The tension between them had been building, silent but palpable, until it finally erupted into— this. Isaiah wasn’t someone to raise his voice or lash out, but when he was tense and people treated him disrespectfully, there was a cold precision to the way he chose his words, each one carrying a deliberate weight. And he knew his words could hurt. His calm demeanor only seemed to infuriate Zeev more, who fired back with an edge, frustration in his words. ”You're using my words against me.” Isaiah stopped, turning around, his gaze fixed on Zeev. He wanted to get away from this situation, to smoke a cigarette and give both of them some space so things would calm down again. The situation was on the verge of turning ugly (and Isaiah knew, that he tended to make them ugly if the other one was acting irrational) and frankly, Isaiah wasn’t particularly known for holding back when it came to rhetorics. He was smart — and he was aware of that.
”Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he told his boyfriend and looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t lose control. Instead, his eyes narrowed, his mind going through their conversation again, piecing together exactly what had been said. He couldn't be serious. Zeev’s accusation stung, but Isaiah wasn’t about to let it derail him. He didn’t twist words — he listened, deeply, and maybe that was the problem. If Zeev didn’t like having his thoughts mirrored back to him with such clarity, he dated the wrong person. The other repeated what he had said. ”I’m not using your words against you, I’m holding you accountable for what you’re saying, Zeev. If you feel uncomfortable with that, we have a more serious problem than ‚me using your words against you‘.” It was a blunt truth, one that cut through the air between them. Isaiah could see an emotion in Zeev’s eyes that he wasn’t particularly familiar with. There was something deeper there, something raw and unspoken. The hurt lingered between them, neither willing to give ground, both afraid to reveal what was hidden underneath the words. ”But if you wanna fight dirty, be my guest.”
❛ i guess i'm scared that i don't have what it takes to not fuck this up. ❜
Isaiah leaned back into the warm water, his arms wrapped loosely around Zeev, nose buried in the wet hair of his boyfriend (ㅤhis!!!, he thought, Zeev chose him!!!ㅤ) as they laid nestled together in the tub. The world outside seemed distant, the only sound their breathing, a gentle swash of water every once in a while when they moved. Isaiah’s fingers traced soft patterns across Zeev’s chest. It was a rare moment of quiet, where Isaiah's mind could slow down, if only for a while. Zeev however, always had this effect on him. Where all of the sudden the world went quiet, things fell into place and there was order. Other people took ritalin for that. Isaiah was merely in love. And very much so.
His thumb brushed the curve of Zeev’s collarbone, his touch light and absentminded, as though his fingers were following the rhythm of his thoughts — gentle, but persistent. But while Isaiah was lost in the moment, within Zeev, it seemed like something heavier kept his mind busy. He seemed lost in thought, staring at his hands, his wrists, almost apathetically, as he mumbled: ”I guess I’m scared that I don't have what it takes to not fuck this up.”
Isaiah had felt the shift before Zeev said a word. The doubt, the unease — it seeped into the quiet between them, like a change in the air he couldn’t ignore. Neither of them could. The thoughts that must’ve swirled around Zeev’s mind, fed with worry, but instead of rushing to fill the space with verbal reassurances, Isaiah stayed silent. He knew Zeev, knew that words wouldn’t reach him right now.
Instead, Isaiah pulled him closer, his arms tightening gently around Zeev’s frame, offering comfort in the way he knew would reach him best — through touch. Zeev had always been a rather physical person and sometimes Isaiah felt, that through touch, it was easier for him to get through to whatever had occupied his mind. His hand moved slowly over Zeev’s chest, resting there, steady and warm, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. Zeev needed this, the closeness, the unspoken reassurance that came not from conversation, but from the simple act of being held. That he wasn’t alone in this world. Sometimes, Isaiah thought, he felt like Zeev was caught in this narrative he had; that he wasn’t worthy of something. Or that he was alone. Despite the efforts the American had poured in their relatively short relationship so far, Isaiah sometimes had the feeling, that there was something inside the witcher he couldn’t quite grasp. He wasn’t even sure if Zeev could. Or anyone, for that matter. Through touch, all the podcast host hoped for was that in this moment, in this quiet, Zeev would feel it — the reassurance, the understanding. The love. That he didn’t have to be perfect, didn’t have to worry about messing up anything, because Isaiah wasn’t going anywhere. Except for when Zeev would ask for it. ”What’s the matter, my love?” he spoke softly against the damp skin, placing soft kisses onto the other’s shoulder. ”Do you want to talk about it?”
