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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 3 months

Text

Part 20

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 19 🟣 Part 21

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

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

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI. P-in-v sex, fingering, angst, ongoing vampire shenanigans, more blood than we're used to... Mentions of a knife kink. Paranormal voyeurism... (I swear, regular tags and warnings just don't feel sufficient for this :') )

Word count: 4.7k (It's a long one)

A/N: Loving kisses, a successful date, a bitch, a good friend, a messy bite... I'd call this fluffy if it wasn't so... smutty.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

“Mikey?” You threw the door open — and you should have known better. Your heart threatened to beat its way out of your chest at the sight before you. It was really just Mike, on his bed, phone in one hand, dick in the other. The scenario left very little to the imagination with regard to what he was doing…

Then you blinked, and all the evidence of what you’d run into vanished.

“Swe—” He stopped talking — again — and you felt your heart being crushed under the weight of that unfinished word. And this time you weren’t having any of it.

In a few steps, you closed the distance between you and the edge of the bed, where a disappointingly fully dressed Mike was sitting. “Sat it,” you said, putting your hands on either side of his face after hauling him to his feet. “Call me ‘Sweetcheeks’. Wrap your arms around me, hold me, look me right in the eye and say it.”

Despite your explicit and pressing demand, you were surprised when his arms snaked around your waist and he cleared his throat. “Sweetcheeks, I’ve been an idiot.”

“Yeah, well… what else is new?” you chuckled, and your heart jumped for joy when he joined you. Then, you looked at him: “We’re going out. Tonight. Dinner and a movie.”

“We can get burgers and head off to see Saw?” Of course he suggested a horror movie!

“You know I can’t sleep after watching scary movies, Mike,” you whispered.

“I know you can’t sleep alone,” he corrected you — and he was right. “I’ll protect you… Sweetcheeks.”

“Cool, it’s a date,” you said before giggling like a schoolgirl. At least the sound made Mike smile even wider. That was good, right?

“Dinner tonight, princess? I’m making chicken fried rice.” August pressed his lips to yours before you could answer.

“Sounds fantastic, August, but I’m going out. Mike and I are going on a date.” You tried to fight the smile off your face, but you just couldn’t manage.

August wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, peppering kisses along your jaw before dipping his head down to reach your neck. “You’re happy, princess. I like it when you are happy.”

“Even when you’re not the one making me happy?” Why? Why did you ask that?

“I do make you happy,” August said matter-of-factly. “In fact, I make you very happy.” He lifted you onto the kitchen counter, standing between your legs, which you wrapped around his waist.

In the middle of your passionate kiss, Sherlock stumbled into the kitchen.

“Good morning you two,” he said, his indifference to the scene in front of him evident in his voice.

You pushed against August’s shoulders so he would let you go, and hopped off the counter, stalking towards Sherlock in a few big, angry steps. It surprised you that he wrapped you in his arms and kissed you — quite firmly, and inappropriately for a communal area of the house. It also surprised you that he was quite cold to the touch.

“I heard you have a date with Mike tonight?” he asked with a kind smile. “A wonderful idea. May I request some time to feed before you leave?”

“Only of you don’t ask me so formally,” you snorted. “I love you, of course you can eat. You’re not filing a tax form!”

“Well, then,” he said, his smile growing more mischievous, “would my beautiful love accompany me to bed, please?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when you heard him say those words, before realizing that you always retreated to his bedroom to feed. It had just become a thing you usually did in private. Not for anyone’s sake, but simply to take full advantage of the calming sensation you felt, and to really give yourself some alone time with your guys. This time would be no different. No different at all.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, darling,” he said kindly when you stepped into the room. “I will get you some tea, and… August?” Sherlock turned around before the door opened and indeed showed August, standing outside, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He sighed, while Sherlock chuckled. “Thank you very much.”

August grumbled something unintelligible while rolling his eyes before turning on his heel and disappearing, leaving you and Sherlock to it.

You took the glass of water and drank it quickly, not because you hoped to get this over with as quickly as possible, but because you wanted to crawl into Sherlock’s arms as soon as you could.

You waited a few minutes, just laying on his bed, curled up in his embrace with your head resting on his chest, while gathering your thoughts as well as your courage. Then, you kissed him. It surprised you that he was so greedy in his reciprocation, to the point where he quickly took the lead in your little bout of passion, pinning you to the mattress, the weight of his body comfortably crushing your soul back into your body. Sometimes that was just necessary.

What did bother you, however, was the fact that he seemed to be having no physical reaction to your kiss whatsoever. Why the hell not?

His lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw, and eventually to your neck, where you felt his fangs scrape over your skin.

Of your four partners, Sherlock had the gentlest bite, and he took the most time when feeding — save for Mike when he had access to his preferred location. You’d once asked him why, and he had answered that throughout the years, he’d had to feed quickly for such a long time, that he refused to now that he no longer had to.

“Thank you, darling,” he said quietly when he was done making sure your wounds would heal.

“Why do you always say that?” You’d never asked him that before, you realized, even though you couldn’t remember any time he hadn’t said it.

“You let me bite you. You voluntarily allow me to wound you so that I may feed on your blood. Darling, if that is not something I should be thankful for…”

You sealed your mouth over his to stop him from talking, and when you retreated, he smiled. A tingly feeling ran all the way through your body as you looked deep into his eyes, and you opened your mouth to speak. To your surprise, Sherlock put his hand over your mouth, a serious look in his eyes. His pupils were dilated, you noticed. Strange…

“Whatever you say next, I will have to obey. Please choose your words with great care,” he said, his voice strained, as if he had great trouble speaking.

“Thank you for explaining,” you said hesitantly after Sherlock’s hand had disappeared. “Can we get to the snuggling part of the event, please?” You needed to feel his arms around you once again.

“Of course,” he spoke slowly, “your wish is quite literally my command.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” you asked when he was curled up around you, pulling you close. “I thought we’d made it past the excessive caregiving aftermath of the feeding?”

“We have. You hypnotized me,” he chuckled. “It will wear off.”

You turned around in his arms and looked at him. “I didn’t mean to do that,” you said. It was strange; you felt guilty about it in a way you had never felt guilty about gaining access to Mike’s gift, or August’s. You had grown to thoroughly enjoy Marshall’s…

“It’s because I have a choice. There is no passive side to this gift, other than that I have been told I can be excessively charismatic,” he said as though he could read your thoughts. He couldn’t, which meant they had to be displayed clearly on your face. “You get to share in their experience, and they are glad to let you do that. I, on the other hand…”

“You don’t like the gift?” you asked carefully, sending this was not a topic he enjoyed discussing.

“I abhor it. That time I used it on you haunts me, still. And you were right to admonish me over it. If I had seen any other option, please trust that I would have gone that route. I am terribly sorry.”

“But you use it for good,” you suggested in a feeble attempt to ease the pain in his eyes.

“There is nothing good about taking away consent and free will,” he sighed. “Although the interrogations do require a consent form, so I suppose… It still makes me quite uncomfortable at times.”

“Sherlock, please be honest with me,” you said pensively.

“I feel the need to remind you that I have no other choice, darling.”

“Is it okay, when this happens, if I ask you to tell me you love me?”

“Certainly,” he replied, a hint of amusement to his voice.

“Then tell me you love me,” you commanded as you rolled on top of him, straddling his hips.

“With all my heart, my darling,” he answered before pulling you down into a searing kiss.

