Tumgik
#is so blurred for me as an aro
rudolphsboyfriend · 2 years
Text
Okay i have a THEORY so please help me test it.
If you're into romance tropes/ stories, reblog this and tell me whether you're alloro or aro, and whether you prefer enemies to lovers or friends to lovers
3K notes · View notes
knifearo · 8 months
Text
i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as a binary i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as a sliding scale of "less" to "more" i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as the only two options i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as significantly different things i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as all encompassing i hate the concept of platonic and romantic as the two halves of a shallow concept of love that doesn't actually encompass anything at all i think we need to overhaul every popular conception about "types" of love so we can talk about things that are real and true for once
2K notes · View notes
moe-broey · 17 days
Text
The Amy comparison is actually gonna drive me sicko insane like. At First I was ABSOLUTELY imagining Ratatoskr like movie Sonic spying on Tom and Maddie and eventually (after many antics) getting forcefully adopted. But the Amy comparison is actually driving me SOOOOOOO INSANE BEYOND any superficial level bc of Classic Amy's entire fucking backstory. Idk I haven't been deeply autistic about the Sonic series in a hot minute but she literally foretold her meeting with Sonic, her idol, and first thing she does is hug him and come on WAY too strong (Sonic CD) and LITERALLY. OPENING CUTSCENE. LITERALLY WHAT RATATOSKR DOES. TO ALFONSE
Which like to be super fucking clear I'm insane about it in an aromantic way where like I'm p sure a part pf Amy's lore is she has severeee abandonment issues which is why she dreams of true love and why she comes on SO strong w Sonic who's both an idol and a love interest but if you're Insane you could read it as the romanticization of romance itself anf Sonic is just the face she puts to it. Because she does geniuenly look up to and respect him.
And like the comparison IS very loose and there is so much more going on here w Ratatoskr and with Alfonse, together and separately. I'm just trying to parse out the dynamic while also still avoiding a romance here bc I'm not interested in that angle. Mostly cause I can't really see Alfonse ever returning any romantic feelings Ratatoskr could have, and also I am absolutely fascinated more by the angle that Alfonse is an idol to her that may Look like a crush. Also I just stilll think yhe mistranslation was so fucking funny I am still so diehard about the possibility of them ultimately being siblings. Man who cannot stop collecting sisters. Sisters Georg
4 notes · View notes
alters-journal · 3 months
Text
I would just like to say since this is a thing right now.
The aromantic community has opened my eyes to so many different things. I'm alloromantic 100% but man, the aromantic community has done so much for me.
I will always be an ally to my aro siblings. They helped me realize that relationships are not black and white. Relationships are not just romantic and nonromantic.
I have learned that love exists in so many forms. Love takes shape in so many different ways and people. How I experience relationships from my romantic ones to my friendships to my family to my hobbies to communities to the world around me has been forever changed thanks to the aro community.
I've started blurring the lines (in healthy and responsible ways so yk not romantic with my family) between relationships. I've started to be more open and don't limit how I display affection to certain "love types". If I want to make out and go on dates with my best friends I do. If I'm not in the mood to cuddle and be all kissy with a partner I just play a game with them or something.
I'm telling my friends and family "I love you" more. I say that I love things like art and nature more. I call my partners my good/cherished/best/beloved/etc. friends.
I have platonic partners and I'm open to the idea of alterous partners too. The aromantic community has given me language for feelings that I as an alloromantic DO IN FACT experience while also experiencing a romantic attraction.
The aromantic community is beautiful and I will ALWAYS fight with them. They have redefined how I view my orientation and relationships as a whole.
Admittedly, there's still a lot I don't know about being aromantic but you can put your life on me being that stupid himbo ally to them.
AROMANTICS ARE QUEER! THEY ALWAYS WILL BE!
-Mica
5K notes · View notes
flowersforchoso · 4 months
Text
intimacies ୨୧
cw: contains suggestive themes.
(bi-han x f.reader)
Tumblr media
he enjoys spooning in the morning. and whatever he's in the mood for, sensually rutting or ploughing into you will result in an orgasm that'll take moments to recover from while he is invigorated anew; revitalised, having nourished his virility. clinging to him as the pleasured haze fades, pleading for him to remain.
"stay for a bit, please." your arm wraps around his bicep as you look up at him, attempting to change his mind
he looks away and grunts, "i have important things to attend to." yanking off your arm and rising from the bed to prepare for the day. the lack of post-coital affection stings. you think its something you'll never quite get used to.
when he enters the room with just a towel around his waist, you bite your lip while admiring his physique, which compels him to speak
"are you aware its rude to stare?"
you smile at him, then retort, "forgive me for being unable to resist your good looks."
your words halt his movements. he just stares at you, denying the thrill of a comment, then proceeds to don his uniform and accessories; the mask completing his ensemble.
"i'll see you later" he announces without casting another glance, leaving you with the early quietude
you'll forever be ignorant of the curve of his lips behind the mask. and that this brightened mood carries on throughout the day.
Tumblr media
sometimes, he's all over you feverishly planting kisses everywhere, no inch of skin untouched. he's had a bad day, and needs to unwind, or he's feeling particularly affectionate—the lines are blurred. but one thing is certain: the thread of patience would snap any minute. you're pressed flush against him; impossibly close, to the point it feels suffocating as his hands roam around squeezing, groping, fondling you everywhere. the pleasurable onslaught is dizzying, causing your knees to slightly buckle. he palms your breasts, eliciting a whimper out of you, "bi-han," while trying to wriggle free. he pauses to look you in the eye, an annoyance swirling within his iris. "what is it?" he queries, but it sounds more like a chide. you didn't mean to put him off, ruin the mood, muttering a sheepish "nothing," savoring the few seconds of a breather. his cheeks are tinted red. the image of an uninhibited man before you. he moves to whisper, "then be quiet" directly in your ear; the words burrow into the canal. and resumes his ministrations. this time, you can't quite escape it.
Tumblr media
even though he appears annoyed, he actually likes it when you bother him with silly questions. "can cryomancy be taught?" you ask all of a sudden.
"no."
you gasp, beaming with innocence, "will our babies be cryomancers?"
or anything really,
"bi-han!" he frantically rushes into the room upon hearing your cry with concern etched on his features. "is something wrong? are you hurt?" he asks, examining your body for injury. "yes" you reply before patting your lips, "here."
he's a man in love so he'll indulge (just don't go overboard with it.)
when you invite him to rest his head on your lap, he obliges. you play with his hair while humming a melody that relaxes and lulls him to sleep. moments like this are his favourite; he feels completely at peace bathing in your warmth.
knit a vest? buy a hair tie? write a letter? whatever it is, its the thought that counts. he's filled with gratitude and cherishes it forever
if you're going to be away for extended periods of time, a lackey is assigned to ensure your protection. dark eyes and stealthy movements follow you about, all oblivious to you. he takes his responsibility to you seriously
loves to share meals with you, especially his. its just a really intimate activity to indulge in but if you tried to feed him, he'd refuse.
he is bashful if he walks in on you undressing or having a bath. regardless of how many times he's seen you in the nude, he murmurs an apology before turning away. the moments after are so awkward because he's ridden with guilt for being aroused by your figure, oscillating between respect and objectification. underneath his crude, tough as nails exterior lies a gentleman.
fun times with board games. if he doesn't know how to play, you teach him and vice-versa. this is when you notice his competitive streak.
asking for his opinions, particularly on changes to your appearance; a new hairstyle/color, outfit etc. he always seems unethused or negative about it but in actuality, it's the opposite and this reflects in his behaviour. he just wants the visual feast to himself; stave off wandering eyes and potential competition.
one of the very rare times you see him crack a laugh is when you blurt out random chinese. he's taken aback at first since what you said was gibberish, wondering where it came from; until you tell him you've been practicing to impress him. "don't embarrass yourself" he reprimands, though there's no real bite to it, then rewards your efforts with a baritone chuckle
428 notes · View notes
courtingchaos · 3 months
Note
But Incubus!Eddie has trouble sometimes doesn’t he? Insatiable as he is, there comes a time when the fantasies meet up just so. Just right. Juuuust what he’s been in the mood for. Just rough enough to indulge him, his demonic strength — likes to throw, likes to feel you fight him, likes the feel you claw at his arms and back when he hits it in the way he knows makes you almost cry and choke on your breaths.
Too cocky brats trying to out do each other, but he always bests you. Giggling, smirking, cooing while he lets you on top, let’s you choke him, let’s you slap him.
“Go ahead, keep up with me,” he’ll grin up at you, hands tucked behind his head with his elbows out lazily, “Go ‘head n’ try. I’ll watch.”
Can you keep up? You want to keep up. It’s hard being a mere mortal.
- definitely not Carol.
Okay not @carolmunson .
(This got away from me.)
(It’s all over the place actually.)
(I didn’t read this over. Pardon my mistakes.)
(It’s also been one thousand years.)
He heard you before he even saw you because you’ve clearly seen him. Like the thoughts are being beamed directly into his brain he can hear your words tripping over each other. Short of just screaming ‘hot!’ at him, it’s a blur of images he can barely keep up with. The guy your with, he assumes, is tall and looming and completely uninterested in you. The music blares loud from the speakers so you don’t hear him come up behind you even though you’ve had your eyes glued to his head since you spotted him.
“You come here often?” He whispers right in your ear and he can see the immediate effect he has on you. Something like pure euphoria rolls over your face and your eyes dip half closed to find him in the dark.
“Not really, no. Not my kind of music.”
“Wanna go somewhere a little quieter then?”
Lurch next to you is still oblivious and only gets huffy when you tell him your running to the bathroom. The next set it starting soon and you’re gonna miss it and honestly it seems like you don’t even want to be here, he can’t believe he spent money on your ticket. He’s halfway to asking you to pay him back when you turn and leave and Eddie has to turn away too to hide his laughter.
It’s too easy some nights.
Really it’s been too easy most nights. That fire under his skin is a low ember, still hot but fading and with it his own self too. He’s figured it out at this point what he is and what it entails, so he’s looking for a good hit tonight and it would seem to be you. There’s an edge there that he can’t suss out yet, something swimming under the image of him cornering you in that hallway to the bathrooms.
There’s another flash of him with his hand on your neck, walking down some street lined with walk ups. It’s dark, both the feeling and images, especially when he sees himself kissing you in the doorway.
“I’d really like to get out of here Eddie.” You’re at his elbow before he knows it. His name rolls off your tongue like syrup and he didn’t even have to tell it to you.
“Yeah?” He shifts to box you in against the wall plastered in posters. “What about your date?” Your hands run up the inside of his jacket, nails first into his ribs while your eyes dance up and down his chest.
“I don’t really care.”
There’s the bite he was looking for all night. He doesn’t hesitate to drag you out of that venue and into the night. Your all hands and reaching grasps, teeth along his neck and laughter into the crook under his ear. He snakes his fingers along the back of your neck, just to hold, and you lean in harder under his arm. When you steer him into a darkened entryway the hairs on his arms stand up just before you push him against the brick.
“I don’t bring just anybody home.” You tell him between kisses that you mash along his jaw. You’re clawing at him through his t-shirt almost like you’re trying to will it out of existence. “Consider yourself lucky.”
He just hums, turning to laughter when you pull him into your place. It’s small and dark and you don’t waste time showing him around the close quarters. Just pull him down the short hallway to your room.
He already knows about the rope you keep in your bottom drawer, unused but with hopeful intent for the future. He knows about your top drawer full of batteried friends and the two silicon cocks that don’t seem to ever get the job done just right. He’ll fix that though, especially tonight while you let the information just roll right off of you.
Lust filled psychic damage blasted at him that almost makes him stagger. You have plans for him that make his teeth set on edge and he realizes he has a real challenge tonight. You’re not just someone looking for a quick fix to their fantasies, you intend to take him along for the night of his life.
In your room he spins you around before you can push him back onto the bed. He climbs up after you and gives you a brief glimpse of himself, horns and all. A flash of a memory that seems to light a bonfire in you. He gets your shirt off and your jeans undone before you try to take control again, your fingers dipping past his waistband to feel along warm skin. Tugged further up your bed and further up your body so you can bite at his bottom lip he laughs at your fervor. So quick to get to all these pieces of him that seem to glow for you in the dark.
He can already feel your teeth biting into the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. Your hands pull at his hair before they ever travel upwards, still busy trying to work his jeans open with eagerness. He already knows what the wet heat of your mouth holds for him and the way it feels to sink in deep inside you. The backs of your knees will be tacky against his palms when he presses them into your chest to get the right angle, the one that makes you growl something deep.
You surprise him though. A welcome wrench in his plans when you kick his leg out from under him. Make him fall to his side and you roll him, smiling down at him and pushing up his tshirt. A palm slides flat up his chest and the appreciation is evident in your eyes.
“Am I lucky yet?” He gets out before you make him moan with a light grip around his throat and a firmer one down his boxers.
“You tell me.” Heavy strokes up his length while your fingers dance around his neck. It’s been too long since someone has turned his own game on him and he relishes the attention for now. He lets you hold him down and tease him, the moans at the back of his throat genuine. He has a moment of doubt when you lick a long line up his cheek and laugh, the idea that you might be like him and he somehow missed it, but when he reaches further into your lust that’s all he finds.
A need to push and pull at him that has you both still half dressed and him winning this new match of wills. It’s almost a slap fight when he gets out from under you with a giggle. Almost unbelieving as you push his hands away in your need for dominance but once he gets his hand in your hair you drop. Pliable and moveable like you were melting into your mattress as his free hand glides along your back. Up your spine and back down your ribs to make you shiver.
He gets you out of your jeans with your underwear shoved to the side, fingers finding your clit without even trying. You can’t see him but he lets that cocky grin spread all the same when you try to hold yourself up under his magical touch. He knows all your spots, knows where to mouth and where to bite and it’s almost like you can read his mind too. Hands grip behind you to grab at his hair, fingers digging into the back of his neck and hips chasing his hand when he turns his touch a little too light.
“Eddie please just fuck me.” You whine and he pulls your head backwards to capture you in a kiss. He can feel you trying to gain the upper hand again but he isn’t playing that part of the game anymore tonight.
“Say it again.” His voice is deeper. Layered in tones to keep you floating in that headspace of combined lusts. There’s an awareness to you still though even under all this fog and when your gaze shifts to his he can’t really deny you anything when he watches your lips form around your plea.
