#mainstream-deviant

Human only settlements are so… quaint.

He’s barely lived in this town an hour before a neighbour is visiting and whispering rumours about a ‘big bad wolf’ living in the forest (which his home is next to, the neighbour helpfully points out).

Ryou, an overworked mage in need of some down time, had been recommended this rundown home by a trusted friend. He’d been reminded several times that it’s a fixer-upper but the people in town are very kind and maybe some manual labour will distract him from the stresses of hectically diverted catastrophes. Living on the forest’s edge had been a bonus; it’s a great place to find a good variety of potion ingredients and have some quiet. Blessed quiet.

This new knowledge of a wolf living in there doesn’t frighten him as the neighbour had clearly expected.

It does answer the question of why Ryou couldn’t sense anything magical going on in there despite its fairly large size; it’s fascinating that one sapient creature, a werewolf judging by the vague description, can keep all others away. He can’t even sense a wayward pixie and those things are everywhere. That must be one volatile wolf.

And yet the town lives. They whisper tall tales but never mention anyone being eaten or going missing, as one might expect from such stories. This carnivorous wolf must have a penchant for non-sapient animals, not entirely unusual for their species, but still something of note considering the things Ryou hears of it.

The most unsurprising thing in this entire situation is Ryou’s ability to end up in the midst of this.

He’s the mage who met, befriended, then hid away from the world the last living kraken because he thought fishing would be his key to relaxation. One werewolf is no trouble.

~o~o~o~

Ryou dons his bright red hood, the boldest piece he owns, and walks into the forest with an overstuffed wicker basket hung over his inner elbow. He could have used a scrying spell to find this mysterious wolf, but had opted for an old fashioned hunt. Or, in this case, make himself the easiest prey possible. A paranoid predator might assume a trap and ignore him altogether, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take. He has a backup plan (or four) if he needs it.

He walks aimlessly. He doesn’t want to get too far; it would be exactly like him to walk out until he’s tired then realize he needs to do that same path back. He’s not making that mistake a second time. This year.

It’s a beautiful forest; it’s both a shame and a blessing that the townsfolk are so scared of it. It’s untouched by sapient selfishness and carries the notable prints and markings of the wildlife that call this place their home. The werewolf doesn’t litter — Ryou likes them already.

“Are you stupid or suicidal?”

“Is none of the above an option?”

Ryou retorts before he even spots him. He has to turn to find the source of the voice and finds the young man leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest in forced nonchalance. Ryou’s eyes rake over him, taking in the sight.

His face is twisted into a nasty scowl that would trigger a fight or flight response on actual prey, which Ryou thankfully isn’t. He’s physically fit, made extra obvious by his lack of shirt. His simple woollen pants are cut at the ankles and his feet are bare and muddy. Most striking are his piercing violet eyes and wild blonde hair. Ryou’s fingers itch to pick out the leaves and twigs stuck in it.

He nudges a vision spell over his eyes and spots the silvery shine to the man’s eyes, proof of his inner beast. This is the one.

“You smell like magic. What do you want?”

“I’m Ryou. I’m your new neighbour and came by to say hello! I bought the cute little cottage by the forest that-a-way.” He points over his shoulder.

“How’d you get swindled into buying that death trap? The old owner left ‘cause part of the roof caved in.”

“Nothing a bit of hard work can’t fix. Here, this is for you.” Ryou approaches and holds out the basket. The young man doesn’t take it. Ryou shakes it, as if tempting a toddler, but he still doesn’t move. “I put together a meat selection for you as a little gift. I didn’t know your favourites and the people in town are far too terrified of you to know anything about you, so I went with a bit of everything. Please take it, you have my word as a mage that this is a gift with no strings attached.”

“Your word means shit to me.”

“I can weave it as a spell if you—”

“This is my home. If you want anything out of here for your magic bullshit you better think again. You get one warning. If you come back here again I’ll eat you. Got it?”

“The people in town said you were a bit hostile. Did you know they refer to you as a ‘big bad wolf’? As if you act like some sort of monster, but I find it very interesting that no one’s ever been hurt and that you’ve made such an effort to keep this forest free of other sapient beings, including anyone that could cause trouble for the people in town. I don’t even sense one wayward mischievous pixie… a hard task for anybody.”

“Maybe I should eat you now.” He snarls. There’s that inner wolf. So gruff. And dashing.