“Omg, hey Mike!” Rose walked towards you, closely followed by Jenelle. “What are you two doing here?”

“Movie date,” Mike said with a big smile. Dinner had been awesome, and standing here with him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, felt like an absolute dream. “What about you two?”

“J got stood up by her date,” Rose explained, “so I came to the rescue!”

“She was hot as hell, too,” Jenelle sighed. “Here.”

Mike let out a low whistle when he saw the photo on her phone screen. “Goddamn. Too bad Tits McGee clearly doesn’t have a brain.” He pulled Jenelle in for a hug. “You are way too pretty to be treated this way. Wait, I can say that, right, Sweetcheeks?” He turned too you, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, Mike, because you’d be right.” You weren’t going to be offended by Mike thinking J was pretty. She was, end of.

“Will you guys sit with us?” The movie had been out for a while, and there were only a handful of people in the lobby. Assigned seats, schmassigned seats.

“And listen to you guys making out all through the movie? No tha—ow! The fuck?” J had caught an elbow to the ribs from Rose, which didn’t go unnoticed by Mike. Mostly because J wasn’t exactly quiet about it, but still. Mike put two and two together unusually quickly.

“Alright, Sweetcheeks, how much do they know?” he asked, feigning annoyance.

“Just that you guys are working through something, nothing more.” J and Rose looked innocent. Or rather; they tried to. And failed.

“Everything, Mike,” you sighed. “They’re my best friends, and they know everything.”

“That’s okay, it’s all my fault anyway. We’re starting to… heal, I suppose.” It was sweet to hear Mike say it that way — and he was right, of course. “We haven’t kissed yet, though. So I wouldn’t worry about the making out part.” Even the oversharing was adorable, dammit…

He was right though; you spent the whole time staring at the screen — except when you snuggled into Mike’s side as well as you could (stupid chairs…) when things got scary. You did hold hands all the way through the film, though, which was really nice. You hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed his touch, even though he was fairly cold…

“Well that was horrible,” J said when you walked out of the theatre a few hours later.

“Are you kidding me?” Mike clearly disagreed. “That was great! Blood, gore, Jigsaw. And I got to hold my pretty girl again.”

“Oh, yeah, no, def,” Jenelle agreed with him. “Fabulous date movie. Horrible third-and-fourth-wheel-movie though. Rose?”

“Agreed, and can I just say that—”

“Out of my way.” A shoulder hit you from behind, sending you tumbling into Mike’s chest. “Right. Go snuggle with your bloodsucker, you vampire skank.”

“Bloodsuckers, plural, right?” You didn’t even know the girl who asked.

“Yeah, bitch has a whole harem. They snack on her.” Katie raised an eyebrow at you and smirked in a way that would put mean queen Regina George herself to shame.

“Oh my god, she’s literally a blood whore?” Again; who was that girl even?

“Listen, you might want to step the fuck off, you insufferable, miserable, narrow-minded, hillbilly cunt.” And she’d better listen, because Jenelle was about five seconds away from losing her shit.

“Fine. You’re not the kind of person I want to be seen with, anyway. You’ll get what you deserve,” she said as she turned around. “Just you wait.”

“She said what?” Now August was five seconds away from losing his shit, and even though Jenelle’s impressive five-eleven frame could be intimidating — especially considering she was taller than Mike if you added her afro to her height, which she always did.

“Jenelle dealt with it,” you said quickly, chuckling at the memory of the imposing law student using some impressive adjectives you couldn’t have come up with in a million years to put Katie in her place. It had been by far the most eloquent opprobrium you had ever heard in your entire life. No, you hadn’t known that word before you left for your date.

“She is an amazing friend,” Mike said. He was right. You could always count on her to stick up for you. Rose, too, but confrontation generally scared her. Jenelle grew up with four brothers, so…

“I wonder what Katie meant when she said I’d get what I deserve…” you pondered.

“You know we’d never let her get to you, right?” Marshall said before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

You nodded. “Yeah,” you said. “Mikey… Can we just go to sleep, please?”

It was strange to get into bed with him again, after weeks of practically avoiding each other, and it was no surprise that it took the two of you some time to figure out how you fit together at least somewhat comfortably — especially since Mike required some access to your neck. He hadn’t asked to feed, but you knew better.

“Go on,” you said, baring your neck to him when you’d finally settled in.

He looked at you, his face contorted into a strange grimace that told you he was uncomfortable with something…

“Are you sure, Sweetcheeks? I mean… I told you I’d go back to—” Without thinking, you kissed him. Hard — and so incredibly passionately that when you broke away, you were gasping for air.

“I’d rather die than have you feed off some…” Nope, that was not a nice thing to say about someone just doing their job. Try again. “You belong with me, Mikey. And…”

You fucking hypocrite. You’d made such a circus of making him call you ‘Sweetcheeks’ again, but there was something you hadn’t been able to tell him for weeks, too. It wasn’t just him. And it was time for you to bite the bullet.

“I love you, Mike,” you whispered, trailing your fingers over the side of his face. “And I’m incredibly glad we’re finding each other again. You can feel what I desire. If it’s anything other than you sinking your teeth into me…”

“Oh, there’s something else,” he mused. “But we’ll save that for later. I’m guessing no boobies?”

“Eh…” You considered it for a moment. “Let’s park that, for now? My neck is fine, though. But no more nonconsensual vampire marriages, Mike.” He didn’t need the warning — he was an idiot, not a jerk — but you couldn’t help yourself.

He had to flip you both over to be able to get to the side Sherlock hadn’t punctured that afternoon — seriously, sometimes you felt a little… used. You loved it, of course, but still.

Mike inhaled deeply, dragging the tip of his nose over your neck as he did, and sighed. “You smell so fucking good.”

For some reason, his words make your cheeks heat up.

“I thought I was going to go insane when Sherlock got to you this afternoon, I—”

Why did you feel the need to interrupt his confession — which no doubt was about to turn steamy soon — with your insecurities? “Could you tell what he desired?” The first rule for a peaceful life was still ‘don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to’, right?

“He wanted to be close to you, and he wanted to feed,” Mike said simply. Was that all? “Have you considered talking to him, Sweetcheeks?”

Okay, fine! Now that everyone in the house had pointed out that that was what you should do… maybe you should give it a go.

“Now, where was I?” Mike’s soft lips trailed over your skin, sometimes placing soft kisses that made you whine softly. “You’re so warm, you taste so sweet. Especially like this. All worked up and hot for me…”

“Mike, we shouldn’t…” And why the hell not? You were so innately attracted to this guy that it bordered on completely ridiculous, and he already knew you were dying to feel him again. On top of you. Behind you. Inside you.

“I can hear your heart beat faster for me,” he growled, his lips moving gently against the skin of your neck, “I can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks — and your pussy. Your body and mind are screaming for me, Sweetcheeks. Make no mistake, I’m screaming right back…” He ground his hips into you to prove it, and chuckled. His fingers tentatively dipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants.

Your permission was silent, your response was not. Mike wasted no time slipping his hand into your panties and seeking out your clit, making you gasp.

You came so quickly you barely registered it.

“Fucking dripping…” Mike growled before nipping at your earlobe. “All for me, Sweetcheeks?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. “Yes.” Still wasn’t enough for him. “Fuck… yes, baby, all for you.” You’d pay good money to have that smug grin wiped off his face.