“Please Eddie.” You press your hips into his to grind along his hard cock and he has to take a steadying breath before he rips your underwear further to the side and lines himself up. Barely in place before you rock your hips again and push him inside, a hiss from between his teeth when you groan and dig your nails into the back of his neck. This isn’t going to be one of his long night as much as he wishes it was. You’re too far gone to his power and your own hubris, lust washing over your every dip and curve. He keeps his fingers on beat with your panting breaths and it almost feels like a light has been turned on suddenly with the burning at the base of his spine.
Heat rolls off of him the closer he gets to cumming, his breath wet against the back of your neck where he mouths around to sink his teeth in. He’s almost blind to you in front of him while his mind is filled with a jumbled mass of your thoughts. With every pointed thrust he gets a shiver up his spine like you do, a double hit of his own powers that makes him feel dizzy. Nails dig into his thighs where you grip him tightly to keep him close and rutting, your repeated ‘don’t stop right there!’ giving him a tempo to keep up with.
He times it just right so you cum at the same time. Drawn up flat against his chest, his fingers working you over to pull you up to your peak, cock buried deep so he can feel every flutter around him. He lets you see him just out of the corner of your blurring vision, really see him before your eyes roll back and you moan out his name. Wild curls with black eyes under them, dark mouth and thin tongue that darts out lick at the shell of your ear while you come apart.
Eddie can feel that well inside overflow with you. His name sounds too sweet from your mouth, your fantasies too potent for him to just ignore when this is all over. Gently he lowers you to bed with light touches that hold now instead of grip. When he slinks in behind you on top of your covers he cups a cheek with his palm and runs the tip of his thumb along the edge of your lip. It’s a soothing motion for sure but he’s also bringing the night to a close before he decides to do something stupid.
Instead of you falling asleep like he planned though, you seem to bounce back with a clearer head about the stranger in your home. You kick him out gently. Nice even he thinks, but he wasn’t planning on staying anyways. You hand him an Oreo from the pack you’ve opened while he gets his boots back on and he can’t help but laugh.
“Was I a good boy, deserving of a treat?” He shoves it wholly into his mouth and holds his hand out for another. You cast a suspicious glance at him before it breaks into a smile and you hand him two.
“Very. One for the road.” Your eyes are heavy while they watch him walk out the door. Hidden behind it to conceal your bare legs against the cool night. He can see his effect on you still, a glint under the tiredness from mauling each other for an hour. “See you around?” You ask around a yawn and he shrugs.
“Only if you wanna find me.” Outside after you turn off the light he stands there memorizing the number on your door and the sign on the corner before he starts on his way home, new fantasies filed away for his next run in with you.
167 notes · View notes
Text
Sunlight in a dark room (ii) | A.V x Reader
Tumblr media
warnings: ehhh floof?
a/n: i love jane idc what anyone says she’s my little pookie (she’d eat me) 🥹🥹
Tumblr media Tumblr media
ʚɞ
You heard a hiss as both wives made their way over towards you and Alec. Sulpicia gripping your shoulders gently as Athenodora cupped your cheeks and turned your face to inspect you.
“What happened?” She demanded as she averted her eyes to Alec, now stood behind Sulpicia. A blur intercepted your vision as Aro was suddenly next to his wife on the opposite side , holding out his hand in a silent question.
You place your hand within his, leaning into Dora’s soft touch and after a moment he tutted before pulling away.
“It seems there are some unwanted guests within the castle walls after all.” You heard a hiss from Caius. “They have harmed our dear human”
You made eye contact with Alec who gave you a reassuring look before turning to his master.
“Alec, I trust you are able to ensure that they are dealt with by your fellow guards whilst our sweet Jane tends to Y/N’s wound?” Aro looked at him and for a moment it was almost as if your mate was going to protest, however opting to bow with a small ‘Yes, master’ before turning and leaving in a blur. The queens gave you a final once over, before you felt a cold wrist encase yours and move you back to the steps behind you.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
You felt the damp cloth dab against your face as Jane swiped up the dried droplets of red which had stained your cheek.
Her face was stoic as she did so, much like it usually was, though her touch was gentle and almost felt comforting in the midst of the chaos. Your usual smile was replaced with a soft frown and you looked at your hands as Alec’s previous words replayed through your head like a mantra.
“You’re naïve to that that nothing bad will ever happen to you and you’re stupid to think you’re safer in here than out with your own kind”
“What’s wrong?” Jane’s voice pierced through your daze and you moved your eyes to meet her red ones as she continued to swipe at your cheek.
“What?” You looked at her incredulously.
“I may choose not to speak to you but do you really think I am oblivious? You’re moping, Y/N. It’s not like you. What’s wrong?” She rolled her eyes at you as you avert your gaze.
“It’s- It’s nothing.” You started but doubted whether it was a good decision to talk to Jane - of all people - about Alec.
“It’s not nothing and you know it.” She accused and you let out a sigh.
“It’s just- Alec said something to me earlier and I can’t help but feel like he was right… I don’t know.. it’s stupid.”
Jane let out a scoff before sighing, dropping the cloth back into the bowl of soapy water next to her and moving to sit next to you on the step.
“Well? What did he say?”
Your face flushed as you questioned with yourself whether to tell her, deciding that maybe… just maybe if you could bond just a little with Jane then Alec would potentially lay off on the hate parade for a while.
“He- He said that I was naïve..” You took a breathe before continuing. “that i’m stupid to believe i’m safer in here than I am with other.. people”
You heard Jane suck in a sharp breathe and you moved your gaze to look at her. She started right ahead, seemingly contemplating what to say next. After a moment of silence she spoke up.
“My brother is… well he’s complicated.” You snorted and she glared at you, though the small smile on her lips told a different story. “He says things a lot… things that he does not mean. He believes that pushing you away is better than keeping you tied to him-”
“He said that?” You cut her off and she glared at you again.
“Let me finish. He believes all humans are the same, i’m sure you’ve heard about our.. past experiences?” She raises an eyebrow and you looked at her sympathetically. “He feels you’ll end up like the others. He needs you to prove you are different, though he will not tell you that himself.”
You pondered her words with a frown. You look at her in confusion.
“So what do I do? How do I prove that when he will barley look at me? He hates me. ”
“I think his moment with you earlier was enough to prove he does not hate you.” She scoffed and you smiled slightly at the thought of his protective nature. The worried tone in his voice. The way he held you. The safe feeling that washed over you when you realised he was there.
“You need to talk to him Y/N. Stop avoiding each other and make him realise you are not like them.” She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly before standing and making her way back over to Aro.
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
The throne room doors burst open as the rest of the guard missing entered. Alec’s eyes instantly fall onto you and you sucked in a breathe. You hear Demetri debriefing with the kings, informing them that there were no vampires residing in Volterra though that there was also no sign of any Romanians. Meanwhile you stood, making your way over to who was meant to be your mate. He gave you a once over before tilting his head.
“I see Jane did a good job cleaning you up.” His voice was low and you nodded.
“She did. I’m grateful for her help.” His eyes softened at your kind words toward his sister. “Can I t-talk to you?”
He narrowed his eyes before taking your hand which you held out to him, guiding him over to the corner you had been sitting in.
“I-“ You struggled with where to start. “You were right.”
He looked at you in confusion.
“What you said this morning. You were right. I am naïve. I’m stupid to think i’m safe here.” You voice broke as you spoke and he hung his head slightly. “But I want you to know that i’m not like them. I don’t want to hurt you I- there is no intention for me to do so and I hope that one day you’ll realise that.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and he looked up to meet your eyes.
“I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Hm?”
“What I said this morning… I didn’t mean it. I just- I feel so… I fear you, Y/N”
You furrowed your eyebrow at him.
“You fear me?”
“Yes. I fear you.” He took an unneeded breathe “Every night once you’ve fallen asleep I imagine what it would feel like to hold you, to be there for you, to be the one to comfort you and make sure you’re safe… that is until your incessant sleep talking distracts me.”
He tries to joke and you giggle, his eyes lighting up slightly.
“Every night I sit there and think about making things right with you but the moment you wake up I fear you. I fear you will end up seeing me how they saw me-how they still see me. But more than that I fear that if I make an attempt at pursuing something it will put you in danger; something will happen to you much like what happened to me and you will end up as I am- hell it almost did today.”
Your eyes well up and you take his hand. He looks at you properly then and he gives you a soft smile.
“If anything, I said those things because I am the one who is stupid to think I can have any form of commitment with someone without them getting hurt. I don’t deserve it…” He trailed off, looking to the floor.
“Everyone is deserving of love, Alec ” You placed a hand on his cheek and you barley felt him tilt his head into the hold, eyes on you once again. Your voice lowered to a whisper “Please let me in. Let me love you the way you deserve. I want- I need you to understand how much I want to make this work”
He watched you for a moment before leaning in, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you closed your eyes in content, he placed his forehead against yours, wiping away the tears which had spilled out with the pads of his thumbs before pulling you into his side.
“We will be okay, sweetface, we will make it work. I promise.”
ʚɞ
Tumblr media
164 notes · View notes
bangarangdarling · 10 months
Note
I haven't caught up on all of your writing, so I'm not sure if you've already done your own take on this:
Prompt: Eddie wakes up in the hospital (after the demo-bats of course) really, really loopy on painkillers and the first person he sees is Steve...
This was exactly the fluff fest I needed to break up all the angst I've been in the middle of :') Thank you!!
He really just had one thing to say to all the soccer moms and televangelists who always said people like Eddie were going to hell–
Suck it. 
Eddie absolutely was not in hell, thank you very much. Sure, for some reason his sides hurt like a bitch occasionally. And he couldn’t really talk super well since there was what seemed like an entire roll of tape and gauze on the side of his face. And maybe he couldn’t move his left leg around much, but who cares about those things? 
In the grand scheme of things, he was living a fucking dream. 
Heaven, if you ask him. Take that, Pastor Davies, you wrinkled prick. 
Honestly, he’d kind of always thought stereotypical heaven was overrated. With the way the stuffy religious folk always talked about it, it seemed like a total drag. Just prayer and eternal…boringness. 
This heaven was way better. 
It was mostly just floaty. Things blurred. Time moved strangely. Minutes stretched out forever, and yet he would blink sometimes and all of a sudden the morning sun in the window would be gone. The lamp beside his bed would be on, instead. He loved those times because usually a voice accompanied it, saying words that Eddie knew he recognized, but just couldn’t give enough effort to understand. It was nice, though. 
The voice sounded kind. It stumbled over words sometimes, like maybe it was reading off of something aloud, but it was familiar and the cadence lulled Eddie back into those peaceful, floaty times where he didn’t have to think about anything at all. 
Whenever he was hungry, food was just there. Eddie could have sworn he’d thought about pudding once and then bam pudding was in front of him. Like magic. Several times he’d come to consciousness with a mouth drier than a motherfucker, and there were always hands that reached over to supply him sips of water. 
The hands were so nice. Big. Gentle. He’d felt them combing through his hair before, he’d thought. 
Best of all, though? The angel. 
God, his angel. 
Prettiest goddamn face he’d ever seen. At first the angel looked sad, red-rimmed eyes and a deep set frown, and that had simply not been okay. No way. A fuckin’ masterpiece of a face like that being upset was criminal. Just…not allowed. Eddie had said as much, mumbled and probably slurred to hell, but it made those pretty lips lift at the corners a bit.
He’d made it his mission, then, to make the literal celestial being in front of him smile every time he could focus his brain power enough to make words. 
His most recent swim up to consciousness had him coming to with fingers in his hair and a light pressure felt to the immobilized side of his face. His eyes met with his angel’s and he couldn’t help his dopey smile. Angel’s lips moved, that kind voice breaking through the haze. 
“...to wake you. Sorry, your bandage was peeling back. It looked uncomfortable,” Eddie’s pretty angel smiled down at him, seeming slightly nervous all of a sudden. Like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.
It took him a try or two to push his own voice out, rough from disuse. 
“Don’ say sorry, ‘s fine. You c’n touch me anytime, angel.” Eddie giggled when the angel’s cheeks flushed an adorable pink and his hands fluttered around like he didn’t know where to put them. 
“Oh, come on, man, don’t–hey, stop that. Quit grinning so wide, you’ll pop your stitches!” 
Eddie batted at the hand that came up to grab the non-patchwork side of his face, pushing at his lips like if the angel could physically hold it down he could stop the smile from growing any larger. Silly angel. Eddie took the opportunity to seize one of those hands in his. He shook it around loosely, celebrating. Hah! Caught him. 
It gave Eddie the chance to get a closer look at his fingers. Nice fingers, long. Eddie would smack a kiss on every one of them if he could. (There’s a possibility he may have said that part out loud, if the choked sound from the angel was any judge.) 
No ring on the hand though. His angel wasn’t married. Could angels even get married? Was it against the rules in heaven or something? 
Eddie leveled a very serious look to the other man, clutching the captured hand to his chest fiercely. Or, as fiercely as he was capable, seeing as the soft, floaty feeling was starting to take over again. 
“I would marry you a’nyway. Okay? Don’t care what the rules are.” 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Steve spent the last several nights getting well acquainted with the scratchy vinyl of his hospital chair and the fourth floor’s only vending machine. There were only so many power naps and snickers bars a man could take. 
His back ached from slumping over onto the hospital bed to accommodate Eddie’s hold on him. It was hard to care about that, though, when the hand clutched in his twitched slightly in sleep before tightening back again. He’d been able to relax the older boy back into rest earlier, smiley and malleable. 
Eddie only agreed to it after insisting Steve didn’t “fly away without him” whatever that meant. 
Those crazy strong drugs the doctors had pumped him with were doing the work to keep him comfortable, despite making him say things he never would have had he been more aware. 
Steve didn’t have the heart to pull away. He should. He should put some space between them. He shouldn’t take anything Eddie says or does to heart at all–he’s high as hell on painkillers. That would make any guy a little loopy. Make him say things he doesn’t mean. 
Eddie adjusted in his sleep, smiling a bit, body angled towards Steve. His hand was warm, and if Steve moved his fingers up just a bit to his wrist, he could feel the steady thump there. 
In the quiet of the sterile hospital room, Steve thought he maybe could indulge just a bit. No harm in the comfort of two people, just happy to be alive. 
Robin let herself into the room quietly, a paper coffee cup in one hand that Steve knew would be made perfectly to how he liked it. 
It took her barely a beat, taking in the two boys curled in towards each other. 
“So, how many marriage proposals were there today?” 