Ryou’s arm is getting tired from holding up the basket, but he won’t back down.

“You look really strong, do you patrol the forest a lot? I think it’s really sweet that you keep the town safe. What’s your name?”

“You can call me ‘big bad wolf’ like everyone else. Now get out.” He turns to leave.

“Wait! Please!”

A growl forms in the back of his throat, but he turns back around. If he were in his wolf shape Ryou imagines his hackles would be raised and his teeth bared. He’s incredibly distrustful and private, but Ryou is stubborn.

“I’m sorry. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I just moved here from Domino City where I worked as a mage. After one disaster too many I decided I needed a break and this seemed like a nice place. I’m only here to relax and maybe make some friends. I have no ulterior motives. I’m only here for some hard-earned peace and quiet, which I think is also why you’re here, right?”

“Mm. Domino City, huh? I guess that’s why you’re not scared of me like they are,” he says, referring to the townsfolk, “you’ve seen bigger and badder monsters than a guy like me.”

“Oh, you’re plenty big and bad,” Ryou’s gaze once again roams up and down to take him in, “but that’s about right. You’re obviously not interested in human meat, so I don’t see any reason we can’t get to know each other.”

“Aren’t mages supposed to be smart?”

“That’s a misconception; we’re all actually very stupid and make terrible life choices. That’s the only way someone would be willing to study one discipline for a decade to earn a meaningless title.”

That earns a chuckle from the werewolf, and he relaxes that little bit.

“What did you get roped into studying?”

“White magic with a proficiency in healing, though don’t go spreading that around. People seem to think that equates to miracles, but alas, I can’t reattach a head to a body and make it all work the way it did before.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if ever my head and body come apart.”

“Thank you. Will you please take the basket? It’s really heavy and I’m but a poor weakly mage.” Ryou wiggles the basket for emphasis and hopes his smile comes across as cute.

“For fuck — fine.”

The weight is finally gone and the subtle quivering in his arm isn’t for the sake of dramatics. Some manual labour really will do him well.

“Thank you! So. What’s your name? Not that ‘big bad wolf’ doesn’t have its own charm, but… I think we’re a little closer than that at this point, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Amir, and you’re not getting this stupid basket back.”

“I hope you make good use of it.”

Amir huffs. He turns and walks away without another word or even a wave goodbye.

“Bye, Amir! It was nice meeting you!” Ryou cheerfully calls after him.

The warm fluttering of butterflies in his stomach isn’t a new feeling, but it’s been a while since he’s had the time to sit and bask in it and maybe actually pursue it. A gorgeous standoffish and possibly dangerous werewolf living in his backyard? This is so exciting! And everyone says being a mage is dull — there’s no such thing for Ryou.

He shifts all the bags to his left hand in order to open the front door, thankfully still unlocked from when he’d left for work this morning.

They might not live in the best neighbourhood, but no one’s got the gall to rob this particular apartment. Between Amir’s refusal to deny having a body count and the disappearance of several questionable people, and Ryou’s love of curses that no one can confidently say don’t work after Mr. Miura, the creepy neighbour with the binoculars and a camera, caught the literal bubonic plague.

Of course those are merely exaggerations that they’re more than happy to allow to fester.

The neighbourhood pervert did get the plague though.

“I’m home!” he calls out.

He tosses his shoes aside, slips into his slippers, and takes the groceries to the kitchen.

“Hey, babe!" he gets back from somewhere down the hall.

He sets the bags on the counter and begins sorting through his items. His ingredients are to be used tonight, and he organizes them into neat piles for better access for when he’ll need them.

He wonders what Amir’s up to; he’s usually lounging in the living room by the time Ryou’s done work, but his voice had come from the direction of the bedroom and bathroom area. He’d texted to say he was on his way home after a pit stop at the shop and had gotten a happy face emoji in response. He’s a little surprised he wasn’t pounced on the moment he stepped through the door.

“I’ve got a package for you!" Amir shouts, still down the hall somewhere.

“Ha ha - I haven’t heard that one before,” Ryou teases back, raising his voice to ensure it carries over to his partner.

He expects Amir means it literally rather than as an innuendo. Ryou does a lot of online shopping for art supplies and when he’s feeling too lazy to go to a store. Today’s delivery was for something in the latter category, a little something special for their night time activities.