He dipped his fingers into you with ease — he hadn’t exactly been lying when he pointed out you were soaked — and pulled his hand back, which surprised you. Then, he wrapped his hand around his cock, biting his lip as the slow, lazy strokes forced moans from his throat. You just looked at him — mostly with fascination, but also a bit of confusion.

“What? This is as close as I can get to feeling you directly on my skin,” he muttered. He was adorably out of breath.

“I’ve considered getting an IUD, but putting them in apparently hurts like a bitch and—”

“So take August.” Mike shrugged, not minding the interruption in your moment at all — and also still stroking himself, which you found both oddly amusing and very in-character.

“What?” you said, thinking you had some idea of what he was getting at, but wanting to verify it nonetheless.

“Take August,” he repeated, slightly louder than before, “I’m sure he won’t mind playing walking painkiller if it means he gets to fuck you raw.”

“Deal!” you heard from the other room, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Soon, the door opened. “Seriously, I didn’t quite catch what you were talking about but I’m game.”

“You help her deal with the pain of getting an IUD, we get to ditch condoms, everyone wins,” Mike summarized. “Now fuck off, I’m trying to get laid.”

“You’re way past trying,” you chuckled. “Goodbye, August.”

“Awh, you’re not going to let me watch?” he teased. Alright, semi-teased. You knew for a fact he’d love to watch.

Next to you, Mike grinned, meaning he’d caught the surge of desire that had flooded you for a moment as soon as the words had tumbled from August’s gorgeous lips. Not that there was any way they hadn’t heard your breath hitch or caught any of the other specs of evidence that the idea excited you more than it probably should.

“Best I can do is let you listen in,” Mike decided before gesturing at him to get out. August gave you a questioning look, and you nodded, another rush of heat washing over you as you thought about what this meant.

‘Treat her right’ were his parting words to Mike before he made his way, presumably to his own room.

“Mmh, you always do,” you hummed contently as Mike finally left his cock alone and focused on you again. He smiled as he plunged his fingers back into you, finding the right spot almost instantly. It was a cute smile; eyes twinkling, fangs out… you watched him with wide eyes as he bit down on his lip, piercing the skin.

“Oh,” he chuckled at his own mistake.

The little bead of blood formed slowly, and you watched it happen, until it got too big to be contained and rolled toward the outside of his lip. You rarely acted on an impulse so immediately — and you were fairly sure you’d never acted so impulsively that it even took Mike by surprise — but there was no fighting this urge to pull Mike closer and… you didn’t quite kiss him. That would have been one thing, but this was something else entirely. You licked the blood off his lip. And you didn’t stop there, no. You sucked his lip into your mouth while Mike let out a very loud moan. A suspiciously loud moan.

“You did not just...” There really was no need to finish that question. Mike was probably embarrassed enough as it…

“Yeah, I totally did, Sweetcheeks,” he said, grinning at you like he’d gone insane. “That hadn’t happened in at least three decades, babe. Fuck that was hot. Kinky. All that good stuff. Did you… was it… just… any good?”

“I’m mostly still in shock over what just happened.” And the fact that it had made Mike jizz in his pants.

“I kinda do want to run this by Sherlock,” he said to your surprise, “I mean… developing a sudden taste for the good stuff could mean you’re transitioning. It's not technically possible, because I know we’ve all been very diligent and responsible about our garlic, but it doesn’t hurt to have it checked out.”

“She’s not,” you heard from the other side of the door as footsteps — Sherlock’s footsteps — passed by the room and disappeared further into the hallway. “I would have noticed!”

“Settled?” Mike asked. You laughed in response. There was something incredibly funny about August’s earlier intrusion and this one by Sherlock, and the way it didn’t even ruin the mood.

“Settled. Just a… I’m going to call it an impulse, for now. I’m not sure if it’s a kink thing.” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and they weren’t the only part of you that felt that way.

“God I hope it is!” Mike sighed as he snuggled up against you.

“What, so you can ruin another pair of pants?”

“Hey, fuck you!” He pouted at you, but you could see the grin lurking beneath.

“We were getting there, I believe.” You cocked an eyebrow and then Mike had finally had enough. For a second, he withdrew, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and then he pounced on you.

Your pajamas did not survive the carnage, and neither did his. He was hard, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Didn’t I tell you? Significantly reduced cool down time,” Marshall sounded in your head, making you laugh even louder. Mike looked at you, not asking the question he clearly wanted to.

“Marshall,” you clarified, before yelling at the man to butt the fuck out.

Mike managed to rip four condom wrappers open so enthusiastically that he ruined their contents as well, at which point you finally pointed at the intact, unwrapped, latex nuisance you were already holding. He didn’t hold still while you rolled it onto his cock, and he sure as hell didn’t wait so much as a second to drag your ass onto his thighs.

He pushed into you at the same time he bit you, and you squealed. Rough and eager Mikey was fun. He had been from the beginning of your relationship, and he was now, and he would be in the future — that endless future you suddenly had with him again. He crouched over you, using one hand to grasp your hip, the other to pin your wrists to the bed while he drank from your neck, impatient and greedy and messy.

He fucked into you with something almost resembling a tender kind of rage, caring enough to avoid hurting you, but rough enough to bring you to the edge with just his cock — not something he was usually good at, you had to admit.

He came up before he finished, his lips red from your blood, which trickled down his chin. For the first time ever, you saw your monster in those bright blue eyes. And you loved him even more. The final few brutal thrusts were accompanied by low growls and swearing, and you stared at his face intently, noting the mellowing of his gaze after he opened his eyes again. Watching Mike’s ‘coming’-face was incredible. It was a very raw, honest moment — and for a significant amount of bonus points: it looked absolutely ridiculous —and it was beautiful. Intimate. Connected to you in indescribable ways.

“Wow. Okay, ehm… babe I made a fucking mess, alright? Didn’t mean to do that. Very sorry. We gotta get cleaned up…” Of course, he beat you to the bathroom.

In the hallway, you ran into Marshall, and there was no way you’d ever be able to convince even a single hair on your head that this was somehow a coincidence. He had to have heard.

“I did,” he said, his voice hoarse and his words punctuated by quick, shallow breaths he drew in as he looked at you. “I tried to stay in my room, but…” He raked his eyes over your naked form over and over again, committing whatever it was that he saw to memory before abruptly turning around and disappearing into his bedroom.

In the bathroom, you got your first good look at what Mike had meant. He had made a mess. Which, in this case, meant that your neck looked like someone had ripped your throat out, your shoulder was covered in blood, and it slowly trickled down, over your chest, between your breasts… in your mind, you heard Marshall again.

‘I want to watch you bleed.’

Well… you wanted him to watch you bleed as well.

“Fair warning,” Mike said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and he glanced at you in the mirror. “He likes to play with knives. It won’t scar as long as you don’t need stitches and he can… treat the wounds the way we usually do.” He grabbed a washcloth and began to clean you up as he explained.

“How do you even know?” you said, your eyes wide with some mix of terror and fascination.

“We told you we met somewhere in the late eighties, right? He met me because I hung out with a group of goths,” he said, and some shards of that conversation came flooding back to you. Something about Marshall screwing around with Mike’s ex… “There was a lot of mixing chemicals to dye hair, and piercing your own eyebrows with sewing needles. That kind of stuff.”

“And they went nuts for the whole vampire thing,” you said, remembering the conversation a little better now.