243 notes · View notes
Note
cw:// trauma, romance, mention of arophobia/intolerance, past relationships
———
hellooo 🌻 anon here :] i came out to my best friend a few days ago as aro and they accepted me wholeheartedly. it felt so validating. but sometimes that imposter syndrome comes in because i used to be allo but i haven’t felt any need/desire in nearly three years and after getting proper help and being in a better space. like something in me just left, like an empty fox hole. is there a microlabel for that??
people online don’t like the idea of trauma affecting identities. seeing some forum posts kinda fed into the imposter syndrome of like ‘do i actually belong here? but i don’t fit in with the allo crowd bc i don’t feel anything but i have heavy trauma and i don’t wanna invalidate aro folk’
here’s some context- i’m sorry it’s so long: before, when i was in that relationship, i was allo af. it was my first time feeling that rose tinted disney magic they describe to you. coming from a loveless home, it was everything to me. but sadly our breakup was handled horribly, and personal things happening as well wasn’t helping either. that was three years ago now. the year after was senior year of high school, i was really really depressed. i was numb, it’s all a blur. then freshman and sophomore year of uni, i tried again but felt no desire. i was with the sweetest, kindest person once but i pushed myself when i shouldn’t have and it made me feel worse. just felt like i was checking off boxes. and now i’m a junior and still nothing but im content with that.
is that valid?? idk identifies are weird
of course that’s valid! Perhaps you could look into caedromantic as a possible microlabel?
Caedromantic: having been able to experience romantic attraction in the past, and not experiencing romantic attraction any more, with the feeling that the romantic attraction was taken away/destroyed or left because of a traumatic experience.
I’m glad your friend made you feel validated and I hope you have a nice day :)
26 notes · View notes
Note
Heeey my dear! I love your writing so much and I'm super happy that your requests are open again! *happy dance* so I wanted to request some smut for our lovely tracker Demetri Volturi. Maybe like he being a Dom and after a long day of trials and he needs to get some steam off. As bloody, smuty, darkly and dominate as you like.
Demetri Volturi - Bloody lustfull night
Tumblr media
warning : smut, Minors don't interact, some blood play, hunter/prey, biting (bite kink), sub!femreader, dom!male reader, dom/sub undertones, some knife play, comfort, tiny fluff, choking
masterlist
Info : Hey, Hey, Hey my dear @lucansmina here is the request (which I really liked to write because I had free hand), Have fun reading for our sweet, lovely Demetri or the best tracker ever...that just needs some good time with his love. Also I hope he comes as accurate as possible since I only watched the movies and read his wiki article (I'm still in the middle of book one don't come for me). Again have fun reading everyone ;)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night and the day came over Volterra again and again and seemed to slowly blur with each other. The more often the sun rose and the people came out, the more often the moon came and the vampires were activated.
They could see their prey through the thick walls of the castle and were hungry for blood. It was a vicious circle in which the Volturi also spent their time and if it was not driven away with the blood tribute then it was with the killing of other vampires and the execution of their right.
But the humans didn't notice anything about it, they were led into the big room from time to time and enjoyed the inner design until they came to the room with the three thrones.
When the three pairs of red eyes laid on the prey and struck, it was the night and the moon seemed to light up red. Darker and bloodier everything seemed to become.
In the time of death there were the wives and bonds among themselves that helped them survive eternity. It was the understanding of the creatures for each other from their three leaders to the guards. They would all be nothing without each other and without their order.
But even in this blurry cycle of night and day, there was boredom and feelings building up for the vampires. Anger, hate, pressure and also lust. For some it was the desire to kill, the hatred for humans, the rage for other vampires.
Or nothing but the pure sexual desire to simply get the relaxation back into the body. Relaxation that you usually get only when you kill, but just the vampires in Volterra with partners knew other ways.
They knew that they would not stay together with their partners forever if they did not love each other idolatrously. Aro and his wife Sulpicia or Caius and Athendore. They all had a love so ware s also for Demetri and his partner.
Together they were the eyes and ears for all Volterra and for the protection of the Volturi. Demetri, the best tracker, found everyone and his wife, whom he had found only to transform her.
Because in her human existence she already had a sense for recognizing dangers. That's why the old vampire was almost surprised how a human could stay hidden for so long.
But when he turned her, brought her to the Volturis and turned her in front of the leaders on the condition that she was his, her talent was revealed shortly after. He was the scout who could find anyone. His heart felt and saw every attack coming, every bad thought and every action against the Volturi.
A feeling that permeated her and she could also use in battle. Though not imun against Jane or Alec, she held herself against Felix, saw each of his attacks coming and dodged until she got the vampire to the ground.
They were the outermost ring and at the same time the innermost of the Volturi. But in her existence there was more she could develop her skills, even the leaders were sure. But this still had time in the moments there was little tension that could threaten the Volturi.
What does not mean that there was no work. ,,I will be away longer today," she heard the voice of her husband, who put on his black cloak. His red eyes matched the golden chain when she saw it flashing in the mirror.
But just like that she saw his slight twitchiness he seemed irritated almost frustrated which he hid behind his facade of politeness and charm towards her. ,,Don't worry so much if that's what makes you so" she replied and got up from the red velvet sofa. She went over to him and smoothed the fabric of his clothes, feeling him release his tension for a moment.
His finger placed itself under her chin and a short smirk placed itself on his lips. ,,Believe me my thoughts are only with one" he said and gave her a short heartfelt kiss before he detached himself from her.
His red eyes met hers and with a wink he left the room. His heart stayed back but calm instead of tension went through her body. As well as an anticipation, an excited anticipation as soon as her Demetri would come back.
She knew that look, that tension. The vampire had found his prey. The game had begun. The game in which she left the room and walked around, but felt no danger, a hint of it as soon as the vampires were brought in for the execution.
But before she had to intervene, it was gone. Demetri had killed another one, one after the other, and through the few windows she saw that the sun was rising again after hours.
When the light hit her hand she could see the glitter and looked at it for a moment, fascinated and yet disdainful. What good is the sun if I can't feel it? she thought and almost laughed at her philosophical nature. If she did not feel that another execution was being carried out.
Another vampire died at the hands of Demetri. The Volturi who carried out the law. ,,It's really taking longer," she muttered, and continued to stroll through the village, even going into the library, where she sometimes found Marcus.
Her master with whom she left in the silence of eternity, not knowing whether he hated or liked it. But he had not sent her away either, which is why she picked up a book again and began to read. Lost in the words and the hours blurred further and further.
Until she looked up from the book she had finished the last execution seemed to be over and night had fallen again over the world. Her superhuman senses heard his footsteps walking quickly and impatiently to her room. She wrenched open the door and said her name, but she was not there.
She could almost see his upset expression, the lust for the chase showing in his red eyes. ,,I'm not in the mood," she heard his voice as he began to search for her with his power, her inner self, her tone, her certain something.
Putting the book aside she felt the tingling run over her body, felt how she also captured him with her ability. Started to run away from him out of the library further through the building knowing that he was chasing her.
Cracks appeared in the walls and floor as he chased her and she continued to run away from him. She felt her anticipation grow, the thought of what would happen when he caught her.
What he would do. ,,I don't have the patience for this today... Come here" she heard him call and felt his fingers brush against her arm before she ran faster away from him. She disappeared into the shadows of the building and he seemed to lose her. His abilities actually let him track her down, but had he slowed down?
She found herself in front of her room, listening in the darkened corridors that were only sparsely lit - they didn't have to be bright either, they lived in darkness. Slipping into the room and closing the door behind her she felt like a rabbit in a cage.
After the door closed and the room seemed so much smaller all at once. Where are you? she asked herself, no longer feeling him. He stopped chasing her until she suddenly heard footsteps. ,,Finally got you," Demetri said and she felt his hands on her body.
His voice reached her ears and he pressed her against him. ,,The game is over" she murmured and heard the short smirk before his fingers skilfully ran over her clothes. He let go of her and she watched him walk over to the wooden dresser.
She heard the sound of the dagger he took out of the guard. ,,Someone's impatient," she quipped, but in the same breath she felt his fingers tighten around her neck as he lightly choked her from behind. While his lips kissed along her neck, he smelled her blood, felt her excitement. He felt his own desire.
His tasks dragged on too long, he kept tracking her down and simply needed her. ,,Careful with the choice of words," he warned, and she flinched as the tip of the knife ran over her skin, carelessly cutting her clothes, and he squeezed harder than necessary. The knife would not break her skin, however.
He would break her. Despite this, it was anticipation with the knife parrt that she might nestle against him and he continued to squeeze. The first cracks appeared on her neck while he held her in a demanding grip. She knew that if she freed herself he would only treat her harder.
But maybe that was exactly what she wanted. In one swift movement she had released herself from his grip, wanting to put distance between them as his cold hands wrapped around her body again.
She only found herself in her black lace underwear seconds later on the large bed. ,,You're trying really hard today" he stated and the knife landed with a precise throw in the wall above her. Letting her know that he was giving in, that he was surrendering to his senses, to his lust.
She let her own hands wander lightly over her body, her tongue moistening her lips, her red eyes darkening and hungry. Her heart, which had stopped beating, seemed to beat faster, he seemed to hear it. Seemed to smell her arousal and all because he had touched her lightly. She was simply his.
An excited sound left her lips as the clothes came off his body, revealing his even, beautiful skin and resembling his stature. ,,My heart" she murmured and stretched out her arms to him, wanting to finally touch him. Instead, it was pain she felt, pain that made her groan and cling to him.
As he joined her on the bed and bit into her halls. His teeth forcibly penetrated the skin and left a mix of excitement and pain. The poison of the bite seemed to drive her out of her mind. ,,A bite for each of your disrespect" he mumbled, pulling away from her as she tried to kiss him apologetically.
He let her stall and continued with his punishment. Biting again broke through the porcelain like skin and they both knew it would leave scars. Scars from his bites that let the other vampires know she was his. She was his and not even the three leaders would be able to separate them.
But on this particular night, she was left out of his mercy. ,,Ngh-ah Demetri...too harsh" it came over her lips as she felt her skin breaking further and further. But just as much she knew how much he loved to bite no matter if his victims or her.
Marking her and then gently stroking it, she knew it gave her a shiver. ,,I know you will endure" he replied sternly and an excited sigh came over her lips as he soothingly and rewardingly licked the bite on her breast.
His lips soothed the bruised, splintered skin and their gazes met for a moment. Repeated his punishment over and over moved from top to bottom nestled against her thighs.
Saw how she fixed him with her black eyes excited waiting for him to move up to her middle, his excitement itself slowly showed.Instead he kissed his way along her skin biting into the soft flesh smirking at her reaction but his frustration was less with every bite he could make.
A beast calms down when it bites - this was also true for vampires. Leaning back in the bed, letting herself be caught by the soft pillows and blankets, she expected him to come back to her, but instead it was something she sensed.
The sweet irresistible smell that was always in the large space. But now only a million times stronger. Demetri had a large chalice in his hand, the old polished metal seemed to light up and the gemstones on it were all the more beautiful.
But that was not what excited her so much that made her crawl towards him. She sat down on the edge of the bed and clawed her hands at him. He had her completely in the hand but his own eyes also turned black. He lost his hunger and put the goblet to his lips and took a big gulp.
The blood he couldn't swallow immediately ran down his chin and dripped onto his upper body, running along the evenly clean skin. But while he closed his eyes with pleasure and feasted on the great source, his heart practically begged him to pull himself up.
Licked and kissed the blood from his body saw the warning look as she came closer to the cup. As he also drank the rest and the object was then carelessly dropped to the floor the clink echoed in the room before he kissed her greedily.
They both tasted the blood and an excited exhale came over his lips as he probably lost his last restraint on her and the blood. Finishing the kiss, he pushed her back down onto the bed, both of them scrambling to get more space back to the pillows before his fingers loosened the rest of her clothes.
The coldness of her human form that she once had should have given her goosebumps but it didn't instead it was a demanding whimper as his fingers moved over the sensitive spot between her thighs. ,,Finally my love" he mumbled and engaged her in another kiss as he positioned himself properly and they could both smell their mutual lust. Bloody and wild.
She wanted to say his name back, to tell him how much she needed him when a throaty moan instead echoed in the room as Demetri entered her.
Without preparing her, waiting or saying a word but he just seemed to lose himself in the feeling. ,,So good" she heard him murmur and the meaningless sweet words just flowed over his lips as he increased his pace.
He didn't wait for her and his frustration, his pressure probably hadn't subsided yet. Her fingers traced cracks down his back, almost seeming to break through his skin as she threw her head into the soft pillow and wrapped her legs around his waist.
His cold met irhe his gaze the dark eyes met hers the lust in them clearly visible. She pulled him closer to her and wanted to feel more and more of him while he supported one hand on the bed frame and put the other around her neck.
Her little by little again and again the air robbed, gave her the pain as he pressed harder only to increase his speed more and more. ,,I know you can take it," he murmured, and in her head veiled by lust and blood, she didn't realize what he meant at first.
But when the pressure disappeared from her neck, the pain faded away, she opened her eyes slightly and saw the black eyes of the older man.
Before he bit her neck again and let himself go. She stood at his disposal and lustful sounds continued to leave her bloody lips, which only fueled him even more to continue.
His will to force her and to mackieren her because he could and needed it. His bites became firmer and firmer as he bit further along her torso and his fingers found their way to her breasts. The sensitive nipples pinched and her upper body reared up which he pushed back down into the mattress.
His lips wrapped around her slowly hardening nipples, taking away the pain and only intensifying her pleasure before she pulled him back into a kiss just moments later. He hissed as she bit his lip and he only seemed to get greedier.
His pace seemed to increase one last time and his thrusts became more irregular. His heart itself felt that she was getting closer to her climax and her legs were wrapped even tighter around his hips.
Her fingers buried themselves in his brown hair and pulled him to her. The two lost themselves in each other before Demitri buried his teeth in her neck one last time with a groan. She imitated him seconds later and the two broke through the skin deeper than ever before when they came down from their orgasm.
The bed frame cracked and broke slightly on the wall which didn't bother the guard. They were much too busy with each other when their eyes met again. The black gave way and were again soaked with the bloody red.
Demetri slowly withdrew from her, keeping eye contact, and took the dark velvet blanket to lightly cover her body. ,,Wait" was the first word that left his lips as she was about to go to him. She wanted to take him in her arms and just hold him instead he gently put his hand on her cheek.
He turned slightly and for a short moment regret flickered in his eyes. She knew what he had and put her hand on his and carefully moved closer to him.
Mirroring his gesture on his cheek, she smiled softly, ,,Demetri, you didn't hurt me...you couldn't give me anything but your heart," pulling him into a brief gentle kiss before adding, ,,But you already gave me that," and tapping her other hand on his torso. A hint of a smile appeared on his lips and he pulled her closer to him. The two fell back into the blankets.