The warm, dim light from the bar seeped outside through the two large windows and illuminated the cobblestones in front, bathing them in an orange glow, at odds with the rustic ambience inside. Isaiah stood outside, it was mid-January, the winter was harsh and stubborn and still terribly cold, so the blonde couldn't even blame @sonnenreich for wanting to stay inside. Getting him to go out at all during the winter months was a real endeavor, as the Sundawner always acted as if every little walk was a veritable odyssey on which he had to overcome insurmountable obstacles (it was cold, that was the obstacle—and without a hat, but simply because Zeev was refusing to wear one, thus Isaiah always asked him several times; some days he reluctantly gave in under protest, other days he vehemently denied it. Today was one of the latter.) which he always whined about to his boyfriend. Isaiah had to suppress his grin every time and Zeev apparently had to as well. Sometimes Isaiah thought Zeev only made such protests because it made the American laugh. That warmed his heart.
It hadn't even been three weeks since they had celebrated Christmas together for the first time—and in the process they had both confessed their love for each other. Zeev's first winter in Michigan (a particularly merciless one), Zeev's first New Year's Eve, Zeev's first Christmas with the extended family (and at the same time getting to know the family of eight, including Isaiah's grandmother, who had flirted uninhibitedly with the witcher and said thirteen times what a handsome young man he was. That she was glad that Isaiah had met such a polite, attentive and respectful man, and such an attractive one at that. Isaiah had blushed and taken Zeev's hand under the table). And now Zeev's first bar night with Isaiah's high school friends and thus, his extended circle of acquaintances.
“I've heard Chelsea Simmons is expecting her second child with Kyle,” Trevor had commented and Isaiah took a drag on his cigarette, nodding and wrapping his arms closer around his body, tucking his coat closer around him. He nodded, not knowing what to say to that and looked in through the window at Zeev, who was talking to a young blonde Isaiah didn't know. She was an acquaintance of Lucas and had struck up a conversation with Zeev because she was a florist and Isaiah had told her about his mother's garden design with the help of Zeev. The American didn't know if they were still talking about it, but he looked happy. An open body posture as he leaned casually against the bar and took a sip of his drink. The blonde's attention seemed to be completely focused on his boyfriend. Again, his heart warmed.
“I never knew you were into guys,” Sophia commented at one point and he looked at her, grinned and ran his fingers through his hair. Wordlessly, he shrugged. “Dunno, I fell in love with him and that pretty much seals the deal for me. I don't fall in love with a dick but with a person.”
“Are you top or bottom?” Trevor asked bluntly and Sophia slapped him hard on the upper arm while Isaiah smiled and looked up at the sky. He didn't want to comment at first, but couldn't help but make a remark.
“Feels pretty good to have someone who knows how to suck a dick, you know?” he smirked and looked at Trevor, who laughed, then at Sophia, who did the same.
Isaiah had long since stopped being surprised by the crude questions and lack of inhibition; Trevor spoke before he thought and at the same time he knew that he wasn't doing anything out of malice.
“Does he have a brother around the same age who wants to marry me perhaps?”
Isaiah smirked and shook his head. “Only sisters.”
He was silent for a few moments, taking a drag on his cigarette and looking at Sophia, who sighed and leaned against him, he stroked her back and warmed her, smiling weakly down at her. “Can I borrow him for a night? Or some years?”
The podcast host laughed and looked down at her, stroking her hair gently and hugging her closer. “He's not my property, Sophia. I mean you can ask him but that'd be kinda awkward.” She just nodded and put her arms around the blond.
“I wanna find someone like him and not someone like... Joshua.”
“I know you do, love. But I found my Zeev out and about in Scotland...”
“Yeah... He doesn't sound Scottish, though.”
Isaiah grinned and said that he couldn't have fallen in love with him if he did, because his understanding of Scottish was rather—limited. A brief flashback to Theo, then he focused on the present again. And when he looked inside again and saw that it was no longer the blonde who was talking to Zeev, but some beefy guy, he became more attentive and straightened up. As the stranger pushed Zeev, Isaiah dropped his cigarette and walked back into the pub, looking at his boyfriend, startled, and then at the guy standing across from him, about to lose his cool.