“Yeah,” Mike said. There was something suspiciously apologetic to his voice. “I did, too. I mean. I was human back then. Okay, long story short; Marshall had this friend, Serafine — probably not her real name, but who cares? — and we used to… hook up.”

“You did what we do,” you said. It wasn’t a question, and the guilty look on his face told you more than you needed to know. This happened in the late eighties. Three decades ago. You didn’t even know him. You weren’t even born! “I’m irrationally pissed about this, Mike.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said. “But, ehm… why?”

“Because, Mike,” you said, slowly walking towards him, apparently scaring him enough that he backed up until he was standing against the wall. “You’re fucking mine.”

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 months

Text

Part 21

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 20 🟣 Part 22

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

Warnings: 18+, not technically smut but there's a BDSM training session involved, D/s dynamic, and a whole lot of feelings.

Word count: 3k

Bingo: Vulnerability (you can find the bingo masterlist here)

A/N: ALRIGHT. I owe one of you a 'congratulations' because you were right! I sincerely hope no one is disappointed (I, for one, love what happens in this chapter — or perhaps rather... what doesn't... Either way, this is how it's gonna be.) This is also my second @henrycavillbingo entry; Vulnerability!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

You carefully snuck into the bathroom when you heard the water turn on. It was pointless, of course, because he’d already heard you, but still.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted you as soon as you set foot in the room, and you muttered some form of a hello back.

“I, eh…” You what? Were you going to come up with some lame excuse? Was that necessary? He’d just shower with vampire-speed if you told him you wanted to take a shower, too… Fuck it. “Can I join you?”

Sherlock looked at you and nodded. “Of course.”

Immediately, you stripped and stepped into the shower, where he pulled you into his arms. With your head on his shoulder and his strong arms around you, everything felt so incredibly alright that you almost forgot why you were there. And that was because despite the fact you were in the shower with him, naked as can be, and despite the passionate kiss he gave you, his hands remained on your waist, or your back, or you hip, but never somewhere else…

“Sherlock, why haven’t we had sex?” you blurted out before you could convince yourself that you didn’t need to have this conversation.

“Because I have no desire to have sex with you,” he replied plainly. His answer made your jaw drop. What did he mean, ‘he didn’t want to’?

“I knew it…” Insecurities took root in your brain — or rather, dug their roots deeper into the fibers of your existence. “You’re not attracted to me.”

“Oh dear,” Sherlock said, shaking his head and letting out an exasperated sigh, “if ever there was a time to dust off the word ‘balderdash’, now would be it.”

“And that means…” Not everyone was well-versed in nonsensical British expressions… You rolled your eyes.

“Hogwash, poppycock, complete and utter bollocks — pardon my French.” Sherlock smiled at your increasingly confused expression. “Nonsense,” he finally clarified, stroking a bit of your hair off your cheek. “I am romantically attracted to you,” he continued, “and I find you very beautiful. I crave physical intimacy with you… I’ll even admit your body is absolutely gorgeous and I completely understand why anyone would find themselves quite distracted by it.”

“But none of that makes you want to screw me?” you said sarcastically.

“Darling, it’s not just you,” he sighed apologetically. “I am not sexually attracted to anyone.”

Oh. Wait… “So, what? You’re ace?” you asked without giving it much thought.

Sherlock shrugged. “I suppose that might be an applicable term, yes,” he said plainly. “We could, though. You know… If you really wanted to.”

“But you prefer not to?”

“I’m afraid I’m horribly indifferent,” he admitted, a slight hint of embarrassment to his voice.

“Then it’s not happening, Sherlock,” you said, taking his face in your hands and lifting it so you could meet his gaze. A sudden realization struck you. “Are you comfortable with this?” You clarified the comment with a quick gesture at your naked bodies.

“Oh, absolutely, darling,” he chuckled. “I quite enjoy how soft you are.” His hands trailed lightly over your sides, and you sighed as you leaned into him.

“Can we continue this conversation in bed?” you asked, your heart bursting with joy when he agreed.

“You do enjoy kissing me, don’t you?” you asked a while later. “Because if you don’t…”

“Darling, I’m nine centuries old. Do you really think you could make me do something I didn’t want to do?” That made sense…

“I just hate to think I ever made you feel uncomfortable,” you whispered.

“Not in the slightest, my love,” he reassured you. “I’m sorry I made you wait for something that wasn’t going to happen. The others told me repeatedly to talk to you, but I… I was scared.”

You didn’t have to ask what he was scared of; the pain in his eyes said it all.

“Nine centuries of abuse, I’m guessing?”

He let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Especially from Charles,” he sneered. “The Duke of Suffolk really couldn’t keep his hands off women. Not his own and not others’. He’s learned some manners now, but he was horrible about it. I doubt he understands, even now, but he accepts me.” He raised his eyebrows at you, morphing his expression into a painful question. “Do you?”

“I, Sherlock,” you said slowly while snuggling closer to his chest, “love you. Dearly. With all my heart, and soul, and I’d say my body, too, but as we’ve established, that won’t be necessary.”

He laughed — this time, it was a genuine laugh — and pulled you close, dragging your leg over his hips.

“Don’t we need to worry about fluids accidentally getting places?” you asked carefully. There was a reason you were strictly opposed to this position with the others while naked.

“I have no desire to sire offspring,” Sherlock chuckled. “I have been sterile since the early 1940’s.”

“Wha— if you never… then why?”

“Just because I prefer not to, doesn’t mean I have never. And the thought of getting someone pregnant — even, or rather, especially accidentally — makes me break out in hives, darling,” he laughed. That made an awful lot of sense, actually. “Now that we’re on the subject; I couldn’t help but overhear August mention to Walter that you were considering…”

Was he talking birth control with you? He was talking birth control with you! It only took you a moment to decide whether or not you were comfortable with that; you were. You very much were.

“Are you okay with having this conversation with me? I can understand if you’d rather speak to your doctor,” he noted. It wasn’t an accusation, just a professional observation. As professional as ‘naked cuddling’ would allow for, anyway.

“Oh, no. It’s fine, really!” You had just never been in a relationship before where talking so openly about these topics was an option… “I just want something I don’t have to think about once it’s in, but… I was just scared of the pain. Mike suggested that August could come with me…”

“I suggested they… we… split the costs.”

Oh. Wow. You were on the verge of saying it wouldn’t be necessary, but the reality of it was that it would be a big help. Besides; they were getting the benefits of it as well. Why shouldn’t they chip in?

“That would be wonderful,” you said after taking a few deep breaths.

“Did she just agree to that? Just… like that?” August appeared in the room, and you pulled the covers up a little higher — fully expecting a remark on how you weren’t hiding anything he hadn’t seen before. It didn’t come.

“I told you she would likely take it better coming from me,” Sherlock said with a grin on his face. Oh, so they’d been scheming behind your back? That didn’t bother you nearly as much as you knew it should, and about 90% of the reason for that was… well, they were looking at you right now, with their gorgeous blue eyes.

August cleared his throat after staring at you for what should have been an uncomfortably long time; “So, you two finally talked it over, huh? Good. Dinner is ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Why did none of you just tell me?” you yelled at Mike, Walter and August after finding out they all knew about Sherlock’s asexuality.

“Not our story to tell, princess.” August shrugged.

“Besides, wouldn’t you have at least been a little mad that he hadn’t talked to you himself?” Mike added before shoveling way too much rice into his mouth.

“We would have forced the two of you to talk eventually,” Marshall continued, not bothering to remember what he’d no doubt once been taught about speaking with a full mouth. “And sooner rather than later, too. It got really annoying after a while.”