Because he gets things delivered so often and Amir is usually home to receive them, he has carte blanche to open whatever comes in so he can sort out the recycling and garbage accordingly. Ryou had hoped to get to this one first, but hadn’t bothered telling Amir not to open it either. He pictures the look on his face and smiles, pleased with the mental image.

Everything is finally set aside. He carefully folds his bags to put them away.

“Hey, sexy.” His partner’s voice comes from a little ways behind him.

“Hi, darling,” Ryou looks over his shoulder to offer him a smile, but what he finds makes him burst out laughing. He turns fully and leans back against the counter for support. His hands cover his mouth to smother the noise and tears prickle at the edges of his eyes.

It’s the special something he’d had delivered, and Amir is wearing it. Or, better described, attempting to wear it.

His partner isn’t much taller than Ryou, two inches to be exact, but he’s a lot thicker. Between his work as a mechanic in his brother Marik’s motorcycle dealership slash repair shop and his love of bodybuilding, he's developed some spectacular muscles, from rippling biceps to ridiculous thighs. The red velour dress, trimmed with white fluff, covers his chest and stomach, but is stretched to the maximum ability of the material. It’s a long-sleeved garment that’s meant to be off the shoulder; Amir doesn’t have the sleeves on at all and has them dangling limply at his sides - Ryou has to wonder how far he got along his arms before he gave up.

Ryou knows Amir must be wearing briefs because the hem is short enough that he’d be seeing something dangling down there otherwise. To finish the ensemble, the candy cane striped stockings are pulled over his feet and bunched at his ankles - if they couldn’t get over his calves they were never going to make it up his thighs. Ryou had planned to do something fun with his hair rather than get the santa hat to go with it, and Amir’s spiked blonde hair remains untouched.

He’s standing with his chest puffed up and hands on his hips, accentuating the look. He’s incredibly proud of himself.

“Oh my god… You look stunning!” Ryou manages to swallow back his laughter. He wipes away a stray tear and one of his hands drops to his aching stomach. He takes in a deep breath to steady himself and manages to stop himself from starting up laughing again. He’s ridiculously hot, but also probably very uncomfortable.

“You think?” Amir poses - one hand on his hip and the other curled up to flex his bicep.

He giggles but doesn’t let it set him off again.

“Absolutely. I’m guessing you like my present?”

“Hell yeah.” Amir steps into his space. Ryou has to tilt his head back just slightly to keep their eyes locked. Amir sets his hands on his waist and Ryou throws his arms around his shoulders instinctively. “Had a good day at work, or do you need cheering up?”

“I wish I could say I need cheering up, but it was actually a good day.”

Amir pouts.

“But still - I couldn’t have asked for a better homecoming. Can you breathe in that?” Ryou curls his finger into the top of the dress and pulls it back; a red line is visible where it’s been digging into his skin.

“Only kind of, but that’s why they say beauty is pain, baby.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Ryou shakes his head while smiling affectionately.

Amir leans down and kisses him. His hands are quick to move from his hips to his ass, tugging him away from the counter into his chest. Ryou parts his lips for him and moves where he’s guided without protest. They lazily make out for a short while, but Ryou is careful not to let it get any further. When Amir reaches for his zipper, he tugs his hand away and ignores the sad huff.

The front door opens and closes.

Amir draws back with a groan, “Tell me that’s not fucking Bakura.”

“I told you he was going to help me bake some treats for Yugi’s party.”

“That’s tonight?”

“It is Friday, darling, and the party is tomorrow.”

“Ugh.”

Amir drops his forehead on Ryou’s shoulders and leans his weight against him, forcing him back against the counter. Ryou pets his hair in faux comfort, knowing his partner is exaggerating his annoyance.

“Seriously?” Bakura whines from the kitchen entryway.

Ryou leans sideways to look behind Amir and sees his best friend covering his eyes with an obvious frown on his face.

“Sorry, he forgot you were coming by tonight.”

“I wish I didn’t know you people.”

Ryou laughs and gently pushes Amir off of him, “Go get changed before he has an aneurysm.”

“Where’s the bleach? I need to dissolve my eyeballs.”

“Idiot.” Amir rolls his eyes, but there’s affection in it. He releases his hold on Ryou and leaves the kitchen. He gives Bakura a hip check as he passes him in the entryway, knocking him into the wall, but he stubbornly doesn’t uncover his eyes.