The night was still long and they both knew no matter what. They had each other and that was all they needed. ,,I love you my precious heart" he mumbled as he played with her fingers tracing the bones underneath before bringing them to his lips.
Kissing the fingers and caressing her she responded with a ,,I love you only more". The two vampires had truly found the true bloody lustful love in their infinity. The great gift in infinity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@smolchubbygoddess , @fadingbatmuffindonkey , @like-a-dream-about-to-bloom , @iloveslasher , @iamvolturi , @kimvolturicullen , @demetrivolturiswife , @demetrivolturixxxxx , @archoniluthradanar , @certaintwilight , @bestbitchsstuff
75 notes · View notes
genderqueerdykes · 9 days
Note
Ok so, I’m kind of aromantic? I think? But I don’t know which label fits best but I would like one because I like to have words to describe my experiences. So I know for sure that I’m ficto but I do still experience a form of romantic attraction to real people. I have a boyfriend who I love and it’s not platonic but I don’t know if it actually romantic, it feels like something in between. I am also a romantic, I enjoy the idea of relationships and thinking about other people and characters in relationships. But I feel like my own ability to feel romantic love isn’t really there but it also kind of is? Thing is, I used to get massively strong crushes on people and I don’t really anymore even though I’m in the stage of life where that’s ’supposed’ to happen.
I also genuinely don’t know how to explain this to my boyfriend, I want to stay with him, I don’t have an issue with the label boyfriend being used for me or him. But I feel I should tell him.
hello there, thanks for stopping by! sorry for the late reply
i think you may be on the right track- aromantic identities are extremely varied! some people use aromantic to mean a total lack of romantic feelings/attraction, while others experience them to some degree, in varying levels of intensity at times, or have levels of attraction that can't easily be defined as strictly romantic. it sounds like your experience could very easily fit in here!
there are lots of partnering aros, and even aros who consider themselves hopeless romantics. you're definitely not alone there! while i'm a romance repulsed aro, there are lots of aros who are romance favorable!
you may also want to look into the term greyromantic- it is used by people who feel they fit in between or blur the lines between romantic and romantic attraction, feel their experience is somewhat or not fully aromantic, or feel as though their experience is nuanced enough that aromantic might not give the full picture. there are a lot more experiences that fit under the greyromantic label as well
aroflux may also be an option for you, which is an identity where someone feels they are aromantic usually most of the time but has fluctuating levels of intensity, sometimes even fluctuating into a romantic lable with their aromantic identity being less intense for periods of time.
you can also call yourself "aromantic spectrum" or "arospec" for short!
if you feel it's important enough to tell him, go ahead, i think honesty is the best policy. i've had some bad experiences telling ex romantic partners that i was aromantic, but i'm happier out of relationships than i am inside of them. i hope he takes it well, some people for whatever reason take it personally and i don't quite understand it. good luck, hope you are able to figure out how you identify and how you feel about yourself. take care
23 notes · View notes
the-dawn-star · 1 year
Note
Hai darling!
So I was rally hoping you could make an poly!volturi kings x reader where the reader asks them "would you still love me if I was a worm" XD.
A/N: Hello again! I don't know how good this came out but here is the result and hopefully you will like it! -S
+500ish words. (CW: Reader is kinda drunk)
Tumblr media
Once in a while the Volturi coven would host a party and you were part of it for the first time since you found your lovers.  
And what was a better way of getting rid of some nervousness than wine. Little bit too much wine to be clear. 
And finally in the last hours of the night you and your lovers went to bed.  
--- 
Marcus was carrying you while you were half asleep in his arms.  
The night had been so lovely and thanks to the universe for not letting you embarrass yourself in front of the most vampires in the world.  
But unlike you lovers and their covens you got tired... and drunk.  
--- 
Marcus put you down to the massive bed of yours while Aro went to your closet trying to find something more sleep appropriate than your fancy evening wear.  
“You know that I can dress myself, right?” You mumbled as Caius pulled you clothes off and dressed you again.  
“Yes we are aware of that, but would you have liked to do it yourself?” The humor was clear in Aros' voice but you couldn’t think of anything clever to say back.  
“Nope.” You stated instead, making sure to make a pop-sound at the end.  
--- 
You tucked yourself under the covers. 
But you didn’t want to spend the night alone without your loved ones.  
“Don’t leave me yet. I cannot sleep alone...” Your words sounded sadder than you had intended but you didn’t care.  
When you had moved with the kings they had made sure that you had nothing but the best and a massive bed was one of the things that you had been wishing for. And now you thank your past self.  
You kept your eyes closed while the mattress moved to accommodate your company. 
“You know that I love you guys, right?” You murmured, pressing your face against someone's shoulder.  
Someone let out a laugh (most likely Caius). 
“Yes, we know that..,” Marcus said. 
“And we love you just as much,” Aro said, and the movements made it clear that your face was buried against his shoulder.  
“But what if I was a worm?” You asked not thinking much how stupid your words sounded.  
“Excuse me?!” Caius asked louder than needed, when remembering that all of you were on the same bed. 
“Would you guys love me if I were a worm?” You repeated yourself.  
For a moment the room was silent. 
“I would love no matter what..., even if you turned into a worm..., somehow,” Aro whispered and pressed a kiss on top of your head.  
“So would I, even if I’m not sure what you are talking about.” Marcus spoke, obviously confused by your sudden question.  
“What about you, Caius?” You said words blurring together.  
“Sure..., Whatever you say, my love..,”  
With a small smile on your lips you fell asleep. 
326 notes · View notes
littllast · 6 months
Text
so... ast decided to make flags for the aroaces and more. the colors were chosen simply by association, the flags are completely inclusive, when using it is desirable, but not required, to mark astro (me) as the author
Tumblr media Tumblr media
- asexual flags, blurred and unblurred versions.
- - from top to bottom, strips means: asexuality; ace-spectrum; history of asexuality; inclusion; acceptance; freedom of identification.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
- aromantic flags, blurred and unblurred versions.
- - from top to bottom, strips means: aromantism; aro-spectrum; history of aromantism; inclusion; acceptance; freedom of identification.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
- aroace flags, blurred and unblurred versions.
- - from top to bottom, strips means: asexuality & aromantism; ace-spectrum & aro-spectrum; history of asexuality & aromantism; inclusion; acceptance; freedom of identification.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
- aplatonic flags, blurred and unblurred versions.
- - from top to bottom, strips means: aplatonism; apl-spectrum; history of aplatonism; inclusion; acceptance; freedom of identification.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
- aqueerplatonic flags, blurred and unblurred versions.
- - from top to bottom, strips means: aqueerplatonism; aqp-spectrum; history of aqueerplatonism; inclusion; acceptance; freedom of identification.
44 notes · View notes
scoundrels-in-love · 11 months
Text
You hold me for a little (Curtains closed to the end of the world)
Three times Meryl is loaned a jacket by the men in their ragtag group through their journey and the one time she borrows it at the end of it all. | Vashmery/Stryfewood/Mashwood | | Grief | Persistence of hope | Father figure Roberto | Flirty Vash | | Wolfwood experiences the mortifying ordeal of being Perceived with Care | Meryl gets to cry in emotional support titties (again) | Orignally inspired by this lovely piece by @briizer even though it wildly spun away from that. Also on AO3.
I
When Meryl first spots the cluster of buildings in the distance, she isn’t sure if they’re really there or a wishful figment of her imagination after driving more than twelve hours without a break. 
As the settlement comes closer, she feels the tension curling stronger still in her limbs. Is it safe to stop? Meryl isn’t even sure whose safety she’s doubting at the moment - theirs or the strangers’ that could end up with the same fate as Jeneora Rock. There’s no rock there anymore, she thinks numbly. 
“We got to recharge the car,” Roberto breaks the silence. Her fingers curl tighter around the steering wheel, as if it could give her back control over anything. 
They’re allowed inside without much questioning, which is a blessing, because Meryl doesn’t think she’s got much talking left in her at this rate. The couple running a makeshift inn of sorts are welcoming and don’t overcharge for electricity.
"Survivors of Jeneora?" The older man asks, after giving them a quick once-over.
There's no real way to hide it, they're still dirty and bloody, Vash looks more like a corpse than a passenger in the back seat. (Her blood ran cold when she looked back at him, passed out and still, and she thought he had succumbed to some wound she had missed. It was the only time they stopped, just long enough for her to scramble in the back and shake him awake in panic, to make sure that he was okay. As much as any of them could be.)
"Yeah, we were just passin' through when shit went down. Got real lucky," Roberto says.
"You poor things, that must've been so awful. I hope they bring that Typhoon fella to justice soon, this is getting out of hand," the innkeeper’s wife’s voice is full of compassion.
It's only Roberto's grip on her lower arm that holds her back from physically launching towards the counter and pouring out how wrong they are. Her lip wobbles instead and she looks down, at her scuffled shoes and the floor that blurs.
They’re immediately invited to stay the night to rest and recover, but Roberto insists they’ve got to keep moving as their (made-up) family must be worrying. Meryl is thankful for that, she doesn’t know if she’d keep her composure under a barrage of questions and sympathy. 
There’s just enough time while the car charges to use the kindly-offered amenities, though. While Vash remains in the car, she and Roberto take turns scrubbing themselves clean and changing clothes in a tiny bathroom. Her jacket is thrown into a hurried wash and she tries not to think about Tonis’ blood going down the drain. Fails.
While it starts drying in the sun, she joins Roberto on the bench outside, next to the charging station. It’d be nice to hide from the heat, but she doesn't know where or how to be, exactly. Never did, really. It’s worse now, the thought of not seeing where Vash is like a panicked needle trying to cover her lungs in puncture marks. (Is it because she’s afraid for him or herself without him there?)
The wind is rough and feels surprisingly cold without her jacket, the dichotomy between it and the sun making her foggy headed. Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep. 
There's a rustle of fabric and suddenly, with a waft of cigarette smoke, something is draped over her. It takes Meryl a second before she realizes that Roberto has thrown the side of his jacket around her. She glances up at him, but he’s staring ahead as he smokes, so she shifts to sit right next to him and pulls the cloth around her.
It’s nice, like a makeshift barrier against, well, everything, really. Even if the principle of it is more powerful than the actual physical protection. She allows herself to slump forwards a little, arms wrapping around her knees, which she pulls up to her chest, but one of her hands still holds the corner of the jacket closed so the wind doesn’t rip the cover away.
They don’t speak and it’s kinder that way, Meryl can close her eyes and almost picture it is her father sitting next to her. Like he never would. And maybe now she finally won’t need him to.
Being lucky is part of being a good reporter, Roberto had said. Maybe it had had a hand in him ending up as her mentor, too.
II
Meryl wakes in the thinning dusk of an early morning. Roberto is snoring nearby and everything feels the kind of calm that is trapped behind a glass. If she had nightmares, she does not remember them and that is a kind of gift, too. 
For a couple minutes, she tries to chase after the wisps of sleep, but gives up quickly enough. Having an hour to herself before the rest of the group wakes up is a rarity she doesn’t feel like wasting, even if she doesn’t have a plan for it, either. 
As quietly as possible, Meryl gets out of the creaking bed and, later, down the stairs that love to whine if she steps in the middle of them where they’re more worn.
The horizon is barely beginning to burn with sunrise and the wind is freezing cold as it greets her. She sinks deeper into her jacket and pulls the beanie lower over her ears, but continues down the sleeping street.  She doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but she knows the quiet urge to walk, walk into the vastness until she melts into it.
Watching the suns come up will have to do, Meryl decides. She finds a ladder to the top of the shabby fortifications around the town and then onto one of the boxes there. The wind almost rips her hat off and she is starting to reconsider her plans, just when she hears someone approach.
Before she can look, the person speaks up: “Good morning, Meryl.” She knows the voice, huskier with sleep as it may be, and immediately relaxes. Vash. 
“Good morning,” she says, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. There is a long yawn, right behind her. Meryl affords herself a smile, knowing that he won’t see it, as she pictures his sleepy face the way she’s seen it in the mornings when he seems to be less haunted - all boyish and soft. 
“I didn’t wake you up, right?” It’d seem an illogical question, if the other person was anyone but Vash who seems to notice much more than he tries to let on. But her job is to notice. 
“No, of course not,” Vash reassures her and she chooses to believe him, even if it doesn’t explain why he’d come and find her. 
They are quiet for a minute or two, other than the wind billowing and the creaking of the wooden box as she keeps shifting her weight in an attempt to keep warm. 
“I could lend you my jacket, if you’d like?” He speaks into her ear, low and deceivingly soft, and much closer than she thought he was. Meryl startles and hides her face in the collar of her jacket so he won’t see the heat that has nothing to do with the chill spreading across her face, all the way to the tip of her ears. 
“Oh, thank you, but I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, I’m used to feeling chilly anyway,” she says the second she thinks she has her voice under control. 
“That won’t be a problem.” Before she can process his matter-of-fact tone, Meryl is pulled back so that her back hits his chest and red flutters around them for a split second. In another moment, she’s securely trapped and zipped up in his coat, only her head peeking out. 
“Vash?!” she squeaks, quite belatedly. 
“Never said anything about taking my jacket off, did I,” his tone is cheeky and she pokes him with her elbow, earning an exaggerated yelp. But it is so much warmer like this, almost too much, even, and absurdly, Meryl wonders if he can somehow sense how fast her heart is beating. 
If he does, Vash seems unperturbed, letting his chin rest on the top of her head and propping his arms over her shoulders, giving an illusion of leaning on her though Meryl knows it’s nothing more than that and she’d be no real support to his height or weight. But even this pretense makes her heart swell with ache-edged joy. 
She sinks back into him and his sturdy, welcoming heat just a little and rests her head against his left arm. It’s only when he tenses she realizes it’s his prosthetic - not that she didn’t know, just that it doesn’t really matter to her. She should’ve been more mindful of him, though.
“Is it uncomfortable?” she asks, turning to look at him. Vash is staring down at her with one of those expressions she can’t decipher all the while reading too far into them. (Like she’s something surprising and wonderful, like there is a gentle light pouring out of him, just for her.)
“No! No.” It seems honest enough, so Meryl returns to how she was before, feels him relax - gradually, like he’s allowing himself an inch of peace minute by minute. Her heartbeat evens out, too, and she realizes she isn’t observing the calm anymore, she’s in it, sinking into it like the kindest quicksand. 
She lets it take her, smiling as they greet the suns rising together. Whatever squabbles they might end up having later, no matter how arduous the drive might be later, Meryl knows it’s going to be a beautiful day. 
Maybe even more than that, if they get lucky. 