“I’m glad that wasn’t necessary,” Sherlock chuckled. “Subtlety is not a widely available resource in this household.”

“I got into the shower with you and ambushed you with ‘hey, why aren’t you boning me?’” What point you were trying to make, you weren’t entirely sure, either, but at least you made Mike laugh so hard he spit his water across the table.

“I never said you are any better,” Sherlock reminded you. “But I’d still rather avoid the three of them plotting a sensitive conversation.”

“It was quite a nice conversation,” you said with a gentle smile.

“I take it she’s staying with you tonight?” August asked kindly, nodding understandingly when Sherlock confirmed that he would very much appreciate that. “I would very much like to borrow her after dinner, in that case.” August had a habit of talking to you like you weren’t there, and for the strangest reason, that didn’t bother you at all — not even when Sherlock nodded in response.

“As long as I get her back in one piece and… at least relatively clean, please?” Two showers a day wasn’t always an excessive luxury when you regularly got dicked down by three different men.

“There’s a surprise on my bed for you, princess,” August muttered in your ear after dinner was done and he was standing at the sink, scraping food scraps into the garbage disposal. “I’ll join you when I finish up with the dishes. Go.” A gentle pat on your ass sent you on your way.

“He’s got good taste. I took a peek,” Walter broke in when you sifted through the contents of the first of several bags, scanning the French labels and gently letting your fingers trail the delicate fabrics — most of it was lace, and all of it was see-through.

“I don’t give a fuck about good taste,” you grumbled — as far as was possible in your thoughts, “this must have cost a fortune! I can’t accept this!”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Oh, fuck him and his logic! “Do you think he’d bankrupt himself to make you look pretty?”

“That’s not the point! I—”

“Marshall, that’s enough.” August. Right behind you. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d sunk to your knees in front of the bed, and now August was standing right behind you.

He kneeled behind you and pulled you back against his chest. “Why is my pretty princess feeling so… uncomfortable and insecure?”

“This is too much, August, I—”

“Shh,” he whispered, raising a hand to your mouth to keep you from talking. “I could gag you. And I will, if necessary.” Curse him and the fact that there was no need for him to ask if you would be okay with that, because he could feel the exact way the suggestion turned your insides to mush and made your head spin.

“I decide when and how I spoil you, princess,” he said as he pulled you backwards into his lap, “not you.”

He kissed your neck just below your ear in such a way that it drew a long moan from you.

“Now, you’re going to try these on — I know they’ll fit, so I took off the tags. There’s no returning any of them, so just accept the gift already,” he said before trailing his tongue down your neck. You writhed in his lap, barely able to suppress a chuckle when you felt his erection beneath your ass.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing I get hard for you?” He rolled his hips against your backside for a moment, before disappearing from underneath you and appearing again on the edge of his bed, leaving you kneeling before him.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said with an impossible smirk that made you want to claw it off his face.

He made you show him every set he’d bought you, each one more beautiful than the last, and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself — and indirectly to him, and Marshall and Mikey — that you’d missed this.

Mike wanted titties, and therefore eliminated everything that stood between him and his goal at his earliest convenience, and it was nice to have a man lust after you in something pretty for a change. Even if that ‘something pretty’ was a few scraps of needlessly expensive lace and some underwire. Something told you Marshall would be more appreciative of these as well. He’d already let you know he thought August had good taste… that meant he’d also like these, right?

“Last one,” August said with a dirty grin when he handed you a tiny black lace contraption that took you some time to even figure out before you could begin to put it on.

“You can’t be serious,” you muttered under your breath as you wrangled straps and cups and other elements into position. And after all that effort, you were still very decidedly mostly fucking naked.

“You don’t like it?” August pouted as he got up from his bed and walked over to where you were standing, staring at yourself in the mirror. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and rubbed his very obvious bulge against your ass. “It’s my personal favorite.”

“Putting this on is a nightmare, taking it off… you’ll just rip it.” It was a weak protest — you knew it, he knew it. Marshall knew it, even though maybe he wasn’t strictly supposed to. And August was about to point it out, too.

“I don’t have to take it off, princess.” No. He didn’t. The quarter cups left your nipples exposed — maybe even Mike would enjoy this particular number — and the damn thing was ehm… ouvert. Which was — as everyone knew — French for ‘oh, hello, my pussy is on full display in this thing’.

“Now,” he said in a tone that immediately turned your knees to jelly, “Mike told me that you don’t shy away from a good spanking, and I’m in no mood for an attitude — I rarely am, admittedly — so it’s your choice; mouth off tonight, or sit comfortably tomorrow.”

“Hm, I’ll need a moment to consider th—ow!” One sharp, stinging smack against your exposed behind down, undoubtedly countless more to go. Unless you…

“It truly looks very beautiful on you, princess.” And somehow, with those words, he shattered your defenses, your attitude, your will to oppose. “Now, be a good girl and put your arms behind your head for me, and spread your legs a bit.”

He gently guided you into the position he was talking about, then took a step back to look at you. No… admire you. Before correcting around seven things about your posture, of course.

“And drop your shoulders,” he instructed before he finally seemed happy with your stance. “Good girl.”

He circled you, slowly, and you responded by dropping your chin to your chest and staring at the floor while heat crept up your neck in a staggering tempo, paying for your mistake with a swift and hard smack on your ass — and then a second one to the other cheek.

“Head up, princess,” he snapped, appearing in front of you and standing so close he could rest his forehead against yours. “You stay in this position until I tell you otherwise, do you understand? Don’t nod, speak up.”

“Yes, sir.” It slipped out, promise! Nothing about you had had any kind of intention to call him that, you…

“It’s okay, princess. I like it. Are you comfortable with it?” His eyes were kind, his lips curved up slightly in a polite yet loving smile.

“Yes,” you muttered.

“Not a hard requirement, but I do like to hear you say it,” he added, softly stroking your cheek. “You can lower your arms, princess.”

You did as he told you, keeping your legs a little further than shoulder width apart.

“Why the, eh… position?” you asked carefully, afraid of what the answer could be.

“I enjoy looking at you,” he replied. “Consider it an inspection, of sorts, although I promise you I have no intent to degrade you — much.” A smile rugged at the corners of his mouth.

“What?” Your voice was little more than a whisper.

“Don’t try to tell me you’re not dying for someone to actually call you their… hm… what did I overhear back then?” Oh no… what had he overheard? “Perfect little cockslut?” Oh. Oh. August let out a harsh chuckle.

“I…” Yeah, you what? He was right, for fuck’s sake! “I suppose as long as you make it sound like a compliment, I’ll take it as one.”

He laughed, and gently pulled you into his side. “There’s one more thing I want to show you tonight, is that okay?”

You nodded and quietly followed along when he guided you towards the wall, which he had you face.

“Now, princess,” he said softly. “I want you to bend over. Hands or forearms on the wall, please. Feet a little further apart… good girl.”

The praise sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned eagerly into August’s touch as he ran a hand down your behind.

“This is the position that will be used for punishment,” he said with a hint of a smile to his voice. “Which is why I’m showing it to you now. I have a feeling we’ll need it quite a lot.”

“You’re really all chains and whips and safewords, aren’t you?” The question was out before you even realized you’d opened your mouth.

“We all have our own ways of dealing with centuries of sexual repression,” he answered. He was only half-joking.