“Ouch, you bitch! Go put pants on, asshole!”

Amir pads away.

“Is he gone?” Bakura asks.

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“No, you big baby.”

Bakura peeks through his fingers and looks around. Seeing that it’s safe, he lowers his hands and crosses his arms.

“You sure that’s the one you want to marry?”

Ryou giggles and feels his cheeks warm; he always gets giddy at the mention of their engagement. He tucks his left hand against his chest and caresses the ring with his right hand. It’s a simple gold band, something that won’t interfere with his artwork or get caught in anything, practical the way his partner knows he prefers for a permanent fixture.

He can’t help the way his heart rate picks up or how his stomach flutters happily. They’ve only been engaged for almost two months. Amir, who has known him five years and been dating him for three, knew that the best time to pop the question would be on their mutual favourite holiday - Halloween.

Bakura had once been the weird one between him and Ryou, best friends since childhood, because Ryou used to hide it better. Ever since getting involved with Amir, they’ve both embraced their inner freaks and are entirely shameless about it. Bakura can’t say he likes the taxidermy around their apartment, but hey, his best friend is happy and more himself than he’s ever been, so whatever.

That is to say, they go full out on Halloween. They start decorating in mid-September and host a giant party with smoke and animatronics and all sorts of creepily realistic blood and gore and body parts that had someone calling the police on them one year. To fully complete the event, they have to have the most intricate costumes. In the last couple of years, Halloween has landed on a weekday, so they’ll have a costume to stay at home and hand out candy, but for the party? That’s when the body paint comes out.

For this particular year, they went with ‘angel and demon’ as a couples costume. Only, Ryou was a biblical angel and Amir was Ryou’s vision of a biblical demon.

Truly horrifying, the both of them.

They took proper engagement photos a few days later, but the one they have framed on the wall is the one where the painted eyes on Ryou’s face are streaked with tears and Amir is a grotesque image of blood with freaky realistic bugs crawling out of his mouth.

Bakura had always known Ryou was a talented artist, but they had been genuinely hard to look at (which had been the intention). It’s an engagement picture befitting this couple.

“Be nice, or your demoted from best man to flower girl.”

“Don’t tempt me with a less demanding role.”

“Wash your hands. We have baking to do.”

“I was promised coffee mochi.”

“And you will have it, dear brother, if you do your part.”

The familial title melts his heart, as Ryou had expected and happily uses to manipulate him, and Bakura’s frown finally turns into a grin.

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

Hair is tied up out of their faces, hands are washed, and aprons are tied on. Ryou pulls up the recipe on his phone and hands it to Bakura for dictating and begins pulling out the necessary equipment. Amir returns not much later now wearing sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt, a relief from the beyond skin-tight lingerie.

“That’s better,” Bakura snarks.

“Consider it payback for the time I had to see your bare ass.”

“That was your fault for not knocking!"

“Who doesn’t lock the bathroom door?”

“Fuck off. Your brother likes my bare ass just fine.”

“Marik owns a leather t-shirt, he obviously has shit taste.”

“Says the guy who unironically likes Michael Bay movies.”

“Dude, explosions are fucking epic.”

“You-”

“Settle down, boys,” Ryou scolds lightly. He’s used to their bickering, it’s how these two know how to show their affection for each other, but he needs Bakura focused. “Did you get that thing off alright?”

“Don’t worry, babe, it’s still in one piece for tonight’s show and tell.”

Bakura groans.

“That’s good to hear. Why don’t you go find a movie to watch? Put it loud enough for us to hear.”

“Alright, I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Mhm. Thank you!”

Amir kisses his temple, pinches Bakura’s side, and takes his leave again.

His partner hates anything to do with the kitchen, and Ryou knows he could ask him to help, but doesn’t see a need to do so. Bakura doesn’t mind hanging out and washing dishes and reading off the recipes for him, they’ve been doing this together almost all their lives.

Amir will happily eat whatever they cook up, from the excellent to the experimental that has made him ill on at least two occasions. And in exchange for Ryou handling the cooking, Amir does the laundry - a chore he can complete in an evening whereas Ryou will take 3-5 business days. It’s a very fair trade.

A familiar intro starts up from the living room and the volume steadily increases until it flows into the kitchen.

Ah, one of their favourites - The Nightmare Before Christmas.

“I wanna go home,” Bakura whines.