III
In the doorway, Meryl takes another look at the form beneath the covers. Vash hasn’t stirred still, not since he had slowly crumbled to his knees and then onto the floor as the plant markings grew in almost blinding intensity before fading as suddenly as they had revealed themselves. She is thankful for that, it had made getting off the sandsteamer simpler, because even in the middle of the chaos someone would pay attention to a glowing man.
“Go, I’ll keep an eye on him and call you if he wakes up,” Roberto tells her from his chair at the bedside, noticing that she’s hesitating. Suppressing a sigh, Meryl nods and closes the doors behind her quietly. 
The First floor of the saloon is noisy, filled with people from the sandsteamer and local townspeople drinking, panicking and discussing today’s events. She squeezes past them, pretends the crowd and the noise aren’t like a crushing weight, bursts through the door and lets the cold air hit her. Her inhales are deep and shaky and-
“Hey!” A hand grabs her and pulls her to the side, away from the doorway, a second before the exit bursts open and a drunken patron stumbles out. 
“Sorry. I guess I’m a little out of it,” she says to Wolfwood, his hand still on her shoulder. It’s heavy and warm and makes her feel a bit more tethered to the present, like she won’t float up into the night sky because of the emptiness in her chest.
“Can’t really blame ya there. It’s been quite the day.” He releases her and puts out the stub of his cigarette, pulls out a new one and she watches how his hand shakes just so when he tosses the lighter and catches it. 
“Nothing like yours and Vash’s.” She doesn’t really know what happened on the deck, who was the half-masked man, but the way Nicholas had screamed is still ringing somewhere deep in her. It might always. 
When he says nothing, Meryl tilts her head back, watches the smoke drifting upward the clear night sky. The vastness of it, of today, crashes down on her again and the void in her chest grows heavy, like a bomb, and her whole body starts shivering with the effort of trying to keep it from exploding. 
“I used to call him a coward. But it’s me who was a coward all along. I still am. I’m so scared for him and you and Roberto, and all those people on the sandsteamer, they could have died and I am so sorry for what happened to -”
Wolfwood pulls her out of the sentence and into him, pulling his jacket around her and sealing it with his arm wrapped around her. He is warm and firm and real. He’s here and she clings to that, pushes through the nausea sloshing in her stomach at the scent of blood and cigarettes. 
One side of his shirt is drenched in blood and she presses her face into his chest on the opposite side. It’s a miracle he is alive, it’s a miracle how fast the welts on his hands are healing. She doesn’t know how much this miracle costs him, but she is thankful for it. Meryl wraps her arms around his waist, trying to find the words to say just that. 
Wolfwood is quicker. “Roberto said you’d refused to budge. You had the fuckin’ luxury of choice and you stayed.” Meryl shakes her head in reply - it had been a choice, but it also wasn’t. If she had walked away and people had died, it wouldn’t be much of a living afterward. She knows Roberto understands, he wouldn’t have stayed otherwise. 
Nicholas pats her on the back, either to shush her before she speaks or in an attempt to soothe her, while he continues: “I think… Bein’ afraid doesn’t make you a coward. If you don’t do nothing, that’s when you’re one. So, uh, thanks for stickin’ around.” 
Then, he barks a quiet, cracked laugh. “God, look at the shit I’m saying, Blondie’s really rubbin’ off on me, huh?”
“You’re not so different, you know,” she tells him, pulling back just enough to look up at him as she thinks of the desperate, foolish way he’d decided to save Hopeland armed with only this want to (and swept them all up in his belief), “thank you for staying, too.” For following Vash when they almost hadn’t, for being here, in this moment, with her, instead of taking off who knows where. Or at least to the orphanage he worked so hard to protect. 
With only the ghost of light from the saloon's window and his cigarette’s ember, it’s hard to see his expression, but she feels the way his arm tightens around her and the deep inhale he holds, holds. For a moment, Meryl feels the need to reach up and touch his face, smooth her thumb over the tension in his jaw, to tell him it’s alright to let it go here, where it’s just them. 
Before she can act on it, Nicholas' other arm comes up to wrap around her, hand cradling the back of her head and gently pushing it back into his chest, as if he cannot bear to have her looking at him any longer. 
It hurts somehow, as if on his behalf, and she hugs him tighter, grips the back of his shirt in her fists, as if that way she can force some comfort back onto him. She knows so damn little, not even how to really help these men that her stubbornness and maybe some kind of fucked up version of fate has brought into her life. And it’s just not damn fair. To any of them.
Her tremors turn into quiet sobs then, even as her thoughts rain lashes down on her - you should be comforting him, he lost someone today, he is so very hurt and he must’ve been so scared for Hopeland, and now you make him coddle you instead - and it only makes her cry harder. 
Nicholas doesn’t say anything, just holds her until the vastness of tears inside her are consumed by the void again and she grows still and empty in the safety of his jacket and arms. Meryl doesn’t know how long it has taken, her only time gauge is his cigarette that has burned down to the filter.
“I owe you a shirt,” she croaks out, unsticking her face from where her tears have soaked through it. It’s hardly the worst that has happened to it today and, honestly, she just wants him in a clean one as soon as possible so she can pretend to stop thinking about the bullet wounds that would’ve put any other man in the grave. 
“I’ll write up the check tomorrow, don’t you worry about it.” He loosens his hold on her, but she doesn’t rush to extract herself. They’re back to playing at normalcy in their words, but separating still feels scary somehow, as if he could just crumble or disappear if she isn’t touching him. Or maybe she’s afraid that’s what will happen to her. (Always afraid, always stalling.)
She wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve, draws a breath and pulls gently away from Wolfwood. The night feels so much colder than before and she immediately shrinks back into herself a little. All the more reason to get back inside. 
“We should get some food before the saloon closes, bring it up to Vash and Roberto,” she tells Nicholas. Whenever Vash wakes, he will need to eat, even if he tries to refuse.  
“I’ll join you in a few.” Wolfwood lights another cigarette, but it’s an excuse and maybe he needs the time alone that she had interrupted, but it doesn’t feel right to leave him out here. 
She takes his hand gingerly, so as not to upset the welts on his palms. “Come. We will keep the window open, Roberto’s already smoking in there.” 
He doesn’t say no, but doesn’t move, either. 
“Please, Nicholas.” 
His fingers curl around hers and he allows her to drag him back into the building, into the light like she's the world's smallest locomotive that can somehow move a sandsteamer. 
If only she could always do that, she thinks; hold him and Vash away from whatever darkness licks at their heels, hold them without restraining them. Keep them safe in ways they’d never give permission themselves to be. 
+IV
It's another day and another walk through the open grave of JuLai. Meryl is starting to lose count of both, it's only her notes that keep the flow of time in check.
Being a reporter had given her some privilege to go where others could not, though very little was enforced in the first days. There was hardly anyone to do it, after all.
That is how she knows there is nothing to find in the very epicenter of the explosion - only a field of half molten sand, like a murky eye glaring at the sky. Still, she had scrambled and slid her way through it, looking for a sign of impact, maybe a scrap of cloth. Anything, really. It had been Wolfwood to pull her away from there after hours or maybe days, set her on her feet outside the glassy indent and tell her he isn't there.
Where, then? Where?! she had demanded, hands fisting in the front of his jacket. His silence had been the only answer, his palms heavy on her shoulders. 
For a man of faith, Nicholas doesn't believe much. And still, she knows he is out there, too, searching, helping and hoping. They will meet later and hold each other's hands so they don't feel as achingly empty, like they do most nights nowadays.
She does her job, too, of course. Takes photos that will take permanent residency in her nightmares, interviews survivors and the people that come to seek signs of their loved ones, dead or alive. She documents again and again the moment when the torture of not-knowing tears itself apart and becomes insurmountable grief, devouring the person.
Maybe someday it will loosen its jaws and let the healing begin, the sort that having no answer can never give. 
As for her, Meryl doesn't know what hope looks like for her anymore. Just that she can't give it up yet. 
(They have not found Roberto’s body yet, might never, but she knows his fate. That loss is heavy on her hands, the memory of his blood like a set of steel rings every time she holds her camera, brings out her notebook. It’s the only thing she can do for him now - do her best damn job of sharing the truth of this tragedy. His. Theirs.)
She stops to take a photo of a once glimmering neon sign sticking out of sand next to a pit, like a welcome sign to hell - see, we are still Open, come join us. It is then that she notices a piece of fabric flapping in the wind a little ways up and ahead. For a second she even mistakes it for a figure standing there.
The color is wrong, but not unfamiliar, and the sun catches on some metal detailing, sending a jolt through her that shocks her body back into movement. Meryl scrambles up the dune, over the wreckage, hisses when something sharp cuts into her palm, but doesn't stop until she's holding the coat in her trembling hands.
Because it is the coat, Vash's coat. Torn and stained dark, but she knows the Project SEEDS patch, knows the cut of it, knows it, even if the texture of the fabric seems to have changed in the process Vash underwent in the vat. (Like all of them changed that hour.)
With a strangled noise, Meryl presses her face into it, imagines that time and wind and the horrors haven't erased the soft, sweet scent of him from it. 
When she regains her composure, Meryl gives the garment more thorough inspections, looking for any hints about what has happened to its owner. There isn't really anything, other than the fact it exists and has been discarded, as if taken off in a hurry. Or maybe left behind as a sign.
She scratches at the dark color lightly, to see if it would come off. Vash had liked - likes - the red. Maybe Luida can help her restore the original color, fix the tears. The thought makes her smile and she stands there, basks in the warmth of it, for a while.
Then, she folds the coat carefully and presses it to her chest, speaking into the quiet: "I'm going to borrow this, Vash. I hope you don't mind. Just for a while, I promise." Until you come back to us. Until we find you. Let it be a while and no longer, please, please, please.
After a long, memorizing look and a few photos taken so that she can surely find this place again, Meryl descends the hill with a lighter heart than she can remember having. In a minute, she's running in the direction Nicholas should be in, still smiling.
This is her current favorite place in the world, scarred and barren as it is. This is the new epicenter of her hope. Their hope.
74 notes · View notes
archoniluthradanar · 5 months
Text
A Halloween Terror Fest with the Volturi masters : a Volturi one-shot
Tumblr media
A Halloween Terror Fest with the Volturi masters : a Volturi one-shot
Holidays with the Volturi masters series
Volturi masters x Reader
(remember that in the Summer fun with the Volturi masters series of one-shots, the reader is now mated to Marcus. Also, not all trips with the masters are trouble free)
oooooooooooooooooooo
Aro has called for you to come to the throne room because you're told he has something to ask you. When you get there, you see the three masters, including your mate Marcus, sitting on their thrones. You run up the steps to his side and kiss him, making a facial expression that silently asks him 'What's going on?'. You see him shrug in reply.
"My dear, will you come over here please?" Aro asks of you.
"Yes, Aro. Of course." You walk over to his chair and see he is reading a white card.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asks, holding the card out to you.
You reach out to take the card from Aro. Seeing it is an invitation, you can't help but smile. "This should have come to me, Aro. It's from friends in America. I couldn't very well give them my exact address, so used general delivery. Just call me 'resident'."
"It appears to be an invitation, but to what, my dear?" he asks.
You look down for a moment, trying to figure out how to describe the reason for the invitation. "Aro, there is a holiday in America called Halloween."
Not surprised, the Volturi master explains, "It is celebrated here as well, more in recent decades."
You look askance at Aro. "Do you celebrate Halloween?" you ask, thinking it would be interesting if vampires celebrated the holiday, the day when the lines between the living and the dead blurred. But you believe Aro and the others are not dead.
"Of course not, but it has caught on among humans who look for any excuse for a party. There is generally a festival in the piazza for the children and their families, but why would we attend?"
"Why, indeed." You look down at the Volturi, clarifying. "Aro, this is an adult party with costumes and dancing and food. And a few tricks, I imagine. A friend of mine who has a little money is putting on the party at her modest mansion in California."
"And you would like to go." Aro stares at you, knowing the answer before you can respond.
"Well, yes, since Marcus will soon be changing me, and I'll no longer be able to share my world with you nor will I be able to see my friends."
"Not meant as an insult, I do understand your love for childish doings, dear one."
"Oh, but adults have taken over, and they enjoy their own form of festivities." You give him your version of puppy eyes, and you smile when you see him relent with his typical overdramatic sigh.
"Very well, send a reply to your friends. Tell them we will all be there, along with our mates. Just give the secretary the details and I will see to the jet to get us to America, and a limousine that will await us at the nearest airport..."
"LAX," you pop up. "That's the Los Angeles airport."
"Very well," Aro says.
"And um...you and the wives will need costumes. Couples...costumes."
Aro laughs. "Costumes. It might be fun after all."
"I can show you an online catalogue so you and Caius may choose, with Sulpicia's and Dora's input as well."
The master who sees himself to be in charge waves his hand. "Yes, yes, of course. Now you go with Marcus and make your own choices. Thank you, my dear, for sharing your very human experiences with us." He kisses you on your cheek and sends you off to the secretary in the reception area.
As you leave the room with Marcus at your side, you hear Aro muse aloud to Caius, "What costumes shall we wear?"
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
In the early morning on the day of the party, you and Marcus meet Aro at the foot of the staircase leading from the tower rooms, and wait for the others to join you.
Tumblr media
"Aro, you look fabulous as the Mad Hatter," you tell him while you walk around the vampire leader. "Your face is already suitably pale, and the colour around your eyes is to perfection. The wig is just right, and the costume..."
"Yes, yes, my dear, I look wonderful." He gives you a grin, satisfied, if you are.
"You did watch the videos I saved for you?"
"Of course. I know how to act the part. I will be splendid, you'll see."
Marcus stands behind you, his hands on your waist. You can hear him inhaling your scent, so you lean back against him.
Tumblr media
"You look so handsome, my love," you tell him, looking up at him over your shoulder. "We make quite the Roaring Twenties Italian mobster and his moll, don't we."
Unable to help himself, Marcus leans in to kiss your neck, sending goosebumps down your arms. "You are a delightful vision yourself, my heart." After Marcus kisses you, you turn within his embrace and throw your feather boa around him, drawing him even closer.
Just then, Caius comes downstairs with his mate, Athenodora, on his arm.
Tumblr media
"Caius, you're going as...vampires? Gothic vampires? Seriously?" you exclaim. You have to admit, the Goth look plays up their natural beauty. Dora looks so different from the woman you know her to be.
"Yes, how do you like it? I thought it would be easier to pretend to be what we are, vampires. We won't have to wear contacts for one thing."