“August…”

“It’s alright, princess,” he chuckled. “I simply enjoy inflicting pleasure. Come here…” He let himself fall on his bed, and you left your position by the wall to gladly snuggle into his side.

“August,” you whispered, this time so softly you hoped it wouldn’t leave this room. If there was anyone in the house with the knowledge and expertise…

“Yes, princess? It’s alright, at this volume he won’t hear you.”

“Is there any way to tie a vampire up without breaking furniture or…” You couldn’t look him in the eye while you said it, and you agitatedly shushed August’s uncontrolled laughter that followed your question.

“Is Mike in trouble?” he asked quietly. You noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eyes when you finally met his gaze.

“Is Mike ever not in trouble?”

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 24 days

Text

Part 23

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 22 🟣 Part 24

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

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, a little ace-angst...

Word count: 2k

A/N: More vampire feels for everyone!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie @plaidcat4815 @wa-ni (Fucking dumblr won't let me tag y'all)

“Darling, can you come to the kitchen for a moment?” Sherlock asked calmly. You rounded the corner and looked at them suspiciously — the way they were all sitting around the kitchen table with serious looks on their faces made the whole thing… just kind of sus.

“Did someone die?” you asked as you joined them at the table. This was not a nice way to spend your time after the lovely shower you’d just taken.

“Oh, no! Nothing of the sort,” Sherlock reassured you. That was comforting, at least.

“We just wanted to ask you…” August started, only to be interrupted by a very excited Mike.

“We want to take a little trip!”

“In fact,” Sherlock clarified, “we would love for you to spend the summer with us… with our family.”

“You mean,” you replied slowly, “I’d get to meet the others?”

“Yes,” August answered. “There’s only two of them, no worries.” You had been wondering how big their coven was, and it was nice to hear there weren’t too many introductions to be made.

“And one of them would be Charles, correct?” It was more or less a guess, but an educated one.

“Yes. There’s a chance my brother will show up — it is quite a nice house we have…”

“Then why live here?” If they had a nice house somewhere, then why did they share this apartment?

“Sherlock moved here to teach, Mike moved here to go to college,” Marshall answered.

Mike interrupted again: “Marshall missed me too much.” You raised your eyebrows and rolled your eyes, but Marshall chuckled and shook his head.

“He’s not lying,” he said. “It took me nearly a century to be able to live apart from Sherlock. What Mike neglects to mention is that he missed me, too.”

“Did not!” Mike faux-protested. “I only called him up on the verge of crying three or four times a week!”

“At the risk of sounding completely insensitive… What? Why?” you wondered.

“We suspect it’s a way to protect new vampires, and people,” Sherlock explained. “The very young ones can be unpredictable. It’s not as much of a problem these days; there are special feeding programs for juveniles — they feed more often for the first year or so… Anyway, before feeding became legal the way it is now, it was important that youngsters learned to… well, to be quite frank about it, they had to learn to not kill everyone they bit.”

“A hungry young vampire left unattended can — and will — kill a grown man in about three minutes,” August helpfully added. “Supervision was very necessary.”

“Especially during those times when secrecy was of utmost importance,” Sherlock continued. “One wrong move… It can be tricky to gain full control over the new levels of strength and speed.”

“Not to mention those damn fangs,” Mike noted. “Just getting the bite right is tricky in the beginning.”

“You don’t just… bite?” you asked.

“When we’re close to you, princess,” August said with a strange smirk, “we can feel every vein in your body.” Did that have to sound so… ominous? “That’s the easy part. The hard part is aiming. It makes sense to have someone teach you.”

“Most of us feed exclusively on their… let’s say ‘mentor’, for the first six months,” Marshall added. “Then, by the time they move on to human blood, they’ll have something resembling restraint. Usually.” He glared at Mike.

“Okay, my first human was not a success, but…”

“It was a disaster, Mike,” Marshall said, rolling his eyes.

“He didn’t… you didn’t… right?” You could only hope they understood what you were trying to ask.

“No, she was fine. But it was a bloodbath,” Marshall grumbled. “A waste of perfectly good food.”

“Says the one with the knife kink…” you blurted out.

“I wouldn’t have dreamed of wasting a drop of blood back then. Remember that feeding was mostly illegal during that time,” Marshall reminded you. “I almost lost a very willing volunteer that night.”

“How did that conversation even go? ‘Hello, would you mind if my intern performed the procedure today?’” Everyone laughed.

“Something like that,” Marshall said eventually. “I told Manu — her name was Manuela — I had a friend, someone like me… She jumped at the chance to be his first human.”

“She was great,” Mike remembered. “Very solid about the pain…”

“She got off on the pain, genius,” Marshall laughed.

“I know that,” Mike sighed. “But even then. Stop making me look like an idiot, I know you know what I mean!”

“The difference between enjoying the bite and enjoying the aftermath of the bite,” August guessed — and judging from the looks on Mike and Marshall’s faces, he was correct.

“Sherlock?” He was gone. Suddenly. Not that that was so strange for him — you knew what he could do — but to leave like that, without warning?

“He’s in his room,” the guys said at the same time.

Of course, you were the last one to reach the door — but the first one to knock.

“Come in,” Sherlock said reluctantly, and you opened his bedroom door. “I’m sorry I disappeared.”

“What’s going on?” you asked, sitting down on his bed, and reaching for him in a silent plea for him to join you. He did, wrapping an arm around your shoulders almost painfully tightly.

“I remember this time so very differently,” he whispered. “Many… volunteers, back in the day, were exactly as they describe. But many weren’t simply in it for the pain…”

“I mean, of course there was a sexual edge to it for many of them, but…” Mike’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Right. Shit…”

“It was particularly difficult to find volunteers willing to forego the…”

“Boinking,” Mike suggested.

Sherlock looked up at him. “You can’t possibly think that would have been my choice of words, Mike.”

“Fine, amorous congress, better?”

“Marginally,” Sherlock chuckled. “Even the ones who seemed content with such an arrangement at first often became bored with the lack of…”

“Boinking,” Mike said again. “Ow! Joke, people. Joke!” He rubbed the back of his head, where August had hit him.

“What did you do?” you asked, both concerned and curious.

“I had to eat,” he answered plainly. “There weren’t too many options. Telling people what I was, was dangerous enough in and of itself. I simply viewed the” — his eyes shot up to look at Mike for a second — “intercourse as payment for the service rendered. I should add that, during this phase of my life, I was far more repulsed by the concept of sexual activity than I am now.”

“That… changes?” you asked carefully.

“There is some fluidity to it, yes,” he replied quietly. “Completely involuntary and ungovernable, of course.” He sighed. “So far, the height of my interest in physical relations has been the willingness to please a trusted romantic partner. Which is not a state in which I find myself at this current time — regrettably, I might add. I’m sorry.”

Was he apologizing? “You are not apologizing to me for being who you are, Sherlock,” you said sternly. “I swear I’ll have one of them kick you!” You gestured at the others.

“I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not enough for you,” he whispered.

“Look at me,” you said, placing your hand on the side if his face. “You are more than enough for me. Our relationship is… whole. It’s not lacking, it’s not incomplete, it’s everything it’s supposed to be.”

“If that were true,” he said, “you wouldn’t have wondered why we weren’t sleeping together.”

“Oh, good God,” you sighed. “That was because of some misaligned expectations on my part, and you know it, Holmes! If you desperately want to apologize for something, apologize for not managing those expectations sooner.”

