahlen’s gaze met his, nearly glowing from within.

“Oh,” Zelli said, bashfully pleased. He supposed anything else, more questions, more kissing, whatever might follow the kissing, even the tea, could wait. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk back through this house, but the rest made him want to hide his face against Tahlen’s arm or kiss Tahlen harder than Tahlen had kissed him. Which, thankfully, he did not know how to do, and he couldn’t reach Tahlen’s mouth without Tahlen’s help anyway.

“Then I’ve had enough of being out for one night.” He thought Tahlen understood what he meant and agreed, because he took Zelli’s hand to lead him from the room, his post-kiss face hardening into something fierce and unhappy before he opened the door. But his hold on Zelli’s hand did not change, and he kept Zelli close as they made their escape.

#a suitable bodyguard #the modern au #hopefully it makes a little bit more sense to people now #tahlen gets all the peanut m&ms

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