"Well, actually you do look quite attractive." You sigh at the tempting picture Caius makes, but go to his mate, giving her a sisterly hug. "Dora, you look absolutely beautiful, a perfect match for Caius. I see you both found suitable wigs, and the black costumes suit you." Dora is attired in a long black dress, her hair now a burgundy colour. Caius wears a black suit, the jacket long but not quite to his knees. He has donned a black wig as well which you think is perfect.
You peer closer as you admire them, now noticing a strange affectation. "Caius...fangs?"
Pulling them off, he replies, "And here I thought you'd like them. It would have been easier if we had fangs, so we would not have had to glue these on," he groused. "They may last a while since they're made of porcelain, but eventually the venom will make them unwearable." He tucks them into a small box where another pair sits, with a small bottle of dental glue. He then gives Dora a kiss. "Sei una vera bellezza, amore mio."
"Well, you both look perfectly dark and menacing," you say, seeing a cold smile form on Caius' face. At least he's happy with his choice in costume, you think. Has the usually blonde vampire ever been so hot?
You are luckily distracted by Sulpicia descending the stairs. Aro goes to wait at the base of the staircase, holding out his hand for his mate. "You look delightful, my sweet," he says, bending over her extended hand, kissing the top. Then he pulls her close and kisses her naturally red lips.
Sulpicia cups Aro's face with one flawless hand, whispering, "Il mio compagno perfetto."
You wait for the couple to finish greeting each other, then go to her. "Your costume is perfect, Sulpicia. You really look like the Alice of Wonderland of the film, and I adore the stuffed bunny." You smile, rubbing the soft stuffed animal she carries. You give the vampire queen a kiss on each cheek. "Your wig looks marvelous as well, but I love your beautiful brunette hair."
"As do I, dear, but this is just a costume. Doesn't Aro look splendid though." She openly admires her mate, who smiles back at her.
You rarely see Aro and Caius with their mates. It pleases you they actually seem to care about each other. Having no desire to upset either wife over the familiarity their husbands have taken with you, their displays of affection make you feel better.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The flight to Los Angeles is a bit long, but you visit with the wives, play chess with Marcus, and also eat and nap, something the vampires do`n't need to do. On touchdown, a limousine is waiting for you. You look out the window at the passing scenery, missing America. The car reaches the Bel Air area, spotted with mansions that rival the palazzo you now call home.
When you arrive at your friend's house, everyone gets out to be greeted at the double front doors by their hosts.
"Tracy, it's so good to see you," you say with excitement as you hug your friend and her husband, David. You introduce them to your companions, glad it's dark out, but they easily hide behind their costumes.
Once inside, you're shown to a small ballroom where music is playing, courtesy of a DJ. Your friend leads you to the buffet that makes you hungry all over again, but of course, it doesn't appeal to the Volturi. Still, they have already managed to enthrall your friends and their guests with their vampiric allure.
"They are a bit strange, but I like them," she whispers to you.
You laugh, but say, "They're quite influential back home. And I am completely in love with my fiance Marcus."
"Pleased to meet you, Marcus. You must make my friend very happy. I see it on her face. I'm so happy for you both." She gives you another hug, then says, "I had better go greet the new arrivals. Please, enjoy yourselves and as always, my friend, make yourself at home. I have missed you."
You slide an arm around your mate. "She likes you," you say proudly, smiling.
The music infects not only you, but the five Volturi as well. As if free for the first time in a long while, they are enjoying mixing with humans. You hadn't heard one crack or complaint from them, not even Caius. The wives were definitely taking pleasure in being admired by the male humans around them, even dancing with a few they consider worthy. And yet, neither Aro nor Caius appear jealous. You were afraid at first, but everyone is just having fun. You remind yourself to thank them later for their restraint.
The song 'Slept so long' from the film Queen of the Damned comes over the speakers. You didn't think any of the vampires in the room had seen the film. You're surprised the DJ has such a mix of music in his repertoire, but you love it. A slow jazz one song, hard rock the next.
Your feather boa is draped around your neck, your long cigarette holder in your hand. You start to circle Marcus, attempting to show him that you can seduce him with your own form of aliure. You shimmy your hips as you dance, parts of your dress moving with you. You see his eyes darkening and tone back. It would not do to have him take you here on the dance floor.
Later, during a slower dance, Marcus holds you just tightly enough, as you both twirl on the floor. You looked up into his temporarily brown eyes, smiling. Your mate had not left your side all evening, even when you told him he could dance with others.
"Marcus, I noticed the others are dancing and talking with the humans here. Why don't you mingle?"
"I am content to be with you, my heart. There is no other for me." He leaned in to kiss you deeply, making your heart beat faster.
You look across the room to see Caius speaking to a woman while Dora dances with a human male. When you see Caius bare his fake fangs and lean into the woman's neck, you stepped back from Marcus and walked quickly over to the blonde vampire, crying out his name.
"Caius, don't!" By the time you get there, Caius and the woman are staring at you like you're insane.
"Sister, what the hell! I was only teasing with this woman. I wasn't really going to bite her," he hisses.
The woman in Caius' arms laughs nervously. "I had better go find my husband. It was a pleasure to meet you...Dracula." She left quickly, not looking back.
"Dracula, indeed! Sister, you ruined my fun, and almost drew more attention to me than if I had bitten her."
You apologize to him. "I'm sorry, Caius. It just looked like...from over there, it seemed...I'm so sorry. I should trust you more."
Marcus came up behind you, placing his arm around your shoulder. "Is everything all right here?"
"Yes, Marcus, my fault. I guess seeing you all acting so normal around humans, I keep expecting a shoe to fall." You give Caius a kiss on his cheek. "Forgive me?"
"Of course. Just relax. I won't harm any of your friends' guests, I promise." He gives you a smile and wink.
"Thank you, Caius." You hear a loud series of cackles, and turn to see Aro entertaining a small group with his typical humour. He is the Mad Hatter to perfection.
"Marcus, can we get something to drink?" You and your mate head for the bar, where you ask for a glass of wine. Without warning, the lights in the mansion go out. You smile, thinking it's just a prank being played by your hosts.
In the darkened room, Aro and Caius, along with Sulpicia and Dora, flash over to you. "Something is very wrong, my dear. Stay near our mates. Marcus, guard them."
You start to speak, "Aro, what is going on?", but he and Caius are gone, having flashed to the other side of the ballroom, safe with their speed before the humans' eyes become accustomed to the dark.
The party's hostess comes over the loudspeakers and asks everyone to stay in place, that there has probably been a circuit breaker overload due to the amount of power being used. But when you look up at Marcus, he subtly shakes his head. You lean into him, suddenly afraid.
Marcus sniffs the air. "I smell the stench of wolf."
"A werewolf?" you ask, holding onto your mate, your eyes peering blindly into the dark.
Guests are staying close to each other, their voices murmuring in confusion. The doors to the patio fly open when two bodies hurl through them. Caius is in his vampire clothing, now torn but he is minus his cloak, while the werewolf has his hands around the vampire's throat. Aro is close behind, attempting to come between the two battling creatures.
By now, the guests think that this is a show being put on by their hosts, and begin to cheer for one or the other of the combatants. Aro's hat has fallen off his head, hiding his identity. All the group sees is someone in a werewolf costume fighting two men.
"Marcus, is this...real?" you ask, holding onto his arm. The wives are also holding each other's hands, their eyes showing fear for their mates.
"Should we warn our hosts?" You fear Aro and Caius will fail, and the werewolf will look to the guests as victims. Your life with the Volturi has made you aware the world was not what you thought, and the supernatural was real.
"No, it would be best to let them remain in ignorance. Aro and Caius will take care of things." Marcus can see clearly the advantage his brothers have over the single werewolf. The animal is missing an arm, but is still able to inflict damage on his vampire attackers. Growls are heard outside, but you can't tell who is doing the growling.
"Our presence must have drawn it to this place," Marcus says. "Now you see they are real, my love. Caius was nearly destroyed by their kind long ago."
When someone flashes to your side, you think it is Aro or Caius, but your vision clears enough to see it's a stranger's face looking at you. "Marcus?"
Your mate is back at your side, gently pushing you behind him. "Who are you and why are you here?" Marcus demands, knowing this man to be one of them.
The nomad explains, "I am the one the werewolf was hunting. I hid in this place after seeing the lights and crowd, and borrowed this costume."
"Did you kill the owner?" you hiss at the stranger through gritted teeth. You hear no reply. "You should be out there fighting the beast, not our coven members!"
You see your friend coming into the ballroom with several flashlights, handing them out. "Marcus, this needs to end. We can come up with some excuse or sneak out in the dark."
"They've taken the creature outside. It will be destroyed, the evidence gotten rid of." Marcus notices the nomad has vanished and tells you. He hears Aro taking care of him, removing the head easily before tearing his limbs off the torso. They can't light a fire so near the mansion, so instead, make sure the body parts are buried far apart.
"In any case, we have got to get out of here too," you say, while watching your friend.
Now that the "entertainment" is apparently over, the crowd breaks up, many heading for the bar.
You hear Aro talking near you. "The car is waiting out front. We should depart now." No one argues, and all six of you head for the front door before your hosts notice you're leaving.
Once you're in the limousine, you assess the damage. Aro has cracks on his face and arms, while Caius is missing a hand.
"Oh my god, Caius, you're hurt!" you exclaim. You see Dora is already helping him, ripping the sleeve of his costume, letting him bathe the end of the dismembered hand with his own venom where he will press it to his arm, Dora ready to wrap it firmly with the torn fabric.
Knowing his life had almost been lost at the hands of one of these creatures, his courage impresses you, since it was Caius who first threw himself at the creature.
Caius sees the way you look at him. "This is my mission. It never ends, not until every last werewolf is destroyed. The fact I eradicated another one gives me great satisfaction, sister."
"And what about the other vampire, the nomad," you ask.
Aro kisses Sulpicia's hand that has been stroking his face. "That one will be no bother to anyone again."
You're proud of your new brothers for having saved your friends' guests. You see them as heroes, even if they aren't particularly fond of humans.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The private jet takes off from the Los Angeles airport, allowing you to feel relief. You're sure Tracy will wonder where you have gone, but once you're home, you will never need to explain anything to her. You will probably never be returning to America again.
You sit on the long sofa, your mate's arm around you. Marcus smiles when he feels you snuggle into him. You watch as Dora pampers Caius, and Sulpicia is sitting next to Aro, their hands joined. You are tired, but everything worked out, you and your family are safe, and you're on your way home.
"I'm sorry for what happened, Aro...Caius."
"Do not worry, my dear," Aro tells you, feeling like a contented victor. "We have not had such excitement in a very long while. It validates our existence."
"Is my life always going to be this exciting?" you ask Marcus, your breathing more relaxed.
"I think not, but if it keeps you occupied, I will see what I can do."
You smile and sigh, nestling against Marcus, your eyes closing.
Marcus sees your smile and kisses your temple, letting you sleep as the jet heads home for Volterra.
A/N : Thanks for costume ideas from @Sparklybuildingsdesign88 -Marcus and his mate as a Roaring 20s gangster and his moll. And @Kimvolturicullen -Caius and Dora as a vampire and his mate, and Aro and Sulpicia as the Mad Hatter and Alice.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
42 notes · View notes
Text
SKZ DRABBLE-OT8
Having a secondary gender isn't easy on anyone-alpha, beta, omega-they all present unique challenges. But there's something about being a beta-about being a literal buffer, that seems to take more of a toll, and you recognize it in your packmates. Rut? Shitty. Heat? Shitty. Being looked down upon like you're useless and not good for anything? Even more shitty.
Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, SKZ Drabble, Stray Kids Drabble, OT8, ABO, Alpha Beta Omega Dynamics, SKZ!pack, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, SKZ!ABO, SKZ imagines, SKZ reactions, SKZ scenarios, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Warnings: One allusion to non-con but there are no details, bullying, Wooshit appears briefly, but he's the bully/villain (rightfully so) and we don't stan him here
Title: Special
Tumblr media
You smell it before you see anything. 
The way your mate’s usual scent-clean laundry, fresh and crisp and bright-sours into something bitter and acrid on your tongue. 
You quickly round the corner, forcing down the urge to sprint because you are still in the campus library, and the waves of fear, anxiety, and distress that literally assault you are enough to tell you all you need to know-that and the fact that Jisung is pressed against the table, backpack thrown messily over his shoulder, as if he were trying to leave in a hurry, face pinched, bottom lip sucked between his teeth. 
The unknown alpha leans toward him with a sneer, holding him in place, and says something in a low voice that you can’t hear, but regardless, you’ve seen everything you needed to. 
You’re across the rest of the space in a flash, hand coming down heavily on his own where it rests on Jisung’s forearm, fingers digging into the skin. 
“I’d rethink absolutely everything you’re doing right now if I were you, starting with your hand on his arm.” 
The man turns to you with a sneer, looking you up and down, but doesn’t release his hold, turning back to Jisung instead of addressing you. 
“Ahhh, are you some bitch’s bitch now, Jisungie? That perfectly tracks honestly.” 
You flex your fingers where they rest on the other alpha’s hand, and he glances to you with a glower, finally releasing the hold he has on Jisung, who shrinks back behind you, fingers looping almost immediately around your wrist. 
The man glances between the two of you, and then the sneer is back, this time, directed at you. 
“I’m surprised an alpha wants someone’s sloppy seconds.” He muses, a dark glint in his eye, lips twitching. “Let alone a useless beta-nothing like him.” 
Everything inside of you coils at once, and your wolf is growling, long and low and dangerous behind snapping teeth. 
“Knock it off, Woojin.” Jisung mutters behind you, and then to you, tugging on your wrist, “Let’s just go, (Y/N).” 
The other alpha smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, and his gaze flicks back to Jisung, his eyebrow arching smugly into his hairline. 
‘ “You know you’re never gonna find anyone to treat you better than me, Sungie. Not when you’re you.” An audible growl escapes from you now, and the library is filling with the scent of frost. 
His smirk only grows wider at your obvious anger and Jisung pulls you harder this time, tugging enough to get you to take a few steps toward the door. 
“Please, (Y/N), let’s just go. He’s not worth it.” 
You relent, letting Jisung pull you further away from the other alpha, and you’re almost convinced to leave, almost ready to give in to him fully, almost out the door-
But then Woojin calls out after the two of you in a gleeful voice, loud enough for everyone in the library to hear-
“He’s always been such a good little beta for alpha. But I’m sure you’ve already found that out, haven’t you? Because even when his mouth was begging me no, his body always told me yes.” 
Jisung freezes in front of you, and suddenly, your vision is blurred by white, hot rage, and ripping your wrist from Jisung’s grasp, you whirl around and punch the other alpha, hard, right in the middle of his stupid, smirking face. 