He gave you a kind smile that was unable to hide the pain in his eyes, and took your hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “I still wish it were different.”

“Well, I don’t ,” you snapped. “Because I love you. Now, tell me more about this trip we’re taking, please.” You threw an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “Who is this mysterious coven member I’ve never heard any of you talk about? And are my, ehm… services expected to be extended to them? I mean, I—”

“No,” August snarled unexpectedly aggressively. He calmed down slightly when Marshall put a hand on his chest. “No,” he said again, this time whispering so softly you could barely hear him. Now, August having a strained relationship with Charles wasn’t exactly news to you, but even then, this reaction seemed a bit extreme…

“August, I know you don’t like him much, but we both know the most likely scenario,” Marshall replied to August’s outburst.

“And what is the most likely scenario?” Mike fidgeted with his own fingers, clearly nervous.

“That I will want to,” you said without thinking. “That’s it, right? What everyone is thinking? That I’ll want to feed them?”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “Though the agreed upon parameters of out contract do not extend to them, and you will not be responsible for keeping them alive.”

“So, by all means,” August hissed, “refuse him service.”

“August,” Sherlock warned, and to your surprise, August relaxed immediately. “Play nice.” There was an edge to his voice, almost a kind of buzz. The words felt fuzzy in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Remember the hierarchy, love?” Marshall reminded you.

“Right…” You’d almost forgotten about that — probably because Sherlock never really pulled rank — just like you’d forgotten about the fact that…

“You can boss us around too, princess,” August said with a smile. “Although I’m quite glad you… don’t.” At least not to him…

“Mystery coven member, guys!” you reminded them of your other question.

“Ah, right,” Sherlock said with a smile. “He is the man who turned me and Charles, nearly a millennium ago. His name is Melot.”

“He’s close to, what? 1400 years old now?” Mike asked, more than said.

“Give or take,” August shrugged. “It doesn’t come down to the century once you start talking about those kinds of numbers.”

“His history is interesting, but you’ll have to ask him about it,” Marshall said before you could voice any of the questions that popped into your mind. “Pack your bags, love.”

“Don’t you have to, like… call them? Let them know we’re coming? Or did you guys plan this whole trip without ever letting me know?” It wouldn’t have surprised you, but you would have had a thing or two to say about it, for sure.

“He knows we’re coming,” August said plainly. Why was he suddenly holding your suitcase? “Anything already in here stays in here.”

You glared at him, getting up off the bed and closing the distance between you with a single step. “August Walker, you… you…”

“Use your words, princess.” He grinned, and you caught a hint of his fangs. It was infuriating.

And then you felt it.

Heat. Strength. Power.

“You insolent jackass,” you growled. “If you know everything so well, then why don’t you pack up the rest of my stuff. And you had better get it right the first time.”

A low growl escaped him before he disappeared from the room, and the strange feeling disappeared.

“Wow,” you said. “Never thought I could actually make August my bitch…”

“You may have won the battle, darling,” Sherlock said. An amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “But I doubt you’ll win the war.”

“I, for one, doubt you’ll be able to sit when he’s through with you,” Mike chuckled. “He wanted to spank the shit out of you as soon as he sensed the shift, but he couldn’t. Because hierarchy…”

“You did nothing wrong, love,” Marshall, as always, managed flawlessly to put your unspoken panic at ease. “If anything, I’d say he had it coming.”

“I’ll talk you through the etiquette during the flight,” Sherlock chuckled, no longer trying to hide his smile. “You’ll learn to control it, eventually.”

“Okay hold on for one teeny tiny little moment there,” you said. “What do you mean by ‘during the flight’? Where the hell are we going?”

“Home.” Mike said with a big smile.

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 month

Text

Part 22

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 21 🟣 Part 23

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

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, abusive parents, drama, angst, more drama.

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Alright so actually I'd completely forgotten that I had this finished, and I found it today, so... enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @ellethespaceunicorn @mis-lil-red @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

Three weeks later you had all but forgotten about Katie’s threats, and you were getting ready to spend a day in with your four favorite guys, gathering snacks, drinks and blankets for a cozy movie-marathon — something you felt you very much deserved because not even August had been able to ward you of all the discomfort of having that IUD put in.

Your plans were disrupted by the doorbell. Sherlock opened the door, and though you couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, you recognized that voice immediately.

“May I inquire what this is about?” Sherlock asked politely, not immediately ready to let the strangers inside.

“We were informed that our daughter is living here, and that we should go see her.” You’d recognize your mother’s distinctive accent anywhere. It cut through all other sounds — and not in a good way… Sherlock turned to look at you, and you nodded as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Darlin’!” your mom pulled you into a hug, and after that your dad did the same, only in a much more possessive way. Your mother looked around the room, at the table full of snacks, the nest on the couch and the four guys in the living room. “Are these friends of yours?”

“These are, eh… my roommates,” you stammered, surprised you had even managed to choke out a single word of that sentence. This was not going to end well.

“You’ve been living with four men?” Your father looked as though his face was about to explode. You could have seen that coming. You should have seen that coming. Just like you could have predicted your mom’s gasping and proverbial pearl-clutching. What were they even doing he—Katie! That bitch.

“Yes, mom,” you said, your voice betraying you. They were never going to approve of this arrangement, never mind the other arrangement you had with the guys. Maybe there was a chance you wouldn’t have to tell them about that.

Of course, they weren’t just going to leave — especially not after such a long drive — so August made everyone coffee while trying to keep you as calm as possible. Mike tried a few times to get closer to you, but you shook your head. Having four guys as roommates was strike one. A boyfriend would be strike two, and possibly also three. Learning that any of them was a vampire would likely give your dad an aneurysm. Not that that would be such a bad thing, but still. You were so completely unprepared to have this conversation…

So you drank your coffee and introduced your partners as friends, tearing off little pieces of your heart with every word, not so much because of the lie you told your parents, but because you couldn’t gather the strength to tell your family about your situation. Yes, it was unconventional, and yes, it was absolutely going to cause some really big problems… but you loved the guys so much. Then why was it so hard to choose their love?

“They’re your family, I promise we all understand,” Marshall let you know, and you thanked the universe for his gift and the fact that it was becoming so well-established outside of feeding situations.

“You’re my family too,” you replied, fighting back tears. “Probably more than they are.”

He promised you that you’d get through this, that life would go back to normal, and that your parents didn’t have to find out about the details of your relationship with the guys, and it all seemed to be headed that way — until something startled your mother and she dropped her empty coffee cup as she reached to put it back on the table. Unthinkingly as ever, Mike snatched it before it could hit the ground — a feat you could have passed off as ‘incredible reflexes’, if not for the fact that he was on the other side of the room from your mother when it happened, and he was back in his chair with the cup in his hands after barely a second.

“Darlin’, come here,” your father said slowly as he got up from his chair. “Now.”

“No, dad, sit down.”

“We have to leave,” he insisted. “That man is a vampire.” He held a hand out to you, and in that moment half of your childhood flashed before your eyes. Countless memories of being pulled along, dragged away from all things deemed dangerous and ungodly… Endless lectures on dangers you now knew never even existed in the first place. The amount of times that hand had struck you for disobedience and being ‘too curious for your own good’ — whatever the hell that meant.

“I’m aware of that,” you answered, your voice surprisingly even.

As per your predictions, your dad’s face looked like he was about to explode. “Y-you’re… aware of that?”