Protecting and de-escalating, the American stood between them, raised both hands defensively and looked down at his counterpart. “Hey, we don't want any trouble...”
“That fucking piece of shit hit on my wife!”
Isaiah looked back at Zeev who was standing behind him and furrowed his eyebrows slightly, then looked forward again at the other.
“I think there's been a misunderstanding... It's the Brits, always polite. Actually, that's how I-”
“I don't fucking give a shit, I'll show him some fucking manners.”
Isaiah took a step to the side as he did, so he was still standing in front of him. For a few more minutes he had talked to him, meanwhile sending Zeev back to the table, whereupon his conversation partner had unabashedly followed him. This had caused a lot more turmoil and Isaiah had done his best to not only defuse the situation, but also to direct the aggression towards himself.
At some point, the beefy man with a very fragile ego and trust issues only a professional would be able to unwrap, had disappeared, taking a few of his friends with him and taking the opportunity to spit in Isaiah's face. An altercation that ended rather harmlessly. One of the other guests had given him a napkin, which he used to wipe the saliva off his face before he went back to the table, sat down next to Zeev and gently stroked his thigh, then through his hair. “Are you alright, baby?” he had asked worried, asking what had happened, but before the Sundawner could answer, the woman on the other side to him had spoken and apologized on behalf of her husband.
With a nod, he took a drag of his cigarette and looked at Zeev, who was standing in front of him with his arms crossed, himself leaning against his car and taking a smoke before heading inside. Isaiah pushed himself off the hood, stretched slightly and smiled at his boyfriend, kissed his forehead, put his free arm around him and stroked his back. “We were together when I was... 17, I think. Or 18... I don't remember, but she's nice. You'll like her,” he smiled encouragingly at him and studied his eyes, gently stroking his cheek, eventually kissing it, his lips moving in a gentle line, placing soft confessions of love on his neck, smiling up against the Sundawner's skin. “There's nothing to worry about, baby, I'm head over heels in love with you. And I'm not the Isaiah I was like 10 years ago. And she's very happy with Kyle, I think.”
His high school friends already knew Zeev and Sophia had hugged the Sundawner for a long time, whispering something in his ear, to which he had responded with a smirk. Meanwhile, the podcast host greeted his friends, shook their hands, hugged them and looked towards the other faces a little further back; he didn't know every single name, but figured he would learn them again eventually. It wasn't exactly an official reunion, too few had actually been invited. Chelsea and Lucas, who had become friends about three years after high school, had organized the nice get-together and it ended up taking place in Chelsea's garden. A small barbecue party, with a +1 if needed—so Isaiah had brought Zeev. His boyfriend was always a welcome guest, both with his family and his friends, and it was nice to see how they welcomed him. As if he had always been there. Only Chelsea didn't know him yet.
“Isaiah!” she called through the hallway, smiling wider, her blonde hair a little longer than last time, and she fastened her pace as she took the last few steps towards him, putting her arms around his neck and smiling genuinely, hugging him tightly. “It's so good to see you again! And how pretty you look! And that must be your plus one! Zeev, right? I'm Chelsea, I've heard so much about you, it's so great to finally meet you!” she smiled at him and hugged him tightly too, without the other being able to say much. Isaiah, meanwhile, smiled and nodded at her words, following her outside with Zeev. The long table was lavishly decorated, Kyle had already lit the barbecue and waved to those present, his smile forced. The two were still not on particularly good terms, but Isaiah held no grudges and would simply focus on everyone else that day. He felt Zeev's hand in his and smiled down at him, gently kissing the top of his head and stroking his back. “Where do you wanna sit, love? See, we could sit over there, next to Chelsea, Sophia and Lucas... You alright with that?”
she pauses, trying to do the math in her head, replaying the events of the last few days in the process. most of the time, she leaves the corpses where they take their last breath - it saves her the clean up and she doesn't have to stress over dealing with dead weight. this time, it's different. she'd gotten herself into a bit of a pickle, so to speak, and had to call someone for help. remi wasn't used to asking others for any sort of assistance when it comes to what she considers her 'job' of sorts - even though she's practically dependent on everyone in her day to day life.
clicking tongue against teeth, she comes around back to pop the trunk and glance down into it. there's a slightly rotund man, shoved haphazardly into the diagonal space of her trunk, and a shorter, more lean corpse occupying the rest of the space. of course, the voice she puts on is soft and sweet, one would hardly be able to sense the manipulation if they weren't trying hard enough. "it's only two this time," she says, not bothering to go with some schtick of this being the last time she'd call, or even going as far as to apologizing for the times prior that she'd called him up for this exact reason.