You feel cartilage and bone crunch beneath your knuckles as your fist lands firmly on his nose, and the  hit instantly has blood gushing down his chin, dripping onto the front of his shirt.
Behind you, you hear Jisung gasp. 
Woojin stumbles back a few steps with the force of the punch, his hand flying to his still gushing nose, eyes wide, jaw slack, and you can’t help it, your wolf preens in triumph over the sight of the crimson blood staining the front of his white shirt. 
“What the hell-?”
The smell of icy wisteria petals is almost overwhelming now as you casually shrug and drop your hand back to your side once more, staring the other alpha down. 
“Sorry, but I guess your body was just telling me yes.” 
He narrows his eyes above his hand as you parrot his disgusting words from earlier, blood still slowly dripping down his chin, and you think he’s almost going to stand his ground, but then there’s a stronger wave of chill in the air, and he backs down with a glare, before he turns and leaves, metaphorical tail between his legs. 
You watch him go until he’s out of sight, eyes boring into his back, and then without another backward glance, you turn and grab Jisung’s wrist, pulling him down the stairs behind you. 
“What-” 
You ignore his shocked, unfinished question, tugging him out of the library, as he stumbles over his own feet, trying to keep up with your determined pace. 
When your wolf feels that you’ve put enough space between the library-the other alpha-and the two of you, you drop your hold on his wrist and Jisung collapses back against the nearest wall, gasping dramatically and putting his hand over his heart. 
“God, I need you guys to remember that not all of us were blessed with your alpha stamina.” 
His voice is a teasing whine, but you can tell by the way his scent isn’t quite back to normal, can tell by the slightly soured tint to the clean laundry, that he’s still shook up over what just happened. 
Your wolf is telling you to do something, to scent, to mark, to claim, but you can’t do that right now, so instead, you do the next best things, and cage him against the wall with your arms. 
Jisung startles, looking up at you with wide dark eyes, caught off guard, and you hold his gaze, not letting him look away. 
“He had no right to say any of that shit to you.” Your wolf growls, and you can feel the way the rage is making every muscle in your body taut, hot, ready. 
Jisung swallows hard, and nods, the tiniest gesture. 
“Jisung.” He looks away, ducking his head, but you reach up and catch  his chin in your fingers, forcing him to look at you again, his vision slowly glazing over with unshed tears. 
“Yeah. I know.” 
It’s not good enough. None of it is good enough. You’re not good enough. 
“Listen, that asshole. Your ex-?”
Jisung gives the tiniest of nods and you fight off another wave of anger. 
“Those are just absolute lies that he’s told himself, disgusting ideas that he’s forced himself to believe, so he doesn’t have to deal with the stupidity of losing someone as incredible as you.” 
Jisung sniffs, and reaches up to swipe at his nose with the back of his hand, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. 
You doggedly continue on. 
“Promise me. Promise me, if you ever, ever feel like you’re not enough, or if we’re not doing enough to make you see how truly special you really are, god, Jisungie, promise you’ll tell me, and I’ll make sure we work even harder until we get it right.” 
Jisung sniffles. 
“You do enough, alpha. I promise.” 
You let out the breath you’ve been holding and reach up to swipe at the one stray tear that has broken through his lash line, and he gives you the hint of a wobbly smile. 
“Listen.” You return the smile, though it’s small and doesn’t quite feel right. “You can cry, okay? But just give me a heads up first, alright? Cause I might need to distance myself so that I don’t do something stupid I’ll regret.” 
Jisung grins now, and it reaches his eyes, and soothes your wolf just a bit. 
“Alpha a little riled?” 
You sigh and reach up to brush back a lock of his hair. 
“More than a little.” You feel the hot rage back in your stomach, as you think back to the library and the possessiveness of your wolf once again raises its head at the thought. “I swear to god, I’d go back right now and hunt that son of a bitch down, just to tear him limb from limb, and I’d take my time too, slowly, so that I could enjoy every minute of it.” 
Jisung huffs and covers his face with his hands, and then he groans out, “God, why is it so hot when you or the hyungs go into alpha protective mode?” 
“Biology.” You laugh and reach up to tug his hands down, away from his face, and your wolf turns happy circles at the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks. “And you’re probably just whipped, honestly.” 
Jisung groans again and tries to cover his face in embarrassment once more, but you tangle your fingers with his so he can’t and press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. 
The smell of laundry is back-clean, sharp, fresh-and there’s not a hint of the tainted sourness from before in sight. 
“C’mon baby, let’s go home. ******
“Hey, we’re home!” 
Jisung pushes in through the apartment door and drops his hold on your hand, kicking off his sneakers as Minho appears in the doorway to the kitchen, one brow raised. 
“Did you actually study?” The older alpha asks, looking clearly skeptical. 
“Yes!” Jisung pouts, sticking his tongue out at the other man, before Minho leaps forward and ruffles his hair. 
Jisung jumps back behind you for protection, and Chan appears in the doorway behind Minho, resting his chin on the other alpha’s shoulder as he offers the two of you a fond smile. 
“Good timing, dinner’s almost ready.” 
“Thank god.” Jisung whines, dodging another swipe from Minho. “I’m starving.” 
Felix pops up behind the alphas, grin so bright and big that it makes his eyes almost disappear and his freckles crinkle into one. 
“And I made cookies!” 
You offhandedly wonder how many members of your pack the tiny clown car kitchen can hold at one time. 
Jisung groans and shoots a grateful look to the other boy. 
“Lix, you are seriously my hero.” He exclaims, before something uncertain comes across his expression. “I think I’m gonna shower first though. The library-” 
He stumbles over his next words, large dark and suddenly worried and you jump in to save him with a hand on his shoulder. 
“-is kind of a lot.” You finish helpfully, and Jisung looks to you with relief in his large, dark eyes. 
Your scent rots slightly as your mind slips back to the events of the day, like flowers wilting in the too hot heat of the midday sun, and Minho shoots you a pointed look, one brow raised, but thankfully, his expression remains as schooled and blank as ever. 
Jisung nods a little bit more animatedly than usual. “Yeah, yeah. And I just wanna smell like me after a long day.” 
Felix slips out from behind the two older and throws his arm around Jisung, already tugging him in the direction of the bathroom. 
“I’ll come with you!” 
It’s an unspoken rule that if any of the members of the pack are home, you never showers alone. 
You watch them go, waiting till you hear the sound of the door click before you lean back against the wall and let out the breath you have been holding. 
Minho pounces immediately. 
“Did something happen?” 
“What?” You glance up at him and try to play dumb, though you know by the look on his face that he’s not buying it, especially with the smell of cold frost starting to stagnate in the air. 
Chan lets out a growl and steps out from behind Minho, his head alpha instantly raising its head. 
“What happened?” 
And maybe it’s because they’re backing you into a corner, or maybe you’re still on edge from dealing with everything from earlier, maybe it’s the heavy weight of the rage still boiling in your stomach, or maybe it’s the fact that Jisung cried-
But whatever it is, Chan’s pointed question is the last thing to tip it over the edge, and suddenly your temper is snapping-quick, fast, unexpected. 
“Nothing happened okay? I handled it and everything is fine. God, you two act like I can’t protect our mates as well as you can, but I’m an alpha too you know!”
You have never, ever yelled at anyone in the pack before, but it’s too much, and your knuckles are stinging now, tucked away into the fabric of your pants, and all you can smell is Jisung’s scent from earlier-all wrong in so many different ways-and your wolf is snarling and snapping and begging for a fight because everything is all wrong.
Minho’s expression has instantly hardened at your explosion, dark eyes going steely as he stares you down. 
“Show your head alpha some respect.” 
You see the way his lips lift, can practically see the wolf in his slightly bared teeth, but you can’t seem to stop yourself, because everything is spiraling out of control, and you’re being dragged down with it. 
So you step toe to toe with Minho and hold his gaze. 
“No offense, Minho? But I don’t give a shit right now about disrespect. You’re calling into question my ability to keep our mates safe and you and I both know that’s absolute bullshit.” 
A low snarl starts in the back of Minho’s throat, and an answering one builds behind your clenched teeth. 
A wave of harsh amber mixes with the potent smell of decaying flowers that fills the air. 
Chan, ever the level headed, steps between the two of you, a palm flat against either of your chests, and his eyes are golden lava now, swirling and dangerous and serious, head alpha on full display.
“Okay, seriously? Knock it off.” 
You glare at Minho for another brief second and then draw in a breath through your teeth before looking away, stepping back from Chan’s restraining hand as you do so, because the feel of someone touching you right now is just bringing back the crunch of that dick’s nose beneath your knuckles, and it’s doing nothing to assuage your anger. 
“Now.” Chan glances over at you, but you don’t meet his gaze,  your aching hand balling into a fist in the unseen safety of your pocket. “Let’s try this again. Like people this time.” 
Minho takes in a deep calming breath and forcibly relaxes his shoulders, stepping back to lean against the opposite wall of the hallway, as far away from you as he can get in the cramped space of the entry. 
When he doesn’t say anything, you don’t either, because you’re sure as hell not apologizing first, or even at all. 
Chan sighs-long and tired-and a wave of rain dampened earth washes over you. 
You know what he’s doing, and it’s not going to work. 
“(Y/N).” 
Chan says your name, and when you glance up at him, he raises a brow at you, as if to show you he’s waiting. 
“Did something happen at the library?” 
You grit your teeth. “Yes. But I took care of it.” 
Another sigh. 
“What happened?” 
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” 
Minho snorts under his breath and mumbles out, loud enough for you to hear, “You really don’t have a choice.” 
The anger flares up again and you have a brief image of sinking your teeth into his throat, if only to shut him up. 
“Oh piss off, Minho.” 
He raises a slender brow in your direction, and his lips quirk into the hint of the start of a humorless smirk. 
“I’d really like to see you try to make me, sweetheart.” 
If he’s trying to get under your skin, the use of the familiar pet name said so coldly does the trick, grating across your ears and only adding fuel to the fire. 
Chan looks like he’s ready to physically jump between the two of you again, ready to hold you back should you start throwing punches, but your hand is already throbbing and you’ve swung enough today, so instead, you step back, away from Minho’s smug look, away from Chan’s weary one, and turn on your heel without a backward glance at either of them. 
“I’m going to bed.” 
The apartment smells like an entire field of blooms has just died and nothing is left except for the decaying, sharp reminder of the beauty that once was. 
****
“Shit.” You curse beneath your breath as the bandage once again unravels for what feels like the millionth time, curling on the bathroom floor at your feet. 
Hot, angry tears are threatening, and they only serve to make you more furious at yourself. 
The sound of the door opening and the wave of cardamom that accompanies it has you swearing between gritted teeth again, reaching down for the bandage, not even deigning to look up. 
“Seriously, Minho?” You seethe hotly between your teeth, movements jerky, as you try to wrap your knuckles once more, unsuccessfully. “I’m not in the mood.” 
You don’t know why he’s here and you don’t care. 
“God!” You huff out angrily, throwing the bandage down now, clenching your hands into fists, ignoring the urge to wince as your raw knuckles pulse painfully with the sudden movement. 
Minho catches you off guard by crouching at your feet, and picking up the discarded length of wrap, he grasps your injured hand between long fingers, and without a word, begins to expertly wind the flexible fabric around your knuckles. 
He stays silent for a moment, eyes following what he’s doing, purposefully ignoring the split, red of your skin, the dark purple of the already forming bruises, and you don’t owe him an explanation, don’t owe him anything, but the silence is stifling and the smell of amber is overwhelming and-
“I punched a guy.” 
You don’t know why you blurt it out, don’t know why you’re telling him, but saying it out loud reduces the weight on your chest, calms the anger still licking at the walls of your stomach, if only a little. 
Minho hums under his breath in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything else, not until he’s secured the tightly wound wrap at the base of your wrist, and then he looks up at you, and there’s slight amusement hidden in the dark recesses of his irises, and you don’t know how to take it. 
“That was incredibly stupid of you.”
You scoff and look at nothing in particular, the ceiling maybe. 
“Yeah, I know.” 
When he doesn’t immediately reply, you remove your hand from his hold, stretching and flexing the fingers, and you hate to admit it, but he’s done a pretty damn good job. 
Minho is silent for another brief moment, and then he simply gets right to the point, and you wouldn’t expect anything else from him honestly. 
“Why’d you punch him?” 
You hesitate, and then sigh, staring past him to a point on the closed bathroom door, and a strong, blast of icy frost cools the air, like drinking too cold water after stupidly chewing a spearmint. 
“He said some things. About Jisung.” 
You don’t look at him, instead, now watching the way the newly applied bandage moves with your fingers as you curl and uncurl them, over and over, where they rest in your lap. 
The cardamom spikes now, so strong and spicy that it makes your eyes water, or maybe that’s just the tears you’ve held back for too long, finally trying to fight their way out. 
“What did he say?” Minho’s voice is a dangerously calm murmur in the back of his throat, like the moment of respite before the storm, and your wolf whines under the sudden fury of his own. 
You get it. You feel the same way, are fighting the same white hot urge, to do something, anything, even if it just means putting your fist through a wall in an unproductive outlet for the blinding rage. 
“I’m not-” You shake your head, and you’re biting your lip so hard, trying to stay so desperately in control, that you taste the salty copper of your own blood start to leak into your mouth. “That’s up to Jisung, if he wants to tell you. To tell anyone. But just trust me, okay, when I say that every word that fell from that bastard’s lips were disgusting, selfish lies only meant to cause pain. And they did. And I couldn’t not do something, Minho.” 
Minho seems to fight with himself, whether to push you any further, but in the end, he seems to respect your decision, giving a terse nod that you catch from the corner of your eye, and then he sits back on his heels, letting out a long, barely controlled breath. 
When you finally allow yourself to look at him, the swirling gold in his irises is only barely starting to die down, and his lips are pressed into a thin, hard line, hinting at the only just restrained anger beneath his blank mask. 
“So he deserved it then. The punch, I mean.” 
You answer without hesitation, sudden confident fire behind your eyes. 
“Absolutely.” 
You expect Minho to nod, to leave, now that he’s gotten the answers he’s came for, but instead, he surprises you, leaning over to awkwardly pat the top of your head, as if he’s giving affection to a beloved pet dog. 
“Good girl.” 
You can’t help the slight purr your wolf lets out at the clear action of approval, although human you immediately shoots him a glare and smacks his hand away from you without any real malice. 
“Don’t pet me like a dog.” 
Something amused lights up Minho’s eyes at your words, and a slight smirk creases his full upper lip. 