“Honey, you… you knew he was a vampire, and you chose to live with him anyway?” Your mother was pale as a sheet and looked like she was about to faint.

“I didn’t know at first,” you explained quietly, “and when he told me… I was shocked, of course. But… it didn’t change anything. He was still the guy I met… the guy I… fell in love with.” Cat, say goodbye to bag.

You focused your attention on the throbbing vein on your father’s forehead, so you could avoid looking into his eyes for a moment longer.

“Do I understand correctly that you are living with four men, one of whom is a vampire, and you are also seeing that boy? That… monster?” Mommy dearest was three seconds away from smoke coming out of her ears, dad’s face displayed an interesting mix of terror and fury. And you… you were finally fed up with all of this.

“No, mom, you’re mistaken,” you spoke slowly as the rational part of your brain begged you not to do what you were about to do. “I’m living with four men, all vampires…”

“Don’t say it,” Marshall broke into your thoughts, “please. They’ll never forgive you. Think about this.”

He was right, of course, and you should think about this a while longer. Blowing up your relationship with your parents on a whim was probably not a great idea, not to mention that they were only here because Katie was such a bitch. And Marshall was right: they’d never forgive you.

“After everything we’ve given you, everything we’ve done for you… we let you go to college!” Your dad spoke through gritted teeth, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “And you thank us by getting involved with these miscreants? You’re coming home, you ungrateful little whore!”

He raised a hand to hit you, but Marshall was faster. Of course he was faster. As soon as your father’s hand connected with Walter’s body, you heard a strange, loud tick — one that reminded you of the electric fences around your old neighbor’s yard. Whatever it was, it made your father retreat.

“Marshall…” You reached for him, only to be pulled back by August.

“Don’t touch him right now,” he warned you quietly. “You’ll get hurt.”

“He attacked me!” your father screamed — presumably mostly at your mother, but who knew…

“Young lady, you are coming home with us,” your mother said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Back to where it’s safe, far away from these abominations.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon.” Your father seemed to have forgotten the mysterious incident with Marshall, who had now reluctantly stepped aside and seemed to have regained his composure. “Do not go against your mother, young lady, or…”

“Or what? You’ll hit me again? I don’t think any of them will let that happen,” you said, gesturing around you at the guys. “And I don’t think I will, either. I’m not going anywhere. I belong here.”

“You belong with your family,” your father snarled.

“I believe I just said that.” Tears escaped your eyes as you said it.

“You’re truly choosing these creatures over your own flesh and blood?” your father inquired angrily.

“Oh they’re more my blood than you can possibly imagine.” And that was the precise moment all remaining bridges went up in flames. Had your mother been wearing pearls, she’d be clutching them, and your dad… The anger in his face disappeared, making room for a completely blank expression that carried more hatred than anything you’d ever seen before.

“You’re feeding them.” Not a question, very much an accusation. And a correct one at that. Your father didn’t need an answer. “We’re done here.”

“Dad…”

“You are no daughter of mine,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “I thought we could save you, but this sin will never be forgiven.”

They left quietly, leaving the five of you behind in your own bubble of deafening silence.

It took a while for you to speak. “Mike,” you whispered, “I’m going to get so totally unreasonably mad at you. I’m already sorry, and I won’t mean a word of whatever I’m about to say…”

“That’s okay, Sweetcheeks. Kinda deserve it.”

“I… you…” But whatever words you had planned on throwing at him got caught in your throat, and before you fully realized you were moving, you were on your way to your bedroom, where you dropped down on the bed, no longer able to fight back your tears.

Some time went by and the mattress dipped next to you, and two arms wrapped around you. Mike. Then again, and another pair of arms. Sherlock.

“Can we…”

“Get in here, both of you,” you grumbled. This bed was not big enough for all of you, but fuck that.

Marshall got in behind Mike, August behind Sherlock.

“Hm, this hasn’t happened in forty years,” Marshall mused as he squeezed both you and Mike close.

“What the hell happened in the eighties, damn,” you laughed.

“We could show you,” Mike said as he snuggled closer to you, suggestive eyebrow wiggle included.

“I have no problem with the cuddling, but if this turns into an orgy, I’m gone,” Sherlock warned half-jokingly.

They all laughed. Half-heartedly at first, but soon… the sound of them was genuine and deep and warm, like a blanket and a warm bath, all at the same time.

“Did I fall asleep?” It was getting dark outside, so you must have, right? Sherlock was still holding you, but Mike was gone. Apparently, Marshall had taken his place.

“You did, darling,” Sherlock answered. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird…” As was to be expected after such an intense break up with your parents. “Is it bad that I don’t feel as bad as I think I should feel? Where’s Mike?”

“He had to get out of the house. He feels guilty,” August said calmly.

“I couldn’t have bluffed my way out of this forever,” you sighed. “And I know they’re not going to change. I’m so sorry for everything they said about you.”

“I’d say we’ve heard worse, but… it was up there. For me, at least.” Mike. Standing in the doorway one moment, sitting at the foot of the bed the next. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t caught that cup…”

“Like I said, Mikey… I couldn’t have kept this from them. Even if this had gone over well, Katie would have told them eventually.” You reached for him, and he immediately took that to mean ‘please dive on top of me this instant, preferably face-first into my cleavage’. It did not mean that, but it was fine. More than fine, even. You ran a hand through his messy curls and smiled at your favorite idiot.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” You were fairly sure you’d never completely grow used to sweet August.

“Someone could explain to me what the hell was going on with” — you turned around so you were facing Marshall — “you… And then we can get to our movie night, maybe?” Mike immediately jumped up, mumbling something about snacks, and disappeared.

“Right, that…” Marshall said. “I can tell you, but I can also show you… I promise I won’t hurt you.”

With your curiosity thoroughly piqued, how could you refuse? You put your arm on the covers like he asked, and gasped in surprise when he ran a hand over it. Little… pricks, of some kind, stung your skin as he moved his hand. It felt like…

“Electricity?” you asked. Marshall nodded. “You tased my dad?”

“I suppose you could say that,” he responded calmly — maybe too calmly for someone who was admitting to electrocuting your father. “It’s not that dramatic, love.” Right. Mind reading. “As far as we know, I can manipulate existing electrical currents.”

“Can you turn the lights off?” you blurted out. They flickered for a moment, and he smiled at you. So, yes. He could.

“I don’t know how it works, just that it does,” he shrugged — for as far as possible when one is lying in bed, anyway.

A dirty smirk revealed he knew what you were thinking. “Pondering the possibilities, are we?” he said softly as he ran a hand over your arm again. The feeling raised goosebumps all over your arm. “We’ll continue that experiment at a time when it doesn’t make Sherlock insanely uncomfortable.”

“Sorry, Sherlock,” you mumbled.

“It’s alright, darling,” he replied. “We should join Mike, I think he’s done setting up.”

Marshall carried you to the living room and pulled you into his side as he sat down on the couch, while August put your feet in his lap. Mike, who just came back with a cup of tea for you, whined softly.

“Do you want attention?” you asked with a smile, already knowing what the answer would be. Mike nodded furiously. You gestured at the floor in front of the couch. “Come sit here. You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

You’d asked the guys a million times if they weren’t uncomfortable on the floor, and they’d sworn they weren’t, but you still felt slightly awkward asking Mike to sit there. He hummed softly when you ran your fingers through his hair, and reluctantly reached for the remote.

“Movie?”

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