"they're not startin' to smell yet, if that makes a difference." she says, leaning in slightly and getting a good whiff to confirm her own suspicions. "think you could do this pretty gal a favor an' come help me dispose of these two upstanding members of society?" holding the phone against her ear with use of her shoulder, she shuts the trunk as best as she can, just in case someone were to come up on her - it would be easier to explain a broken down vehicle than it would two corpses just chilling in the hatchback.
"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun."
Bonnie stood in the middle of the pumpkin patch, the sun dipping low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the rolling fields. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of woodsmoke and the distant laughter of children running through the nearby corn maze. A few leaves, the color of burnt sienna and amber, fluttered down from the trees, settling into the soft earth at her feet. She had just been admiring the symmetry of a particularly large pumpkin, its orange skin smooth and perfect, when Zeev’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the evening.
“If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun” he said, his tone laced with that signature mix of charm and mischief that Bonnie had come to expect from him.
She turned to face him, a playful smirk forming on her lips. Zeev was leaning casually against a weathered wooden fence, the setting sun casting long shadows that danced around him. The golden light of the late afternoon sun caught the strands of his blonde hair, making him look almost ethereal against the backdrop of the autumn landscape.
Bonnie couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the rustling of the leaves. “Is that so?” she replied, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. “And here I thought you were the type to play by the book.”
She knew, of course, that Zeev was anything but predictable. From the moment they had met, there had been something about him, something wild and free, like the wind that swept through the trees, stirring up everything in its path. Bonnie had always been a bit more cautious, her nature leaning towards the careful and the planned. But standing there, with the vibrant colors of autumn swirling around them and Zeev’s grin promising an adventure, she felt a spark of excitement flicker within her.
She took a moment to take in their surroundings, the pumpkin patch sprawling out around them, dotted with bright orange pumpkins of all shapes and sizes. In the distance, the festival was in full swing, the sounds of cheerful music and the clinking of glasses filling the air. There was something magical about this time of year, something that made the ordinary seem extraordinary, and Zeev’s words only added to that feeling.
“Well” she began, her voice softening into a conspiratorial whisper, “if I were to consider breaking a rule or two, what exactly did you have in mind?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she playfully tapped her chin. “Perhaps some pumpkin carving with a bit of enchanted flair? Or sneaking into the festival grounds after hours to see if those scarecrows really do come to life at midnight?”
The idea of bending the rules, even just a little, sent a thrill through her. She wasn’t used to stepping outside of her comfort zone, but there was something about Zeev that made her want to throw caution to the wind. It was as if the very air around them was charged with possibility, the kind that only came around once in a while, and only if you were brave enough to reach out and seize it.
She took a step closer to Zeev, her amber eyes locking with his, the challenge clear in her gaze. “Alright, Zeev” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Show me what ‘fun’ really looks like. But just so you know, if we get caught, I’m blaming it all on you.”
Her words hung in the air between them, lighthearted yet tinged with the excitement of the unknown. Bonnie felt a shiver of anticipation, the cool autumn breeze lifting her hair as if in agreement. She knew she was stepping into something unpredictable, but with Zeev by her side, that unpredictability seemed less like a risk and more like an adventure waiting to unfold.
🙏 — Do you think the mun would be able to survive in your world?
muse talking about mun meme / accepting !
' i don't want to be rude , but .... ' that's a resounding no . ' i really don't think she wouldn't have made it past that first demogorgon . she's smart & a good team player , but .... yeah . not really physically in a place where she could be running around fighting monsters . every joint in phoebe's body cracks just when she stands up , so i think getting thrown around by something like the mind flayer would actually just turn her to dust . '