“C’mon. Think hard about that choice of words, sweetheart.” 
You stick your tongue out at him and he rolls his eyes, but you’re glad to feel the tension between the two of you finally start to dissipate. 
His next words appear to physically pain him as he once again catches you completely off guard. 
“I’m sorry. For what I said earlier.” 
You stare at him, not quite sure you’ve heard right, and then close your mouth, before you glance away from him and mutter out beneath your breath, “It’s fine. I’m sorry too.” Neither of you are very good with apologies. 
Finally, Minho clears his throat, and speaks into the awkward silence. 
“How mad do you think Chan would be if the two of us just happened to run into this asshole and accidentally break a few of his limbs?” 
You bite back a smile and pretend to regard him seriously. 
“Absolutely furious. He’d totally kill us.” 
The slight smile is back on Minho’s lips as he raises an eyebrow, returning your gaze in a silent question. 
“But it’d be worth it right?” 
You grin now. 
“Totally worth it.” 
*****
Now that you and Minho have made up, you rejoin the rest of the pack for movie night. 
As you’re waiting for the omegas to pick a movie, Changbin settles into the empty space on the couch next to you, and grunts out beneath his breath, “Heard you and Minho got into it earlier.” 
You sigh and Changbin shrugs, throwing an arm around your shoulders, as if he’s anticipating you feeling guilty, though you don’t in the slightest. 
“Hey, listen. I get it. There’s very few times when Minho speaks that I don’t want to actually punch him in the face.” 
You laugh then and Changbin grins, and the tension once again dissipates. 
The omegas finally settle on some romantic comedy that you’ve all seen a hundred times-”but it’s a classic” whines Felix-and everyone settles down in their spots on the couch and on the floor, munching on popcorn and various other snacks, just enjoying each other’s company. 
It’s not until Felix starts playing with your fingers between his own that anyone besides Minho notices the cloth wrapped around your knuckles. 
“Noona, what happened?” Felix gasps over the sounds of the movie, unwittingly drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. 
Chan’s eyes darken noticeably as he seems to glance at your hand for the first time, and Minho sighs heavily from beside him, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see we knew this would happen. 
You hurry to comfort Felix before Chan’s head alpha, and anyone else, can get too worked up. 
“It’s nothing, Lixie.” You assure him, reaching out to pat his head, before you squeeze his cheek between your fingers, as the worried look in his wide dark eyes, reflected in the light from the tv screen, slowly starts to fade in the face of your calming scent. “I just hurt myself at the gym. That’s all.” 
Minho shoots you another look, this one saying something along the lines of wow, really good lie, no one’s gonna see through that one dumbass, but you ignore him, offering the omega as bright a smile as you can muster as Chan seems to take a deep breath and force himself to relax. 
You see Jisung shift uncomfortably out of the corner of your eye where he sits beside Hyunjin, and your wolf whines, attention focused solely on the beta. 
“We can tell you’re lying by your scent, you know.” Hyunjin remarks offhandedly, bored already with the movie, not looking up from surfing his phone. 
Jisung looks close to crying now, and you find yourself growing agitated, all the emotions from before being brought to the forefront once more, and as the smell of detergent bitters, the decay of wilting flowers grows almost overpowering in response. 
“Just drop it, would you?” You snap at Hyunjin without thinking, and suddenly, several pairs of wide, shocked eyes are locked on you. 
You flex your fingers and the raw stinging pain it creates in your knuckles is enough to ground you, as you take in a long breath through your teeth. 
“I’m sorry, I just-” 
“It’s my fault.” 
Every pair of eyes in the room now turns to Jisung, looking tiny and forlorn in the middle of the couch, visibly curling into himself, tears pooling in the corners of his large, dark eyes. 
He bites his lip and doesn’t look at any of you, and your wolf is whimpering, but you don’t make any sort of movement toward him, just breathe out, “No, Sungie, it’s fine-” 
“She got into a fight.” Jisung looks at Chan now, who is on high alert, every muscle in his body tense. “Because of me. I’m sorry, hyung.” 
Chan stares at the withering beta for another long moment, and then he’s whirling on you, eyes flashing an angry copper. 
“You got into a fight?” 
His words are quiet, eerily calm, but you can see the barely withheld fury just beneath his expressionless mask. 
You bristle under his stare, and for the second time today, feel at odds with the other alpha. 
“Yeah but-” 
Chan cuts you off with a snarl, and the rest of the pack members are so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 
“Did you even consider the consequences? Consider that you could be putting Jisung-a beta and our mate-in serious danger?”
It’s all so unfair, so misconstrued, and your heart is suddenly loud, angry, in your ears, blood pounding furiously beneath your skin, and every inch of you is focused not on the angry alpha before you, but Jisung, sinking further and further into the couch as the argument progresses, trying to disappear. . 
“No, but that’s-” 
Chan surges to his feet, and you know you should be cowed, know you should back down, but you can’t, because you’re tired and angry and altogether feeling a little bit too protective right now, and so you stand to meet him, right there in the middle of the living room, movie forgotten. 
“What the hell were you thinking?” 
“It was one punch!” You snap back, matching his step toward you, so close now that your noses are almost brushing. “And I was thinking about Jisung that’s why I-” 
“I can’t believe you-” 
“Would you let me finish?” 
It’s the second time today, once again, that you’ve raised your voice at Chan, at any member of the pack, and it goes over about as well as you’d expect, the head alpha’s eyes flashing dangerously, his lips pressing into a thin line. 
Behind him, Minho rises from the couch and puts a careful hand on his shoulder. 
“Chan-”
The air is so heavy with incoming thunder clouds that it’s hard to breathe.  
Chan shakes him off roughly, still staring you down, but he doesn’t speak over you again, so you take the brief opportunity to surge forward. 
“If you would just listen to me, I could explain everything, but you’re so worried about your big, scary head alpha ego that I can’t get a word in edgewise!” 
Chan’s lips pull up into the start of a snarl, and a low growl rumbles from his throat, but you don’t back down, holding his glare with one of your own. 
Changbin is up beside you now too, and you can tell he’s poised to jump in if this physically comes to blows judging by the look he gives Minho across the two of you. 
“Watch your tone.” 
You scoff, and you know it’s a bad move, but you can’t help yourself. 
“Then watch yours, alpha.” 
You’re both menacingly in the other’s space, and you’re clenching your fingers so tightly that your knuckles are screaming in protest, but the pain keeps you on edge, alert, as you stare down the other alpha. 
The room is drowning in damp and frost, violently at odds. 
“Stop, will you just stop!” 
All eyes turn to Jisung, up from the couch now, hands clenched into fists, tear stained cheeks hot and red, bottom lip quivering as he stares at the two of you. 
Chan sighs and reaches out a hand toward the obviously upset beta. 
“Jisung-” 
“No!” He shakes his head violently, obviously catching himself, and Chan, off guard with his forceful denial. “No.” He repeats again, softer this time, tears dripping once more. “This was all my fault, okay? So stop blaming her. And blame me instead.” 
Your wolf balks at the idea instantly, snarling and snapping. 
“Jisung-” You try, voice soft and careful, taking a cautious step away from Chan and toward the beta, who looks dangerously close to fleeing the room. 
He shakes his head once more, and rips his hand out of Hyunjin’s grasp, desperately trying to keep him in place, and takes a faltering step toward the door. 
“No. He was right, okay? I can’t do anything right. I’m useless. And I’m sorry. I’m so-” 
His words are cut off by a choked sob, and he turns and flees the living room. 
Chan moves to go after him, and it has your wolf snarling, turning on him in an instant, fangs bared and dangerous possessive gold swirling beneath your irises. 
“Don’t.” You warn in a low, oddly calm voice, and for once, he listens to you, immediately stopping in his tracks at the strong wave of frosted pine that rolls off of you. “I think you’ve done enough.” 
He opens his mouth, and the anger is gone from his face, replaced by exhaustion, but you don’t let him speak, whirling on your heel without another glance and following Jisung out of the living room, away from the rest of the pack. 
******
You’re not surprised to see Jisung curled up in the middle of the betas’ shared bed, hidden under the fabric of the comforter, but you are slightly surprised that he doesn’t even try to fight you when you slide in next to him and pull him into your arms. 
He probably recognized you from your scent the moment you walked through the door but still. 
You don’t say anything for a minute, listening to the muted sound of his sniffles, hands rubbing absently, comfortingly over the fabric of his hoodie that covers his stomach, and finally, he whispers out, “I’m sorry.” 
“Why are you still apologizing?” You question seriously, nosing against the bare skin at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, feeling the way he trembles and shrinks into you as you brush comfortingly against his scent gland. 
“Because.” He sighs, the sound shuddering off at the end, and he sounds so tired, it makes your heart ache and your wolf whine pitifully. “You got hurt, and I made you and hyung fight-” 
“You didn’t make us do anything.” You interrupt firmly, reaching up to stroke back damp dark hair from the skin of his forehead with the palm of your hand. “Chan and I are both adults who make our own decisions. We were at odds, yes, but it truthfully had nothing to do with you. Maybe that was the trigger, but it wasn’t the end. Sometimes alphas just get a little bit too protective for their own good. We’ll make up eventually. We always do.” 
Jisung sniffs and reaches up to wipe at his nose with the back of his hand, bottom lip sucked between his teeth. 
You reach up and carefully free the plump skin with the pad of your thumb, before cupping his chin and angling his head to meet your gaze. 
“Promise me something.” 
Jisung swallows as your scent spikes, wisteria blooming in the space between the two of you. 
“Okay.” 
You run a finger along the line of his jaw, then across the arch of his cheekbones, down the sloped tip of his nose, tracing the outline of his full, pink lips. 
“Promise me, that you won’t ever give that son of a bitch-or the completely untruthful things he said-another thought.” 
Jisung is silent, chewing on his bottom lip again beneath your stern gaze, and after a few moments of saying nothing, you smile halfheartedly and tap him under the chin, a wordless plea to look at you again. 
He does so reluctantly, and you cock your head, looking at him curiously. 
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, baby?” 
Jisung sighs and buries his head in the safety of your chest, and instead of trying to dig him back out, you simply begin to card your fingers through his hair, soft ebony locks like silk between your fingers. 
“What if he’s right though?” 
“He’s not.” You reply without room for arguement and Jisung whines, low and sad in his throat, and your wolf is begging you to do something. 
“Jisung.” 
You use your alpha voice when you say his name, and it instantly has him looking up at you, eyes wide and pupils dark. 
You soften your tone, reaching up to thumb gently at the corner of his mouth. 
“You and I both know he’s not. You are a vital member of this pack, and we would be incomplete without you.” 
“Stop chewing on your lip.” You laugh gently and free the poor, reddening skin from between the beta’s teeth once more. 
“Sorry.” 
“And stop apologizing.” You tease lightly, reaching up to boop the tip of his nose with your finger, and you’re pleased to see the corner of his mouth tick, as if he’s thinking about smiling. 
The door creaks open, and Minho appears, shutting it quietly, before leaning back against the solid wood and blowing out a long low whistle from between his teeth. 
“Shit. I’ve never seen Chan that angry before.” 
You roll your eyes at the other alpha’s name and don’t look at the newcomer, instead, burying your nose into Jisung’s hair, breathing in the ever clearing scent of clean laundry. 
“Yeah, well.” 
Minho appears at the edge of the bed, and there is a slightly proud smirk on his lips ashe regards you. 
“I’ve also never seen him back down that quickly.” 
You grin into Jisung’s hair and repeat again, smugly this time, with a slight shrug, “Yeah, well.” 
“Hyung.” Jisung whines from within your arms, making grabby hands at the other alpha, and though Minho sighs heavily and rolls his eyes, he slides into the bed with the two of you without any protest, sandwiching Jisung’s other side. 
You meet his gaze over the top of the beta’s head, and raise a brow at him. 
“What?” 
Minho shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m just still impressed.” 
You flash him a smirk. “Ah, don’t be intimidated, baby.” 
Minho rolls his eyes again, so hard you’re afraid they’re going to fall out, and flashes you the bird behind Jisung’s head. 
“Yeah, whatever, sweetheart. If you ever tell anyone I admitted that, I’ll gut you like a fish.” 
“I could be into that.” 
Jisung stirs between the two of you and glances up from beneath dark bangs, eyes wide and doe like, rimmed by long, black lashes. 
Your wolf purrs at the sight. 
“Weird. But also.” He glances at Minho now, lips slightly parted. “Hyung, did you patch up her hand?” 
“Hey.” You protest, tickling his side lightly until he jerks his hips away from you slightly in an effort to get out of reach. You pull him right back. “How do you know I didn’t do it myself?” 
Jisung audibly scoffs. “Please. I’ve seen Changbin-hyung put on your bandaids for you. You’re not fooling anyone.” You gasp dramatically and look across at Minho with a stare that clearly says can you believe this punk?, but he only raises a brow in return, as if to say, I absolutely can. 
“Yes, I bandaged her knuckles.” He glances back to you. “You’re welcome by the way.” 
You stick your tongue out at him and he leans across Jisung to try and grab it and rip it from between your teeth. 
Luckily, you’re quick enough to escape the very obvious attack. 
You glance down at Jisung, and he seems sleepy, comforted by the cocktail of you and Minho’s scents. 
“Feeling better, Sungie?” You ask, running your fingers up and down his throat, carefully tracing his scent glands. 
“Mmhmm.” He hums out, and then he cracks an eye open and glances up at you. “You’re gonna make up with Chan-hyung right?” 
You sigh and Minhos hides an amused smirk in the edge of Jisung’s hair as you glare over at him before turning back to the beta. 
“Yeah. Eventually.” You admit, not quite sure what else he wants from you right now. 
“Good.” It seems to placate him, because Jisung nods and closes his eyes again, snuggling into your warmth. “I don’t like when my alphas fight.” 
Minho snorts from his other side. “Yeah, and apparently, one of us isn’t very good at it, because no one with correct form would mark their knuckles up that badly from one punch.” 
“Sorry, Jisung baby.” You say, cracking said knuckles as you look across to the smug Minho with a hot glare. “Looks like the alphas are going to be fighting a little bit longer because I suddenly have to kick Minho’s ass.” 
Minho’s smirk only grows. “I’d love to see you try, sweetheart. Now that I’ve seen the way you fight, I’m not all that terrified.” 
Jisung laughs between the two of you-high and clear and so intrinsically Jisung-and everything feels right again. 
Your wolf relaxes for the first time since that morning as the air is finally filled with the clear, undeniable scent of freshly done laundry.
745 notes · View notes